《南華真經註疏》Vol. 26
About this page. The original text of 《南華真經註疏》 Vol. 26 (Dongshen 洞神部, 35 volumes) is shown in Classical Chinese as transmitted in the Kanripo (Kyoto University) edition. An English interpretation of the 33 passages on this page accompanies it: select a passage or press “Interpretation” to show it. All texts in English
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Source text (with commentary)Interpretation
Through his parable of “appraising dogs,” Xu Wugui explains how to discern people: the lowest kind of dog cares only about eating its fill, like a fox; the middling kind holds its gaze high and distant, as if fixed on the sun; the highest kind keeps its shen (spirit) steady and wholly absorbed, as if it has forgotten its own body.
He said, “When I appraise dogs, I am still not as good as when I appraise horses.”
The horse-judge Xu Wugui was coarse and shallow, so I used talk of judging horses to draw him in, hoping to please him and perhaps thereby bring him back to the right path.
When I judge a horse, what is straight should be as true as an inked line—the commentary says this means the horse’s front teeth; what is curved should be like a hook—the neck; what is square should be like a carpenter’s square—the head; what is round should be like a compass-drawn circle—the eye. A horse that fits these is a top horse among the feudal states, but it still falls short of the rare fine steeds of the realm.
Fine steeds of the realm are born with outstanding endowment; they need not wait for training to show it. They seem worried, yet as if something were missing; as if they had forgotten their own being. Their gaze when they look about seems troubled, yet their hooves move at ease; their spirit seems to forget the self. Such horses are fit for the Son of Heaven to drive.
When they run, they pass the herd and leave the dust behind so utterly that one cannot see where they came from. “Leaving the dust behind” means they run so fast they fling the dust far away; their skill is innate, not drilled, so one cannot trace how they came to gallop so.
Marquis Wu was greatly pleased and laughed.
Xu Wugui said, “When a True Person (zhenren) speaks, why must he defer? It is enough to speak along what the other delights in.” The commentary explains that his words matched the marquis’s mind, so the marquis laughed with joy.
After Xu Wugui left, Nü Shang asked, “With what words did you, sir, persuade our lord to make him so happy?”
Xu Wugui replied, “In persuading the lord, speaking broadly I used the Odes, Documents, Rites, and Music; speaking closely I used the Jin Ban and Liu Tao.”
The commentary says the Odes, Documents, Rites, and Music are texts of the Six Classics; Jin Ban and Liu Tao are titles from the Book of Zhou, though some hold they are secret prognostic books. “Tao” is also written “韬” (tao), referring to the Grand Duke’s military writings—the civil, martial, tiger, leopard, dragon, and dog sections. Here “horizontal” (heng) means what is farther and broader; “vertical” (zong) means what is nearer and more to the point. The marquis loved military affairs and not civil culture, so Xu Wugui took military writings as the close topic and the Six Classics as the distant one.
“We have served the lord with all our heart and piled up achievements beyond counting, yet the lord has never once smiled for it.” The note compares this to making swallows and sparrows listen to bells and drums—bound to bring distress.
“Yet today, sir, with what did you persuade the lord that he is pleased like this?”
The commentary explains that those who served Marquis Wu were loyal and diligent, or offered advice on what would or would not work in government, or achieved merit…
People like that are countless in number, yet our lord has never smiled because of it. What method did you use that made the lord so pleased?
Xu Wugui said, “I only told him the methods of judging dogs and horses.”
Commentary: In medicine, drugs are not ranked by price—whatever cures the illness is good medicine. Xu Wugui said he merely spoke of dogs and horses and had nothing else to say.
The woman said, “Is that really so?”
Commentary: When the woman heard that Xu Wugui had told the lord only this, she thought his approach seemed quite shallow, and so she asked this question.
Xu Wugui said, “Have you not heard of people exiled to the region of Yue? After leaving their homeland for a few days, when they see someone they know, they are very glad.”
Note: This is because people always hold in mind what they know and love.
Commentary: Those exiled from their homeland travel far—perhaps because they broke the law, or because they suffered harsh government. After only a few days away from home, if they suddenly meet someone they know, they feel joy and comfort. What is strange about that? This is offered as a comparison.
“After ten days or half a month away from home, seeing someone they once saw back in their native place also makes them glad.”
Commentary: The longer one is away, the deeper homesickness grows. Even if the person is not an acquaintance, as long as they were once seen in the homeland, meeting them brings pleasure.
“After a full year away, seeing someone who merely looks similar also makes them glad. Does this not show that the longer one is from home, the deeper the longing for homeland and old friends becomes?”
Note: When people already possess what they love, they no longer dwell on it; when they no longer dwell on it, they forget why they were glad.
Commentary: After a year away, one has gone still farther, so meeting someone who resembles a person from home also brings joy. Is this not because the longer the separation, the deeper the homesickness? This compares to Lord Wei Wu Hou’s love of dogs and horses: long deprived of hearing about state affairs, he is like the exile who suddenly hears laughter—he rejoices because it is familiar.
“Those who flee into empty wild places find their dwellings choked with goosefoot and wormwood; weasels and such creatures scurry along the paths. Even when the place is deserted and silent, if they hear another’s footsteps, they hurry forward in surprised delight; how much more when brothers and kin are beside them and they hear their voices?”
Note: To obtain what one loves and enjoys most naturally brings great happiness.
Commentary: “Choked” means blocked; “hurrying” means walking quickly; “footsteps” is the sound of steps. People caught in turmoil and famine flee to empty gardens and ruined houses for refuge; gates and courtyards are blocked by goosefoot and wormwood, and monkeys and weasels appear on the paths. When the house is empty and still, longing for home grows heavier; if they suddenly hear footsteps, they are already glad—how much more when they hear brothers and relatives talking and laughing nearby? Here another comparison is offered.
It has been a long time since the words of a True Person—one who embodies the Great Dao and transcends worldly affairs—have been heard in our lord’s presence, as if in casual conversation.
Note: For this reason, the True Person has remained silent. The True Person’s words accord with the lord’s true nature; at first one feels joy upon grasping them, but after long familiarity one forgets them.
Commentary: Marquis Wu has wanted to hear talk of dogs and horses for a long time. This is like someone far from home, busy fleeing, body and mind exhausted; as time passes, one naturally longs for home. To speak beside him now of the True Person’s teachings, the learning of the Six Classics, and lofty military strategy is not fitting. This passage continues the persuasion from before.
Xu Wugui paid a visit to Marquis Wu. The marquis said: “You, sir, dwell in the mountains and forests, eating acorns and chestnuts, weary of scallions and chives; you have long come as a guest to see me. Now that you are old, is it that you wish for the taste of wine and meat? Or is it that I too may gain from you the blessing of preserving the state?”
Commentary: “千” means “to seek.” You have long lived in the mountains and forests, eating vegetables and fruit; as you grow old, do you not feel tired and weary, and wish for flavors to nourish your aging body? Or do you intend to transmit virtue in order to secure the peace of the state’s ancestral temples?
Xu Wugui said: “I was born poor and lowly and have never dared to covet the lord’s wine and meat. I have come this time to offer you comfort.”
Commentary: I have been poor and lowly all my life, content in the mountains and forests—how could I wish to covet food and drink to nourish myself? It is not so; I have come to comfort you.
The marquis said: “What do you mean by that? What will you comfort me about?”
Commentary: “奚” means “what.” Marquis Wu is asking the reason for his offering comfort.
Xu Wugui said: “Heaven and Earth nourish all things; originally they do so without distinction.”
Note: Heaven and Earth do not, because someone is a lord, allow him to enjoy without limit.
Commentary: Heaven and Earth transform and nourish all things, supplying them fully and without partiality. Heaven and Earth do not, because you are the lord, indulge your extravagance. All these words are Xu Wugui’s meaning in comforting Marquis Wu.
“To hold high rank is not grounds for thinking oneself forever noble; to stand in low rank is not grounds for thinking oneself forever base. You alone are lord of a state of ten thousand chariots, yet you make the people of the whole realm suffer to satisfy your eyes, ears, nose, and mouth.”
Note: To act thus violates the principle of Heaven and Earth’s fair and impartial treatment.
Commentary: To ascend to high rank as lord ought not to be taken as a permanent warrant for pleasure; to stand in low rank as the common people ought not to be treated as inherently base for that reason. You alone boast that you are lord of a state of ten thousand chariots…
Their power and prestige make the people of a whole state suffer. They indulge in color, sound, fragrance, and flavor, letting the desires of ear, eye, nose, and mouth run wild, and thus go against the original intent of Heaven and Earth. In my humble view, such a course is not to be chosen.
Spirit (Shen) does not treat the myriad things as private possessions.
Commentary: Spirit dwells together with the myriad things.
Exegesis: The sage regards himself and the myriad things as equal; he does not crave flavors merely to satisfy himself.
Spirit loves harmony and dislikes selfish grasping.
Commentary: Dwelling together with the myriad things is called harmony; secretly taking things as one’s own is called selfish grasping.
Exegesis: The sage delights in living in harmony with the myriad things and detests selfish grasping.
Selfish grasping becomes a source of calamity. So if the ruler takes this to be calamity, what difficulty are you actually worried about?
Exegesis: Selfish grasping means secretly going against the natural order of things; that is why it becomes calamity. What predicament, then, is it that you alone dread?
Marquis Wu said, “Long ago I wished to meet you, Master. I want to cherish the people, practice benevolence and righteousness, and halt the use of arms—is that permissible?”
Exegesis: You wish to carry out a humane policy that nurtures the people, to apply the way of righteousness that decides right and wrong, and to promote culture and learning while stopping warfare; governing the state in this way—would it be feasible?
Xu Wugui said, “It is not permissible. To ‘cherish the people’ is precisely the beginning of harming the people.”
Commentary: Acts of cherishing the people become objects that people esteem; once people take them as love, love turns into deliberate artifice.
“To proclaim benevolence and righteousness and to stop using arms is, on the contrary, the root of stirring up war.”
Commentary: When benevolence and righteousness are practiced, reputation becomes conspicuous; when reputation is conspicuous, rivalry arises, and when rivalry arises, people lose their genuineness. Father and son, ruler and minister begin to suspect and deceive one another; even if one wishes to stop warfare, how can it be done?
Exegesis: Stressing the humane policy of loving others, the righteous conduct of judging right and wrong, the achievement of halting military force, and the measures of promoting culture and learning—once a striking name is left behind, people chase those labels and vie to imitate them. Harming the people and creating war begin right here.
“If the ruler starts from these measures, I fear he will not succeed.”
Commentary: Only by governing in accord with the way of wuwei (non-action) can things be accomplished.
Exegesis: “Start from” means to follow and rely on; “dài” means to come close. If one starts from these measures, one will inevitably ruin the root of wuwei, and so one comes close to failure.
“Every measure that deliberately seeks to achieve a fine reputation becomes a tool for doing evil.”
Commentary: When a fine name takes shape in front, hypocrisy grows behind. Therefore, deliberately seeking a fine reputation ultimately becomes an instrument for wrongdoing.
Exegesis: Deliberately cultivating good conduct and letting splendid traces of virtue show forth makes people rush after them and compete to imitate; thus it becomes a tool for doing evil.
“Even if the ruler practices benevolence and righteousness, it will almost certainly verge on hypocrisy.”
Commentary: The people will judge these measures by hypocrisy; they have not yet truly taken them as genuine conduct.
Exegesis: “Jī” means “close to.” Once the traces of benevolence and righteousness appear, people lose their genuineness; therefore it almost becomes the source of hypocrisy.
When benevolence and righteousness (ren and yi—norms of ethical conduct) take on fixed outward forms, they inevitably give rise to hypocritical display. Both paths leave visible traces; once the first traces are set, later forms are manufactured to match them.
When achievement and fame are complete, they show themselves; once they show themselves, rivalry easily follows, and military campaigns result.
Altering things from their natural state stirs external conflict. When people artificially impose penal codes and change ordinary norms, the myriad beings are harmed, outside enemies are drawn in, and much fighting and war arise.
A ruler should not line up troops in rows between ornate high towers (liqiao), nor station infantry and warhorses in palace grounds. “Crane formations” means battle lines arrayed like cranes in a row; “foot soldiers” (tu) means infantry, and “fine steeds” (ji) means good horses. A ruler should not parade grand formations beneath lofty halls, nor crowd infantry and cavalry in palace gardens. Merely holding ren in the heart and caring for the people is not enough—one must also refrain from brandishing military might.
