《南華真經註疏》Vol. 6

Chapter Five: The Sign of Fulfilled Virtue

(When inner virtue is fully realized, things in the outer world respond; when inner and outer accord, the signs that appear fit together like matching tallies.)

(When virtue is fulfilled enough to resonate with Heaven’s mandate, one can forget one’s own body.)

In the state of Lu there was a man named Wang Tai, a disabled person who had undergone the punishment of amputation, in which one foot was cut off.

Commentary: Wang Tai’s surname was Wang, and his given name was Tai. He was from Lu. Because one of his feet had been cut off, he was called “the maimed one.” Though his body was incomplete, his mind was empty, still, and free of attachment; he could therefore forget his bodily form. That is why this chapter is titled “The Sign of Fulfilled Virtue,” and why his story appears at its beginning.

The number of people who followed him in their studies was about the same as the number who followed Zhongni (Confucius).

Note: He had enough disciples to rival Confucius in number.

Commentary: “Like” means “the same as” or “similar to.” The students who followed Wang Tai and sought instruction from him were roughly as numerous as those who followed Zhongni.

Chang Ji asked Zhongni, “Wang Tai is a disabled man, yet the number of people who follow him in their studies is as great as the number who follow you, Master. Nearly half the people of Lu follow him.”

Commentary: Chang Ji, whose surname was Chang and given name Ji, was a worthy man of Lu. Wang Tai paid no heed to his bodily form on the outside, while inwardly his virtue was fulfilled. So many people followed him that their number could rival Confucius’s disciples. Chang Ji had not yet grasped the deeper meaning, and so was puzzled.

“When he stands, he does not teach; when he sits, he does not discuss. People go to him empty and return laden.”

Note: Each person comes to understand something from him and feels fulfilled as a result.

Commentary: Though he had many disciples, he never taught or instructed them through speech, nor did he sit with them to discuss things. People came to seek his guidance with open minds and returned laden after grasping the Way. It may also be said that those who have not yet learned the Way and lack virtue are the ones who “go empty.”

“Can there truly be such a thing as teaching without words? Though he leaves no outward trace, can he still bring people to inward fulfillment?”

Note: Chang Ji was astonished that Wang Tai’s body was disabled while his inner life was so full. A truly complete mind can cast aside the body’s appearance, forget the presence of the Five Viscera and the rest of the body, and move freely on its own. Nothing in the world can break it apart.

Commentary: Wang Tai taught his disciples, yet never spoke or discussed things. His body was disabled and his form incomplete, but his mind must have been filled with the mysterious Dao and supreme virtue. That is why people followed him.

“What sort of person is he, really?”

Commentary: Chang Ji was astonished that Wang Tai had so many disciples despite his disability. Wanting to reveal the beauty of his fulfilled virtue, he asked this question.

Zhongni said, “This gentleman is a sage. I have fallen behind him and have not yet caught up. I, for my part, must take him as my teacher—how much more so those who are less than I…”

Commentary: Confucius called Wang Tai “this gentleman” and replied to Chang Ji: Wang Tai is… (The original text ends here.)

Only a true sage can realize the Great Dao. You do not know such a person, which is why you doubt him. I, Kong Qiu, came too late and did not have the chance to pay him my respects sooner. Now I will honor him as my teacher and ask him about the Great Dao. What of those who learned later than I did, and are less accomplished than I am? It is only right that they seek instruction and receive it with reverence.

Why limit this to the state of Lu? I, Kong Qiu, will guide people throughout the world, so that they may all follow him.

Note: When one’s awareness is whole and one’s inner self is full, one can become one with all things. Those who can commune with all things cannot be estranged by anyone in the world. Why should this be limited to a single state?

Commentary: “Xi” means “why.” Why rely on just one state, Lu? Kong Qiu will guide people throughout the world, enabling them to receive Wang Tai’s (a person’s name) abundant De. Even so, he fears they may not fully understand the principle involved.

Chang Ji said, “That man is lame, yet you speak so highly of him, Master. Compared with ordinary people, he is indeed quite extraordinary.”

Commentary: “Wang” means “abundant,” and “yong” means “ordinary.” “Master” refers to Confucius. Wang Tai was lame, yet disciples served and followed Confucius. Chang Ji therefore found this strange, thinking Wang Tai was clearly unlike ordinary people.

“Even so, what is it about the way he uses his mind that makes him so distinctive?”

Commentary: “Ran” means “so” or “like this.” Wang Tai’s De is so profound that people are drawn to him. Chang Ji does not understand how he uses his mind, and so asks this question.

Zhongni said, “Life and death are among the great events of human existence.”

Note: Though people change as things change, the transformation between life and death is the greatest of all.

“Yet he is untouched by this transformation.”

Note: He moves along with change, so the changes of life and death cannot alter him.

Commentary: Mountains rising and falling, boats drifting, things hidden and revealed, fire passing from one piece of wood to another, and the growth of an extra finger—all are transformations. So it is with all things, and among them, life and death are the greatest change. Wang Tai’s mind is in accord with the transformations of nature. He moves with change, while his outward life blends into the human world. He comes and goes along with life and death, and so change cannot alter him.

“Even if Heaven and Earth were overturned and collapsed, he would lose nothing.”

Note: This is only a very brief moment.

Commentary: “Yi” means “to lose.” Even if Heaven were turned upside down and Earth sank and collapsed, he has already made his peace with changes between safety and danger, and so has never lost himself.

“He knows deeply that the fate he has received was not brought about by human action,”

Note: He understands that the root of nature and life is simply as it is.

“and so he does not change along with external things.”

Note: He lets external things change as they will.

Commentary: His numinous mind is calm and clear, and his wondrous being accords with what is real. In harmony with the Dao, he is not drawn along or changed by external things.

“He takes the transformations of all things as Heaven’s decree,”

Note: He takes change as Heaven’s decree, neither startled by change nor resisting it.

And remain faithful to the common root of all things.

[Commentary] Do not depart from what is most fitting and fundamental.

[Exegesis] One understands each thing’s proper part and allotted course, and can also forget the distinctions between external things. By following the changes of one’s allotted course and of external things, one’s actions do not go against the Dao’s stillness. Thus one remains at rest in the root of all things.

Chang Ji asked, “What does this mean?”

[Exegesis] Finding the principle profound and difficult to grasp, Chang Ji asked for further explanation.

Confucius said, “Viewed in terms of how things differ from one another, the liver and gallbladder seem as far apart as the states of Chu and Yue.”

[Commentary] People’s temperaments differ: some experience suffering, others joy, and their perceptions of beauty and ugliness are therefore opposed.

[Exegesis] In the end, all things return to emptiness and stillness. Yet people in the world cling upside down to distinctions between right and wrong, raising divisions within the Way of profound mystery—the deeper Daoist realm that transcends distinctions between being and nonbeing. Is that not like treating the gallbladder and liver as unrelated? They belong to the same body. Chu and Yue are thousands of miles apart, but viewed as part of a whole, that great distance is merely one of the differences within it. Those who cling to distinctions are mostly like this.

“Viewed in terms of what they share, all things are one.”

[Commentary] Though people favor different things, each person has something they favor. Everyone loves what they love; in this sense, all things have something lovable about them. Everyone affirms what they affirm; in this sense, all things under Heaven have their own rightness.

If we look at things only in terms of their differences, then nothing under Heaven is not different. But from a broad perspective, one that encompasses Heaven and Earth and takes in all things, we understand that there is no need to cling to difference itself. If instead we look at things in terms of what they share, then nothing under Heaven is not the same. And if we go further and look from the perspective of “nonbeing,” we find that we need not cling to right and wrong, beauty and ugliness either.

Those who think they are right and others wrong, or themselves beautiful and others ugly, do so from a mind that makes distinctions. From human beings down to insects, most are like this. But they see only their own side and fail to see the other. Those who understand the mysterious and dissolve distinctions, by contrast, use all things under Heaven to understand all things under Heaven. By not clinging to “my being wrong,” they can see that there is no fixed, unchanging wrong in the world. By not clinging to “others being right,” they can see that there is no fixed, unchanging right in the world either. Right and wrong dissolve into each other and return to oneness. Thus they can follow change and let things unfold naturally, without alarm even when they encounter things that do not suit their wishes.

[Exegesis] Those who understand the mysterious Dao view Heaven, Earth, and all things with a broad perspective, seeing all things as one. They can therefore let go of attachments and follow the course of all things, allowing each being to find its proper place. Yet to say that all things are the same is to view them from the standpoint of sameness; to say that they are different is to view them from the standpoint of difference. At the level of exploring the mystery of all things, one can say neither that they are different nor that they are the same.

