《南華真經註疏》Vol. 34

Lie Yukou set out for the state of Qi but turned back halfway; on the way he met Bo Hun Muren. Bo Hun Muren was a worthy man of Chu and also a recluse. Lie Yukou had already taken Master Hu as his teacher and had sought instruction from Bo Hun Muren as well. On this occasion he had meant to travel to Qi, but on the road he turned back because he felt his own cultivation was still insufficient, and he happened to meet Bo Hun Muren.

Bo Hun Muren asked, “Why did you turn back halfway?”

Lie Yukou answered, “I was afraid.”

Bo Hun Muren asked, “What frightened you?”

Lie Yukou said, “I once drank at ten shops that sold beverages, and at five of them they brought the drink to me first.”

“Jiang” was an ancient beverage. The commentaries explain that Lie Yukou was thirsty on the road and passed ten establishments that sold drinks; at five of them, when they saw his bearing, they voluntarily offered him beverages. He noticed that others showed him respect, and for that reason he became afraid.

Bo Hun Muren said, “If that is so, why does it make you afraid?”

Lie Yukou said, “The sincerity and genuine wisdom within me have not yet fully permeated, yet I receive respect from others.”

The commentaries explain that Lie Yukou realized his inner cultivation was not yet sufficient to win people’s genuine trust; others might respect him only because of his outward appearance.

“Xing die cheng guang” means that one’s bearing and demeanor appear upright and refined, thus forming a splendid outward presence; “yi wai zhen ren xin” means relying on outward appearance to command others’ respect, while inwardly one is still inadequate to truly transform people.

What Bo Hun Muren feared was this: if a person wins respect merely through outward appearance, others may value him and slight those who are older; this can disturb the proper sentiment of honoring elders and may also invite misfortune. Lie Yukou had not yet achieved blending with the world and concealing himself, yet he had already become an object of public attention; therefore he worried that outward renown would bring disorder and trouble.

The jelly seller merely makes a living by selling broth; the goods in his hands and his modest profits are not much. His gains are slight and his weight is light, yet he is still treated this way.

The commentary says: "权" (quan) refers to weight. The jelly seller's gains are meager and his weight is light; he originally need not seek others' favor. How much more so when he faces a lord who commands ten thousand chariots?

The exegesis says: "特" (te) means alone or merely, and "赢" (ying) means surplus profit. The jelly seller alone runs his broth business; his goods and surplus profits are not much. Since his gains are slight and his weight is not heavy, he can still make people respect him and rush to buy from him. How much more so when a king's authority is high and his benefits are substantial—should it not be natural for people to flock to him and honor him?

(Liezi said:) "The ruler toils for the state, exhausting his mind on governmental affairs. He will entrust affairs to me and examine me by my achievements. I therefore feel fearful."

The exegesis says: One who is a ruler oversees all state affairs, his authority covering the four seas. If he personally exhausts himself for state business, his mind consumed by worldly affairs, he will seek worthy talents as if thirsting for sweet springs, hoping they will share his burdens. He will certainly entrust affairs to me and test me by my achievements. In this way, I will pursue external things and lose my inner authenticity, chase the false and forget the true—this is precisely why I feel fearful. This is what he meant.

Boyin Mouren (Liezi's teacher) said: "Well said! You can observe yourself in this way."

The exegesis says: You can observe yourself, examine gains and losses, and thereby perceive problems, so I praise you, saying "well said."

Boyin Mouren also said: "If you abide in yourself, people will rally to you."

The commentary says: If you do not lose yourself, people will come to support you wherever you are. "保" (bao) means to gather and guard.

The exegesis says: "保" means to guard. You abide in yourself, yet still cannot forget the self, still revealing your virtue, and so people turn to you, disciples gathering to seek your instruction.

Before long, shoes filled the area outside Liezi's door.

The exegesis says: "Before long" means not much time passed. In a brief moment, Boyin Mouren arrived at Liezi's place and saw shoes piled up outside the door. Many people came barefoot into the hall, requesting further instruction from Liezi.

Boyin Mouren stood facing north, holding his staff upright against his chin. He stood among the crowd for a while without saying a word, then departed.

The exegesis says: "敦" (dun) means to stand upright. He held his staff against his chin, standing there listening to people speak. After a good while without speaking, he returned home.

The host told Liezi about this. Liezi picked up his shoes, ran out barefoot, and caught up at the gate, saying: "Since the master has come, why not give me some guidance?"

He walked to the door, then turned and came back, saying: “Since a person of lofty attainment (gaoren, one of deep moral and spiritual standing) has already come, I hoped to receive acupuncture (needling and moxibustion) treatment; I never expected that you would instead prescribe medicine and give me drugs, and then leave. My heart is sincere and full of admiration—that is why I have asked again and again.”

Commentary: “Yile” means “let it stop here.” I told you long ago: you cannot dim your light and hide your tracks—you will surely be sought out by the multitude. Now indeed your disciples crowd the room. My earlier words were no empty talk. You should cease these requests and not waste more words.

It is not that you can make others rely on you, but that you cannot keep others from relying on you.

