《南華真經註疏》Vol. 29

Allegorical speech (words put into the mouths of others) is believed nine times out of ten. People in the world are dull and prone to suspicion; when they hear someone state a principle plainly, they often grow mistrustful. If the message is entrusted to another person to deliver, nine out of ten such statements will be accepted. That is why figures such as Hong Meng, Yun Jiang, Jian Wu, and Lian Shu are borrowed as vehicles for doctrine.

Authoritative speech (words spoken through mouths that people respect) is believed seven times out of ten. “Authoritative speech” means the words of elders whom the community honors. What an old person says is believed in roughly seven cases out of ten.

Goblet words (yan that tilt and empty like a wine cup, changing with each occasion) renew themselves day by day and align with the boundaries of nature. Guo Xiang explains: when a wine vessel is full it tips; when empty it stands upright—not by deliberate design. Speech, too, should shift with things and not cling to fixed formulations, only following what things themselves require; hence it is said to “issue with the sun,” meaning it renews daily. Only by renewing daily can one fulfill nature’s portion; when that portion is fulfilled, speech can harmonize with nature. Cheng Xuanying adds that a zhi (wine cup) when full pours out and when empty sits upright; if speech does not cling to a fixed stance, it tilts and yields like a cup with what it meets, naturally matching each thing’s proper share. Another reading takes zhi as “fragmented and unsettled,” so goblet words are speech without fixed verdicts.

That allegorical speech convinces nine times in ten is because it relies on outsiders’ voices. Guo Xiang says: if words come straight from oneself, people in the world often refuse them, so one lends another’s mouth; Jian Wu, Lian Shu, and the like are figures borrowed to establish the teaching. Cheng Xuanying explains “ji” (to rely on, to entrust): one entrusts the saying to an outsider and lets the outsider speak.

A birth father usually does not act as matchmaker for his son; when a father praises his son, people trust that less than praise from someone who is not the father. Guo Xiang says praise from a father often fails to convince; even when some do believe, habitual suspicion still casts doubt—hence the turn to outsiders’ judgment. Cheng Xuanying explains “mei” as arranging a marriage; when a father talks about his own son, most do not believe, but when another person praises him, more believe.

This is not my fault but the listener’s. Guo Xiang says: even when what one says is genuinely credible, those who harbor habitual doubt still refuse it; therefore the saying is entrusted to others.

So when people believe him, that only shows that those who listen share the same bias.

My father said, “This is not my father.” Words about the father–son bond were never trustworthy to begin with; the listener rashly suspected him and thus fell into the fault of refusing to believe.

Whatever agrees with one’s own view wins approval; whatever disagrees meets rejection.

Note: People accuse one another.

Commentary: Ordinary people invert right and wrong and judge at will. When someone agrees with them, they approve and call it right; when someone disagrees, they oppose and call it wrong.

What matches one’s own view is taken as right; what does not is taken as wrong.

Note: Three people hold different views; two argue for their positions. Whichever side is accepted will necessarily match the view of the one who did not argue. But if both disputants reject that silent party, whom should one trust on right and wrong? Must one still look to outside judgment?

Commentary: People are trapped by rigidly separating sameness from difference and rashly fixing right and wrong. Once one sees that sameness and difference never had a fixed standard, the split between right and wrong dissolves.

The passages cited again and again number seventeen in all; each shows that words stop here. People defer to what the aged say.

Note: The aged, because of long years and reputed worth, earn shared respect in the world. Even when their words lack any outward warrant, ordinary people will believe seven out of ten.

Commentary: “Qi ai” names those who are old and long-lived. Even without outward grounds for their speech, people honor and believe them because they are elders. Such is the confusion common among worldly minds.

One may outrank others in years yet lack a grasp of how things hang together and know neither root nor branch; one is treated as an elder only because the years are many—not because this is a true measure of right and wrong.

Note: He is merely older than others; he has no root or branch that commands respect, so he cannot truly stand ahead. “Qi” here means to expect or count on.