Such a person no longer clings to what the ears and eyes consider suitable…

The commentaries hold that suitability and unsuitability, beauty and ugliness, all arise from the mind’s habit of making distinctions. If there were no distinction between beauty and ugliness, there would be nothing unsuitable; and if nothing were unsuitable, the very thought of “suitability” would also be forgotten.

Commentary: The ears and eyes each have things suited to them: ears are suited to hearing sounds, and eyes to seeing colors. Ordinary people readily make distinctions and become absorbed in sounds and sights, and so they divide things into suitable and unsuitable, permissible and impermissible. Wang Tai, a figure in the Zhuangzi, saw all things as one and life and death as a single transformation. How could he still hold to judgments of beauty and ugliness about what his ears and eyes encountered?

He lets his mind and spirit wander amid the harmony of De.

Note: He has entirely forgotten the distinction between “suitable” and “unsuitable,” and so there is nothing he cannot bear. It has never happened that someone can bear everything yet still find something unbearable; nor have we ever heard of someone who can bear everything yet still be unable to live in harmony. Thus he lets his mind rest in the Dao and De, and naturally finds nothing improper or uncomfortable.

Commentary: Since he already sees all things as one, he no longer clings to what is suited to each of the senses. He can therefore wander in the realm of Dao and De, moving with the utmost Dao.

In viewing things, he sees only what they share and not what each has lost. He regards the loss of his feet as he would the loss of a clod of earth.

Note: Having grasped the deepest truth, he can keep nothing in his heart as separate from himself. Since nothing among the myriad things differs from him, wherever there is change between life and death, there he can be himself. Life is the time that is his; death is the time to which he accords. Gathering together is his time, and dispersing is also his time. Gathering and dispersing differ, yet in either case he remains himself.

In life, he is thus, and has not truly gained anything; in death, he is still himself, and has not truly lost anything. Since he sees even the transformations of life and death as one, he is free of attachments and at ease, merged with the myriad things. He regards death and life as waking and sleeping, and the body as a temporary lodging. Leaving life is like taking off a straw sandal; losing his feet is like losing a clod of earth. I cannot see how any of this could bind his heart.

Commentary: “Seeing things as things” means regarding things as they are. Wang Tai sees life and death as one, and also sees the myriad things, himself, and others as one. Life is the time he inhabits, but he does not think he has gained anything by it; death is the time to which he accords, but he does not think he has lost anything by it. He sees the myriad things as one undivided whole, so even the loss of his feet seems to him like losing a clod of earth.

Chang Ji said, “He cultivates himself by relying on his own knowledge and judgments.”

Note: Chang Ji suspects that Wang Tai has not yet forgotten knowledge and judgments, and still relies on them to sustain himself.

Commentary: The “he” in Chang Ji’s words refers to Wang Tai. The meaning is that Wang Tai still employs his mind and knowledge in cultivating and disciplining himself. Chang Ji suspects that he has not yet forgotten knowledge and judgments or yielded to the natural course of things.

“He masters his own mind by relying on his own mind.”

Note: Chang Ji further suspects that Wang Tai has not yet set aside his own mental faculties and attained true freedom.

The commentary asks: “Some may wonder whether Wang Tai, a figure in the Zhuangzi, was unable to forget his feelings and follow his nature, and still used his mind to seek the ‘mind.’”

To attain the mind means not to think or deliberate, to forget knowledge and sensation, and to let the mind become like dead ashes and the body like withered wood. One rests in calm stillness, without private feelings. Settle the mind in the chest, beyond the workings of sight and hearing. Let it cover and support all things like Heaven and Earth, responding to the light of the sun, moon, and stars. Even amid the dust and bustle of the world, the spirit remains undisturbed; even in hardship, no thoughts arise. Take “not attaining” as “attaining”: what is gained is precisely the absence of anything gained. If one relies on intellect and method to seek it, that is not truly attaining the mind.

Once one has attained an ordinary, constant mind, why should all things still gather around him?

The note says: “Attaining his constant mind” means having a peaceful disposition, able to get along with others without resentment. Some people object that Wang Tai could not treat others with equanimity and was always at odds with external things, and that this was why everyone came close to him.

The commentary says: “Gather” means to assemble. If one can be empty, still, and self-forgetful, free of desire and unassuming, and attain a truly constant state of mind, one ought to keep one’s radiance subdued and be no different from ordinary people. How could one deliberately appear exceptional and have everyone come to follow?

Confucius said, “People do not use flowing water as a mirror; they use still water.”

The note says: Still water can reflect one’s appearance, but it does not deliberately become still in order to obtain a reflection. In the same way, the people who gathered around Wang Tai came to him of their own accord. How could he have drawn in external things and made people follow him?

The commentary says: “Mirror” means to reflect. Still water can reflect because it is clear and bright; Wang Tai could draw people together because he was settled and still. Still water has no intention of reflecting the myriad things, yet their images appear in it naturally. How could Wang Tai have intended to attract people, when they came to follow him of their own accord?

Only stillness can bring the myriad things to rest.

The note says: If one deliberately acts to achieve something, one cannot become a place where the myriad things settle and rest.

The commentary says: “Only” means nothing but. “Rest” means that water settles into clear stillness, allowing reflections to remain on its surface. “The myriad things rest” means that all things come and pause by the water, where it reflects them. In the same way, Wang Tai alone held an empty, still, and tranquil mind, and so could receive and settle the people around him. For this reason, everyone gathered and came to follow him.

Of all the beings that receive life from the earth, only the pine and cypress remain green through both winter and summer.

The note says: The pine and cypress received a special share of nature’s concentrated vital essence, which made them outstanding among the many trees. This was not achieved through deliberate effort.

The commentary says: All kinds of plants depend on rich soil to grow. Among them, the pine and cypress are firm in substance and do not wither in the depth of winter. They remain green in every season… [The original text ends here]

Qi follows its own nature; it is not brought about by the force of subjective intention. Wang Tai gathered people in the same way.

“Receiving his mandate from Heaven, only Shun was truly upright.”

Commentary: Those who truly receive the upright Qi of nature are extremely rare. Among plants, only pines and cypresses may be called upright; among people, only sages may be called upright. Those who are not upright themselves therefore seek the upright Way. If all things could remain verdant and whole, pines and cypresses would not seem precious. If everyone could make themselves upright, no one would admire the Great Sage or follow him.

Explanatory note: All people receive life from Heaven and Earth. They have rounded heads and square feet, and come in many kinds. Yet only Yu Shun received the Qi that is steadfast and true. This was not something he deliberately willed or strove for; it was simply his nature. Wang Tai’s accord with the Dao follows the same principle.

Guo Xiang’s commentary says: “Upper heads” refers to people, because a person’s head is above; if the head is lost, the person dies. “Lower heads” refers to trees, because a tree’s roots are below; if its roots are lost, the tree dies. Thus people are called “upper heads,” and trees “lower heads.” Upper heads eat lateral heads, and lateral heads eat lower heads. Lower heads are plants; lateral heads are insects and beasts.

“Fortunately, he can make his own life upright and thereby make the lives of all beings upright.”

Commentary: He is simply fortunate to be naturally upright. He does not make himself upright in order to make others upright.

Explanatory note: By receiving the upright Qi of Heaven, one can make one’s own life and Way upright. This does not come from deliberate effort; it is entirely natural. One can make oneself upright and also make all things upright. One benefits oneself and brings benefit to others, bringing cultivation within and without to completion. This is what is called a Great Sage. Yu Shun was like this, and Wang Tai was like this. Shun accepted the people’s abdication in his favor, so he is held up as an example.

“The proof of preserving the beginning and the reality of fearlessness: a single warrior, boldly entering the ranks of nine armies. He seeks fame and can stake his life on it, yet still acts in this way; how much more so for one who takes Heaven and Earth as his domain and all things as his storehouse?”

Commentary: This does not mean that he can cast fame aside; it means that he undertakes everything.

Explanatory note: “Proof” means verification or evidence. The Son of Heaven commands six armies, and a feudal lord commands three; together they are called the nine armies. Suppose a person is naturally courageous, holds fast to the resolve to begin well, and truly fulfills the discipline of ending well. Fearless within and fierce in appearance, he charges straight into the ranks of nine armies solely to win a position of fame. Even so, he can restrain himself and pursue renown, setting life and death aside. How much more so for Wang Tai, whose attainment is to embody the Dao, as the text will explain below.

Commentary: “Taking Heaven and Earth as one’s domain” means being wholly united with Heaven and Earth, with nothing beyond one’s embrace. “Taking all things as one’s storehouse” means holding the myriad things of the cosmos within oneself. A warrior who charges into the ranks seeks only a position of fame, yet can still disregard his own life. How much more so for one who embodies the Dao?