Note: Follow what is natural and let things transform of themselves, and you will not invite responsive resonance, nor will there be any mind of seeking; without resonance and without seeking, there will be no mutual clinging.

Commentary: You display your tracks outward, so people come to rely on you; you have not yet forgotten your own virtue (de), so you cannot fail to guard and care for them.

“Then what need is there? Taking the initiative to resonate and bestowing favor beforehand are both ways of acting outside the norm.”

Note: To bestow favor before others, not in response to their need but by granting benefit in advance—that is what seems contrary to the ordinary.

Commentary: “Er” means “you”; “yan” means “what need.” I and external things are both forgotten—why must I wait for things to move me before I respond? Only when something shows a sign is there a response; why not refrain from acting in abnormal ways and giving favors ahead of time, before anything has happened?

“To act in this way is sure to bring about resonance and to shake one’s nature; yet what reputation can such a nature have?”

Note: Insisting on resonance will stir and disturb one’s nature (xing).

Commentary: “Yao” means to shake. If one must wait for a strong stimulus from outside before acting, that is to move along with one’s nature in response. If one wishes to erase one’s tracks and hide all traces, what fame is there to speak of?

“Among those who associate with you, there is none who can offer you true counsel. Their fine, clever words are altogether poisonous things that harm people.”

Note: Subtle, artful speech that can bore into the heart is called “small words” (xiaoyan).

Commentary: Those who keep company with you and share your views only answer with shallow cleverness and words that please others—all of that is harmful stuff. How could they use discourse that accords with the Dao to admonish you?

“They neither perceive nor awaken—who among them can inform one another?”

Commentary: “Shu” means “who.” All have lost their way; no one can perceive and wake up—who could understand alone and tell the other?

“Those with craft toil; the clever worry. The unskilled want nothing; when they have eaten their fill they wander at ease, like a boat with no mooring line, empty and free, drifting wherever they will.”

Note: Those who are truly without skill are only the sages. Apart from them, from human beings down to insects, none can forget their own capacities and wholly leave themselves to the arrangements of the multitude.

Commentary: Among the ten thousand things, not one is genuinely useless… Those who labor in worry must rely on cleverness and thereby fall into hardship…

(The closing sentence of the original is incomplete, so the sense here is likewise incomplete.)

Sages can drift like a small boat upon the water, with no clinging and no place to moor, and without taking external things to heart; thus they can follow the current and live in free and easy wandering.

In the state of Zheng there was a man named Huan who chanted and studied at a place called Qiushi. The commentary explains that zhi means “just so, exactly”; the expository text says Qiushi is a place name, and that Huan studied there until, after exactly three years, he became a Confucian scholar.

His learning was like river water soaking the earth: its benefit reached nine li away, and it also affected his parents and his wife’s people, so that his younger brother Zhai came to follow Mohism. When Confucians and Mohists argued with each other, Huan’s father took Zhai’s side. The commentary notes that Zhai was Huan’s younger brother. The expository text adds: Confucians honor King Wen and King Wu of Zhou and look back to the way of Yao and Shun; they hold firm positions and also prize rhetoric. Mohists follow the way of Yu the Great, value thrift, and delight in giving. The two schools differ in path and purpose, each clinging to its view and disputing the other—and Huan’s father favored his younger son Zhai.

Ten years later, Huan killed himself. His father dreamed that Huan said: “That your son became a Mohist was my doing. Why do you not look upon me as the fine teacher I was? I have already become the fruit of an autumn cypress.”

The commentary explains that Huan resented his father’s partiality toward his brother, and in grief and anger took his own life; after death he spoke in the dream: his brother had become a Mohist through his teaching, yet he himself was the worthy teacher while his father turned to support the brother—hence his bitterness, and his transformation into autumn-cypress fruit. The expository text also notes that he means “why”; “autumn cypress” refers to hard cypress wood. Some texts read “fruit of the autumn cypress” as “the mound of the autumn cypress,” yin meaning a grave mound. On that reading, Huan is saying: “Why do you not look at my grave? I have already become the autumn cypress on the tomb, bearing fruit.”

The power that creates and transforms things does not repay a person for what he does; it repays the nature he has received. The commentary says: from here onward is Zhuangzi’s discussion—that what long study and accumulation finally shape acts upon one’s inborn disposition, not merely as repayment for some single deed; the work of learning forms one’s nature, yet this is not entirely a matter of human arrangement.

Commentary: “The Creator” is the great furnace of Nature. The Creator has no fixed form of its own, yet transforms and gives birth to the myriad things—hence the name “Creator.” Each thing’s capacities are endowed by creation itself; they are not acquired by following a teacher and learning. Therefore, study can only assist a person in accord with Nature; what is returned upon is innate nature, not human merit.

From this we know that Mo Di (Mozi) was by nature inclined toward Mohist learning—it was not because he followed “Huan” in study that he acquired that nature. Yet Huan said, “I taught him”—is that not also mistaken?

Classic: He was originally thus; so he was made to study what he was originally good at.