Commentary: “Jingwei” means the threads that run through things—coherent order. Here, someone takes the elder’s place by age alone without wisdom that sees root and branch; people honor him only by the custom of respecting age, which has nothing to do with moral worth.

One who has no strength that surpasses others has no rule for living in the world; such a person can only be called a “chen ren”—old in years, empty of virtue and insight.

Note: He is only someone long in years; the world believes him anyway for that reason. That is how the worldly cling to habit and follow the old track.

Commentary: He has no ritual and righteousness to guide others and no norm for human relations; he is merely old and long in standing. Lacking discernment, worldly people can esteem even this.

Zhi yan (words that hold no fixed stance but follow nature) renew themselves day by day and are tuned by nature’s own boundaries so they unfold as circumstances allow; thus one can live out one’s heaven-given span.

Note: Each thing has its natural boundary and allotment, while right and wrong have no fixed lord. With no fixed standard, right and wrong keep shifting—who could settle them once for all? Open the mind, drop fixed views, follow what is natural, and let each being complete the life allotted to it.

All things in the world are constantly changing, yet they can respond to the new changes that arise each day and act in accord with their natural limits. Therefore, if people can follow the course of things and respond to the world without bias, they can live out the full span of life granted by the workings of creation and enjoy longevity.

Say nothing, and all things are instead brought into unity.

Explanation: The principle is difficult to exhaust in words; the moment we begin to speak, we may stray from what is fitting. So let us set words aside for now and allow all things to reveal their unity naturally.

“Unity” and “speaking” are not one and the same.

Explanation: “Unity” is a state reached without words. Since doing without words and using words are different, the two cannot be said to be one and the same.

Speaking and “unity” are not one and the same.

Commentary: When we follow the way things actually are and choose words suited to them, each side’s right and wrong can fall into its proper place, as though all things were naturally brought into unity. But if we cannot base our words on the other’s circumstances and bring things into unity in this way, then the distinction between “self” and all things again makes them seem divided.

That is why we speak of not speaking.

Commentary: What is called “speech” is simply what the other person says. Though words are spoken, I myself have no fixed intention to say anything.

Explanation: Use words to set words aside, for words can never say everything. Even adding many more ways of speaking may not accord with the subtle principle. Only by gathering the spirit in attentive contemplation can the sage’s wisdom become attuned to the movements and stillness of all things. Whether one withdraws from the world or lives in it, remains silent or speaks, the underlying principle is the same. Then one can seem not to speak and yet speak, and seem to speak while clinging to nothing. Where, then, is any distinction between speaking and not speaking, or between unity and difference? This is why we say, “Speaking without speaking.”

Though one speaks throughout one’s life, one has never truly spoken.

Commentary: Even when words come from my own mouth, they are still words that arise in response to things.

Though one remains silent throughout one’s life, one has never been without speech.

Commentary: This is said from the perspective that the words truly did come from my own mouth.

Explanation: This passage further explains the earlier phrase, “Speaking without speaking.”

At times, one thinks something has grounds and so affirms it; at other times, one thinks it has no grounds and so does not affirm it. At times, one thinks it is so; at other times, one thinks it is not so.

Explanation: People each hold to their own views, and so distinctions arise between “acceptable” and “unacceptable,” “right” and “wrong.” If the distinction between “self” and “other” did not exist in the first place, judgments such as “right” and “acceptable” would dissolve as well.

How can one say it is so? Because one thinks it is so. How can one say it is not so? Because one thinks it is not so. How can one say it is acceptable? Because one thinks it is acceptable. How can one say it is unacceptable? Because one thinks it is unacceptable.

Commentary: These judgments are all made from each person’s own standpoint. Differences in feeling and opinion give rise to the distinction between “acceptable” and “unacceptable.”

Explanation: “Where?” means “in what place?” or “on what grounds?” If “self” and “other” are not fixed, and both things and I are like illusions, then where could “acceptable” and “unacceptable,” “right” and “wrong” exist? Follow this question to its conclusion, and judgments such as “right” and “acceptable” dissolve on their own. This further explains the point made earlier: each judgment of what is “right” or “acceptable” has its own grounds.