Do not hide a rebellious mind inside what you gain; if rebellion is hidden in gain, what was gained will eventually be lost. Do not harbor a contrary heart while greedily chasing acquisition.
Do not try to outdo others through cleverness. Keep to simplicity; let each person use their own strengths, and only then can people stand on equal footing. The greatest skill can look like clumsiness; everyone should be sincere and plain, and not compete through scheming.
Do not try to surpass others through plotting. Act according to genuine knowing; each person’s insight has its place, and only then can views balance one another. Set aside private aims and calculation; follow direct knowing in action, and do not win by strategy.
Do not try to overcome others through war. Meet the myriad things with the Dao (the Way), and the myriad things will naturally submit—then there is no name for having “won.” First win trust through a path of stillness, clarity, and simplicity; do not rely on war to prevail.
Those who kill others and seize others’ land to feed private desire and support themselves—can the wars they fight really count as skillful victory? Where is their evil? If one does not know what true skill in prevailing is, then even winning battles is not truly winning oneself.
To follow Heaven’s principle and align with the people’s hearts—even when punishing the vicious, rooting out rebellion, destroying a state, or killing others—need not cost the people’s goodwill. But if one kills the common people, annexes land, and thinks only of grabbing wealth to support oneself and satisfy desire…
Though one may defeat opponents and prevail over others in conflict, one does not know what such victory truly means, nor clearly what one has surpassed or whom one has overcome.
If the ruler truly cannot cease employing arms, it is better to cultivate inner sincerity and align one’s conduct with the pattern of Heaven and Earth, rather than disturb the people.
Note: If warfare cannot be stopped, then it is best to cultivate one’s own sincerity.
Commentary: “Sincerity” (cheng) means honesty; “disturb” (ying) means to unsettle. When affairs cannot be halted, the ruler must govern the state. By nurturing inner sincerity and following Heaven and Earth in their phases of growth and restraint, there is no need to impose harsh laws to trouble the people.
Once the people are spared death and injury, why should the ruler still labor to promote disarmament (yanbing, laying aside weapons)?
Note: That arms and armor are not arrayed for battle does not necessarily mean disarmament is being deliberately enforced.
Commentary: When governance follows the natural transformations of Heaven and Earth without a contrived mind, the people can overcome cruelty and escape harm and death. In that case, why trouble oneself to devise measures and deliberately promote disarmament?
The Yellow Emperor (Huangdi) was about to go to Mount Juci to visit Dagai.
Commentary: Huangdi is Xuanyuan. “Dagai” signifies the vast, empty Great Dao; some say Dagai was an ancient person who attained the Dao. Juci is a mountain name in theMiyang area of Xingyang, also called Mount Taiwei. Huangdi was a sage who had long contemplated ultimate principle; now he wished to probe further into the subtle Great Dao, and so came to Mount Juci.
Fangming drove the carriage, and Changyu sat on the right as companion; Zhang Ruo and Xipeng went ahead as guides, while Kunlu and Huaji followed in the rear.
Commentary: Fangming, Huaji, and the rest are personal names. “Companion on the right” (can cheng) is the seat beside the driver on the right; the charioteer drives from the left. Those “before the horses” are men leading the way in front of the team; “rear carriage” means the following vehicles.
When they reached the outskirts of Xiangcheng, all seven sages lost their way, and none knew whom to ask for directions.
Note: “Sage” is a title and designation. Once names arise, things are easily trapped by labels and appearances. Even wishing to see Dagai, how could one find him?
Commentary: “Tu” means road. Today there is Xiangcheng County in Ruzhou, south of Mount Taiwei, said to be where Huangdi sought the Dao. From Huangdi to Huaji there are seven sages. The note’s explanation is apt: sages bear names and titles, so things are easily confused by nominal forms; even when one wishes to see Dagai, how can one find him? The commentary below supplements this reading.
By chance they met a boy tending horses, and Huangdi asked him the way.
Commentary: This horse-tending boy was one who had attained the Dao. Huangdi happened upon him and asked where the Great Dao lay.
Huangdi asked, “Do you know Mount Juci?” The boy answered, “I do.”
Commentary: Here “ruo” means “you,” and “ran” means “yes.” Huangdi asked where the mountain was, and the boy replied that he knew.
“Do you know where Da Kui (a legendary person who attained the Dao) is?” Huang Di asked.
The shepherd boy replied: “I know.”
【Commentary】 “Cun” means “where he exists” or “where he is.” Huang Di asked again where that place was, and the shepherd boy said he knew where it was.
Huang Di said: “How marvelous! You child—not only do you know where Mount Juci is, you also know where Da Kui is. May I ask: how should one govern the world?”
【Commentary】 Huang Di was amazed that the shepherd boy knew where Da Kui was, and so he asked him how to govern the world.
The shepherd boy said: “Governing the world is no more than this—what else needs to be done?”
【Note】 Each thing following its own nature—then there is nothing more to do; only through wuwei (non-action) can the world be governed.
【Commentary】 “Yi” means astonishment; “ruo” means “like” or “as.” To govern the world is like tending one’s own person: when the self practices wuwei, what in the outer world still needs anxious handling? Hence the Laozi says: “When I practice wuwei, the people naturally transform and settle.”
In my youth I wandered throughout the realm between heaven and earth. Once I fell ill with dizziness and vertigo, and an elder taught me: “You may ride the chariot of the sun and roam the outskirts of Xiang.”
【Note】 Be active when the sun rises, rest when it sets.
【Commentary】 “Within the six directions” means the mundane world; “mao bing” means dizziness, vertigo, and confused spirit. The point is: in youth I had traveled as far as the borderlands of seeking the Dao, yet my heart still dwelt in the dusty world, hence the disorder of vertigo—I had not yet realized what is true. Fortunately a sage taught me to cultivate the Dao: work by day, rest by night, rise and settle with the sun, thereby settling body and mind and roaming freely in the world. Some versions read “ride the chariot of the sun,” meaning to follow the sun’s course and accord with change.
Now my illness has eased somewhat, and I am about to wander again in the mundane world. Governing the world is likewise—why should I do anything more?
【Note】 In governing the world, the greatest priority is to let things be as they are. Once you accord with the natural, how could things come to disturb people? Therefore I practice wuwei, and the people naturally transform and settle.
【Commentary】 “Quan” means recovery from illness. When the false sickness is healed, one can act as circumstances allow and place the heart beyond outer things. How is cultivating the self different from governing the state? When self and things are one, naturally there is nothing left to do.
Huang Di said: “Governing the world is indeed not a task for a child like you.”
【Note】 The work of governing the world should be done by the people themselves.
Huang Di also said: “Even so, please tell me how to govern the world.”
【Note】 To let the people each find their proper place, there is naturally a method.
【Commentary】 Pasturing the people and governing the world were never pursuits the sage coveted. Even so, Huang Di still asked the shepherd boy to state the essential point.
The shepherd boy declined to answer.
【Commentary】 He had nothing left to say.
Huang Di asked again.
The Little Lad (the elder whom the Yellow Emperor visited) said: “Governing all under heaven—how is it different from tending horses? One need only remove what harms the horses.”
Guo Xiang commented: “For horses, exceeding one’s proper share is what does harm.” The subcommentary explains: “What ‘harms the horses’ means is going beyond one’s proper station. Cultivating oneself must begin with holding to that station; hence the way one tends horses can also be used to nurture the people. The Yellow Emperor asked in earnest, and the Little Lad answered in this vein for the moment.”
The Yellow Emperor bowed again with his forehead to the ground, addressed the Little Lad as “Celestial Master,” and withdrew.
The commentary says: “He is called Celestial Master because he follows nature and removes excess; when one reaches this, Da Wei will come.” The subcommentary says: “The Yellow Emperor understood the sage’s words and therefore honored the Little Lad in body and mind; by dropping conduct that overstepped his station, he could draw near to Da Wei and accord with the natural way. Such a level—perhaps it is what the teacher has attained.”
Those who are good at scheming feel ill at ease when there is no change that calls for thought and response.
The subcommentary: When the times are hard and misfortune and upheaval are frequent, those skilled at scheming turn to planning; if none of this is at hand, they are unhappy instead.
Those who are good at eloquent speech feel ill at ease when there is no opening for their words.
The subcommentary: Such debaters have tongues like hanging rivers and fluent rhetoric; without a setting and a topic for talk, they are displeased.
Those who are sharp and perceptive feel ill at ease when there is no mutual questioning and clash of words.
The subcommentary: The quick and discerning, if they cannot question and answer with host and guest or overpower others with cutting speech, are unhappy.
All of these people are bound by external things.
Guo Xiang: They cannot rest content within themselves and must seek joy from outside; therefore they are constrained by externals.
Each is confined by what he delights in; thus, without deliberate summoning, the myriad things still gather of themselves—it is not wrung out by force.
The subcommentary: The people above each cling to a bias and have not opened to the broad principle, so they are all hemmed in by external things.
Those skilled at drawing in talent and recommending the worthy are fit to serve at court.
The subcommentary: Those who can recommend the loyal and bring in the capable may take part in court affairs.
Those skilled at governing the people take holding office as honor.
The subcommentary: They can govern the people, act steadily and capably, and are suited to official posts.
Those with bodily strength take overcoming hardship as pride.
The subcommentary: Men of talent and vigor, when crisis comes, often devote themselves to aiding the world.
The brave delight in rising up to clear away calamity.
The subcommentary: The bold and decisive exert themselves and strive to quell disaster.
Those who love arms and war take battle as pleasure.
The subcommentary: They favor weapons and campaigning; their minds lean toward the blade, so they rejoice in war.
The poor, pure, and withdrawn set store by fame that lasts long.
They wear plain cloth and simple food, dress in worn brown garments, look haggard, and fix their minds only on reputation and fame.
Those who specialize in law broadly apply penal statutes; they pore over legal provisions, punish wrongdoing and encourage good conduct, so the reach of their governance is wide.
Those who specialize in ritual teaching stress the forms and refinements of ceremony and are very concerned that their bearing and demeanor appear solemn and respectful.
Those who prize benevolence and righteousness (ren and yi) stress choosing the right moment in human relations to practice ren and yi.
These scholars’ aims differ, so anyone who encounters them cannot alter each one’s own way of acting.
People sometimes fall on hard times and sometimes meet a fitting opportunity; when opportunity comes, they practice ren and yi to build reputation and achievement. What is meant here by “meeting the moment” (jihui) is timing and chance.
If farmers have no fields to till, they will not align with farmers; if merchants have no market trade to pursue, they will not align with merchants. Only when aspirations match and the work is the same do they align. In antiquity markets were set by wells, hence the term “market and well” (shijing). If one strays from one’s proper role, mind and feeling are hard to harmonize.
Common people each have tasks from morning to night; when those tasks accord with what they wish, they exert themselves.
When the people’s affairs fit their aspirations, they can be encouraged. Everyone has a daily livelihood; when what they do pleases them, they naturally spur themselves on.
Each type of artisan has the craft of making tools; when the skill they excel at is put to use, their work flourishes. When the task does not suit one’s specialty, people easily slacken. Here “flourishing” (zhuang) means thriving: the hundred crafts, through the skills and implements they master, follow their own bent in action, and their undertakings can prosper.
When wealth has not been amassed, those greedy for goods grow anxious.
When things are obtained and just satisfy what one loves, one feels joy.
When power has not reached a conspicuous height, those who love to parade themselves feel grief. “Conspicuous” (you) means excessive or prominent. The competitively greedy amass wealth to fill their desires; those who love display use power to gratify themselves. When affairs do not go as they wish, worry and sorrow arise.
Those who lean on power and rely on external things are glad to see circumstances shift.
Power often springs from upheaval. When disorder breaks out, power shows itself more easily, so those who throw their weight around may actually welcome trouble and change.
When the moment is right, all kinds of people find a use for their abilities; they cannot remain idle.
The sorts of scholars mentioned earlier each have a time when their talents apply; when that time comes they act and cannot hold themselves back. Without the right moment, even if they wished to display their skill, how could they? So high and low status in people is not fixed forever.
All of them follow the times and bring their strengths to bear; they do not lightly change their nature and manner. What each kind of scholar can do has its limit, like the four seasons each keeping its order—they cannot be swapped at will. When the proper time comes and each acts in turn according to order, all can play their part.
To follow the seasons is to have time and order fall easily into place; to follow one's innate nature is not to treat the myriad things as objects one may alter at will. Once one no longer alters the myriad things, what is there left to destroy?