Wang Tai had forgotten life and death—how much less would he concern himself with affairs of government? He regarded the Yin and Yang principles as one and all things as equal. Was it not natural, then, that he saw death as no different from birth?

He was only lodging for a time within the six parts of the body.

“To lodge” means to stay temporarily. The six parts are the head and four limbs. Wang Tai understood that body and mind were originally one, and did not see things as separate, self-contained existences cut off from one another. Thus he could live at ease amid the bustle of the world, placing his spirit within his physical form. He was only dwelling here for a time—how could the body bind him?

It was as though he were using his ears and eyes.

“As though” means that he used his ears and eyes like ordinary people, yet did not depend on them. It seemed that he engaged with the world through his senses, but in truth he did not need them.

Could the wisdom that knows all things, and the mind itself, really remain undying?

Wisdom moves along with change and, wherever it goes, accords with things. This is what is meant by “knowledge as one.” The mind follows the changes of life and death, and so is always alive. This is what is meant by “the mind has never died.”

“One knowledge” refers to unified wisdom, while “what is known” refers to the realm it apprehends. When wisdom illuminates that realm and the two accord, there is no difference between them. Thus knowing and not knowing can be brought together as one. Although the outer body and things are constantly changing, the mind has never experienced death.

Can there truly be something whole and unchanging, existing alone among all things?

Perhaps he simply followed the moment and attained the highest Dao, and people followed him as a result.

What is called “choosing” merely means not losing one’s accord with the Dao. Such a person has no need to choose. He acts in accordance with his nature and moves with the moment, so people follow his example and turn toward the Great Dao.

Would Wang Tai choose an auspicious day to ascend the mysterious Dao? Of course not. He was simply calm and empty, free of selfish thoughts, and naturally in accord with the Dao. Like still water without self-interest, he could reflect all things; the deluded people of the world therefore followed him.

How could he treat external things as his own concern?

Because he was tranquil and practiced Wuwei (non-action), he was able to preserve himself. Only someone like Wang Tai, in accord with the true Dao, could have things naturally come to him. How could he regard them as his own affairs?

Shentu Jia had undergone the punishment of amputation and lost a foot. He studied under Bohun Wuren together with Zichan of Zheng.

Shentu is the surname and Jia the given name; he was a worthy man of Zheng. Zichan’s surname was Gongsun, his given name Qiao, and his courtesy name Zichan. He was a wise minister of Zheng. In Bohun Wuren’s name, “Bo” suggests being foremost or senior, while “hun” suggests being deeply concealed, as if in shadow. His virtue was outstanding, yet he restrained his brilliance and kept himself hidden.

All things and I were originally connected; this is why he was called Bohun Wuren, “Bohun the Unbound.” Zichan and Shentu Jia both followed Bohun Wuren and studied the Mysterious Dao, its profound principles.

Though they came from different backgrounds and circumstances, both honored Bohun Wuren as their teacher. Their story illustrates the idea of “abundant De”: when one’s De is fully developed, the heart is no longer swayed by external things.

Zichan said to Shentu Jia, “If I leave first, you stay here. If you leave first, I’ll stay.”

Note: Zichan disliked being seen in the company of Shentu Jia, who had undergone punishment by amputation and lost one foot.

Commentary: Zichan held a high office in government and enjoyed wealth and status. Shentu Jia, by contrast, had lost his appearance through a physical disability. Although Zichan followed Bohun Wuren to study the Dao, he had not let go of his concern with gain and loss, honor and disgrace. He was still ashamed of Shentu Jia’s disability, so he arranged in advance that they would not leave together.

The next day, they met again in the same hall and sat side by side. Zichan said to Shentu Jia, “If I leave first, you stay here. If you leave first, I’ll stay. Now I’m about to leave. Can you stay, or not?”

Note: By pressing Shentu Jia directly, Zichan meant to make sure he would not leave at the same time.

Commentary: Zichan still cared about honor and disgrace, while Shentu Jia no longer gave weight to high or low status. Shentu Jia had ignored Zichan’s earlier words; they lived in the same hall and sat together on the same mat. Seeing this, Zichan challenged him directly.

Zichan continued, “When you meet a man who governs the state, shouldn’t you make way for him? Do you really consider yourself equal to someone in my position?”

Note: Zichan took pride in his office and asked outright, “Do you consider yourself equal to someone in my position?” He meant to show that he thought Shentu Jia was behaving disrespectfully.

Commentary: Zichan’s meaning was: “I govern the state and am a person of high standing. You have low status and a physical disability, so you should show me special respect. Not only do you fail to defer to me, you want to sit as my equal.”

Shentu Jia said, “Can someone in the Master’s school really behave this way just because he governs the state?”

Note: This concerns the cultivation of De; it is not a comparison of official rank.

Commentary: “The Master” here refers to Bohun Wuren. He deeply understood the principles of the Dao: he regarded honor and disgrace as one, treated high and low status as equal, and saw through life and death. Shentu Jia’s question was: If you take pride in governing the state, can you really count as someone who studies the Dao in the Master’s school?

Shentu Jia added, “You still cherish your official position, and so you put others behind you.”

Note: He was ridiculing Zichan for taking pride in his office and trying to place himself above everyone else.

Commentary: “You still crave glory, boast of your achievements in government, and put others behind you, always wanting to come first. How can such a state of mind count as studying the Dao?

“I have heard this saying: When a mirror is clear, dust cannot settle on it. Once dust settles, the mirror is no longer clear. After spending a long time with a worthy person, there can be no greater failing than behaving as you do now. The highest state you seek is precisely the Dao of the Master.”

You clearly understand these principles, yet you still say such things. Isn’t that going too far?

[Commentary] After understanding the principles and drawing close to a worthy teacher, if one has not yet rid oneself of arrogance and stinginess, that is a true fault.

[Explanation] A “mirror” is a reflective surface. When the mirror is bright, dust and grime cannot cling to it; once they settle on it, it is no longer bright. It is much the same with a person who has spent a long time in the company of the worthy: they should have no faults. If they still do, they cannot be called wise.

What you now value and regard as important is your teacher’s Dao. Your teacher’s Dao lies in yielding to others, remaining humble, and forgetting the self. Yet you consider yourself superior. This goes against the very purpose of the Dao, and you still speak in this way. Surely that is a fault?

Zichan said, “Since you are such a person…”

[Commentary] “Such” refers to your bodily deformity.

“…do you still want to dispute with Yao over who is more virtuous? Shouldn’t you reflect on whether your own De is lacking?”

[Commentary] This means that instead of turning inward to examine yourself, you seek to slight those in office and those who possess De. Your De is already insufficient to make up for the faults arising from your bodily deformity.

[Explanation] “Turn back” means to look back and reflect. Shentu Jia is deformed to such an extent, yet he does not recognize it himself; he even wants to stand as an equal to me. That is like disputing with Yao over who is more virtuous. Even if you possess some De, what is there to boast about? You have not yet truly made up for your bodily deformity with De.

Shentu Jia said, “There are many who proclaim their faults yet believe they should not be punished; there are few who do not proclaim their faults yet believe they do not deserve to go on living.”

[Commentary] Many people speak of their faults but believe they should not be punished. Few silently acknowledge their faults and believe they deserve to die.

[Explanation] There are many people in the world who describe their circumstances, shift the blame to others, and believe they have done nothing wrong and should not be punished. There are few who make no defense for their faults, instead taking the blame upon themselves and believing they should not go on living. Zichan of Zheng is extravagant and self-important, and by this reasoning belongs to the former sort.

To know that something cannot be helped, accept it calmly, and regard it as the decree of fate—only a person of De can do this.

[Explanation] “Follow” means to comply with. Bodily deformity is part of one’s inborn fate; no matter how clever one may be, it cannot be changed. One can only accept it calmly and go along with it. Only then can one’s actions accord with reason. Who could do this without deep De?

A person moving within Yi’s range will be hit if they stand right in the middle. If they are not hit, that is because fate has so arranged it.

[Commentary] Yi was an ancient master archer. “Within the bow’s range” means within the distance an arrow can reach. When benefits and harms attack one another, all under Heaven are as if within Yi’s range. If one cannot forget oneself and let go of calculation and cleverness…

Everyone who lives in the world alongside the myriad things is like someone standing within Yi’s range of fire. Even people in the circumstances of Zhang Yi and Shan Bao may still find themselves in the path of an arrow. Whether they are struck comes down to fate. People meet with different fortunes, yet do not understand that fate has its own natural course.

Some people escape the harm of arrows and imagine their skill is superior, rejoicing in their success. When they finally fail to escape, they regret having judged things wrongly, their resolve shaken and their spirit humiliated. Such people have not yet grasped the truth of fate.