Things each have their own grounds for being considered as they are, and their own grounds for being considered acceptable.

Commentary: Each thing appears according to its own nature, and each has aspects that may be considered workable.

There is nothing that is not considered as it is, and nothing that is not considered acceptable.

In sum, nothing in the world is absolutely feasible, and nothing is absolutely infeasible. Only those who reach this understanding are truly perspicacious.

Exegesis: Ordinary people invert how things stand: they treat what has no fixed standard as an unchanging rule, and cling to the belief that what cannot be done must somehow be done. Unless one’s words shift with circumstances and one harmonizes matters by natural principle, who can last long?

Note: Only when speech follows things as they change and accords with the natural boundaries of all beings can one avoid early decline.

Exegesis: If one cannot keep pace with ceaseless daily change and penetrate natural principle, who can grasp the way of long life and enduring vision? This describes the level attained by those who understand this doctrine.

All things are born from the same Qi, yet they replace one another in different forms.

Note: Though things change and succeed one another, traced back to root Qi they are one.

Exegesis: “Succession” (chandai) means replacement. Things may take countless shapes, but all receive the generative Qi of creation; only because forms differ do they replace, perish, and succeed one another in ongoing flux.

The beginning and end of things cycle like a ring.

Note: What counts as a beginning now was already an ending yesterday.

Exegesis: The migration and transformation of things is like endless recurrence: after death comes new birth, after an end a new beginning. That is how things replace one another.

There is no fixed criterion to pursue.

Note: The way things are is inherently so; hence no fixed criterion can be grasped.

Exegesis: “Lun” means criterion. When one inquires into the principle of change, in the end no fixed criterion can be found for reasoning.

This is called “the equalization of Heaven” (Tianjun); “Tianjun” is “the parting of Heaven” (Tianni)—the natural boundary.

Note: The equality of things is not fabricated; each has a natural boundary.

Exegesis: “Jun” means equalization. This sums up the foregoing: each thing follows its natural boundary and stands equal with the rest; this doctrine is also called the natural divide.

Zhuangzi said to Huizi: “Confucius lived to sixty and underwent sixty transformations.”

Note: This means Confucius changed with the times.

Exegesis: Things never stop turning; the new keeps appearing and the old keeps vanishing. Living to sixty, a person too changes with the years. Zhuangzi and Huizi often discussed abstruse matters, so Confucius is invoked here to illustrate change.

What was first held correct is finally held wrong.

Note: Times change, and worldly views change. Those who follow things as they change and keep the mind at ease—how could they be the same as ordinary people?

One cannot know whether what is now held correct is exactly what at fifty-nine was held wrong.

Note: Change never rests; what counts as correct cannot stay fixed forever.

Exegesis: Lifespan is counted in years, but years themselves keep changing—where is an unchanging standard? What was right last year may be wrong this year. Thus one can see that this year…

What was right in the past becomes wrong by today’s standards; what is wrong today may count as right next year.

Therefore Rongchengzi said, “The day of ‘sweeping out the old’ (suye) has no fixed year.”

Huizi said, “Confucius gained understanding only through firm resolve and diligent study.”

Note: Huizi thought Confucius directed his ambition and mental energy entirely toward learning and thereby came to know these things—that he did not arrive at insight by attuning himself to the natural transformations of things. This shows how far Huizi’s bearing fell short of the sage’s.

Sub-commentary: Fu (服) here means “to employ” or “to put to use.” Huishi failed to grasp the point and supposed that Confucius acquired such wisdom by striving in resolve, acting diligently, and applying his mind to the Way; he did not see it as arising from following natural change.

Zhuangzi said, “Confucius had long since set aside that way of speaking, though he never said so in plain words.”

Note: Xie (谢) means to fade and transform of itself, to pass away naturally—not something achieved by knowledge and force. Thus Confucius simply followed things as they came; he did not deliberately manufacture doctrines.