[Commentary] “Bi” (比) means to arrange things in sequence. In how scholars act, each has strengths and limits and adapts as circumstances change; affairs take shape with the times and follow a natural order, like the shifting climate through the four seasons—each part keeps its own pattern without changing the myriad things. “Not treating things as objects” (bu wu) means not altering the myriad things.
To let body and innate nature run loose and sink into the midst of the myriad things, never turning back for a whole lifetime—how lamentable!
[Note] Not holding to one family's lasting way but rushing off in every direction, trying to seize the moment for profit—hence some return crawling on all fours; that is precisely what is lamentable.
[Commentary] Body and mind rush about, drowning in what lies before the eyes, and do not know to turn back until death. Stupidity to that degree truly moves one to sigh.
Zhuangzi said: “An archer who does not aim in advance yet happens to hit the target is called skilled at archery—then everyone under heaven could be called Yi [the legendary archer]. Would that be acceptable?”
[Note] Not aiming in advance yet hitting by chance is only a lucky hit, not true skill. If lucky hits counted as skill, could everyone under heaven be called Yi? The point is: no, they could not.
[Commentary] “Qi” (期) means to set a target in advance. Shooting without a predetermined aim and merely hitting something by mistake is called skilled archery—can that be allowed?
Huizi said: “It can.”
[Commentary] That is to say, everyone under heaven counts as Yi.
Zhuangzi said: “Under heaven there is no standard of rightness that everyone shares; each person holds that only what he affirms is right. If so, everyone under heaven could be called Yao [the legendary sage-king]. Would that be acceptable?”
[Note] If a chance hit made one Yi, then anyone who insisted his own view was right could also be called Yao. Zhuangzi uses this to show: a lucky hit is not Yi, and self-assumed rightness is not Yao.
[Commentary] Each person clings to his own view, so under heaven there is no commonly acknowledged standard of rightness. The sage-king Tang Yao looks “right” only against the tyrant Jie; if everyone thought himself right, would everyone be a sage? The meaning is: no, they would not.
Huizi said: “It can.”
[Commentary] Huizi holds that because each person insists on his own rightness, everyone under heaven counts as Yao. There is a sense in which that is what he means, but Huizi clings to disputation—what he says may sound reasonable yet lacks solid ground.
Zhuangzi said: “Then the Ru [Confucian], Mo [Mohist], Yang [Yang Zhu], and Gongsun Long schools, plus you, make five. Which of them is right?”
[Note] If everyone were Yao, why would these five schools criticize one another?
[Commentary] “Ru” here means Zheng Huan, “Mo” means Mozi, “Yang” means Yang Zhu; “Bing” is Gongsun Long’s style name. These four were all surpassingly clever and matchless in debate; with Huizi they make five schools, each criticizing the others while none knows whom to take as the standard.
If everyone in the world were like Yao, how could there still be endless wrangling and mutual blame?
Or is it that those who are deluded in the world are all like Lu Ju? Lu Ju’s disciple said: “I have already learned my teacher’s methods of the Way. I can heat a cauldron in winter and make ice in summer.”
The commentary states: Lu Ju, surname Lu, given name Ju, was a man of the early Zhou. It is said that in winter one could take ash that had been dry for a thousand years, bank it around a fire, and in a moment draw forth flame to heat a cauldron; in the height of summer one could fill an earthen jar with water, boil it in hot water, then hang the jar in a well, and in a moment ice would form. Ordinary people find this baffling, yet their own judgments of right and wrong are just like Lu Ju’s.
Lu Ju said: “This is merely using Yang to draw Yang and Yin to draw Yin—it is not the Dao I speak of.”
The commentary states: Thousand-year ash belongs to Yang, and fire belongs to Yang—this is drawing Yang by Yang; the well belongs to Yin, and water belongs to Yin—this is drawing Yin by Yin. Lu Ju spoke these words, but not to his disciple.
Lu Ju also said: “Let me show you my methods of the Way.” He then placed two se (ancient zithers), one in the main hall and one in an inner room. When he plucked the gong string on the hall se, the corresponding string on the inner-room se vibrated in response; when he plucked the jiao string, the corresponding string in the inner room vibrated as well. Because the pitches on both sides matched, they answered each other.
The annotation says: This too is using Yang to draw Yang; yet Lu Ju took it as something clearly distinct.
The commentary states: “Place” (废) means to set down. One se was set in the main hall, one in an inner room; plucking gong or jiao on the hall se made the matching strings on the inner-room se vibrate—simply because the five tones and six pitches on both sides accorded and the sounds were the same.
If one altered the tuning of a single string so that it no longer matched the original five tones, then—
The annotation says: A string’s pitch changes when it is retuned.
The commentary states: If a string on the hall se is retuned, no corresponding string on the inner-room se will vibrate in response, because the pitch standards no longer agree.
If one plucks a se string and all twenty-five strings vibrate—
The annotation says: Without sound there is nothing to respond to; with sound, strings whose pitches do not match will not answer. Now, changing only one string yet having all twenty-five change shows that in tuning there are both urgent and relaxed pitches.
The commentary states: Originally only gong and jiao should have answered; yet on close inspection, among the twenty-five strings, every one whose pitch standard matched would vibrate along.
These phenomena do not go beyond sound itself, while pitch standards are what govern sound at the root.
The annotation says: Lu Ju used this affair to boast before his disciple, but it was still only like-kind responding to like-kind—not a skill unique to him.
The commentary states: Beyond sound and pitch standards there is no other marvelous technique. Even when string tones answer one another, they are still altogether governed by the five tones. Since there is no other technique, what is there to boast about?
Moreover, affairs like this…
When Huizi said that “five people each cling to their own view and treat the principle they affirm as correct,” he was really no different from the man of Lu who boasted of his disciples and said they would never yield to one another.
Huizi said: “Nowadays the Confucians, Mohists, followers of Yang Zhu, and people like Gongsun Long all clash in debate, overwhelm one another with words, and vie in show of force, yet none of them ever thinks he is wrong. How should we look at this?”
The commentary explains that “never thinking oneself wrong” means each party insists that only he is right. Huizi wanted to treat this situation as the highest attainment.
Zhuangzi said: “There was a man of Qi who left his child in the state of Song and even had the child serve as a gatekeeper, so the child’s body could not be kept safe. The man of Qi was unkind, yet he still thought he had done right.”
The commentary explains that the child was sent to a foreign land and placed under a gatekeeper’s care, with no security for his life. Though this man of Qi was without benevolence, he still believed his conduct was correct.
Zhuangzi also said: “When he looked for a small bell, he bound the bell tightly for fear it might be damaged; when he looked for a lost child, he would not cross the border, and in the end he might lose his own posterity.”
The commentary explains that the small bell is a bell-shaped little instrument; “tang” (唐) can mean loss or disappearance. In searching for a lost child he would not go beyond the border to seek him, allowing the family line to be cut off. This shows that once a person is convinced he is right, he will do absurd things of this kind.
Zhuangzi further said: “There was a man of Chu who lodged in another’s house and left his child with the gatekeeper to watch. In the dead of night when no one was about, he boarded another man’s boat; before the boat had left shore he fought with the boatman and drew resentment upon himself.”
The commentary explains that the bank is called “cen” (岑). This man of Chu went alone onto another’s boat at night and quarreled with the boatman before the vessel had left land—forgetting any debt of gratitude for shelter and care, and instead stirring up conflict. The conduct of the men of Qi and Chu was so absurd, yet neither thought himself wrong. How did the Huizi school’s insistence that each side alone is correct differ from them?
This is the kind of situation mentioned earlier: the shore is high, steep, and perilous.
Zhuangzi was escorting a funeral and passed the grave of Huizi (Huishi). He turned to those with him and said: “In Ying—the capital of Chu—there was a man who had a dab of fine white earth on the tip of his nose, no thicker than a fly’s wing. He had the stonemason Craftsman Shi shave it off with his axe. Craftsman Shi swung the axe with a whistling rush of wind; the man shut his eyes and let him work, standing still and yielding to the stroke.”
The commentary explains that Craftsman Shi closed his eyes and wielded the axe, relying entirely on practiced skill. The sub-commentary adds that “the man of Ying” means someone from Ying; e denotes fine white earth, and man means to stain or smear. Zhuangzi was burying an old friend and passed Huizi’s tomb; remembering their former bond, he told this tale. Craftsman Shi shut his eyes and swung the axe, judging only by sound as he pared away the white earth—the blade’s wind passed by, the smear was thin as a fly’s wing—illustrating how marvelous his craft was.
Craftsman Shi removed every bit of white earth without nicking the man’s nose; the man of Ying stood beside him, his face unchanged. When Lord Yuan of Song heard of it, he summoned Craftsman Shi and said, “Please try doing that for me too.”
The commentary and sub-commentary note that Craftsman Shi cleared the earth without harming the nose, while the man of Ying stood by, calm and unafraid. Lord Yuan of Song, struck by the wonder of the feat, called Craftsman Shi and asked him to demonstrate.
Craftsman Shi said, “I truly could do that once. But the partner who let me exercise this art has been dead for a long time. Since that gentleman passed away, I have had no one I could work with in tandem, and no one with whom I could really talk.”
The commentary observes that Craftsman Shi needed a partner who would not stir an inch, just as Zhuangzi needed a kindred spirit who could grasp what lay beyond the words. The sub-commentary goes further: however clever Craftsman Shi’s hands, he still required a steady, fearless counterpart; however gifted Zhuangzi was, he still needed someone like Huizi who could answer him and catch his deeper meaning. After Huizi died, Zhuangzi lost his true interlocutor; Craftsman Shi, likewise, no longer performed that wind-swift, hair’s-breadth skill.
When Guan Zhong was seriously ill, Duke Huan of Qi came to visit him and said, “Father Zhong (Duke Huan’s honorific for Guan Zhong), your illness is already severe. If it grows worse, whom should I entrust with the state?”
The sub-commentary records that Guan Zhong’s given name was Yiwu, his style name Zhong; he had served as chief minister of Qi and was a friend of Bao Shuya. Duke Huan, whose name was Xiaobai, addressed Guan Zhong as “Father Zhong.” That he could rectify the realm, rally the feudal lords, and become hegemon owed much to Guan Zhong’s support. Here “gravely ill” means the sickness was heavy; “the illness has become critical” points to a life-threatening turn. Duke Huan feared Guan Zhong might die, so he asked to whom he should commit government affairs.
Guan Zhong asked, “Whom do you have in mind?” Duke Huan replied, “Bao Shuya.”
The sub-commentary states that Duke Huan asked Guan Zhong whom the administration should be given to, and Guan Zhong answered that it should go to Bao Shuya.
One should not let Bao Shuya govern the state. He is upright and incorruptible—a good man—but he cannot be tolerant or close to those beneath him. Once he hears of someone’s fault, he remembers it for life. A person like this, if put in charge of the state, will constrain the ruler above and go against the people’s wishes below, and will soon offend the ruler.
Commentary: Bao Shuya’s conduct is pure and honest, but he is too harsh toward others and cannot accommodate those less capable than himself; once he hears of a fault, he never forgets it. His nature is blunt and straight; he is not suited to the heavy role of assisting the ruler and governing the country. Toward the ruler he is so loyal and direct that he easily ties the ruler’s hands; toward the people he is so stern and “clear” that he runs counter to their hearts and cannot harmonize with others. Guan Zhong was a worthy man who could see the whole situation; he also feared this would endanger the state and harm Bao Shuya, so he did not recommend him.
Duke Huan of Qi asked, “Then who is suitable?” Guan Zhong replied, “If one must be chosen, Yin Peng will do. As a man, he holds high position without arrogance.”
Note: “High in rank, yet not proud.”
Commentary: Yin Peng was a worthy man of Qi. “Does not look down on those below” means he does not slight people because of differences in status. Though a minister or chancellor, he could forget wealth and honor and draw near to common people, and he did not disdain servants for their low station. If one person had to be appointed, he would suffice.
“Toward those less capable than himself, he feels compassion; where he falls short of the Yellow Emperor, he feels ashamed.”
Note: Therefore he does not lightly abandon anyone.
Commentary: Toward those beneath him he only cherishes and pities; in assisting Duke Huan he pursued the way of simplicity and genuineness. What shamed him was that he could not measure up to the Yellow Emperor (the legendary ancient sovereign).
“To give others virtue and the Way is called being a sage; to give others wealth is called being a worthy.”
Commentary: The sage aids the multitude with virtue; the worthy relieves others with goods.
“To stand above others by one’s own talent—no one truly submits; to hold one’s talent humbly and treat others with deference—no one fails to submit. In governing the state, if one can be as broad-minded as described above, there is no need to scrutinize petty faults; in managing the household, there is no need to pick out everyone’s mistakes. If one must choose someone, Yin Peng will do.”