My life was not created by me. Throughout a person’s life, whether sitting or lying down, walking or standing still, acting or resting, pursuing or relinquishing, in feelings, temperament, and understanding—in everything one possesses or lacks, does or encounters—nothing is under my control. Things simply follow their natural course. To feel joy or sorrow over such things is to go against nature, and so lose one’s way.

[Commentary] Yi was a skilled archer in the time of Yao. The area his arrows could reach was called “within the bow’s range.” Yi’s archery was so masterful that he never missed; entering his range meant being in danger, and few birds or beasts escaped. To escape by chance, too, had to do with fate. Whether someone was struck depended not entirely on their skill. If people cannot forget their bodies and set aside their cleverness, they are all bound to fall within Yi’s range eventually. Shentu Di was struck by Yi’s arrow and lost a foot, while Zichan kept his body intact and was not hit. These were merely chance occurrences, not personal achievements, and so are nothing to boast about.

Many people laugh at me, who has lost a foot, because their own feet are whole.

[Note] They laugh this way because they do not understand fate.

I flew into a rage.

[Note] To be angered by their failure to understand fate is itself a failure to understand fate.

[Commentary] “Suddenly enraged” means breaking into anger all at once. People do not understand Heaven’s mandate; they presume to judge bodies as whole or impaired, and mock those who have lost a foot because their own bodies are sound. There are many such people. But my anger at their ignorance likewise shows that I have not understood fate.

Later, when I went to the Master, my earlier anger immediately vanished, and I returned to my usual state of mind.

[Note] I saw that the perfected person understood fate and could forget the body. I then let go of my earlier anger and returned to my original, ordinary state.

I wonder whether the Master cleansed me with the good Way?

I returned to my teacher and entered a state of stillness and emptiness, free of distracting thoughts. I let go of anger and repeatedly sought to understand what was ordinary and reasonable, without realizing that my teacher had washed my heart clean with a kindness like water. I thought my own temperament was simply changing back and forth, so I kept asking questions and probing for answers, yet I could never understand why. In the end, I even let go of my desire to learn and freed myself from attachment to external things.

I have been with my teacher for nineteen years, yet he has never regarded me as a cripple.

Note: This is because he has already forgotten the differences in physical form.

Commentary: I traveled with Bohun (a personal name) in the Dao and De, and so was able to investigate the mysteries of Yin-Yang transformation and reach the subtle heart of ultimate truth. Since I had already cast off cleverness and forgotten physical form, why would I care that my body was incomplete?

Now you associate with me only through my physical form, yet you come looking for me beyond that form. Have you not got it wrong?

Note: My body is outwardly incomplete, but my De remains within. You associate with me through my De, not through my body. Yet you still judge me by my outward appearance. Is that not excessive?

Commentary: Guo Xiang’s annotation says: “My body is outwardly incomplete, but my De remains within. You associate with me through my De, not through my body. Yet you still judge me by my outward appearance. Is that not excessive?” The annotation’s meaning is already clear, so there is no need to explain it further.

Zichan (a senior official of Zheng) was at once startled and ashamed. His expression and manner changed, and he said, “Please, say no more.”

Note: This means: “I understand now. If you go on, I’ll think you’re saying too much.”

Commentary: “Curan” describes a startled, ashamed expression. Zichan had not yet learned to forget his attachments and cast off desire; in his heart, he still placed great importance on external things. Hearing the other man’s reproach, he grew apprehensive, dropped his former air of self-importance, and took on a look of shame. He understood that he had already been corrected, so there was no need to say more.

In the state of Lu there was a man named Shushan Wuzhi who had undergone punishment by cutting off his feet. He often went to visit Zhongni.

Note: “Zhong” means repeatedly, one visit after another.

Commentary: Shushan was his name. “Zhong” means repeatedly, without interruption. This physically disabled man lived in Lu. Though he had suffered punishment by cutting off his feet, he still wished to learn, and so he came again and again to seek instruction in the Dao. He had lost his toes, and was therefore called “Wuzhi,” or “No Toes.”

Zhongni said, “In the past, you acted without care, and so you brought disaster upon yourself and ended up like this. What can you hope to gain by coming only now?”

Commentary: You were careless in cultivating yourself and conducting your affairs, violated the law, and were punished by the authorities. You have endured all kinds of hardship, and your body has been left incomplete. Now that you have come to seek instruction, what can be done to make up for it?

Wuzhi said, “I simply did not understand what mattered most, and treated my own body lightly. That is why I lost my feet.”

Note: When people are alive, the principles of life are already present within them. If they simply follow nature and do not force things through deliberate action, letting everything unfold naturally…

From the beginning of life, people value their bodies and know where to direct their attention. If they forget the nature of life and instead become excessively cautious, restraining themselves at every turn, they may seem prudent, but they are in fact treating their bodies carelessly and do not know what truly deserves their attention. As a result, the five organs may wear one another down within the body, while the hands and feet may be injured from without.

Now that I have come here, there is still something worthy of respect in me.

[Commentary] Even if one foot has been cut off, this is not enough to damage one’s De. One should understand that the human body is like an inn: a temporary place to stay.

So I must do my utmost to preserve it.

[Commentary] Let go of pride and excessive caution, and live in accord with the nature of life. This is what it means to preserve life.

[Exegesis] When Wu Zhi interacted with others, he was stiff and deferential. He valued De and slighted his body, seeking only a reputation and failing to understand that preserving life was what mattered most. He therefore violated the law and suffered the punishment of cutting off one foot. Though his body was damaged, his De remained. So Confucius questioned him repeatedly, hoping to preserve his moral character. Since Wu Zhi considered De more important than bodily form, Confucius said, “There is still something worthy of respect in him.” Here, “remain” means “still be present.”

There is nothing that Heaven does not cover, and nothing that Earth does not bear.

[Commentary] Heaven does not deliberately set out to cover the myriad things, and so it can cover them forever. Earth does not deliberately set out to bear the myriad things, and so it can bear them forever. If Heaven and Earth took “covering” and “bearing” as duties they had to perform, there would come a time when they stopped. A boat that sinks while keeping a person afloat would also eventually sink. Thus, deliberate action is not enough to enable life to reach its natural end.

I thought your De was as expansive as Heaven and Earth. How could I have known you would act this way?

[Commentary] This reproaches Confucius for lacking generosity and care, and for falling short of the state of Heaven and Earth.

[Exegesis] Heaven and Earth give life to and nurture the myriad things, covering and bearing them without partiality. The De of a sage accords with Heaven and Earth: it should be vast and universal, rejecting no one. How could I have known that you still could not set aside his bodily deformity, and were intent on rescuing him? Could you really be like this?

Confucius said, “My understanding is shallow.”

[Exegesis] What Confucius said was no more than the outward conduct of a sage. Wu Zhi asked how to preserve life, but Confucius answered a profound question with superficial words, showing how shallow his understanding was.

“Why don’t you come in, sir? Tell me what you have heard.” Wu Zhi then left.

[Commentary] After hearing what Confucius had to say, he left, thereby preserving his nature of Wuwei (non-action).

[Exegesis] “Sir” refers to Wu Zhi, and “why” means “for what reason.” Confucius felt that his understanding was shallow and was genuinely ashamed. He therefore urged Wu Zhi to come inside and speak about the inner Way he had heard. But Wu Zhi felt these words were like idle talk at an inn, or like straw figures laid out for a sacrifice and then discarded. He did not wish to hear more, and quietly left.

Confucius said to his disciples, “You must strive! Wu Zhi has suffered the punishment of having one foot cut off, yet he still studies diligently, hoping to make amends for the mistakes of his past conduct. How much more should those whose bodies are whole and whose De is undamaged do so?”

Note: In explaining “complete De,” it says that from the moment people are born, they forget life and death.

Commentary: Here, “encourage” means to urge someone on. Although No-Toes—a man left maimed by punishment—had suffered bodily loss, he preserved his life and made up for his own deficiency. He regretted his past actions. How much more, then, should worthy men and gentlemen, whose bodies and conduct are whole, forget life and death? Those whose De is full within should encourage their disciples and their companions.

No-Toes said to Lao Dan, “Isn’t Confucius still some way from being a Perfected Person, one who has attained the Dao? Why does he still follow his teacher so respectfully and diligently in his studies?”

Note: No-Toes wonders why Confucius still seeks instruction from Lao Dan.

Commentary: “Respectfully and diligently” describes a manner of earnest deference. One whose Dark De is profound probes the principles of things and penetrates their subtleties; such a person can forget words and abandon learning, following their nature and thereby understanding things spontaneously. Zhongni, however, clings to words, devotes himself to following the deeds of the sages, and respectfully and diligently asks the Old Master about ritual. From this, Lao Dan judges that he has not yet reached the state of a Perfected Person. “Student” means someone who seeks instruction.