Sub-commentary: Xie means metabolic change; “you” refers to the interlocutor, and “not” means he had not. The sense is that Confucius’s idea of diligent study and applied effort had already dissolved; you should return to your original spiritual clarity and stop speaking at random.

Confucius said, “Human beings receive their inborn endowment from the profound root of the Dao, then restore spiritual clarity, and only then can they live out their lives.”

Note: If one only exercises cleverness and does not restore original spiritual clarity, life is lost.

Sub-commentary: People receive talent and intelligence from the subtle root of the Great Dao, yet must also return to the life-nature of spiritual clarity to complete their course. How can one fixate on resolve and applied mind and go against the transforming work of nature? Here Zhuangzi puts these words in Confucius’s mouth to rebuke Huishi.

“His voice matched the pitch, his words matched the standard.”

Sound is the source of pitch; speech is the source of norms. Pitch and norms are what the multitude collectively shaped; the sage merely takes them up as occasion offers. Therefore the sage’s words and deeds are always fitting, yet he has not deliberately said or done anything in particular.

Sub-commentary: Ming is to give voice; dang is to match or fit. A sage like Confucius was in virtue aligned with Yin and Yang, so his tone matched the bell-tones and his teaching could serve as model and rule.

“Benefit and harm, and the principles of righteousness, lay before him; likes and dislikes, and right and wrong, were only spoken through the mouths of others.”

Note: Fu means to employ. I have no speech of my own; what I say is only borrowed from everyone’s mouth. Benefit and harm, righteousness, likes and dislikes, right and wrong—these do not spring from my mouth alone.

Sub-commentary: Righteousness and humaneness, benefit and harm, likes and dislikes, right and wrong—all arise with the situation before one’s eyes and are stated in response to the moment. Though words come from the mouth, they only follow the immediate circumstance and borrow the mouths of the multitude.

In this way people are convinced in their hearts and dare not go against him; stability throughout the realm is thereby established.

Note: The mouth is the instrument of the inner mind. Since expression borrows the mouths of the multitude to speak, the multitude in turn will…

If one skillfully uses one’s own mind and aligns with the hearts of the multitude, the people will naturally trust; who would dare to defy or stand up in opposition? I only follow the tendency by which all things under Heaven can already be settled, and thereby settle them—why must one act with deliberate effort?

Exegesis: Teaching by employing the mind in ways suited to each person, and transforming in accord with things—since transformation follows things, things in turn follow it, like grass bending as the wind passes, not daring to stand against the wind. Because one follows things in their originally tranquil state and settles them according to their nature, each part of the world can settle in its own place.

Enough, enough! I probably cannot match him, can I?

Note: Acting with the trend and guiding by leverage, nothing is unattainable.

Exegesis: “已” means to stop. Here Zhuangzi again urges Hui Shi: say no more! We people are mediocre and shallow—we cannot keep up with that man. This is Zhuangzi’s praise of Confucius.

When Zengzi held office twice, his inner state also changed twice.

Exegesis: Zengzi, surname Zeng, given name Shen, was a disciple of Confucius. The meaning of “held office twice” is set out below.

Zengzi said: “The first time I held office, my salary was three fu; my parents were still alive, and I was happy at heart. Later, when I held office again, my salary was three thousand zhong, but my parents had already passed away—I was sorrowful at heart.”

Note: “洎” means “to reach, to catch up with.”

Exegesis: Six dou and four sheng make one fu; six hu and four dou make one zhong. “洎” means “to reach.” Zengzi was deeply filial and took office in order to obtain a salary to support his parents. The first time he served, his parents were still alive; though the pay was small, he still felt joy. When he served again later, his parents had died; though the pay was great, he still felt grief. What is called “two changes” is that his mood shifted with sorrow and joy; his sorrow was because he could no longer nourish his parents.

A disciple asked Confucius: “For someone like Zeng Shen, can one say he was not tied by anything and was without fault?”

Note: “县” means to be bound or tied. The question is whether Zeng Shen, in taking office to support his parents, was free from the fault of being tied to salary.