Commentary: Ruling the people by cleverness and sharp scrutiny easily goes against human feeling. Bao Shuya, governing the state, would pursue small faults; managing the household, he would spot others’ errors. If one must choose, Yin Peng will do. This sums up the earlier argument.
The King of Wu went by boat on the Yangtze and climbed Mount Ju. The monkeys saw him, dropped what they were holding in panic, and fled into thick grass and woods. Only one monkey remained at ease, leaping and climbing and showing off its skill before the king. The king shot it swiftly; arrows flew one after another.
Note: “Swift” means quick; “in succession” means continuously without pause.
“Ju” refers to macaques. There were many macaques on the mountain, so it was called “Mount Ju.” Xun means fear; zhen describes thickets of thorns; weiyi means composed and at ease; juezhi is leaping and turning; mingji means quick and nimble.
King Wu of Wu crossed the river by boat on a pleasure excursion and climbed high to look far. The macaques on the mountain, seeing the king, all fled in fear into the thorn thickets—only one old macaque, relying on its nimble body, still faced the king with arrogant ease. The king found this strange and grew angry; he immediately raised his bow and shot at it.
“Bo jie shi” means the macaque could actually catch arrows shot at great speed. Bo means to catch; jie means swift; shi means arrow. Though the arrows flew very fast, the macaque could still catch them, showing how agile it was.
The king ordered those around him to chase and shoot that macaque together. The macaque clung to a tree and died. Here “xiang zhe” refers to attendants at the king’s side; “qu she” means rushing forward to shoot.
The king turned to his friend Yan Buyi and said: “This macaque boasted of its cleverness and, trusting its agility, treated me with arrogance—so it ended up killed. Take this as a warning! Do not, because of your looks or gifts, treat others with pride.”
The commentary explains that “ji” means death. The macaque, confident in its skill and agility, was arrogant and rude, and finally met a violent end. The king used this to warn Yan Buyi: do not pride yourself on beauty, fame, or talent before the world.
Yan Buyi went home, took Master Dong Wu as his teacher, worked hard to shed attachment to his good looks, gave up music, and declined lofty rank. Three years later, everyone in the state praised him. Dong Wu was a worthy man of the state of Wu; “chu” means to remove. The commentary says Yan Buyi heeded the king’s warning, withdrew to examine himself, corrected his faults, abandoned sensual pleasure and glory, and valued simplicity and moral cultivation.
Nan Bo Ziqi (the same as Nan Bo Ziqi in the “Discussion on Making All Things Equal”) leaned on his armrest, sat, and sighed upward toward heaven.
Yan Chengzi was Ziqi’s disciple. He came in to pay his respects and said: “Master, you truly stand above all things! Your body can be like withered bones, and your heart like ashes that have gone cold—can it really be so?”
The commentary explains that when Yan Chengzi saw his teacher sighing upward, he felt the depth of his forgetting of things—as if body were withered and mind utterly still and desireless—and so praised him sincerely and longed earnestly to emulate his virtue.
I once lived near the mouth of a mountain cave. At that time, King Tian He of Qi had seen me only once, yet the people of Qi congratulated him three times.
Note: They treated having met Ziqi—the man living in seclusion at the mountain cave—as an honor.
Commentary: The mountain cave lay on the southern slopes of Qi. Tian He was the personal name of the king of Qi. Ziqi dwelt in seclusion in the cave, and the fame of his virtue spread far. The king met him briefly and took it as glory, so the whole state congratulated him three times.
My reputation had spread ahead of me, so they knew me; I had sold myself to fame, and so they took me as someone worth pursuing.
Commentary: My name had gone out first, and thus people knew me. I had, as it were, sold myself to reputation, and so when Tian He met me he took me as a model to follow.
If I had not let myself have a reputation, how would they have known me? If I had not sold myself to fame, how would they have taken me as worth pursuing?
Commentary: If I had dimmed my light and hidden my tracks, not letting reputation attach to me, how would the world have known me? If my name had not been prized, how would they have come to see me and take me as a model? Precisely because I failed to erase my traces and conceal my beginnings, outer things used me and I became merchandise in the trade of fame.
Alas, I grieve for those who have lost themselves.
Commentary: Here “lost” (丧) means to lose oneself. Ziqi laments that people abandon themselves and look up to others, and thereby lose their own Dao.
I also grieve for those who grieve on behalf of others.
Commentary: The Dao in itself has no gain or loss; things in the world have joy and sorrow. Therefore those who grieve for people who have lost themselves are themselves worthy of grief.
I also grieve for those who grieve for the grievers. They are drifting ever farther from the Dao.
Note: Ziqi understood that deliberate effort cannot truly rescue such people and only harms oneself. Hence he met sorrow with “non-sorrow,” letting grief gradually fade until it settled into plain indifference and a withered form—that is what “ever farther” means.
Commentary: The subtle Dao is empty, still, and harmonious; it knows no gain, loss, joy, or anger. Thus to grieve for those who lose themselves, and to grieve for those who grieve, though there are differences of depth and sequence, none yet accords with the Great Dao—all are still objects of compassion. To release grief upon grief, layer by layer, makes the teaching clear; the reasoning of mystery upon mystery appears thereby, joining all subtleties, hence “ever more remote and deep.”
When Zhongni (Confucius) arrived in Chu, the king of Chu held a banquet for him. Sun Shu’ao stood holding the wine vessel, Shinan Yiliao received the wine and, offering the libation, said: “People of old, in gatherings like this, always had something to say.”
Note: When people of antiquity met to drink together, they always spoke a few words in the assembly.
Commentary: Shang is a general term for drinking vessels; here it means entertaining with wine. Jue is also a type of wine vessel.
Vessels can hold about one sheng of wine. In antiquity, before drinking, people would usually pour out a little wine as an offering. Yiliao poured the wine on the ground and performed the sacrificial rite.
When the offering was finished, Confucius said he wished to discuss matters with Yiliao there.
Yiliao said: “I have heard of ‘words that do not speak,’ but I myself have never spoken them.”
Confucius explained: “The sage is originally without words; what they say is nothing other than what ordinary people say every day. That is why it is called ‘words that do not speak.’ If one can treat speaking as not speaking, then even when words come from the mouth, one may still say that nothing was ever said.”
Confucius also said: “Now I shall speak here about ‘wordlessness.’”
The commentary explains: When the Way teaches people, it does not depend on words; and when one uses words to explain the Way, one may still fail to say it fully. Therefore the sage who grasps this principle may open the mouth and speak, yet it can still be said that they “spoke without ever speaking.” At Yiliao’s request, Confucius also discusses “wordlessness” here.
Shinan Yiliao juggled pellets, and the feud between two houses in Chu was settled; Sun Shu’ao lay at ease asleep with a feather fan in hand, and the people of Ying laid down their weapons.
The note says: When these two men put an end to the conflict, they both remained silent, their bearing calm and detached, and the fighting dissolved on its own.
The exegesis explains: Yiliao bore the surname Xiong; he was a worthy man of Chu and also a brave warrior, with a quiet disposition. He lived south of the market, hence he was called “Master Shinan.” Duke Bai of Chu (Bai Gongsheng) was plotting rebellion and intended to kill Chief Minister Zixi and Grand Marshal Ziqi. Hearing that Xiong Yiliao was valiant, he thought that with his help one could withstand five hundred men, and sent an envoy to summon him.
At the time Yiliao was amusing himself by tossing pellets up and down and said not a word to the envoy. The envoy even threatened him with a sword, yet he showed no fear. He neither obeyed Bai Gongsheng’s command nor made any response. Bai Gongsheng failed to win Yiliao’s support, the rebellion did not succeed, and therefore it is said that “the feud between the two houses was settled.”
Sun Shu’ao had the surname Sun and the style name Shu’ao; he was chief minister of Chu and a man of virtuous character. Ying was the capital of Chu; “to cast down” means to put aside. Sun Shu’ao was calm and generous; he understood resting with a high pillow and finding ease in self-so wandering, and he also grasped that the Way need not be put into many words. Holding a feather fan, he remained composed and at peace, so the enemy state did not attack and warfare was stilled from afar. The people of Chu were spared from war and could instead cultivate civil virtue. The exegesis holds that because the two men had this kind of effect, Confucius could converse with them and together unfold the subtle Way.
Confucius said: “I wish I had a mouth three feet long.”
The note explains: If what one says does not come from one’s own genuine experience, then even if one talks without ceasing all one’s life, it still amounts to never having truly spoken. Therefore, even with a mouth three feet long, one may not count as eloquent; and for ordinary people, keeping the mouth shut does not by itself mean they have truly achieved wordlessness.
What they speak of is “the Way that is not spoken as the Way.”
Note: Here “they” refers to the two people mentioned earlier.
Commentary: This speaks of the principle being expounded. Though the principle cannot be exhausted in words, it can be made manifest through words; it is neither the “Way” as ordinarily spoken of, nor can one say it is entirely without the Way.
This is “the debate that does not speak.”
Note: Here “this” refers to Confucius (Kongzi).
Commentary: This speaks of the verbal teaching that expounds the principle. Though it is called “not speaking,” it still relies on words to express itself; it is neither discourse in the usual sense, nor can one say there is no discourse at all. Zixuan says “this” refers to Confucius—such annotation is shallow and deviates greatly.
What is called “not the Way” and “not speaking” is the search for principles hidden in the obscure and the thorough investigation of things’ nature—how could those two men accomplish that? If one takes stories like sweet sleep and juggling pellets as lessons in settling disputes, and thinks silence alone can end litigation, then such silence is far from true speech. How could Confucius say he had a three-foot “beak”? So that interpretation does not hold. Moreover, this chapter discusses principles of utmost subtlety; from the thread of the text, it clearly has nothing to do with Sun and Xiong.
De (Virtue/Power) is gathered under the realm to which the Way returns as one.
Note: Though what the Way embraces is boundless, in the end what matters most is that each attains something for himself—hence “returning to one.”
Speech comes to rest where knowing cannot reach—that is the utmost realm.
Note: Words can only express what they can reach; if it were otherwise, how could it be called the utmost?
Commentary: The utmost realm of the Way of Heaven is the domain of “Twofold Mystery” (Chongxuan)—what the sage’s heart cannot fully know and what subtle speech cannot articulate. If one tries to seek the real Way through words and knowledge, one will be far from it. Therefore what De gathers and what speech can express, in the end, all lie in the wondrous Way that returns to one.
The Way returns to one, yet each person’s De is not the same.
Note: Each person only attains something for himself; they are not identical—yet the Way to which they return is one.
Commentary: The Way is empty, still, and far beyond reach, without limit; human De has higher and lower degrees, and no one can fully embody the Way in every respect. Another version writes “same” (同) as “complete” (周), meaning De has grades of excellence and cannot be identical with the Way. This explains the earlier phrase “what the Way unifies as one.”
What knowing cannot know, debate also cannot demonstrate.
Note: This is not that there is something else outside knowing, and therefore it cannot be shown.
Commentary: The subtle Way that is known transcends names and words, and so is not something debate can fully demonstrate. This explains the earlier “what knowing knows as unknowable.”
If one sets up names and argues like the Confucians and Mohists, one invites disaster.
Note: The Confucian and Mohist schools wanted to make what by nature cannot be the same into the same, and to demonstrate what cannot be demonstrated—therefore they invite disaster.
Clinging to the idea that “I am right and others are wrong,” and arguing on that basis with Confucians and Mohists, brings calamity in its wake.
Thus the great sea does not reject the waters that flow eastward into it; only then can it be called vast.
Note: The sea receives incoming waters and never refuses them, and thereby achieves its vastness.
Commentary: All rivers compete to pour into the eastern sea, and the waters never cease; the sea holds them and never refuses or grows weary of them. Here the eastern sea is taken as an example to show its breadth and grandeur.
The sage (here, one of lofty virtue who accords with the Great Dao) embraces heaven and earth, and his beneficence reaches everywhere under heaven, yet people do not know who accomplished all this.
Note: The sage naturally takes all this upon himself.
Commentary: Earlier the sea was used as a simile; here the sage is spoken of. The sage’s virtue accords with heaven and earth, so he embraces heaven and earth; his humaneness spreads without limit, so his beneficence reaches everywhere under heaven. He achieves things yet does not keep them for himself, so people do not know who did them. He attributes merit to others, so no one traces whose family the merit belongs to.
Therefore, while alive they have no rank or title to claim, and after death they receive no posthumous epithet (the title conferred after death according to one’s life and deeds).