Note: He had such a nature; therefore, along with that nature, he was made to study what corresponded to it.

Commentary: Mo Di originally had Mohist nature and thus became a Mohist figure. But if a person’s nature lacks the corresponding bent, even without study they will never succeed. Mozi is not the only case—all things are alike.

Classic: People always think they have achieved something by their own effort, deem themselves different from others, and look down on their own kin.

Note: This means Huan thought himself superior to the Ru scholar, believing he had long-accumulated, diligently learned skill, without understanding that it was really nature being so of itself. Relying on merit to slight others, even disregarding family ties—if one does not cling to one’s own achievement and treats those one meets with an equal heart, one will not invert the order of senior and junior, close and distant.

Commentary: Huan trusted in the merit of study and thought himself unlike ordinary people, and so looked down on his kin—even his father. How far people can go in delusion and fixation!

Classic: In Qi there was a man who dug a well for water; when others came to the well to drink, he would wrestle with them. Hence it is said that people in the world today are all like Huan.

Note: Digging a well is to draw forth spring water; chanting and study are to penetrate innate nature. Without spring water there is nothing to dig for; without innate nature there is nothing to chant toward. Yet people all forget that spring water and innate nature were there from the start—they only know the surface work of digging wells and chanting, and still want to boast and claim it as their own. Is that not absurd?

Commentary: Below the earth there is spring water by nature; in people there is endowed nature by nature. Making a well by digging and mastering an art by study are human doing. Alas, people are utterly deluded: they only know digging wells and study as outward affairs, and do not understand that spring water and nature already exist of themselves—yet they boast of it as their own merit. Hence it is said that everyone in the world is like Huan. The story says: in Qi someone bored a well for water; passersby drew from the well to drink; the well-owner seized the traveler by the hair and made him stop. Zhuangzi heard of this and used it as a comparison.

Classic: Therefore, one who has De (virtue) does not even know it in himself—how much more so one who has the Dao!

Note: Seeing Huan’s absurdity—that he thought he had taught his father—one can understand: simply let things follow their natural course; if one understands this, one will not intervene with artificial doing.

Commentary: From Huan’s error we can see that he thought himself truly a person of De…

When people forget knowledge and technique and surrender themselves to the natural transformations of all things, they no longer boast of their own abilities. How much more so for those who have awakened to the great Dao—they would never prize their own achievements.

The ancients called this situation “escaping heaven’s punishment.”

Note: Treating capacities given by nature as one’s own achievement is to go against the Dao of heaven; for that reason one incurs punishment.

Commentary: Not understanding that each thing has its own natural nature, yet boasting of ability as one’s own merit, is to flee from natural principle. That both violates the patterns of creation and invites punishment.

The sage rests in whatever state things already rest in, and does not try to settle what ought not to be settled.

Note: The sage has no fixed “at rest” or “not at rest”; he only follows the hearts of the people.

Commentary: “At rest” means letting things be as they are. The sage lets all living beings live according to their own natures, without dragging external things in to suit his own wishes; nor does he forcibly establish what was never there to begin with. This is why the sage is called a sage.

The multitude, by contrast, fix their minds on what they ought not to rest in, and are restless toward what they ought to rest in.

Note: What the multitude rests in differs from the sage; hence they are called the multitude.

Commentary: They study what they cannot naturally rest in, so they chase after what should not be chased; they are not content with their proper lot, so they are dissatisfied with what they should be content with.

Zhuangzi said: “To understand the great Dao is easy; not to speak of it is hard.”

Commentary: The mysterious great Dao is deep and hard to fathom; once it is put into words, distortion is hard to avoid. Grasping it is not difficult—the real difficulty is forgetting words.

To understand and not speak is to accord with nature; to understand and speak is to turn toward artificiality.

Commentary: If one subtly awakens to the profound Dao, one sees that it has no fixed rule that can be stated, and so one can return to the natural. Even if one has penetrated to the utmost, as long as one still clings to words and disputation, one has not yet left the ways of worldly human sentiment.

The true persons of old followed nature and were not swayed by artificial human feelings.

Note: Though they understood the principle, they never preached it in speech; they only followed each thing’s proper share and responded to what it required.

Commentary: The true persons and attained masters of old were plain and natural by nature, no longer ruled by worldly human sentiment.

Zhu Puman studied the art of dragon-slaying from Zhi Li Yi. He spent the entire family fortune; only after three years of study did he master it—yet in the end there was no occasion to use this skill.

Note: In action, what matters is fitting real need; pursuing grand achievements is not what is prized.

Commentary: Zhu Puman’s surname was Zhu and his given name Puman; Zhi Li Yi’s surname was Zhi and his given name Li Yi. “Dan” means to exhaust. Zhu Puman poured out a fortune in gold to learn the technique of killing dragons, studying with single-minded hardship for three years before he succeeded. Though the skill was ingenious, it finally had no use, because opportunities to slay dragons are rare in the world. The point is that in worldly conduct, appropriateness and balance are what count; if one cannot match reality, even the greatest ability is of no benefit.