Exegesis: “县” means to be bound. The questioning disciple’s name is not recorded; he may belong among the Four Categories and Ten Sages of the Confucian school. Zeng Shen was benevolent, thick, and filial, seeking salary to support his parents; though his heart knew sorrow and joy, it should not count as the fault of being dragged by emolument. The disciple had a doubt and asked Confucius.

Confucius said: “He was already tied.”

Note: He was bound to salary for the sake of supporting his parents.

As for one who is truly not tied—would such a person still have this kind of sorrow?

Note: In supporting parents, what matters is that parents be at ease; one need not fixate on what is used. If one is not tied to salary, one will not dwell on wealth or poverty, high or low station; the inner mind can be level and at ease, and one fulfills the duty of serving parents.

Exegesis: The filial child serves parents by making them comfortable, not by the size of the salary; doing one’s utmost in support is enough. Thus even living by manual labor can be called filial; yet holding office three times without fulfilling filial duty may still be unfilial. Zeng Shen’s heart moved with joy and grief—was that not being tied to salary? One truly not tied would not generate sorrow and joy over such matters.

That person regarded three fu and three thousand zhong (ancient measures of stipend) as no more than sparrows and gnats flitting past the eyes.

Commentary: “That person” means one who has nothing left to cling to. For someone without attachments, rank and stipend are like mosquitoes or birds passing before the eyes—gone in an instant. Where would joy or sorrow come from?

Exegesis: “That person” refers to the unattached person. Sparrows are larger, used here to stand for three thousand zhong; gnats are smaller, for three fu. One who has penetrated the Great Dao does not fix the mind on stipend. Whether three thousand zhong or three fu, neither seems much or little—like birds and gnats flying past, let them go; how could one take them to heart?

Yan Chengzi You said to Dongguo Ziqi, “Since I heard your words, after one year I had become rustic.”

Commentary: Here “rustic” (ye) means no longer caring about outward power and gain.

Exegesis: Dongguo Ziqi lived east of the city wall, hence “Dongguo”; he is the Nanguo Ziqi of the “Discourse on Equalizing Things.” Zi You was Ziqi’s disciple. “Rustic” means plain and unadorned. After one year of hearing the Dao, the resolve to seek it was still immature—only a slight turn toward simplicity, no longer chasing ornament.

“After two years, I could comply.”

Commentary: No longer acting solely from one’s own will.

Exegesis: Able to adapt to worldly circumstances.

“After three years, I had become penetrating.”

Commentary: Able to see through differences between things.

Exegesis: No longer blocked by outer conditions.

“After four years, I was one with the myriad things.”

Commentary: The same as the myriad things.

Exegesis: The same as the myriad things.

“After five years, I had attained self-completion.”

Commentary: One has gained insight for oneself.

Exegesis: One becomes someone others turn toward.

“After six years, the pattern of spirits and ghosts entered my heart.”

Commentary: No longer fixated on outward form.

Exegesis: Spirit meets principle and can understand the myriad things.

“After seven years, I accorded with Heaven and was complete.”

Commentary: No longer needing deliberate effort.

Exegesis: United with nature and thereby complete.

“After eight years, I no longer distinguished death from life.”

Commentary: Whatever came, it seemed fitting and at ease.

Exegesis: Wisdom merged with creation; spirit blended with nature—so one no longer noticed the gap between death and life, gathering and scattering.

“After nine years, I reached the sublime realm.”

Commentary: “Sublime” (miao) means goodness. Good and bad are seen alike, so whatever arises can merge with the Dao. The point is: long hearing of the Dao clarifies the spontaneity of Heaven’s voice (nature’s sounding and movement); then one suddenly forgets the self. The grime of attachment daily falls away until none remains.

Exegesis: “Sublime” means subtle and profound. Long exposure to the Dao steadies the heart of seeking, so one can rise above opposing doctrines and cut off mistaken distinctions. The principle is extremely deep and subtle and can exhaust myriad refinements; the gaze of wisdom is vast and broad—hence “great sublimity.”