“Perhaps he hopes to win renown through bizarre, strange, and illusory reputations, without realizing that the Perfected Person regards such things as shackles?”

Note: When a person without a fixed intention sees others studying, they may study too. But the ancients studied to cultivate themselves, whereas people today study to gain others’ approval. As this failing develops, it eventually becomes a matter of doing everything for other people. Taking another as one’s teacher and ultimately coming to understanding accords with one’s nature. Abandoning oneself, imitating others, and chasing external things is a way of seeking unusual renown. In truth, what is called unusual renown still arises from ordinary things. Thus, learning was never meant to pursue the bizarre and fantastic, yet such fashions often arise through learning; ritual was never meant to pursue ornate embellishment, yet ornate embellishment often arises through ritual. This is a difficult-to-avoid tendency, and one the Perfected Person can do nothing about. That is why the Perfected Person regards these things as shackles.

Commentary: “Seek” means to pursue, and “bizarre and strange” means uncanny and elusive. Restraints on the hands are called fetters; restraints on the feet are called manacles—the handcuffs and leg irons of today. Confucius follows the deeds of the sages and studies bizarre and fantastic things, seeking only illusory, ever-changing renown, without realizing that the Perfected Person who truly embodies the Dao regards such reputations and teachings as shackles.

Lao Dan said, “Why not simply have him regard life and death as one path, and what is permissible and impermissible as one continuous principle? Would that not loosen his shackles?”

Note: The idea is to use a direct principle so that, as he merges with the Great Dao, no trace of deliberate effort remains, and in this way he may be freed from his restraints.

Commentary: No-Toes had previously seen Confucius lecturing. Why not have Confucius forget benevolence and righteousness, unite life and death, and regard right and wrong as one? Then all distinctions and lines of continuity would dissolve.

Then does the so-called “Emperor’s release from bondage”—a sovereign’s complete liberation from restraints—not simply mean unfastening the shackles and removing the handcuffs and fetters?

No-Toes said, “How can the punishments of Heaven—innate penalties, a fate no one can escape—be undone?”

[Commentary] Confucius now understands this principle. Such is simply the way of nature: when a person moves, a shadow follows; when a person speaks, an echo answers. By responding to external things, one’s reputation and conduct take shape. One does not respond to external things in order to seek fame; yet even if one does not seek fame and has reached the proper state, one still cannot avoid becoming known. Who can free oneself from that? Reputation is like a shadow or an echo: shadow and echo are constraints imposed by body and voice. Understand this, and you can cast aside reputation and conduct. Cast them aside, and you can put an end to esteeming external things. Put an end to that esteem, and you can preserve your nature and life.

[Explanatory note] Confucius took King Wen and King Wu as models and recounted the ways of Yao and Shun. He edited the Book of Songs and the Documents, and established ritual and music. Yet he was besieged between Chen and Cai, and the rulers of the Shang and Zhou detained him because he upheld benevolence and righteousness. This is like the shadow that must follow a movement and the echo that must answer speech: it is the natural course of things, and an inevitable principle. Once one’s conduct has become visible, faults and calamities follow. How could one expect to avoid hardship? Thus the punishments and calamities given by Heaven cannot be undone.

Duke Ai of Lu asked Confucius, “In the state of Wei there is a remarkably ugly man named Ai Taita.”

[Commentary] “Ugly” means unattractive in appearance.

[Explanatory note] “Ugly” means unattractive. The passage speaks of a man in Wei whose appearance was ugly, but whose inner De was abundant, and so people gathered around him. Ai Taita was named for his ugliness.

“Men who spent time with him became so attached that they could not bear to leave. Women who saw him asked their parents, ‘Rather than become someone else’s wife, I would rather be this gentleman’s concubine.’ More than ten women made this request, and they have not stopped.”

[Explanatory note] “Wife” implies being matched with a husband; a “concubine” is one who draws near to and serves a gentleman. Ai Taita’s capacities and De were complete, and everyone wished to rely on him. He responded to all beings, and they forgot his ugliness. Thus men who spent time with him admired and cherished him, unable to bear leaving; women, drawn to his capacities and De, competed to ask to become his concubines. The fact that more than ten made the request shows how many admired his De and righteousness, and reveals how his Dao could transform people.

“I have never heard of him taking the lead in proposing anything. He only ever agrees with others.”

[Explanatory note] He concealed his conduct and intentions, humbly placing himself behind others. He simply responded to circumstances, never taking the initiative or proposing anything first.

“He holds no authority as a ruler, yet he can rescue people from hardship.”

[Commentary] People did not come to him because of his power.

This passage describes a remarkable figure named Aitai Tuo from the Zhuangzi's "The Sign of Virtue Complete" chapter. ("Aitai" means ugly, while "Tuo" is his name.) Despite being extremely physically unattractive, he possessed an extraordinary ability to attract followers. The text illustrates his uniqueness through five aspects:

First, he held no position of power or status—not even that of an ordinary commoner—yet he could help others. This shows people followed him not out of fear of authority. Like how he didn't hoard grain to attract people, yet crowds still came voluntarily, proving they were drawn by his virtue (De) rather than material gain.

Second, his appearance was so repulsive it could "shock the world," yet people still gathered around him, demonstrating that followers weren't attracted by physical beauty. Like echoes naturally arising in a deep valley, he needed no verbal summons—people came spontaneously.

Third, his wisdom didn't exceed ordinary daily affairs ("four directions" metaphorically representing conventional life), showing he didn't deliberately pursue extraordinary knowledge but followed natural spontaneity. This attitude of "forgetting the mind and dismissing cleverness" embodies the Daoist ideal of "following one's true nature."

Most remarkably, even birds and beasts felt drawn to him. Those with truly complete virtue ("fully realized individuals") can harmonize with all creation. They don't harm living creatures, and animals feel no fear of humans—thus creatures dared gather before him.

The passage concludes that Aitai Tuo lacked the five conventional assets people typically rely on—power, wealth, beauty, eloquence, and extraordinary wisdom—yet inspired spontaneous following. When the Duke of Lu summoned him, though initially shocked by his ugliness, within a month he discovered profound wisdom surpassing ordinary men. This exemplifies the Daoist ideal where "when virtue (De) is abundant, physical flaws are forgotten"—when inner cultivation reaches fullness, external imperfections become irrelevant.

In less than a year, I came to trust him. Since the state had no capable and virtuous chief minister, I entrusted him with governing the country.

Commentary: I handed the affairs of state over to him to manage.

Explanation: Though they had not known each other long, their affection and trust grew steadily deeper. The state had no capable and virtuous chief minister, and the Way of governance had not been fully put into practice. So I hoped to honor this worthy man by asking him to take charge of the affairs of state.

He simply answered in silence.

Commentary: Neither favor nor disgrace was enough to unsettle his mind and spirit.

Explanation: He answered without a word, his expression showing no change; he seemed empty, still, and detached. Since he had no attachment to profit or rank, how could he cling to glory and splendor? So he answered calmly, just as an ordinary person might.

He declined in a casual, unassuming way.

Commentary: He declined just as other people would.

Explanation: “Casually” describes a manner that is unattached and without a fixed aim. Though neither favor nor disgrace disturbed him, he still went along with custom, yielding modestly and declining just as an ordinary person might.

I felt ashamed, but in the end I entrusted him with the affairs of state. Before long, however, he left me and went far away. I was so sorrowful that I felt as though I had lost something. When he was here, this country had not made me happy either. What kind of person was he?

Explanation: “Ashamed” means feeling shame; “in the end” means finally; “before long” means after only a brief time; and “sorrowful” means distressed. “I” is the modest title a ruler uses for himself. When I met this worthy man, his indifference to gain and desire left me both ashamed and deeply attached to him. In the end, I wanted to entrust him with the affairs of state and ask him to honor me by serving as my assistant. But before long, he fled. Having lost a capable and virtuous chief minister, I felt sorrowful and disoriented, as though something were missing. As ruler of Lu, I found that my country could not make me happy; yet when this man left, I was distressed. This feeling was so intense—what kind of person was he, and what kind of Daoist practice had he cultivated?

Confucius said, “I was once on a mission to Chu, and happened to see a litter of piglets nursing beside their dead mother.”

Commentary: “Eating” here means nursing.

A little while later, the piglets suddenly seemed to abandon their mother all at once, turn around, and run away. They saw that their mother was no longer like themselves, and they could no longer sense in her the vital presence of one of their own kind.