The sage treats even what seems inevitable as if it might not be, and therefore does not resort to weapons.

Note: Even when a course of action looks necessary, the sage does not treat it as absolutely unalterable—that is what accords with nature. If one can be like this, how could there still be war?

Those who have attained the Great Dao act in accord with how things naturally unfold, yet they know that what holds in one case need not hold everywhere. They do not cling to fixed opinions, and so they do not contend with others.

Ordinary people do the opposite: they treat what is uncertain as if it were inevitable, each insisting that their own view is right. They go against one another and bring trouble on themselves.

Common folk are stubbornly opinionated. Even when they sense that things might not be as they claim, they still insist that they must be so. By violating the nature of things, they invite endless conflict.

When each being follows its own nature, it is content; in contentment, excessive wanting falls away. It is only when the heart is greedy that one clings to stubborn rivalry and the need to win.

Rely on armed force, and ruin follows. Use weapons only when there is no alternative, and take tranquillity—calm and non-contention—as the highest principle; then you are less likely to perish. Those who cannot honor the nature of each being, but delight in opposing the natural course of things, are close to losing what they value most.

Petty minds are caught up in small matters: gift herbs (baoju) and letters on bamboo slips (gaodu). Offering fragrant plants and exchanging polite notes are exactly what shallow cleverness fixates on. Pouring spirit into such trifles yields little, like a cripple forcing himself to walk: such people cannot wander in emptiness or reach what is deep.

People of narrow vision still want to take charge of all things, guide the multitude, and attain empty stillness and union with Taiyi (the supreme unity). If they wear down the spirit and let the body lead them astray, they lose themselves in the vastness of the cosmos and never grasp the way of Taichu (the primordial origin before differentiation).

The perfected person returns the spirit to what has no beginning—to a source that cannot be traced—and dwells at ease in the Village of No-Thing, the realm where nothing is fixed as “something.” In outward action they may still embrace all things and guide the living, but inwardly they remain gathered and still.

Thus one can gather in one’s light and blend with the ordinary world, yet always abide in the “homeland of the Dao.”

Water flows wherever it has no fixed shape, pouring and rushing into the vast, clear expanse.

Note: Be plain and without contrivance (Wuwei); follow the natural course of things.

Commentary: Do not deliberately resist what is outside you—like water in motion, adapt at every turn and do not cling to a fixed form. The form may shift with things, yet never leaves the root; so even when you respond and act, you still unfold within the utmost clarity.

Alas! The cleverness you use goes no further than tiny details.

Note: The cleverness you have is very limited, and you do not know what “great tranquility” (inner peace in accord with nature) really is.

Commentary: Using gifts, letters, and fine words to seek gain—how is that different from haggling over the smallest trifle? To use cleverness like this is truly lamentable. Those whose spirit is shallow—how could they understand the utterly still and silent Dao?

In Song there was a man named Cao Shang who went as envoy to Qin for the king of Song. On the mission he received several carriages; the king of Qin was pleased and gave him a hundred more.

Commentary: Cao Shang was from Song; his name was Shang. He served King Yan of Song as envoy to Qin. Skilled in repartee, he won the king of Qin’s favor and was given a hundred carriages, each drawn by four horses.

When Cao Shang returned to Song and met Zhuangzi, he said: “Living in a poor, narrow lane, in want and hardship, making a living weaving straw sandals, with a withered neck and a sallow, haggard face—in that I am not your match. But I made the ruler of a state of ten thousand chariots wake in a morning, and when I went out I had a hundred carriages following me—that is where I excel.”

Commentary: “Jiong” (窘) means pressed and in straits. Cao Shang said that in poverty he wove sandals to live, his neck thin and his face gaunt—those were his shortcomings; after his mission to powerful Qin, the king of Qin was moved and gave him a hundred carriages—that was his cleverness and his strong point. He boasted in this way and showed off before Zhuangzi.

Zhuangzi said: “When the king of Qin fell ill, he called for a doctor. Whoever lanced his carbuncle and drained the pus got one carriage; whoever licked his hemorrhoids got five carriages. The lower the place treated, the more carriages one received. Did you perhaps treat the king of Qin’s hemorrhoids—how else would you get so many carriages? Be off with you!”

Note: The baser the deed, the greater the merit seems; the greater the merit, the richer the reward. Therefore those of lofty aim and quiet detachment set glory and rank aside.

Commentary: A carbuncle (yong) is a hot, toxic swelling; hemorrhoids (zhi) are disease of the lower bowel. Zhuangzi, with refined spirit and keen insight, aim lofty and mind still, used this sharp paradox to put Cao Shang down. Guo Xiang’s commentary says: the baser the deed, the greater the merit appears; the greater the merit, the richer the stipend. Those of lofty aim and quiet detachment cast away glory and wealth.

Duke Ai of Lu asked Yan He: “I wish to entrust Zhongni with the heavy responsibility of governing the state. Can the realm’s disorder be improved?”