To live yet insist on deliberate action is to walk toward death.

Commentary: While alive, if one only acts with forced effort, one loses the root of life.

Exegesis: Though the body is in the world, drowning in contrived action is precisely the path to death and extinction.

Advising the lord is done because his death has causes within himself.

[Note] “Self” here means “from.” Because one acts with deliberate purpose, one dies; because one is partial to one’s own life, one acts with purpose. Advising the lord now is because his death arises from this partiality toward life.

[Commentary] “Lord” (gong) means fair and upright. People head toward death because they are partial to their own lives and cannot be impartial and selfless; that is why they need to be advised.

The arising of life is the natural working of yang qi (the qi that generates and grows things); there is no particular reason for it.

[Note] When the yang qi of life stirs and moves, things suddenly come into being without human contrivance; they are not brought about by some specific cause.

[Commentary] Life responds to yang qi and is born; since there is no fixed source, there is no need to be partial to it.

Is that really so?

[Commentary] “Indeed” (guo) means to affirm. Yang qi gives birth to the myriad things—that is truly how it is.

Then where exactly can one be at ease, and where can one not be at ease?

[Note] Since it is truly so, there is no such thing as suitable or unsuitable; in that case, everywhere can be at ease. When everywhere is at ease, one can also arrive in peace.

[Commentary] When qi gathers, life forms; yet life is not something to rejoice in without measure. When qi disperses, death occurs; yet death is not something to grieve over without measure. Once life and death are seen as equal, joy and sorrow vanish—so what place can be “at ease” and what place cannot? Wherever the body is, one can be at ease.

In heaven there is the order of the stars’ motion; on earth there are the myriad things that people rely upon—why should I seek elsewhere?

[Note] Heaven, earth, and the myriad things are already complete in themselves.

[Commentary] The degrees of the stars and calendrical patterns are displayed in the heavens; the people of the nine provinces and the myriad things in the four directions rest upon the transforming work of heaven and earth. All of this is already present—why must I go elsewhere to seek it?

If one does not know where things ultimately go, how can one say there is no fate (ming)?

[Note] Things in the end reach their terminus on their own; this is not because a person knows it that it is so. If this is not fate, what is it?

[Commentary] The alternation of day and night in heaven and earth, and life and death in human affairs—when one traces their roots, one does not know where they begin or where they end. Fortune comes and goes; if this is not fate, what is it? Saying “no fate” here actually means affirming that there is fate.

If one does not know where things begin, how can one say there is fate?

[Note] One does not know why things are as they are, yet sees them naturally so—this is called “fate,” as if there were some arrangement. Therefore one must also drop the name “fate” and show that everything is simply spontaneous; only then is the doctrine of fate fully clarified.

[Commentary] Departure in death and arrival in life are like the succession of spring, summer, autumn, and winter; since there is no clear beginning or end, how can one call it fate? Saying “there is fate” here actually means there is no fate. This too is a further undoing of talk about fate.

When things correspond to one another, how can one say there are no spirits (shen) or ghosts (gui)?

[Note] Affairs in principle must have their verification, as if spirits were bringing it about.

Spirits and ghosts are beings endowed with perception. Ears and eyes respond to sounds and colors, and the mind responds to things in theworld; this is like a shadow appearing with a bodily form, or an echo arising with a sound. Given that, how can one say they lack conscious awareness? When the text says “there are no spirits and ghosts,” it means that although spirits and ghosts have names, they cannot truly respond to external things.

Why can they not respond? The Way naturally brings about mutual resonance; such resonance is not deliberately arranged. Since it does not arise from conscious knowing, even if there is some reaction, one cannot on that account say there is spiritual awareness.

When a person sleeps, he is unaware of things outside. Even with eyes and ears, he does not react to colors and sounds before him. If spirits and ghosts truly had spiritual awareness, why could they not react? When the text says spirits and ghosts “exist,” it is really saying they lack conscious knowing; this again refutes the view that “spirits and ghosts are spiritually aware.”