Note: Though they have achievements, they do not keep those achievements as their own.
Note: Posthumous epithets mark a person’s merit; the sage’s merit is not his own, so even if an epithet were given, it would not count as something he possessed.
Commentary: Ordinary people have names and positions in life, and after death receive epithets that reflect how they actually lived. The sage, while alive, attributes merit to all things and to others; after death there is nothing left to honor with an epithet.
They do not hoard wealth or accumulated merit.
Note: They let all things attain their own fulfillment.
Commentary: Even when they possess wealth and virtue, they give it all away to others.
They do not establish a name for themselves.
Note: Merit was not produced by themselves, so reputation belongs to all things.
Commentary: Reputation is what marks actual achievement; if one does not keep achievement as one’s own, where can reputation attach?
This is what is called the “great person” (one of lofty virtue).
Note: If one kept merit for oneself, one could not be called a great person.
Commentary: In sum, those described above who do not value fame and epithets may be called persons of lofty virtue.
A dog is not a good dog because it barks well, and a person is not worthy because he speaks well.
Note: Worthy character comes from human nature; it is not produced by words.
Commentary: Here “good” means skilled or adept. A dog need not prove itself by barking; why should a worthy person say more—and how much more so to become a great person?
Note: A great person is even less something one becomes by deliberate display.
Commentary: Even seeking a reputation for worth through words is inappropriate; how much more so to scheme, choose, and reject in order to pursue the state of “great person”?
If one deliberately pursues “greatness,” one still cannot thereby become truly great; how much less can one become so by deliberately polishing virtue?
Note: Only according with nature is true De (Virtue/Power).
Commentary: A broad mind is called “great”; accord with the deep, subtle Dao is called De. If one purposely seeks “greatness,” one has already strayed from the Way; how much more impossible is it to adorn virtue with intent? That cannot succeed.
Heaven and Earth are the most complete—what is there to seek beyond them? Heaven and Earth are already complete in themselves.
Note: The completeness of Heaven and Earth is not something gained by pursuit.
Commentary: “Complete” means fully sufficient and abundant. Heaven and Earth cover, uphold, and nourish the myriad things; the four seasons turn in their course, and life arises of itself—by what art is any of this done? Those who know that completeness is originally in themselves do not chase after externals, do not lose or cast off their nature, and do not let things alter who they are.
Note: Knowing that completeness is in oneself, one does not abandon oneself to seek outside; thus there is nothing to seek, nothing to lose, and nothing to discard.
Commentary: Those who can take in the broad pattern of nature and see that all things are already sufficient can let go of the divide between self and things. They neither grasp nor reject, neither gain nor lose, and do not let outward conditions steal the heart.
Turn the gaze back upon oneself, and there is no exhaustion.
Note: Return to oneself and keep to one’s own principle; that principle opens of itself.
Commentary: Because the inner life is vast and already whole, one joins with the root principle. Then, returning to the source and sensing the subtle root within oneself, there is no limit to how far one may go.
Follow the nature that has been so from the beginning, without carving or polishing.
Note: Follow one’s nature and arrival comes of itself; deliberate refinement is not needed.
Commentary: “Follow” means to go along with. To go along with the nature of things, without a mind set on reshaping them—why then adorn and display?
The great person’s sincerity (cheng).
Note: Without forced action, yet accomplishment comes—hence it is called “sincerity.”
Commentary: “Sincerity” means what is real and true. One who returns to the root and follows things embodies the genuine virtue of the great sage.
Ziqi had eight sons. He lined them up and called Jiufang Gao forward, saying, “Please look at these sons for me—which of them has the best countenance?”
Commentary: Ziqi was Sima Ziqi of Chu. “Line them up” means to arrange them in order; “them” is “them to.” Jiufang was the surname, Gao the given name. Ziqi set his eight sons in the courtyard and asked Jiufang Gao to read their faces, to learn which was most auspicious.
Jiufang Gao replied, “Kun is the most auspicious.”
Commentary: Kun was one son’s name. Jiufang Gao said that among the eight, Kun’s face was the best and most auspicious.
Ziqi was startled and pleased, and asked, “What do you mean?”
Commentary: “Startled” here is the look of sudden joy. Hearing that his son was auspicious, Ziqi showed surprise and delight and pressed for what that auspicious sign implied.
Jiufang Gao said, “Kun will share a ruler’s table and eat with him until the end of his days.”
Ziqi’s face fell; he wept and said, “Why should my son come to such a pass—how could it end like this?”
Ziqi wept when he heard this, his face full of grief. Fang Wu’s view was shallow: he took dining with the lord as a sign of good fortune. Ziqi looked further and knew it might not be auspicious at all, so he pitied the misfortune that was coming and sorrow welled up in him.
Jiu Fang Wu said, “To eat with the lord means favor can reach the three clans of kin—not to mention one’s parents. Now the master hears of this and weeps; that is refusing blessing. You are auspicious, but your father is inauspicious.”
In the commentary tradition, “three clans” means one’s father’s kin, one’s wife’s kin, and related lines of kinship. “Yu” (御) here means to resist or block. Fang Wu took sharing a meal with the lord as a mark of honor and wealth whose benefits spread through the family. Ziqi was held to be fortunate while his father wept, so Fang Wu concluded the father was turning away good fortune.
Ziqi said, “Fang Wu, what makes you think you understand this and call it auspicious? Your insight stops at wine and meat in the mouth and fragrance in the nose—how would you know where they come from?”
In the commentary, “zi” (自) means “from where” or “source.” Fang Wu was only a small diviner of limited reach; he thought auspiciousness meant the taste of food and drink and scent in the nostrils, not the origin of that wine and meat.
“I never kept herds, yet a sheep appeared in the southwest corner; I never loved the hunt, yet a quail appeared in the southeast. If that is not strange, what is?”
People find things strange when they defy expectation. “Zang” (牂) means sheep; the southwest corner of a house is called “ao,” the southeast “miao.” Commentators also tie these corners to directions and the earthly branches. Sheep are usually raised by herding, quail usually taken by hunting. To gain them without herding or hunting is like gaining rank and riches without the deeds that normally earn them—is that not strange?
“You and I move among those who wander freely between heaven and earth.”
That life is not lived for some fixed purpose.
“We meet what comes and are content; from heaven we take our joy, from earth our food.”
“Yao” (邀) means to encounter and accept what arrives. Heaven and earth have no will. Ziqi had awakened to the Dao: his mind was empty and still, he did not cling to things, he followed each being’s place and roamed between heaven and earth. What he met suited his nature without his seeking delight; what he ate was whatever came, without his chasing fine flavors.
“I do not scheme with him, do not run affairs with him, and do not join him in chasing the uncanny.”
“Guai” (怪) means strange or uncanny happenings. The point is to follow nature, rest in one’s own nature, and live at ease.
Forget external things, and you will not be driven by them to act; forget crafty schemes, and you will not wear yourself out plotting; follow the constant Dao, and you will not treat the unusual as something strange.
He and I together ride upon the genuine truth of Heaven and Earth, and do not let external things clash with one another.
【注】In this way there is no deliberate doing of anything.
【疏】“诚” means what is real. Riding upon the true way Heaven and Earth run, complying with all things, free and at ease—therefore not clashing with external things.
He and I together go along with the flow, not treating him as something to be handled as a single “affair.”
【注】This is simply following nature, without making distinctions or choices.
【疏】“委蛇” means to let oneself go freely. Inner mind and outer realm do not stand opposed; one calmly lets all things be as they are. Since he is not treated as one affair, what is there to say about what is especially fitting or unfitting?
Yet now what the world calls recompense has appeared.
【注】When a person has merit toward things, things repay him. I have done no merit—why should I still receive recompense?
【疏】Rewarding merit and honoring virtue are what the world values. If one embodies the great Dao and complies with all things, without setting up fame or achievement, why expect merit to be repaid?
Whoever meets with strange omens must have done strange things. Now perhaps it is not that you and I are at fault, but that we are nearing a calamity sent by Heaven’s mandate.
【注】Now he has done no strange deed, yet strange omens have appeared—so one knows this is Heaven’s mandate.
【疏】“殆” means danger; “几” means to be close to it. Those who have done strange things usually meet strange omens. Now you have done no strange deed, yet you meet strange omens—you are probably about to encounter danger. This is likely a calamity from Heaven, not your fault.
For that reason I wept.
【注】If the matter were something one had done oneself, one could simply stop doing it; but when one has done nothing and disaster comes on its own, there is nothing to be done—hence the weeping.
【疏】If the fault were humanly caused, one might still reform; now the matter concerns Heaven’s mandate, so I wept.
Before long, the state of Chu sent Kun on a mission to Yan. On the road he was seized by bandits. The bandits saw that his body was whole and thought selling him would be hard; if they cut off his feet first, he would be easier to sell.
【注】The bandits feared Kun’s whole body would make escape easy, so they thought it better to cut off his feet so he would be easier to sell.
【疏】“无几何” means not long after. Chu sent Kun to Yan; on the way bandits captured him and he became a slave. The bandits worried he would flee and found guarding and selling him whole difficult; cutting off his feet removed the worry of escape, so he was easier to sell.
So the bandits cut off his feet and sold him in the state of Qi. Kun happened to end up on the street of Qu Gong (a rich man of Qi who also served as street overseer), and later lived out his life by eating meat.
【疏】Qu Gong was a wealthy man of Qi who also held the post of street overseer. After Kun’s feet were cut off…
He was sold into the household of a wealthy merchant in Qi, where he managed slaughtering in the marketplace for his master and spent his whole life eating meat.
In some versions the character for “也” appears as “术.” One reading takes Duke Qu as a butcher: sold into a butcher’s household, he followed his master in slaughtering livestock and therefore ate meat all his life.
Nieque met Xu You and asked, “Where are you going?”
Commentary: When Nieque ran into Xu You, he asked where he was headed.
Xu You said, “I am about to flee from Yao.”
Commentary: Xu You replied that he meant to keep away from Emperor Yao.
Nieque asked, “Why do you say that?”
Commentary: He asked Xu You for his reason.
Xu You said, “Yao is vigorously promoting benevolent government. I fear he will be mocked by the people of the world, and I also fear that later generations will end up devouring one another because of it.”
Note: Exalting benevolence and righteousness tends to make people rush to imitate them.
Commentary: “畜畜” describes something in full flood. Benevolent government may flourish, yet by favoring some it betrays simple, harmonious De. I fear that those who have lost the Dao in the world will grow ever more numerous and custom ever more shallow, until people follow only outward forms. If the common people suffer famine and their granaries stand empty, they may feed on one another—hence Xu You’s flight.
The common people are not hard to gather: cherish them and they draw near; give them benefit and they come; praise them and they are encouraged; subject them to what they loathe and they scatter.
Commentary: Comfort and cherish the people and they draw close; give them benefits and they arrive; praise and encourage them and they spur one another on; subject them to what they loathe and the multitude disperses. Whether the people gather or scatter is not inherently difficult.
Cherishing the people and giving them benefit both spring from benevolence and righteousness. Those who truly set benevolence and righteousness aside are few; those who use benevolence and righteousness for their own ends are many. Once benevolence and righteousness are put into practice, it is often no longer from the heart.
Note: When benevolence and righteousness become something to display, people may practice them in a false way.
Commentary: To show kindness to the people, care for the multitude, build achievement, and gather the people—nothing is weightier than benevolence and righteousness. Yet those who genuinely embody them in the heart are few; many borrow the names and models the sages left behind to seek fame and profit. Some therefore appear to practice benevolence and righteousness while in fact ornamenting their nature and faking their feelings—not acting from sincerity.
Moreover, the greedy treat benevolence and righteousness as tools.
Note: Once benevolence and righteousness become something that can be invoked as a label, the greedy will use them to reach their own ends.
Commentary: Here “tool” means the names and methods the sages bequeathed. Those greedy for fame and profit—more ruthless than beasts—are bound to wield benevolence and righteousness as instruments.
Hence the situation arises in which one person decides alone and treats the whole realm as private gain.
Note: If benevolence and righteousness could truly move everyone to practice them from within, judgment and governance would not rest in a single pair of hands.
Commentary: Those who chase honor and profit, under the banner of benevolence and righteousness, freely deploy harsh measures and govern the world dictatorially. Without the names the sages left for them to exploit, how could they act this way?
This is like using one knife to cut many things.
[Note] “覕” means to cut. The forms of the ten thousand things differ; if you use the same knife to cut them all, harm is inevitable.