Yan He said: “I fear it would be very dangerous indeed! Once Zhongni is held up as the model for governing the state, later ages will take his conduct as the standard, competing to adorn Ren and Yi (benevolence and righteousness) as one might paint patterns on feathers. The people will thereby be driven into hardship, and those who accord with nature—sages unbound by artificial norms—will no longer be able to live at ease in the world.”

“Afterward, people will busy themselves with polishing outward appearance, as if painting designs on feathers; they will also indulge in florid speech, taking branch tips and side streams for the main current. Once the sage’s deeds are widely celebrated, those who enter government may have words alone, each clinging to one side and giving rise to all manner of partial intentions.”

“Later rulers, admiring Zhongni’s lofty style, will suppress their native nature and deliberately reshape themselves, using this to govern the people. Above and below will imitate one another, and little by little all will lose what is genuine—yet without knowing it or trusting themselves. To make people accept these practices and carry them out in mind and spirit—how can one rule the people on that basis?”

“The people will not merely comply on the surface; they will accept and apply these norms inwardly, in mind and spirit, until they can no longer recover their original nature. To sit above the people in this way—how could one be at ease?”

“The people have the way of life that suits the people; you, Duke Ai, have what suits you. Copying one another and mutual imitation instead erodes what is authentic; the present situation already proves this.”

The common people have ways of life that suit them, and you have what suits you. To impose on the people what you think fits yourself is inappropriate.

“Yu yi yu” means: “Do I need the same kind of nurturing as the common people?”

“Xiao bi” means imitating others—it cannot be used to nurture oneself. “Wo” means oneself; “yi” means nurturing. The way one nurtures oneself is not the same as the way one nurtures the common people, just as fish and birds differ—one is suited to diving and swimming, the other to flying. If you force on all things the nurturing you esteem, both those things and you yourself will lose what is fitting for each.

“Wu er ke yi” means: applying what is right in the wrong place naturally will not work.

Today, making the people abandon their nature to learn artificial, contrived rules is not a good way to teach them. Thinking ahead for later generations, rather than letting the age grow more chaotic, it is better to stop this practice.

The “question” in the text does not refer to conditions at that time. The people turning from true nature to learn false rules—these should not be used to instruct the people. If one considers later ages, letting the world fall into disorder is worse than putting an end to such ways.

Governing the people is difficult. If one governs with deliberate effort, falsity results instead; therefore the sage does not govern in that way. Abandoning one’s own nature to imitate external things—the sage will not do that.

Doing someone a favor while keeping that favor in mind does not accord with the natural way (Dao). Heaven and Earth generate and transform the myriad things—was it so that the myriad things would feel gratitude for their virtue (De)?

“Shang gu bu chi” means: merchants who do favors yet demand repayment are already despised; how much more so for scholars and gentlemen?

Even in terms of ritual and practical affairs, one who bestows favor deserves respect; but if after bestowing favor one cannot forget it, inwardly one will slight and effectively erase that kindness. This is ordinary human feeling among the people. To bestow favor without forgetting does not match the natural way; if one bestows favor on others yet treats it as grounds to demand return, inwardly one will look down on the other. “Shi” here means the usual patterns in human exchange.

External punishment is inflicted with metal and wooden implements. Metal implements include knives, saws, axes, and battle-axes; wooden implements include cudgels, fetters, and the like.

Internal punishment comes from misconduct and excess. If one can remain quiet, hold to constancy, and act appropriately, neither inside nor outside will bring punishment.

“Xiao ren” refers to the benighted; “li” means to suffer, “xun” means to interrogate. Benighted, ignorant people fall into the net of law, and their bodies suffer fetters, cudgels, axes, and battle-axes.

Those who suffer internal punishment harm body and mind through restless conduct and overstepping their place; external metal and wooden implements may also be used to examine and punish them.

If one does not halt this inward partitioning and fixed limits, cold and heat will arise from within the heart-mind, yin and yang will fall out of balance, and in the end one will be harmed.

Only one who has attained the status of a zhenren (a person whose cultivation has reached the true realm) can be spared both outer and inner forms of harm.

Note: Unless one is a zhenren, no one can fully stop this partitioning; therefore one will ultimately suffer inner and outer harm—only the degree differs.

Commentary: The heart-mind is like dead ashes; the spirit’s dwelling is not thrown into disorder by external things. The bodily form is like withered wood; outwardly one is not bound or confined. Only a zhenren can achieve this.

Confucius said: The human mind is harder to fathom than mountains and ravines, and harder to know than Heaven itself. Heaven at least has the shifts of spring, summer, autumn, and winter and the fixed times of dawn and dusk; yet people may look thick and honest while their inner depths are hard to measure.

Commentary: The human heart is harder to distinguish than mountains and harder to gauge than the azure sky. What follows lists many cases in which outward appearance and inner reality do not match.

Some look modest, sincere, even worthy of respect, yet inwardly they are hollow and unstable. Others do not look like people of deep loyalty, yet inwardly they are honest and reliable.

Commentary: “Yuan” means sincere and plain; “bu xiao” means not resembling what is expected or not fitting usual norms. Some appear sincere and genuine while their hearts are actually floating and insubstantial; some are truly upright and long-suffering within while their outward bearing does not show it.