Many wangliang (the faint shadow beyond the shadow) asked the shadow, “A moment ago you bowed your head, but now you lift it; a moment ago you bound your hair, but now you let it hang loose; a moment ago you sat, but now you stand; a moment ago you walked, but now you stop. Why is this?”

Here “wangliang” is the pale shadow outside the shadow. This question-and-answer is a parable. When wangliang speaks of “bowing the head,” it means lowering the head; “binding the hair” means tying the hair up. Seeing the shadow sit, rise, walk, and halt always changing with the body, it infers that the shadow must depend on the body to exist. Guo Xiang held that the author posed this question to show that all things arise independently through transformation.

The shadow replied, “Why do you keep questioning without end?”

The shadow’s movements and changes occur spontaneously; there is nothing that needs to be pursued in questioning.

“Saosa” describes the shadow moving without deliberate intent. “Xi” means “why.” The shadow’s meaning is: I move without intent and change naturally; I do not need to rely on some condition to come into being; I arise through transformation on my own. You do not understand this, so why question me again and again?

“I exist, I act, yet I do not know why I am so.”

This means the shadow is naturally thus, so it does not know the reason for its own movement.

“I” refers to the shadow. The shadow’s going and stopping all come from creation (zaohua); it itself does not know the cause within, nor can it explain why it is so. Does that mean it must depend on something to exist?

“I am like a cicada’s cast shell or a snake’s sloughed skin: we look alike, yet I do not truly depend on them.”

The shadow looks like the bodily form, but it is not the bodily form itself.

“Chanjia” means the shell the cicada sheds; “shetui” means the skin the snake sheds. The cicada emerges through transformation from the larva, and the snake too leaves its old skin; neither deliberately brings about this change. After the larva vanishes, the cicada appears, but the larva does not directly become and sustain the cicada, nor must the cicada rely on that larva to be born. The relation between snake-skin and snake is the same.

From this one knows that things do not depend on one another and promote one another; each transforms and arises independently, all naturally so together. Therefore the shadow says: my relation to the bodily form is like that of the snake to its shed skin or the cicada to its cast shell; though I seem to cling to the bodily form, I do not truly take the bodily form as my dependency.

When fire and the sun appear, I gather and show myself; when darkness and night come, I vanish along with them.

Commentary: “Tun” means to gather; “dai” means to replace or disappear. When fire and the sun appear, the shadow gathers and appears; when night and darkness arrive, the shadow disappears. Yet if a body appears without a shadow, one can know that a shadow does not necessarily depend on fire, the sun, darkness, or night in order to exist. When a body is present yet has no shadow, the principle that the shadow changes on its own becomes clear.

So why must I depend on something at all?

Commentary: People usually think the shadow depends on fire and the sun; but if the body itself does not show itself, fire and the sun cannot make a shadow for it. From this one knows that the shadow need not depend on fire and the sun either.

What of things that from the outset depend on nothing?

Original note: Pushing the inquiry to its limit, what we now call things that depend on something can in the end all be traced back to depending on nothing; the principle that each thing transforms on its own is then made plain.

Commentary: What of so-called bodies that depend on something? Even without fire and the sun, the body still exists; the body does not depend on them. Since the body’s arising does not rely on fire and the sun, why must the shadow’s arising rely on the body? Using fire and the sun as a comparison makes clear that the shadow does not depend on the body. Body and shadow still do not depend on each other—how much more so for other things? Thus one knows that all things change each in its own way.

When the body comes, I come with it; when the body goes, I go with it. When the body moves vigorously, I move vigorously with it. Since I only follow the body’s movement, what is there to question?

Original note: One simply follows the body’s movement naturally; as the body comes and goes, I come and go with it. There is no deliberate intent, so there is nothing to pursue in questioning.

Commentary: “Bi” refers to the body; “qiangyang” describes the manner of movement. Body and shadow come, go, and move together; since there is no mutual dependence between them, everything rests on each changing on its own. The principle of independent transformation is too subtle for words; the questions and answers in speech are only its outward expressions.