[Commentary] If you wish to use one man to subdue the entire realm, it is like using one knife to cut the ten thousand things—each will suffer great injury.
Yao knew only that the worthy benefit the realm, and did not know that the worthy can also harm the realm. Only one who does not treat the way of the worthy as an absolute standard understands this.
[Note] When one is not fixated on the worthy, the conduct of the worthy does not degenerate into artificiality.
[Commentary] The traces of sages and worthies may have been beneficial in their own time, yet when passed down to later ages they can also bring calamity. Only one who can forget and transcend attachment to sages and worthies truly grasps the subtlety within.
There are “nuanshu” people, “ruxu” people, and also “juanlou” people.
[Commentary] Here several types of persons are named in summary; each will be explained in turn below.
“Nuanshu” refers to someone who has learned the words of a single teacher and, delighted and self-sufficient, thinks he has learned enough—unaware that what he has learned still falls short of truly knowing the ten thousand things.
[Note] How can teaching that reaches only mind and body know that “I” alone give birth and transform in the abstruse and wondrous realm?
[Commentary] “Nuanshu” is the look of someone pleased with himself. A person of shallow insight, with little learning, yet admiring himself, imagines he has exhausted subtle truth—how could he know that not one thing he has learned truly counts as principle? This is the meaning of “nuanshu,” closing the preceding discussion.
“Ruxu” speaks of lice on a pig. They pick the sparse places among the bristles and treat them as spacious palaces and parks; they take the areas by the hooves, the leg folds, the teats, and the inner thighs as safe, comfortable dwellings. They do not know that one day the butcher may suddenly roll up his sleeves, spread straw, and take up fire to roast the pig—they too will be scorched along with the pig.
[Commentary] “Ruxu” describes boasting and self-satisfaction. Lice live on the pig and take the bristles and the spaces by hooves and legs as vast, comfortable quarters—how could they know the butcher will suddenly slaughter and roast the pig, so that they perish with it? This illustrates people of shallow view who cling to desire: like pig-lice, they are pleased in a small realm before their eyes and do not see the danger of their own situation.
This is to follow one’s situation and accordingly feel satisfied or distressed.
[Commentary] “域” means situation or circumstance. Pig-lice live and die with the pig; humans too rise and fall, rejoice or grieve with their circumstances. This is what is meant by “ruxu.”
The commentary and sub-commentary say: If someone is not the kind of person who penetrates change and whose talent surpasses the world, yet only covets momentary ease and profit, that is no more than lice on a pig.
The sub-commentary explains: This is a concluding remark.
Juanlu (stooped, leaning forward) refers to Shun. Mutton does not court ants, yet ants are drawn to mutton because mutton has a rank, muttony smell. Shun had deeds of benevolent virtue and did not deliberately summon the people, yet the people all loved and honored him.
The sub-commentary explains: Mutton has a rank odor and does not mean to attract ants; ants smell it and gather. Shun had benevolent virtue and did not deliberately seek the people’s allegiance, yet the people loved and honored him. Thus mutton stands for Shun and ants for the people.
Therefore Shun moved his residence three times, and those who settled in the new place still reached one hundred thousand households, all the way to the ruins of Deng (a place name).
The sub-commentary explains: Shun moved three times to avoid Danzhu and also because he did not wish the people to cluster around him. The people admired his virtue and followed him; wherever he lived extended from a completed city to the ruins of Deng.
Yao heard that Shun was virtuous and recommended him to tongtu (barren land without vegetation), saying: “I hope that when he goes there, the people of that region may receive his grace.”
The sub-commentary explains: Land without vegetation on the ground is called tongtu. Yao heard that Shun had sage virtue, had Ehuang and Nüying marry him, and recommended him as his successor, yielding the realm to him; at the same time he had him dwell in poor, desolate places and undergo every kind of hardship. Yao also hoped that people in neighboring regions would accept Shun’s transforming influence and receive grace.
When Shun was recommended to the wasteland, he was already old; his hearing and sight had declined, yet he still could not rest and withdraw from public life—this is what is meant by juanlu.
The note says: In outward form sages do not differ from ordinary people, so their ears and eyes also decline. Yet their spirit remains whole and undivided. If in youth one has not fully grown and in adulthood one grows old, could sage wisdom be preserved even for a single day?
The sub-commentary explains: After Shun ascended the throne and governed the realm, he still pitied the people and cared for the multitude. When he grew old, his ears and eyes failed, yet he had no chance to rest and withdraw; his body was worn and his spirit weary, his back bent and body stooped—this is precisely the appearance of juanlu.
Therefore the shenren (spirit-person; one of transcendent spiritual attainment) does not delight in having the multitude gather around him.
The note says: The multitude comes of its own accord by natural affinity; it is not that he delights in drawing them or deliberately attracts them.
The sub-commentary explains: Shun’s three moves were precisely to avoid the multitude gathering.
When the multitude gathers, harmony is hard to achieve; when harmony is hard, there is no benefit for oneself.
The note says: This shows that Shun’s holding the realm was probably from unavoidable circumstance—how could it have been to court the multitude and gain from them?
The sub-commentary explains: Here bi means harmony. When the multitude gathers, people find it hard to harmonize with one another; when they do not harmonize, there is no benefit for oneself.
Therefore one does not especially draw near to anyone, nor especially keep anyone at a distance, but instead upholds De (Virtue/Power), nurtures harmonious Qi, and accords with the world. This is what is called the “True Person” (Zhenren).
“Yang” means to warm and nurture. The divine person is unfathomably deep and treats closeness and distance alike; upholding De and treating things with gentleness can be called a true sage.
Toward ants, one should set aside clever stratagems; toward fish, one should understand the principle of mutual forgetting; toward sheep, one should relinquish deliberate contrivance. In this way, showering favor on the people will instead make someone like Shun weary in body and spirit.
The commentary explains: Not clinging to the name of benevolence symbolized by mutton, one therefore sets aside cleverness when facing ants; not relying on fishy, deliberate conduct to transform all things, one therefore sets aside willful artifice when facing sheep. Casting off the distinctions of benevolence and righteousness and merging with the utmost Dao, one can be like fish who need not moisten one another to survive, but in rivers and lakes each dwells at ease and forgets the other. This criticizes Yu Shun for deliberately promoting benevolence and righteousness and thus exhausting body and spirit—which is why the preceding passage was spoken.
Use the eyes to see what the eyes see, use the ears to hear what the ears hear, use the mind to respond to what the mind perceives.
The annotation says: These three aspects have not yet fully freed themselves from ears, eyes, and mind.
The exegesis says: The eyes see only what is before them, the ears hear only what is at hand, the mind responds only to what it knows; not chasing what lies outside one’s proper place, but resting content within it—this is the cultivation of the True Person.
If it is thus, then in dealing with the world he is even and straight, like a carpenter’s line.
The annotation says: He has not yet cast off the line, yet already can be naturally even and straight.
The exegesis says: The line has no private bias, so it can set things true; the sage forgets fixed views and therefore can treat all things equally.
His transformations follow nature.
The annotation says: “Xun” means to accord with. He has not yet cut off outward traces, yet already merges with the mysterious Dao.
The exegesis says: “Xun” means to comply. In the world he does not show sharp edges; as affairs change in myriad ways he responds, following living beings and never going against the weak.
The True Persons of old treated all things with the Dao of nature.
The annotation says: In the mind there is no deliberate acting, yet one can meet affairs, and affairs are thereby well handled.
The exegesis says: As said above, the True Persons of old employed the Dao of nature, emptied the mind, and thereby met all things.
They did not use human contrivance to interfere with nature.
The annotation says: Using purposeful action to pursue Wuwei (non-action) only makes affairs more chaotic.
The exegesis says: They did not use human arrangement and picking-and-choosing to disturb innate wisdom.
The True Persons of old, when they obtained life, calmly accepted life; when they lost life, calmly accepted death; when they obtained death, they accepted death; when they lost death, they accepted life.
The annotation says: Gain and loss in life and death depend only on the situation. From the standpoint of life, life is what is gained; when death comes, one may instead regard life as loss. Gain and loss never have a fixed standard.
The exegesis says: Speaking from life, one takes life as gain; speaking from death, one may take life as loss. Since life and death have no fixed distinction, on which side do gain and loss truly fall? It is hard to pin down. Therefore the True Person blends life and death and treats gain and loss as one.
Among medicinal names are jin, platycodon, chicken-enclosure, and pig’s-slough; at that time…
Those called kings by the Way are truly beyond counting.
Note: When a drug fits the illness, nothing about it is base; when the season is wrong, nothing about it is noble. High and low shift with the moment—who can stay unchanged forever?
Commentary: Jin is aconite; it treats wind numbness. Balloon flower treats heart and belly ailments. Xueji is cockscomb, said to extend life if taken. Shiling is the root of polyporus, shaped like a pig’s egg, and treats thirst. These are all humble drugs. “Emperor” means ruler. Among drugs there is no high or low—what cures is the good drug; when drug and ailment match, it can play the leading role, as if it were sovereign. The eye sees, the ear hears, the hand grasps, the mind thinks—each has times to deploy or withdraw, and rise and fall also change with the hour. So whoever the age esteems can become king; whose talent misses the time must serve as minister. This is ordinary sense—how could one finish telling it?
Goujian led three thousand men in armor with shields and withdrew to hold Mount Kuaiji.
Commentary: Goujian was king of Yue; Kuaiji is a mountain name. Yue was defeated by Wu’s army, fell into dire straits, and had to retreat to Mount Kuaiji to gain a temporary foothold.
Only Wen Zhong knew that when a state perishes it may yet turn toward revival; Wen Zhong did not know that he would thereby meet with trouble.
Commentary: Wen Zhong was a grandee of Yue. When Goujian was defeated, only three thousand men remained holding Kuaiji, and Yue seemed about to perish. Wen Zhong’s plans were thorough and his counsel shrewd—he could find a path to restore the state amid ruin. He urged Goujian to make peace with Wu for the time being; twenty-two years later Yue destroyed Wu. Yet when the crafty hare is dead, the good dog is boiled; when the enemy state is gone, the loyal minister may also suffer. After Wu was pacified, Fan Li left Yue, wandered on rivers and seas, changed his name and hid his tracks—and later became Master Tao Zhu. Wen Zhong did not leave and was eventually killed by Goujian. He knew only that the state could be preserved from peril; he did not foresee that he himself would surely meet disaster. Wen Zhong’s name is also written with the character for “seed”; read it by the character as given.
Therefore it is said: the owl’s eyes have their season of use; the crane’s legs have their proper length—if you dismantle and alter them, you make them suffer.
Note: Each thing has its fitting time and use; it cannot apply in every place and moment. Once the right condition is lost, there is loss—and thus grief. “Unravel” means to split apart or remove.
Commentary: By day the owl sees poorly and by night clearly, so it suits the night and not the day. The crane’s legs are naturally long—long legs suit it, but they cannot be shortened. Each has its inborn nature; force dismantling and change, and there is pain. This is also like Wen Zhong: skilled at plotting a state’s survival or ruin, he did not see his own situation clearly.
Therefore it is said: when wind blows across the river’s face, the wind suffers loss; when the sun passes over the river’s face, it too suffers loss.
Whatever has physical form is naturally bound to drag one another down; only what transcends physical form can be ground and polished without being harmed.
Note: Wind and sunlight are both Qi; a river has physical form. Whatever has form and breath cannot escape being entangled. Wind and sun constantly wear upon the river, so the river is bound to suffer damage. The river relies on its source never ceasing to flow, and therefore does not notice. It is like when Wu destroyed Yue: the strategists trusted in their merit and thought they would have no further trouble, yet in the end they were put to death. From this one can see that when things benefit and depend on one another, they may also harm one another.
This is what is meant by saying that wind and sunlight merely keep company with the river, while the river imagines it has never been worn upon.
Note: The river has in fact already been damaged; it simply does not perceive it. Because it relies on water continually coming from the source, it assumes there is no harm.
Commentary: Shi means to rely upon; ying means to harass or injure. Wind and sunlight accompany the river; the river is worn upon yet does not know it, because it relies on water constantly flowing from the source.
Water clings to earth, shadow clings to a person, and the myriad things cling to the myriad things—each rests securely in its own place.
Note: Without deliberate action, one stops at one’s proper share; hence this is called resting secure.
Commentary: Shen means secure and settled. Without earth, water cannot stay settled; without a person, a shadow does not appear; without a creator, the myriad things cannot stand. Thus these three depend on one another yet each thinks itself firm. Still, old and new never cease replacing one another, and being and perishing never pause: what was yesterday has already changed today. The dull-witted do not understand this principle.