Commentary: Living beings recognize their own kind through shared De, character, and nature. After death, De and the breath of life disappear, and the living feel they have lost one of their own, so they flee. A person of deep De is like an infant: wherever they go, they retain a childlike sincerity and simplicity, and nothing in the world can harm them. This is because they can connect with all things, so that all things recognize them as one of their own. When their inner nature is shared, things will not harm one another even if their bodies differ. But once that inner nature has vanished, even sharing the same form—as mother and child do—is not enough to keep one from leaving the other.

Duke Ai laid out his intentions and confusion, seeking Confucius’s advice. Confucius replied with the example of piglets. He had once led his disciples on a journey through Chu, where they happened to see a group of piglets nursing. Suddenly, they realized that their mother had died. In an instant, they all left her and scattered. Guo Xiang explains: while she was alive, they were close because they shared the same inherent qualities and Virtue. After her death, those qualities and Virtue were gone, and the living piglets had no reason to remain close, so they left. Viewed in this light, Duke Ai had never possessed inherent qualities or Virtue in the first place; it was not that he had lost those like himself and so others abandoned him. Tai Ta, by contrast, possessed complete inherent qualities and Virtue, so it was only natural that everyone felt close to him as they would to an infant.

What people love in a mother is not her physical form, but what gives that form life.

Guo Xiang’s commentary: “What gives the form life” means inherent qualities and Virtue.

Guo Xiang says that what gives the physical form life is inherent qualities and Virtue, and that these are spirit. Piglets love their mother for her spirit; the people admire their ruler for his inherent qualities and Virtue.

Those who die in battle are not buried with the shan, the square fan-shaped ornaments used on funeral chariots.

Commentary: The shan was a ceremonial ornament used for warriors. Those killed in battle no longer have martial valor; what use would the shan be to them?

People whose feet have been cut off need not cherish their shoes.

Commentary: People cherish shoes because they protect the feet.

In both cases, the essential basis has been lost.

Commentary: Martial valor is the basis of the shan, and the foot is the basis of the shoe.

The shan is an ornament for a warrior’s ceremonial display. Some say King Wu made it; others say it was made by the Duke of Zhou. Shaped like a square fan, it was fitted to either side of a chariot. When an army went on campaign and a general charged into battle and died, the shan was no longer used at his burial. This shows that the shan depends on martial valor, while a shoe serves the foot. The spirit governs the physical form: without feet, shoes are useless; without martial valor, the shan has no purpose; without spirit, people no longer cherish the physical form. Shoes and the shan have the foot and martial valor as their basis; a person’s appearance has inherent qualities and Virtue as its source. Once that basis is lost, neither has any use.

The emperor’s concubines did not cut their fingernails or pierce their ears.

Commentary: This was done to preserve their bodies.

A man who marries should let his wife stay at home and no longer send her out to work.

Commentary: This is to avoid harming her physical form.

When emperors chose concubines in the palace, they did not let them pierce their ears or cut their fingernails, for fear of injuring their bodies. Ordinary men, too, kept their wives at home and did not make them toil or travel about, for fear of damaging their appearance. These two examples are presented in succession to show that a person’s inherent qualities and Virtue should be preserved.

If the physical form is preserved, one can still do this much.

The commentator gives examples such as attending to and serving someone, or welcoming a bride into the household: people have always valued outward appearance. A perfect appearance can move even a person of high status and cause even a chaste woman to abandon her principles. How much more, then, can a person of complete virtue move others?

Commentary: A person of complete virtue naturally earns the love and respect of everyone.

Subcommentary: Exactly. A flawless appearance can move even a True Person and stir a chaste woman. How much more can a person of complete virtue move others? Here, appearance serves as a comparison. That is why Guo Xiang’s commentary says, “It is only natural that a person of complete virtue should be loved and respected by all things.”

Now Ai Tai Tuo, a figure in the Zhuangzi, wins people’s trust without speaking and is welcomed without having accomplished anything. The ruler of Lu asked him to govern the state and worried only that Ai Tai Tuo might refuse. Such a person must have complete ability and wisdom, yet keep his virtue hidden.

Subcommentary: People ordinarily trust someone because of what they say and draw close to someone because of what they have accomplished. But Ai Tai Tuo has won people’s trust without even trying to persuade them, and, though he has accomplished nothing, he has been entrusted with great responsibility and welcomed by others. The ruler of Lu humbly offered him the affairs of state and yielded to him, fearing only that he might refuse. Such a person must have complete ability and wisdom, yet credit others with his achievements, so that his virtue does not show outwardly.

Duke Ai of Lu asked, “What does it mean to have complete ability?”

Subcommentary: The general idea has been mentioned earlier, but not yet explained clearly. Duke Ai of Lu therefore asks this question, hoping to hear the answer that follows.

Confucius said, “Life and death, survival and extinction, hardship and success, poverty and wealth, ability and incompetence, blame and praise, hunger and fullness, cold and heat are all changes in things and the workings of Heaven’s decree.”

Commentary: These changes arise of themselves and cannot be avoided. A person’s arrival in the world is no accident; everyone is bound to encounter various circumstances over the course of life. Though Heaven and Earth are vast and the myriad things are many, these are precisely the circumstances I encounter. Even if the spirits of Heaven and Earth, the state, and the sages exhausted all their strength and wisdom, they could not change them. So what one has not encountered cannot be forced upon oneself, and what one has encountered cannot be avoided. What one cannot do cannot be done; what one is doing cannot be left undone. One should meet these circumstances as they come and accept each one.

Subcommentary: Heaven and Earth are vast and the myriad things are many, yet the circumstances each person encounters in life have their own allotted share. The eight pairs listed above are all changes in things and the unfolding of Heaven’s decree: they do not stand still, and they cannot be pushed aside. One can only follow their course and let them change as they will. Who but a person whose virtue is full could do this? This is what Confucius means in answering Duke Ai of Lu’s question about “complete ability.”

Day and night alternate and pass before our eyes.

Fate moves on and things change without pause, day and night. Try to push them away, and they will not leave; try to hold on to them, and they will not stop. So a person of complete wisdom accepts whatever comes and lets it change of its own accord. Even the wise cannot arrange in advance how change will begin.

The beginning of change cannot be arranged in advance by the intellect, and what has already happened cannot be held in place by emotion. Since fate must move on and things must change, how could we arrange a beginning after the ending has arrived, or cling to what is old simply because we welcome what is new? Even the highest wisdom cannot arrange change in advance. What, then, can we do about what has already passed?

Fate moves on and things change with the speed of a galloping horse, succeeding and turning over day and night without pause. What comes before and after follows in cycles. Even the highest wisdom cannot measure it. How, then, could we arrange a beginning once the ending has arrived, or welcome the new while clinging to the old? Of course we cannot. Only by going along with change and letting things follow their nature can we be free and at ease wherever we find ourselves.

Then external changes will not disturb the peace within.

Once we understand that our nature and fate are simply as they are, we can meet life and death, poverty and success, and all manner of change with composure, guided within by a principle of harmony.

“Disturb” means to throw into disorder. Even when things change and fate shifts, if we respond to our circumstances and let change take its course, remaining composed, our inner selves will not be disturbed, and we will not lose the Way of balance and harmony.

Then external things cannot enter the “spiritual abode”—the dwelling place of the spirit, meaning the heart-mind.

The spiritual abode is where the spirit resides; it is the heart-mind. A person who is truly fulfilled does not let worry and suffering torment the spirit. They pass over the skin, as it were, unable to reach deep within.

The spiritual abode is where the spirit resides: the heart-mind itself. We experience cold and heat, order and disorder, and change in all its forms. We change along with the myriad things, but do not let these events tug at our thoughts. How, then, could they truly weigh on our hearts?

In this way, the heart-mind can be harmonious, calm, open, and free. Even through great change, it need not lose its joy.

So long as our nature is harmonious and undisturbed, and the heart-mind remains at ease, we can keep our joy even through great change. Whether we encounter hardship or success, life or death, we can remain peaceful, free, and content, without losing a fitting sense of delight.

Let the changes of day and night continue without interruption.

That is, respond naturally to everything, and keep doing so without end.

“Gap” means a space or interruption. Like Taita, we go along with the flow without pause, and our thoughts continue without interruption.

And together with the myriad things, we flourish with new life.

All beings depend on this benevolence.

With a compassionate heart, we care for all living things. Our kindness reaches plants and animals alike; we treat the myriad things with generosity, as spring brings them to sprout and grow.

This is a state of mind that meets the myriad things, grows together with them, and responds to the changing seasons.

This passage discusses two key Daoist concepts: "complete talent" (才全) and "unmanifested virtue" (德不形). The term "complete talent" refers to sages who follow nature's course and act without conscious intention. They relieve sentient beings as naturally as all things grow, responding to circumstances spontaneously without deliberate effort.