Yangzi Ju (Yang Zhu, styled Ziju) was traveling south to Pei when Laozi (Lao Dan) went west to tour the state of Qin. Yangzi Ju met Laozi in the suburbs; when they reached the region of Liang, they encountered each other again.

Commentary: Pei lay near Pengcheng, roughly today’s Xuzhou in Jiangsu; Liang was in what is now Kaifeng area in Henan. Yang Zhu went south and Laozi went west; the two met by chance in the open country of Liang and Song and began to talk.

Halfway on the road, Laozi looked up to heaven and sighed: “At first I thought you could be taught; now it seems you are beyond teaching.”

Commentary: When he had met Yang earlier, Laozi thought he had a mind to seek the Way; now, seeing him proud and boastful, he felt him hard to educate and no different from the world, and so he sighed.

Yangzi Ju did not reply.

Yang Ziju (a figure in one of Zhuangzi’s parables) decided he had been in the wrong and felt ashamed in silence.

When he reached his lodging, he went inside to rinse his mouth and wash his face, took a towel and comb to put himself in order, then removed his shoes, went outside, and advanced on his knees.

The commentary explains that “guàn” means to wash and “zhì” a comb. When Yang Ziju arrived at the inn, he first rinsed with water and then used towel and comb to tidy his appearance; afterward he supported himself on his elbows and moved forward on his knees, respectfully and earnestly seeking instruction from Laozi, hoping for guidance and correction.

Yang Ziju said: “Earlier your disciple wished to ask the Master for teaching, but the Master was on the road and had no leisure, so I dared not speak. Now there is leisure—may I ask where your disciple went wrong?”

The commentary explains that after Laozi had rebuked him, Yang Ziju wanted to know his error, but Laozi was traveling and had no time to talk. Now that they had reached the lodging and the host was also at leisure, he hoped to hear Laozi’s instruction so he could reform himself thereafter.

Laozi said: “With that glare in your eyes and your head held high, so overbearing in manner—who would want to keep company with you?”

The note says that “suīsuī xūxū” describes an arrogant, domineering air that makes others afraid and keeps them at a distance. The commentary adds that this is the look of impatience, severity, and flaunted power; when you hold yourself so stiffly and show off your authority, everyone around you is unsettled—who would still wish to be near you?

One who is truly pure may seem as if sullied; one whose De (Virtue/Power) is full may appear as if something were lacking.

The commentary explains that a person upright and chaste may seem not to care about a reputation for spotlessness; one whose conduct is complete may not look as though he thinks himself perfect. Here Laozi is quoting the Daodejing (Classic of the Way and Virtue) to admonish Yang Ziju.

Yang Ziju at once flushed with shame and said: “I respectfully receive your teaching.”

The commentary explains that “cùrán” is the look of shame and alarm. After hearing Laozi’s words, Yang Ziju was all the more in awe and accepted the warning with reverence.

On his earlier journey, the innkeeper had come out to greet and send him off; the master of the house spread his mat, and the mistress brought towel and comb. Those who had been sitting hurried aside, and the one tending the fire moved away from the stove.

The note says this was because Yang Ziju put on a lordly manner that frightened people, so they gave way.

The commentary explains that “jiāng” means to escort on departure, “jiāgōng” the male head of the household, and “yángzhě” the person who tended the fire. When Yang Ziju went to Pei on business, he relied on his imposing presence and put on airs; the innkeeper welcomed and sent him off, the master spread the mat, the mistress brought comb and towel; those seated yielded their places, and the fire-tender dared not stay by the hearth. His aura of power made everyone around him shrink away.

When he returned, the people at the inn were already competing to sit on the same mat with him.

The note says this was because he had dropped his showiness and affectation.

The commentary explains that after Yang Ziju came back from Pei, having taken Laozi’s teaching to heart, he shed pretense and self-congratulation, reined in his sharp edge, and mixed with others in an easy, accommodating way. Then those staying at the inn no longer avoided him and could share a mat with him as equals.