Therefore, when the eyes insist on seeing ever more brightly, there is danger; when the ears insist on hearing ever more keenly, there is danger; when the heart insistently chases what it desires, there is danger as well.
Note: Where there is fixed intent, there is no limit—hence one falls into danger.
Commentary: Xun means to chase after or to follow slavishly. If the eyes pursue vision like that of Li Zhu, if the ears pursue hearing like that of Shi Kuang, and if the heart pursues knowledge without bound, how could one not fall into danger?
Whoever lodges ability in inward deliberation is in danger. Once danger has taken shape, there is no time left for thorough remedy and correction.
Note: Therefore what is prized is not trusting in one’s own ability, but yielding to what is naturally so.
Commentary: The cleverness of discriminating judgment arises from within. Those who boast of their skill inevitably invite danger and ruin. So even when they have already achieved something, it is too late for full remedy and change.
Calamities grow because the various sources of trouble gather together.
Note: Cui means to gather. If one cannot forget cleverness, calamity will spring up from many directions.
Commentary: Zi means to increase; cui means to gather. To command inward deliberation and to display one’s abilities outwardly—therefore [calamities multiply and gather in this way].
Calamities and disasters will continue to grow and gather.
Their opposite is that they come in the wake of achievement.
Commentary: Return to one’s original nature, and achievements are no longer deliberately contrived; they come about naturally.
Explanation: Boasting of one’s own abilities instead invites disaster and ruin, because one refuses to yield once success has been achieved.
The results will take a long time to appear.
Commentary: One who seeks quick success will instead find it difficult to succeed.
Explanation: If someone truly wants to accomplish something, yet keeps boasting and acting self-important, all the while expecting a reward, success will naturally be a long time coming.
People regard these things as their own treasures. Is this not pitiful?
Commentary: “Their own treasures” refers to the knowledge and abilities they believe they possess.
Explanation: People whose minds wander and whose understanding is clouded prize their abilities and achievements highly, clinging tightly to them. This is truly pitiful.
Thus, the destruction of states and the slaughter of their people go on without end.
Commentary: These are calamities each has brought upon themselves.
Explanation: They covet land and seize it for themselves. They also treat wealth as a great treasure and plunder it by any means. In the end, the state falls and their homes are destroyed; countless people are harmed, and calamities have no end.
Not knowing to trace calamity back to its source: that is the problem.
Commentary: They do not know to ask where calamities come from. Calamities arise from clinging to things, so one should cultivate the mind and nature to dispel them.
Explanation: There are clear-sighted people in the world whose example could serve as a guide. Yet people do not ask what lies at the root of ruin; they only resent poverty and low status. This is the height of ignorance.
When walking, one steps on the ground, yet relies on the places one has not stepped on in order to walk steadily and travel far.
Explanation: “Jian” and “nian” both mean to tread. To walk, one must step on the ground, but one also depends on the ground not yet trodden in order to keep moving forward. Without untouched ground ahead, one could not walk steadily, much less travel far. This is an analogy.
Human knowledge works the same way: what one already knows may be little, yet one must rely on what one does not yet know in order to keep learning. This is the principle in question.
Commentary: Only after forgetting Heaven and Earth and letting go of the myriad things can one know the cicada’s wing. How much more, then, must the mind return to emptiness and stillness to know what the Dao of Heaven points to?
Explanation: Human understanding may be clear or clouded, and therefore greater or lesser. When each thing remains within the bounds of what it can attain, the myriad things are free to be themselves. Thus, walking depends on ground not yet trodden; likewise, the mind depends on what it has not yet understood in order to illuminate things. This is the natural principle of abiding in stillness and nourishing tranquility. That is why the Laozi says, “Being brings advantage; nonbeing gives it use.” Here, that principle serves as an analogy.
To know the “Great One,” the “Great Yin,” the “Great Eye,” the “Great Equality,” the “Great Square,” the “Great Trust,” and the “Great Stability” is to reach the utmost.
Explanation: This passage briefly identifies the “Seven Greats.” Those who can understand them may be said to have reached a very high state. From here…
“The Great Unity” (Dayi) pervades all things.
Note: “Great Unity” refers to the Dao.
Commentary: “One” is the yang number; “Great Unity” refers to Heaven. Heaven can pervade and give birth to all things, hence “pervades.”
“The Great Yin” resolves all things.
Note: It employs each thing’s proper limit so that all affairs proceed without obstruction.
Commentary: “Great Yin” refers to Earth. Earth, without mind, bears all things and can also break apart the forms of things.
“The Great Eye” beholds all things.
Note: Letting things appear of themselves is called “the Great Eye.”
Commentary: Each thing beholds what it can behold—this is “the Great Eye.”
“The Great Equalizer” (Dajun) accords with all things.
Note: Following each thing’s nature so that each finds its place is called “the Great Equalizer.”
Commentary: “Yuan” means to accord—this is the greatest accord. Things each have their nature, each full and in balance.
“The Great Square” (Dafang) embodies all things.
Note: Embodying things so each receives its share—then the myriad directions each find their place; this is “the Great Square.”
Commentary: The forms of things each have different techniques and traits, as when a spider spins its web. Discerning and penetrating them is “the Great Square.”
“The Great Trust” (Daxin) examines all things.
Note: Following the timeliness each thing should reach, without letting them stray—this is “the Great Trust.”
Commentary: “Xin” is truthfulness; “ji” is to reach. Going along with how things are and letting them develop, so each attains its true state—this is “the Great Trust.”
“The Great Fixity” (Dading) holds all things.
Note: When true nature is undisturbed, there is natural stability. Thus to hold all things with “Great Fixity” is in truth to need no deliberate holding.
Commentary: Things each rest in emptiness and move within it; their principle is originally empty.
All things possess innate spontaneity (ziran).
Note: There is nothing that lacks natural nature.
Commentary: Of the seven “greats” spoken of above, not one fails to arise from spontaneity.
Accord with spontaneity, and illumination follows.
Note: Acting in accord with nature, wisdom becomes clear—no need for deliberate effort.
Commentary: “Xun” means to follow. Simply following innate nature, wisdom naturally illuminates things.
In the deepest principle there is a pivot.
Note: The utmost principle has its utmost point; in silent discernment one can grasp its hinge.
Commentary: Principles dark and hard to see have their pivot. In applying them, one need not scheme or arrange.
The beginning of things lies in “that” (bi).
Note: The beginning of things lies in “that”; I only transmit—I do not create.
Commentary: The beginning of things lies in “that”; I only transmit—I do not create.
Explained thus, it is as if there were no explanation.
Note: In explaining, one lets things clarify themselves—they become clear on their own; the explainer adds no extra merit, so it is as if there were no explanation.
Commentary: Following “that” to understand, and guarding against clinging to small partial gains—hence it looks like no explanation.
The wisdom that grasps it is as if there were no wisdom.
Note: This means that wisdom that truly understands “that” does not show itself as ordinary cleverness.
Only when one can forget one’s own knowledge does one seem to know nothing at all.
Only after first attaining “not knowing” can one afterward truly come to know.
Annotation: If I do not presume that I know, the other’s knowledge can unfold on its own; when that knowledge unfolds, nothing under heaven fails to display its own knowing in turn.
Commentary: Not presuming to know yet being able to know—this is genuine knowing.
In responding to things, one should not fix rigid boundaries.
Annotation: One should meet each thing’s needs with flexible response, not clinging to a single method.
Yet one cannot be entirely without boundaries either.
Annotation: Each thing has its own proper limit.
Things multiply and shift in myriad ways, yet each possesses its authentic nature.
Annotation: Though forms are diverse and things differ from one another, each has its real aspect.
Commentary: The myriad things are turbulent and not alike; surveying and governing them as a whole, one can grasp their true condition.
Antiquity and the present cannot replace each other.
Annotation: Past and present each have their own “thus it is”; they cannot stand in for one another.
Commentary: Antiquity has its own being as antiquity—it is not that antiquity became today in one continuous line; today has its own being as today—it is not that today generates antiquity. Each thing has its own nature, so they cannot substitute for one another.
Each thing’s proper share must not be diminished.
Annotation: Each thing should be allowed to fulfill its own limit fully.
Commentary: Time does not run backward; the patterns of things do not shift and swap—must one rely on antiquity to accomplish today?
Can this not be called a broad exposition and scrutiny of the great Dao?
Annotation: When the Dao is pursued and clarified, within it there are far-reaching boundaries of its own.
Commentary: In light of what was asked above, the principle is so vast—can one not say this manifests and examines the subtle Dao, and states it with precision?
Why not question at that point? Why remain so confused?
Annotation: If one pursues the overall meaning of the Dao, one will see that each thing has its extreme and its proper share; the principle of forgetting self and yielding to things can then be understood. Why still be so perplexed?
Commentary: “闔” means “how,” and “奚” also means “how.” It is like walking at night yet not asking the sage; having already lost the authentic and lost the way, why fall into such hardship and confusion?
To use the principle of “not being confused” to dispel confusion, and in the end return to “not being confused”—this is precisely taking “not being confused” too seriously.
Annotation: Confusion cannot be erased by forced explanation; if one single-mindedly exalts “great non-confusion,” one ends at the extreme of foolishness. Therefore the sage accords with things and lets them be as they are; hence the traces of ancient emperors differ, and their titles change with the age.
Commentary: The sage’s wisdom is not the ordinary person’s confusion. If one uses the sage’s words to analyze ordinary confusion, one should forget what was gained and return to the root, restoring true nature. If one cannot grasp what lies beyond the words and forget the words themselves, yet clings to the sage’s conduct and speech and esteems the explicit “non-confusion,” then though one wishes to honor non-confusion, how can confusion be removed? This too is deliberately pursuing “non-confusion.”
Chapter 26 of the Commentary and Sub-commentary on the True Scripture of the Southern Florescence
Shaungliang and Yanbolt were both disciples of Wen Bodao. Wang Chu was a disciple of Yanbolt. They asked their teacher, “We have heard that there are people who possess the Dao, but we have never seen one. Is there really such a thing?”
Yanbolt said, “Where can you go and not find a person of the Dao? If you fail to recognize him, that is all. The mind’s knowledge is what searches for him, but the mind’s knowledge is itself what is to be found. Thus it is said: ‘The mind’s knowledge seeks the mind’s knowledge, yet the mind’s knowledge is itself the object of the search. If you do not know that the seeker is identical with what is sought, this is called the utmost confusion.’”
The sub-commentary explains: Shaungliang and Yanbolt were both disciples of Wen Bodao, and Wang Chu was a disciple of Yanbolt. They had heard that there are people who possess the Dao, but they had never seen one, so they asked whether such people really exist. Yanbolt answered that wherever you go you can find a person of the Dao; it is only that you do not recognize him. The mind’s knowledge is what goes looking, yet the mind’s knowledge is itself what is to be found. Therefore the text says that the mind’s knowledge seeks the mind’s knowledge, and the mind’s knowledge is the very thing sought. If you do not understand that the seeker and the sought are one, this is called the utmost confusion.
The master said: “I will try to speak to you. I will try to act for you. Among birds there are phoenixes; among beasts there are qilin; among people there are the Yellow Emperor and Fu Xi. How can you say they do not exist?”
The sub-commentary says: The master will try to explain and demonstrate for them. Among birds there is the phoenix; among beasts there is the qilin; among people there are the Yellow Emperor and Fu Xi—how can you claim they do not exist?
Yanbolt said: “I will give you an analogy. In judging a horse, one looks below at the hoofprints, above at the alignment of the head, and in the middle at whether the lines match—then one knows whether it is a good horse or not. But before the horse is even born, already surpassing all horses, who can know that?”
The sub-commentary explains: I will use an analogy for you. In examining a horse, one looks at the hoofprints below, the head above, and whether the markings in the middle correspond—then one knows good from bad. But before the horse exists, when it already surpasses all horses, who can recognize it?
Bodao said: “There is no need to wait for the horse to be born and then examine it. You also do not know the method of judging horses.”
The sub-commentary says: Bodao said there is no need to wait until the horse is born to judge it; you simply do not know how to judge horses.
Yanbolt said: “I will give you another analogy. In judging a person, one looks at his appearance and complexion, his bearing when sitting and standing, and his gaze when looking about—then one knows whether he is superior or inferior. But before the person exists, already surpassing all people, who can know that?”
The sub-commentary explains: I will give another analogy. In judging a person, one looks at face and complexion, posture in sitting and standing, and the direction of the eyes—then one knows superior from inferior. But before the person exists, when he already surpasses all people, who can recognize him?