Some seem compliant and urgent on the outside yet understand principle within.

Commentary: “Huai” carries a sense of haste. Some appear yielding and impatient outwardly while inwardly they can grasp the Way’s patterns.

Some are hard on the outside yet loose within; others look relaxed and slow outwardly yet are restless within.

Note: Human temperament often runs opposite to appearance; the cases are just like this.

Commentary: “Man” is slackness; “pan” is impatience. Some look solid but are scattered inside; others look easygoing outside yet are agitated within.

Thus some rush toward ren and yi (humaneness and righteousness) as if thirsty and seeking water, yet shun ren and yi as if fleeing scorching heat when they turn away.

Note: This only means the heart is hard to know—not that there are no signs at all.

Commentary: Some pursue ren and yi like someone parched and craving drink; when they abandon ren and yi, they act as if avoiding fire. Though the inner mind is hard to read, there are still traces to observe; what follows sets out concrete methods.

Therefore the noble person can send someone on distant business and observe whether he is loyal; keep him close at hand and observe whether he is respectful.

Commentary: Send him on a long errand and loyalty or treachery will show; keep him near and respect or neglect will soon appear.

Give him heavy, tangled tasks and observe his capacity.

Commentary: Hand him burdensome work and test whether he has real ability.

Question him suddenly and observe his wit.

Commentary: Put unexpected questions to him face to face and see whether he has wisdom.

Press him with a hasty appointment and observe whether he keeps faith.

Commentary: Fix a deadline on short notice and see whether he honors it.

Entrust wealth to him and observe whether he is generous and upright.

Commentary: A person of ren (humaneness) will not covet others’ property.

Tell him of danger and observe his integrity of character.

Commentary: Inform him of peril or ruin to test the firmness of his moral fiber.

Let him drink until drunk and observe whether he holds to his usual conduct; let him mix with all sorts of people and observe how he carries himself.

A person of supreme attainment, even when drinking wine, does not thereby lose clarity; even when men and women mingle, their upright integrity does not waver. Through nine kinds of signs, one can recognize the thoroughly unworthy.

A gentleman is easy to see through; the unworthy are hard to discern. Yet if you observe why they act as they do, where they come from, and what puts their mind at ease, and follow the thread with careful inquiry, you can still know what sort of person they are. These nine matters can be used to examine people: petty men and gentlemen, however thick-skinned and deep-hearted they appear, cannot hide forever.

Zhengkaofu—the tenth-generation ancestor of Confucius and a minister of Song—when he first received appointment as a shi, walked with bowed waist; the second time, as daifu, he walked with curved back; the third time, as qing, he hugged the wall as he went. He was so reverent and self-lowering that who would dare offend him with improper conduct? “Kao” suggests accomplishment; “fu” suggests greatness. Zhengkaofu accomplished great virtue and walked the upright path, and thus received this name. Shi, daifu, and qing correspond to the first, second, and third appointments. Zhengkaofu’s bearing was extremely respectful and humble, so none dared offend him.

Ordinary people, by contrast, swagger when they first receive appointment; at the second they flourish their arms from their carriage; at the third they call their uncles and elders by name. How can such people be compared with Tang Yao and Xu You? “Erfu” refers to ordinary folk; “Tang” is Tang Yao and “Xu” is Xu You. Bo and shu are terms for paternal elders. Ordinary people are obsessed with rank and finery: with one appointment they boast and display luxury; with two they dance about in their carriage; with three they become self-important and call elders by name. Zhengkaofu’s conduct is utterly unlike theirs—how could they match the wuwei (non-action) and abdication in favor of others that characterize Tang Yao and Xu You?

The greatest harm is to treat virtue as something to pursue on purpose. Deliberately using the mind to perform virtue is not true virtue. One who truly has De possesses it naturally and does not know why.

If one only follows the heart’s inclination, that is still tolerable; but if the spirit is spent between the brows and lashes, calculating at every turn, that is already hypocrisy. When the mind grows as fine as the eye and turns inward to probe hidden things, making deep investigation its business, heart and deed corrupt together. If the spirit is endlessly applied to chasing the outer world without stopping, danger and failure follow.

Among the vicious traits, there are five kinds, and “Zhongde” (central self-righteousness in the heart) ranks first.

Commentary: The “five” here are the five roots—the heart-mind, ears, eyes, tongue, and nose, the organs that take in the outer world. Trouble starts from these five roots, so they are called the roots of vicious traits. What leads among them, “Zhongde,” is when the heart has its own fixed view and insists that it alone is right.

What is “Zhongde”? It is when the heart favors certain things and mocks or disparages what it dislikes or refuses to do.

Note: “Pi” means to slander or ridicule. Once you take yourself as right and others as wrong, many people will turn against you; that is why it is the foremost root of vicious traits. If the heart holds no stubborn likes, you can go along with each thing’s own bent; when everything keeps to its nature and does not lose its place, people everywhere will naturally want to be close to you.