Regarding "unmanifested virtue," the text uses the metaphor of still water. Nothing in the world is more level than perfectly still water (止水), hence the ancient saying: "People don't use flowing water as a mirror, but seek still water for reflection." Still water can serve as a standard (法) because it maintains inner clarity while showing no ripples on the surface. Just as craftsmen need a level to measure, the perfected person (至人) maintains a limpid heart-mind, uniting with the Dao (冥真合道), harmonizing with both light and dust (和光同尘), thus becoming a model for all people.

"Virtue" (德) is the cultivation that accomplishes all affairs and harmonizes all things. To achieve undertakings and balance all beings, one must first cultivate oneself. True virtue (德不形), though unmanifested, remains indispensable to all existence. Like the sun and moon whose brilliance appears ordinary, or the transformative work of creation that seems perfectly natural—this is the realm of "unmanifested virtue." Those possessing such profound virtue resemble pure, innocent infants whom all people gladly follow without weariness. This is the virtue that all things cannot do without.

[Notes: The term "perfected person" (至人) refers to one who has reached the highest level of moral cultivation; "harmonizing with both light and dust" (和光同尘) is a Daoist technical term meaning to blend harmoniously with the mundane world without displaying one's brilliance; "uniting with the Dao" (冥真合道) indicates complete fusion with the Dao.]

One day, Duke Ai told Min Ziqian, a disciple of Confucius: “At first, as ruler, I governed the realm, upheld the people’s laws and order, and worried that they might die young. I thought I already understood the Way of governing. Now, after hearing the words of a Perfected Person—someone whose virtue and realization of the Dao have reached a profound level—I worry that I have not truly lived up to any of this. If I treat myself lightly, I fear I may bring ruin upon the state. Confucius and I are not ruler and subject; we are friends joined through De.”

Note: After hearing the example set by someone whose De is fully realized, even Duke Ai of Lu wished to set aside distinctions of body and status and forget what is noble and what is lowly.

Commentary: Min Ziqian’s surname was Min, his given name Sun, and his courtesy name Ziqian. A disciple of Confucius, he was counted among the four divisions of Confucius’s teachings and was also renowned for his filial conduct. He was from the state of Lu. “Another day” simply means a different day; “facing south” refers to the ruler’s seat. At first, Duke Ai had not grasped these principles. He thought that, as ruler of Lu, he upheld the state’s laws and order, cared for the people, raised and educated them, and worried that they might die young. He therefore believed his way of governing was excellent and far-reaching.

Only after hearing Confucius speak about the meaning of talent and De did Duke Ai realize that his earlier understanding was mistaken. What he had thought the most far-reaching way to govern, and the most sincere concern for the people’s lives and deaths, had turned out to be empty words. Though he occupied the ruler’s seat and upheld the laws and order, he had not truly embodied De. He therefore wished to let go of attachments arising from his body and cleverness, and to forget rank, status, and titles: to see the state of Lu as tiny as a snail’s horn, and his own body as no more than a fleeting shadow passing through a crack. He regarded Confucius as a friend with whom he could preserve the Way of Heaven and De together, while seeing the Minister of Justice as bound to him by the distinct roles of ruler and subject. This shows how lofty and far-reaching the vision of the Zhuangzi and Laozi is: the transformation brought about by fully realized De can reach such heights.

Yin Qi Zhili, a man with a deformed body and no lips, went to persuade Duke Ling of Wei. The duke took a great liking to him. Looking at people whose bodies were whole, he then thought their necks were as slender as their shoulders. Weng’ang, a man with an enormous goiter, went to persuade Duke Huan of Qi. The duke, too, took a great liking to him. Looking at people whose bodies were whole, he likewise thought their necks were as slender as their shoulders.

Note: When someone’s feelings are focused on one thing, what was ugly can become appealing, while what was beautiful can seem unattractive.

Commentary: “Yin” means bent. Yin Qi Zhili’s body was bent and swollen, and he walked on tiptoe; “Zhili” means that his limbs were malformed. He also had no lips. “Weng” means a basin or jar; “dou” means neck; and “jianjian” describes something slender. The disabled man Zhili walked on tiptoe, while the man with a goiter had a swelling on his neck as large as a basin or jar. Though both had highly unusual appearances, they were able to forget their bodies, live by De, realize the Great Dao, and speak of profound principles. As a result, the rulers of Qi and Wei respected and admired their bearing and De, and did not find them ugly. Looking back at people whose bodies were whole, they instead thought their necks were as slender as their shoulders.

Thus, as one’s De grows, one can forget bodily defects.

Use De (Virtue/Power) to accord with all things, and all things will forget his ugliness. Use De to oppose all things, and all things will forget his beauty.

Commentary: The man with the great tumor and the man whose body was malformed had deep De. In the end, they made the Marquis of Qi and the ruler of Wei forget their unsightly appearances.

People do not forget what ought to be forgotten, yet forget what ought not to be forgotten. This is called true forgetting.

Note: While alive, one cherishes the body; after death, one casts it aside. Thus, De is something people should not forget, while the body is, in principle, something that will eventually cease to exist. Forgetting the body is not true forgetting. To remember the body yet forget De is true forgetting.

Commentary: “True” means genuine. What should be forgotten is the body; what should not be forgotten is De. Forgetting the body is easy, while forgetting De is difficult. So the body is what ought to be forgotten, and De what ought not to be forgotten. To remember the body yet forget De is to have truly forgotten De—that is, to forget the body while remembering De.

Therefore, the sage has a place in which to wander and dwell.

Note: The sage wanders freely in a realm of ease, allowing things to follow their nature. There is nowhere he cannot go, because his abilities and De are complete.

Commentary: The sage dissolves the distinction between self and things, forgetting both body and De. He then lets change unfold as it will, wandering in a realm of utter stillness and emptiness.

Wisdom brings calamity; restraint becomes a fetter; cultivating De is a way of engaging with others; skill is a means of pursuing profit.

Note: These four things naturally give rise to one another; their underlying principle has already been set out above.

Commentary: The perfected person, whose cultivation of the Dao has reached a high level, lets his spirit wander between Heaven and Earth. He therefore uses wisdom to dispel calamity, restraint to gather a scattered mind, De to guide living beings, and skill to benefit all things. Ordinary people possess all four of these; the great sage, by contrast, aids living beings with a compassionate heart, mingles with the common world, and accords with all things.

The sage does not devise calamities, so what need has he for wisdom? He does not carve and restrain, so what need has he for fetters? He does not lose his innate nature, so what need has he for De? He does not treat goods as rare and precious, so what need has he for trade?

Note: The sage’s innate nature is naturally complete, so he has no need to use these things deliberately.

Commentary: “What need has he” means that the perfected person does not create calamities, so why use wisdom? His mind and spirit are not scattered, so why deliberately carve and restrain them? He does not lose the Dao to begin with, so why deliberately cultivate De? He does not prize rare and precious goods, so he need not trouble himself with trade. The sage simply accords with nature and lives in harmony with all things; these qualities are therefore already present in him.

These four capacities are bestowed by Heaven. “Heaven’s nourishment” means sustenance from Heaven.

Note: “Heaven’s nourishment” refers to natural endowment.

Commentary: “Nourishment” means nurturing and supplying; “Heaven” refers to nature. All beings possess the four capacities mentioned above because they receive them from nature. Each follows its own innate nature, and the sage accords with this as well; thus he need not force things through personal will.

Since you have already received nourishment from Heaven, why rely on human contrivance?

The commentary says: When people receive their nature from Nature, each already possesses a complete share of its own principles and limits. Whether they think carefully to avoid disaster or clearly observe precepts to escape misfortune, the arising of things does not come from reckless action. It is all occasioned by the workings of Heaven and Earth and follows the course of the highest principle. People are bound to think; it is not that I deliberately choose to think. And people are bound at times not to think; it is not that I deliberately choose not to think. Sometimes thinking enables one to avoid misfortune, and sometimes one thinks but still cannot avoid it. Sometimes one avoids misfortune without thinking, and sometimes one encounters it despite not thinking. None of this is within my power to control. What can I do? Let things follow their nature, and events will come of themselves.

The subcommentary says: People receive their nature from Nature, each with a set share and limit. Why seek to add more beyond one’s proper share? The ways of the world go against the Way of Heaven: people act as they please, and so bring regret upon themselves.

Having the form of a human being (outwardly resembling an ordinary person)

The commentary says: Judging by his appearance, he seems to be an ordinary person.

Having no human feelings (inwardly untouched by worldly emotions and judgments of right and wrong)

The commentary says: His spirit is like a withered branch.

The subcommentary says: The Sage lives among ordinary people and makes his home in the human world, so he has a human form. Yet he has realized the Great Dao, and is empty, still, and free of attachment. He no longer reflects through feelings of right and wrong.