Bodao said: “There is no need to wait for the person to be born and then examine him. You also do not know the method of judging people. There is no ‘person of the Dao’ apart from people; there is no ‘horse of the Dao’ apart from horses. ‘Person of the Dao’ is not a separate category outside humanity; ‘horse of the Dao’ is not a separate category outside horses. Thus it is said: ‘What makes horses good lies in horses; what makes people good lies in people.’ Because you do not know what lies within, you only look outside. I have no way to show you the person of the Dao—how could you recognize him?”
The sub-commentary says: There is no need to wait until the person exists to judge him; you do not know how to judge people. Apart from people there is no “person of the Dao”; apart from horses there is no “horse of the Dao.” “Person of the Dao” is not something outside people; “horse of the Dao” is not something outside horses. Therefore it is said that what makes horses good is in horses, and what makes people good is in people. Because you do not know the inner principle, you only look at the outer form. I have no means to show you the person of the Dao—how could you recognize him?
Yanbolt said: “Among existing things, is there one that has no Dao?”
The sub-commentary asks: Among things that already exist, is there any that lacks the Dao?
Bodao said: “Look at the four directions and up and down—there is nothing that is not the Dao. A single thing cannot be found that lacks the Dao. This is what is called the person of the Dao.”
The sub-commentary says: Look in the four directions and above and below—nothing is not the Dao. Not a single thing can be found without the Dao. This is what is called the person of the Dao.
Yanbolt said: “If that is so, I may respect him but cannot love him; I may love him but cannot make use of him. How can he be treated as a person?”
The sub-commentary says: If that is so, I can respect him but not love him, love him but not employ him—how can he be regarded as a person?
Bodao said: “Dao cannot be discussed, virtue cannot be measured. In discussion there is division; in measurement there is boundaries. Division is the bane of discussion; boundaries are the bane of measurement. ‘The great measurement does not cut; the great binding does not tie’—this is called ‘understanding the great embrace.’ The Dao embraces it and does not lose it; virtue embraces it and does not abandon it. Not losing and not abandoning—how could one fail to respect him? Without losing and without abandoning, how could one fail to love him? With respect and love, how could one fail to employ him? Employing him without exhausting him, respecting and loving him without tiring of him—how could he not be a person? People seek to be made into vessels by others, yet I seek not to be made into a vessel. As for the person of the Dao, how could he be treated merely as a person?”
The sub-commentary explains: Dao cannot be talked about; virtue cannot be calculated. In talking there is division; in calculating there are limits. Division ruins talking; limits ruin calculating. The great measure does not slice; the great bond does not tie—this is called understanding the great embrace. The Dao holds it and does not let go; virtue holds it and does not cast away. Not letting go and not casting away—how not respect? Not letting go and not casting away—how not love? With respect and love, how not employ? Employing without using up, respecting and loving without wearying—how not a person? People want others to shape them into vessels, but I do not want to be shaped into a vessel. As for the person of the Dao, how treat him only as a person?
Yanbolt said: “Since the Dao is everywhere, why do you alone possess it?”
The sub-commentary asks: Since the Dao is omnipresent, why do you alone have it?
Bodao said: “It is not that I possess the Dao; it is that I do not lose it. What I call possessing the Dao is not possessing it as something added on, but possessing it in not losing what is originally there. As for those who seek the Dao in what is added on—they lose it.”
The sub-commentary says: It is not that I have the Dao as an extra possession; I do not lose it. What I call possessing the Dao is not possessing something additional but possessing it by not losing the original endowment. Those who look for the Dao in additions lose it.
Yanbolt said: “Since you do not lose it, why do you not transmit it?”
The sub-commentary asks: Since you do not lose it, why not pass it on?
Bodao said: “There is nothing in the world I can transmit to you. The reason I cannot transmit it is that there is nothing to receive. If there were something to receive, how could I not transmit it? But if there is nothing to receive, how can there be transmission? Thus although I appear to be transmitting, in truth nothing is transmitted. The reason the person of the Dao cannot be shown to you is that there is nothing to show.”
The sub-commentary explains: There is nothing in the world I can give you. I cannot transmit because there is nothing to receive. If there were something to receive, how could I not transmit? But with nothing to receive, how can there be transmission? So though it seems I transmit, in reality I transmit nothing. The reason the person of the Dao cannot be shown is that there is nothing to show.
Yanbolt said: “If there is a person of the Dao, he must be able to teach us.”
The sub-commentary says: If there is a person of the Dao, he ought to be able to teach us.
Bodao said: “Fish live in water and thrive; people live in the Dao and thrive. Those who live in water dig channels and wells—they are not as good as returning to the great river and sea. Those who live in the Dao busy themselves with doctrines and theories—they are not as good as returning to the great unity without action. This is called obtaining the fish once you forget the trap; this is called obtaining the rabbit once you forget the snare. People cleave to doctrines and theories and forget the great unity of the Dao—this is called looking at the finger and forgetting the moon. Yanbolt, I have told you what can be told; what cannot be told I have already told you by not telling.”
The sub-commentary says: Fish dwell in water and find their fulfillment; people dwell in the Dao and find their fulfillment. Those in water who dig ditches and wells are not equal to returning to the vast river and sea. Those in the Dao who fuss over teachings and theories are not equal to returning to great Wuwei (non-action) unity. This is forgetting the trap once you have the fish; forgetting the snare once you have the rabbit. Clinging to teachings and forgetting the great unity of the Dao is forgetting the moon while staring at the finger. Yanbolt, I have spoken what can be spoken; what cannot be spoken I have conveyed by silence.
Yanbolt said: “I have heard Wen Bodao say: ‘In life there are those called “transcendent”; in death there are those called “transformed.”’ What does this mean?”
The sub-commentary records that Yanbolt heard Wen Bodao say that in life there are transcendent persons and in death there are transformed ones, and asks what this means.
Bodao said: “Transcendent means the ears avoid what they hear; transformed means the form follows transformation. The ears avoiding what they hear means not being bound by fame and gain. The form following transformation means not being fixed in a single shape. Not being bound by fame and gain, the spirit is free; not fixed in a single shape, the body is light. When spirit is free and body is light, one is not tied to life and death—this is called transcendence. When form follows transformation and nature follows change, one is not subject to the constraints of yin and yang—this is called transformation. Thus it is said: ‘In life, transcendent; in death, transformed.’”
The sub-commentary explains: Transcendent means the ears shun hearing; transformed means the form accords with change. Shunning hearing means not being ensnared by reputation and profit. Accords with change means not clinging to one bodily form. Unensnared by reputation and profit, Shen (spirit) is liberated; not clinging to one form, the body is light. Liberated spirit and light body are not bound by life and death—this is transcendence. Form following transformation and nature following change are not constrained by Yin-Yang—this is transformation. Hence in life, transcendent; in death, transformed.
Yanbolt said: “I wish to hear about transcendence.”
The sub-commentary says: I want to hear about transcendence.
Bodao said: “Heaven has no accumulation yet is vast; earth has no accumulation yet is great. The sun and moon have no accumulation yet shine; the four seasons have no accumulation yet form. The person of the Dao has no accumulation yet completes. Understanding this is called ‘great understanding’; practicing this is called ‘great practice.’”
The sub-commentary says: Heaven amasses nothing yet is immense; earth amasses nothing yet is great. Sun and moon amass nothing yet give light; the four seasons amass nothing yet succeed one another. The person of the Dao amasses nothing yet is complete. To understand this is great understanding; to practice it is great practice.
Yanbolt said: “The way of heaven and earth is indeed clear. But the person of the Dao—where does he dwell? What does he eat? Does he have a path of advancement? Does he have a place of rest?”
The sub-commentary asks where the person of the Dao lives, what he eats, whether he has a way to advance, whether he has somewhere to settle.
Bodao said: “He has no dwelling—thus he dwells everywhere. He has no food—thus he eats everything. He has no path of advancement—thus he is present in all achievements. He has no place of rest—thus he rests in all rest. He dwells in no dwelling, eats no food, has no path and no rest—this is called ‘sharing the vast with heaven and earth.’”
The sub-commentary says: No fixed dwelling, hence dwelling everywhere; no fixed food, hence eating the breath of heaven and earth; no path of advancement, hence completing all undertakings; no place of rest, hence resting in every rest. Dwelling without dwelling, eating without food, without path and without rest—this is sharing boundlessness with heaven and earth.
Yanbolt said: “This is indeed extreme. I cannot yet understand it. Can you speak more plainly?”
The sub-commentary says: This is already the utmost; I still cannot grasp it—can you explain further?
Bodao said: “The bright mirror does not hide; the great earth does not bury. You receive your lot from heaven and earth and complete your fate—what anxiety need you have? This is called ‘the fish forgets the river and sea and worries about the dry ditch.’”
The sub-commentary says: The clear mirror conceals nothing; the great earth buries nothing. You inherit your share from heaven and earth and fulfill your mandate—why worry? This is like the fish forgetting the river and sea and fretting over a shallow ditch.
Yanbolt said: “Wen Bodao also said: ‘The non-transcendent die directly.’ What is direct dying?”
The sub-commentary cites Wen Bodao’s saying that the non-transcendent die directly and asks what direct dying is.
Bodao said: “Life is the coming of Qi (vital energy); death is the going of Qi. When Qi comes, there is life; when Qi goes, there is death. If you know that life and death are one Qi, what is there to love in life or hate in death? The non-transcendent do not understand this—they love life and hate death, so their dying is ‘direct’: straight into anxiety and fear, unable to turn back. This is called direct dying.”
The sub-commentary explains: Life is Qi arriving; death is Qi departing. Arrival is life; departure is death. Knowing life and death as one Qi, why prefer life or detest death? The non-transcendent do not know this—they cling to life and reject death, so their death is direct: plunging into worry and terror with no return. This is direct dying.
Yanbolt said: “Can the person of the Dao die?”
The sub-commentary asks whether the person of the Dao can die.
Bodao said: “He has no birth and no death. What people call birth and death are only the gathering and scattering of the four elements and the coming and going of the seven spirits—how could that be the person of the Dao? The person of the Dao is the Dao itself; how could the Dao be born or die?”
The sub-commentary says: He has neither birth nor death. What common people call birth and death is only the assembly and dispersion of the four phases and the movement of the seven spirits—not the person of the Dao. The person of the Dao is the Dao; how could the Dao be born or perish?
Yanbolt said: “I wish to ask about the seven spirits.”
The sub-commentary says: I want to ask about the seven spirits.
Bodao said: “The seven spirits are the seven openings of the human body—eyes, ears, nose, mouth, and the three openings below. The four spirits above correspond to the four symbols; the three below correspond to earth, humanity, and heaven. When the seven spirits move, life continues; when they rest, death arrives. But this is only the mechanism of the ordinary person—not the realm of the person of the Dao.”
The sub-commentary explains: The seven spirits are the seven apertures—eyes, ears, nostrils, mouth, and the three lower gates. The upper four match the four images; the lower three match earth, man, and heaven. When the seven spirits are active, there is life; when they are still, there is death. This belongs to ordinary people, not to the person of the Dao.
Yanbolt said: “Wen Bodao said that people have seventy-seven breaths in a day—when the breaths are exhausted, they die. Is this so?”
The sub-commentary cites Wen Bodao on seventy-seven breaths per day until exhaustion brings death, and asks if this is correct.
Bodao said: “That is the counting of ordinary people. The person of the Dao breathes with heaven and earth—how could he be limited to seventy-seven? When breath follows the Dao, there is no counting; when there is no counting, there is no exhaustion. Without exhaustion, how could there be death?”
The sub-commentary says: That is how common people count breaths. The person of the Dao breathes with heaven and earth—he is not confined to seventy-seven. When breathing accords with the Dao, there is no number; without number, no exhaustion; without exhaustion, no death.
Yanbolt said: “Then the person of the Dao is truly without death.”
The sub-commentary concludes: Then the person of the Dao truly does not die.
Bodao said: “Birth and death are one affair for him; coming and going are one gate. He does not add to life and does not subtract from death—he dwells in the middle of the One. This is called ‘the heavenly Dao’ and ‘the human fate’ united without division.”
The sub-commentary closes: For him birth and death are one matter; coming and going one doorway. He neither increases life nor diminishes death—he abides in the center of the One. This is called the heavenly Dao and human fate joined without separation.
Source text: Kanripo 漢籍リポジトリ（KR5c0139）; Licence: CC BY-SA 4.0 · Report an error / feedback