Commentary: If you use what your heart likes as the measure of right and wrong, you will mock and reject those who differ; because you believe your own mind is correct, this is called “Zhongde.”

There are eight extreme forms of distress, three situations in which success is almost inevitable, and the human body has six inner repositories (organs).

Commentary: What follows lists the eight extremes and the three paths to success; “distress” and “success,” like the body’s six repositories, each belong to their own category.

Beautiful looks, a full beard, tall height, a stocky frame, great strength, handsome features, courage, and decisiveness—these eight strengths that surpass ordinary people often become the very reason one falls into distress.

Note: Distress here means being put to service by others. The world does not usually trap a person because of his weaknesses; it often traps him because of his strengths.

Commentary: “Mei” is fine appearance, “ran” a full beard, “chang” tall stature, “da” a thick build, “zhuang” physical power, “li” handsome looks, “yong” bravery, “gan” resolve. These eight qualities exceed the norm, so one is often ordered about and driven into difficulty.

Being good at going along with things and with other people, holding the head high and refusing to bow into practical tasks, and being timid and fearful—these three conditions tend to bring success.

Note: “Yuanyun” is leaning on outer things and moving with them; “yanyang” is looking up and being unable to bow the head to take on affairs; “kunwei” is weakness and fear. Such people are not given heavy responsibility but are set to meet and assist others, and so they often get through.

Commentary: “Xun” is compliance. “Following things and others” means clinging to the outer world and yielding to others, unable to stand on one’s own; “yanyang” is raising the head and refusing to bow into work; “kunwei” is hardship and cowardice. These three seem inferior, yet they often open the way everywhere.

When cleverness and talent are displayed outward, the inner heart is easily harmed.

Note: When wit is turned entirely toward outer things, one may damage the inner heart by endlessly answering the world without limit.

Commentary: Relying on one’s own intelligence to observe things, the mind runs outward into the dusty realm of worldly affairs.

Boldness and restless activity easily draw resentment.

Note: Timidity and stillness, by contrast, can preserve the person.

Commentary: Being fierce and agitated inevitably invites enmity and quarrel.

Insisting on benevolence and righteousness easily draws reproach.

Note: Everyone hopes the humane and righteous person will care for them; yet once care is given, some will inevitably be left out, and blame follows.

Commentary: The world expects the practitioner of ren and yi to cherish others; when love is partial, gaps appear and criticism arises.

Those who keep their distance from benevolence and righteousness find it hard to treat people and handle affairs with full fairness, and they inevitably invite a great deal of blame.

Those who penetrate the true feeling of life have a mind that opens wide and at ease.

Note: Here kui (傀) describes a state of calm, expansive ease, free of constraint.

Those who penetrate wisdom see idle thoughts melt away.

Note: Here xiao (肖) means to disperse and let go.

Commentary: The note says that xiao is to melt and vanish, and kui is to be calmly at ease and expansive. One who truly penetrates sees through to what is genuine. With the heart-mind empty-quiet yet clear, the inner world opens without being tied by cares and fixations.

Those who penetrate the great mandate of life follow nature as it is.

Note: Minran (泯然) means seamless and without trace—merging with change itself.

Commentary: The great mandate refers to long life. Even someone as long-lived as Peng Zu can follow life naturally and will not feel worn down simply because life lasts so long.

Those who penetrate the small mandate of life also go along with whatever they meet.

Note: When one reaches a turning point in life, one stops there in peace and understands from it.

Commentary: The small mandate means a short life; zao (遭) is what one encounters. A child who dies young, for example, has a brief life—what comes is simply what comes; one who penetrates does not take it to heart.

A man went to see the king of Song. The king rewarded him with ten carriages. He then used those ten carriages to show off before Zhuangzi, as if he stood above him.

Commentary: Xi (锡) is to bestow; zhi (穉) refers to a junior. In the time of King Xiang of Song, a shallow man won the king over and received ten carriages. He grew proud and flaunted them, thinking himself more valued than Zhuang Zhou.

Zhuangzi said: “By the river lived a poor household that made a living weaving curtains from reeds and wormwood. The son dove into deep water and brought up a pearl worth a thousand in gold. The father told his son: ‘Fetch a stone and smash the pearl. A pearl worth a thousand in gold must lie in a pool nine layers deep, under the chin of a black dragon. You could get it only because the black dragon was asleep. If the black dragon had been awake, could you have come back alive?’”

Commentary: Xiao (萧) is wormwood; the poor wove reeds and wormwood into curtains to sell for food. Duan (锻) is to strike; lilong (骊龙) is the black dragon. Under the black dragon’s chin lies a pearl worth a thousand in gold. The story mocks the man who won the carriages.

Today the depths and dangers of Song are more than a ninefold abyss; the fierceness of the king of Song is not only that of a black dragon. You could get those carriages only because the king of Song was asleep. If the king of Song had been awake, you would already have been ground to pulp.

Note: Seeking wealth and honor should align with what the people hope for. To rely on strange doctrines, seize the moment to approach the ruler and sway his heart—no wise ruler will accept that. Therefore, whenever someone is praised, it must be tested among the people: only if all lift him up together and he matches the common hope may he be employed. That is how the Xia, Shang, and Zhou followed the upright way in their conduct.