Having the form of a human being, he can associate with people (because he has a human form, he can live among others)

The commentary says: Things naturally gather and separate according to their kind.

The subcommentary says: The Sage restrains his brilliance and blends into the world, gathering among the people. This shows that he has a human form.

Having no human feelings, right and wrong cannot burden him (because he has no worldly attachments, judgments of right and wrong cannot entangle him)

The commentary says: With no attachment in his heart, he leaves matters to the natural changes of things.

The subcommentary says: It is like the pure and lucid original nature, undisturbed by the discriminations of conscious knowing. Once the distinction between self and things has been forgotten, where could right and wrong arise? This shows that he has no worldly feelings.

How small he seems! This is because he belongs to humankind (he appears insignificant because he is still one of the human kind)

The commentary says: His appearance looks like that of an ordinary person.

The subcommentary says: “Belong” means to be part of a category. The Sage’s conduct is plain and unadorned; he does not pride himself on cleverness or skill, and his body is the same as that of ordinary people. So he seems humble and insignificant. This sums up his human form.

How vast and exalted! Alone, he fulfills his Heaven-given nature (how far-reaching his state is; he alone fulfills his natural nature)

The commentary says: Because he has no worldly feelings, he can respond expansively to all things and let nothing fail to follow its own nature. Those bound by emotion and attachment find this state difficult to attain. Thus it is said that, free of human feelings, he alone fulfills his Heaven-given nature.

The subcommentary says: “Exalted” describes something lofty and transcendent. The Sage is lofty and transcendent; he forgets distinctions among things, and his wisdom and De (Virtue/Power) are profound. His vision is still and concentrated, and his state is vast. Thus we praise him for alone fulfilling the highest state of Nature. This sums up his freedom from worldly feelings.

Huizi (Hui Shi) said to Zhuangzi, “Can a person really have no feelings?”

The subcommentary says: The earlier passage says, “Having the form of a human being, but having no human feelings.” Huizi quotes these words to question Zhuangzi: Can the kind of person you describe truly be entirely without thought or feeling? Zhuangzi and Huizi had both discussed principles that transcend the ways of the world, so Huizi uses this question to begin their debate.

Zhuangzi said, “Yes.”

Huizi asked, “If a person has no feelings, how can they still be called a person?”

The commentary explains: “If someone had no innate capacity for understanding, how could they be called a person?” Huishi is pressing Zhuangzi further.

Zhuangzi replied, “The Dao gives people their appearance, and Heaven gives them their form. How could they not be called people?”

The note explains: Human life does not arise from feelings, nor are people’s innate powers of understanding bestowed by feelings. Someone may deliberately try to learn the keen sight of Lizhu or the sharp hearing of Shikuang, yet may not succeed. But Lizhu and Shikuang did not gain their insight through feelings. Someone may deliberately try to become a worthy or a sage, yet may not succeed. But the worthy and the sages did not become so through feelings.

It is not only the lofty achievement of sages and worthies that is difficult to learn, or the abilities of Lizhu and Shikuang that are hard to attain. Even the foolish, the deaf, and the blind—and even the crowing of a rooster or the barking of a dog—do not come about through deliberately exerting feelings. Each has, in the end, its own natural condition. Near or far, even the shapes of the brows and eyes on one’s own face cannot be produced by deliberate arrangement.

So, in observing the myriad things, we can also turn back and examine ourselves. The ears and eyes cannot exchange their functions to get things done; nor can the hands and feet take over one another’s tasks. A newborn does not use its eyes to seek milk, its ears to turn toward brightness, its feet to pick things up, or its hands to learn to walk. Is this because the parts of the body have no fixed functions and its form has no natural governor, so that everything is directed by feelings?

The commentary explains: “‘The Dao gives people their appearance’ refers to the appearance revealed by the open and unobstructed Dao; ‘Heaven gives them their form’ refers to the principles of nature. Once form and appearance are both present, how could they not be called people? Form and appearance are, in essence, no different; ‘Dao’ and ‘Heaven’ are simply used in turn to express the idea. Zhuangzi repeats this point to make the reasoning clear.”

Huizi asked again, “If they are called people, how can they have no feelings?”

The note explains: Huizi still has not understood that human appearance is not brought about by feelings.

The commentary explains: Huizi thinks that if someone is called a person, they should by rights have feelings and thoughts. If they have no feelings, how can they be called a person? This shows that he still has not understood that appearance is not brought about by feelings.

Zhuangzi replied, “When I speak of ‘feelings,’ I do not mean that.”

The note explains: If judgments of right and wrong are what we mean by “feelings,” then someone without judgments of right and wrong, likes, or dislikes, even if they have a human body, is merely a person. Where, then, could these “feelings” reside?

The commentary explains: By “feelings,” Zhuangzi means the discriminating mind that judges right and wrong, distinguishes self from others, and forms likes, dislikes, and aversions. Without these distinctions of right and wrong, someone with a human body is still simply a person. Where, then, could these so-called “feelings” come from?

By “being without emotions,” I mean not letting feelings of liking and disliking injure oneself within.

Commentary: Acting in proper measure and doing what needs to be done directly, without being controlled by emotions—that is what “being without emotions” means.

Explanation: Zhuangzi’s “being without emotions” does not mean that the human mind is insensible like wood or stone. It means not letting likes and dislikes pull one’s thoughts along or drive one to pursue what lies beyond one’s proper share, thereby harming one’s nature and disturbing one’s mind. Why put it this way? The human mind possesses an innate wisdom that is empty, still, and observant, as well as a kind of “feeling” that is not governed by emotion. One should follow what is natural and avoid needlessly depleting one’s life.

Commentary: One should do only what is appropriate, within due limits.

Explanation: Follow the principles of nature and take them as the norm. Be content with the limits of your inborn endowment, and do not recklessly seek things beyond what is proper to your life.

Huizi said: If you do not add anything to life, how can you preserve your body?

Commentary: Huizi still does not understand that life arises naturally, and that its own inner principle is already sufficient to sustain it.

Explanation: If you do not use anything additional to enhance life, how can the body exist? He still does not understand that life arises naturally and already contains the principle by which it sustains itself.

Zhuangzi said: The Dao gave you your appearance; Heaven gave you your form.

Commentary: The principle of life is already complete in one’s form and appearance. As long as one follows nature, the body can endure.

Explanation: The Dao gives form and appearance, and the principle of life is already complete. One need only let things follow their natural course, without making anxious arrangements.

Do not let feelings of liking and disliking injure yourself within.

Commentary: Such feelings cannot add to life; they only harm the body, because life already has its own limits.

Explanation: This answers Huizi’s earlier question about “adding to life.”

Now you scatter your spirit outward and exhaust your vital energy: when walking, you lean against a tree and recite; when sitting, you doze with your head against a table made of withered paulownia—a piece of furniture used in ancient times for leaning on and placing things.

Commentary: When the spirit cannot remain within the bounds set by one’s nature, it scatters outward. When vital energy cannot stay within the limits of life’s natural growth, it is worn down. So you lean against a tree and recite while walking, and doze against a table while sitting. This describes how a person governed by emotions creates trouble for himself.

Explanation: “Withered paulownia” refers to a table made from dead paulownia wood. Huizi has not yet let go of his attachment to words and theories. Immersed in argument and reasoning, he scatters his spirit outward and exhausts his vital energy. He leans against a tree and recites while walking, then sits against a table to argue. His body grows tired and his mind weary, until at last he dozes off.

Heaven gave you this form, yet you seek fame through your argument about “hardness and whiteness”—the debate over whether hardness and the color white can be separated.

Commentary: Everything you do—scattering your spirit outward, exhausting your vital energy, leaning against trees and tables, sometimes reciting and sometimes sleeping—is what ordinary people call “having emotions.” But Zhuangzi says that Heaven bestowed the form, showing that human emotions are not conjured from nothing by one’s own will; how much less so are the things of the world? Therefore, even though the forms of the myriad things differ…

Words, actions, and choices all arise naturally, without feeling or desire. Why, then, deliberately invest these things with emotion?

Commentary: “Choosing and bestowing” refers to nature giving a person their physical form; “calling out” means speaking. The Way of nature grants you your form. Whether you live long or briefly, whether you are beautiful or ugly—the principles behind these things are already as they are. There is no need to fret over them, or to damage your life in pursuit of additional desires.

You are naturally clever, skilled at analysis, and quick to understand, yet you cling to your own opinions and flaunt them before everyone. How is this any different from Gongsun Long’s claim that “a white horse is not a horse,” which he stubbornly defended and took pride in? Such a claim offers only empty words, not sound reasoning. It may leave people speechless for a moment, but it cannot win their inward conviction. Your grandiloquence and display of argumentative skill are of the same kind.