Those who harbor loyalty and move their sovereign often receive extraordinary rewards and appointments. Those who rely on heterodox doctrines and flatter the ruler with sycophantic words to grasp wealth and rank by chance therefore show a proud, childish air. Is this not like taking a pearl from the Lili dragon while it sleeps? For the rest, see the commentary.

Perhaps someone came to invite Zhuangzi.

Commentary: The parable does not give the visitor’s surname, hence “perhaps” (或).

Zhuangzi answered the envoy: “Have you seen the ox prepared for sacrifice?”

Commentary: “犧” (xi) means to fatten for sacrifice. The ruler feeds the ox for three days before the rite; when it is led into the ancestral temple, it is called the “sacrificial ox” (xi).

“It is dressed in embroidered trappings and fed grass and beans. When the time comes to lead it into the Grand Temple for sacrifice, even if it wished to be a calf again, how could that be?”

Note: Those who delight in life fear becoming a sacrificial ox and therefore decline the invitation; when a skull (dulou) hears talk of living, it frowns in displeasure. This shows that feelings toward life and death differ from person to person, each resting in their own situation.

Commentary: “芻” (chu) is fodder grass; “菽” (shu) is beans. The sacrificial ox enjoys rich feeding, yet on the day of sacrifice it cannot become a calf again even if it wishes. Moreover, those who enjoy stipends often die young; those who withdraw and hold to simplicity more often preserve life. Zhuangzi, lofty and detached, used this to mock those who chase fame and gain.

When Zhuangzi was about to die, his disciples wanted to give him an elaborate burial. Zhuangzi said: “I take heaven and earth as my inner and outer coffins, the sun and moon as paired jade disks (lian bi), the stars as pearls and jade, and all things as funeral goods. Are my burial fittings not already complete? What could be better than this?”

Commentary: Zhuangzi penetrated the profound Dao and regarded the body as something lodged only briefly on a journey. Therefore he took heaven and earth as coffins, the two cosmic poles as a smelting furnace, and stars, sun, and moon as pearls and jade; the transformations of things and the brightness of heaven and earth could all serve as offerings for his send-off. The burial gear was already complete. If the disciples gave him a lavish burial, they would go against the workings of creation (zao hua).

The disciples said: “We fear crows and eagles will eat the Master’s body.” Zhuangzi said: “Left above ground, crows and eagles will eat it; buried underground, ants will eat it. You would rob the birds to give the body to the ants—why this partiality?”

Commentary: “鸢” (yuan) is a bird of the hawk kind. The disciples bore deep affection for their teacher and wished to bury him richly to keep off crows and eagles; they did not realize that after a lavish burial the body would still be eaten by ants. When emotion favors one side, bias appears.

To use one’s own partiality to decree how all things must be “fair” is to make what is called fair in truth unfair.

Note: Judging all things by the standard of one household is inferior to letting each thing find its own balance.

Commentary: Fairness that does not pick and choose by personal feeling, but lets each thing balance itself, is true fairness. Once you scheme how to make things balanced, that thought itself is already unfair.

To use external verification to prove how things inherently are is to make what is called proof unable truly to prove.

Zhuangzi said: “Zheng” (征) means response. Do not deliberately answer the natural resonances of the myriad things from what you yourself observe; if you insist on responding according to your own perceptions, you will inevitably miss what is fitting.

The sage has no fixed views. When something outside stirs him, he responds of itself—this is genuine response. Meet the myriad things with subjective intent, and you cannot respond as you should.

Those who see clearly are only pushed around by external things.

Cling to your own opinions and you are dragged about by countless affairs—how could you command external things? Fancy yourself clever and have to cope with everything, and you are led by external things instead—how could you rule over others?

One who has spirit-like responsiveness can let the myriad things receive response in their own way.

Only by following the spirit-like (the clear, unwilled awareness) can one reach the utmost ease; then whatever comes along, one can meet it.

“Spirit-like responsiveness” means no fixed intent, still and unmoving, yet answering everything without fail.

Clear seeing falls far short of spirit-like responsiveness—that has always been so.

Clear seeing only reaches form and surface; in utmost ease there is no far or near, shallow or deep—the myriad things each find their place.

Clear seeing is handling affairs with a set mind, so one is driven by things; spirit-like responsiveness is answering without mind, and resonance has no fixed bounds. Answering on purpose cannot match answering without purpose; guarding response cannot match forgetting that you need to respond and answering naturally. The gap between the two speaks for itself.

The foolish trust their own understanding and try to force their will on others; the merit they produce ends up outside them—is that not pitiful?

One who accords with nature: the push to act comes from things, but the work belongs to the myriad things. Rely on your views and stubbornly insist you are right—even if you want to sway others, merit will not truly be yours. The foolish and deluded cling to what they do and treat others’ achievements as their own; even when they want to boast, the merit is never theirs. To be lost to that degree is truly lamentable.