《南華真經註疏》Vol. 9

Inner Chapters: Chapter Seven, “Responding as Ruler” (Only those inwardly free of fixed attachments and able to follow the natural transformations of all things are fit to be rulers.)

Nie Que asked Wang Ni four questions, and each time Wang Ni replied, “I don’t know.”

[Commentary] The four questions and four replies of “I don’t know” refer to the four questions in the chapter “On the Equality of Things.” The key to the ruler’s way lies in forgetting cleverness and knowledge, so this idea opens the chapter. The Laozi says, “Not governing a state through cleverness and knowledge is the state’s good fortune.”

Nie Que leapt for joy, then went back and told Puyi about it. Puyi asked, “Have you only understood this now?”

[Commentary] Puyi was a worthy man in the time of Yao. At the age of eight, he had been Shun’s teacher. He declined the throne and refused to accept it; he was also known as Bei Yi. Nie Que grasped the essential point of “not knowing” and, overjoyed, hurried to tell Puyi. But he had not yet truly understood the profound meaning of Wang Ni’s words. Puyi was a great sage who had transcended worldly concerns and deeply understood the ultimate Dao, which cannot be expressed in words. The principle is that cleverness and knowledge are not needed to know the Dao; this has always been so. Have you only understood it now?

The Youyu clan was not as good as the Tai clan.

[Note] The Youyu clan and the Tai clan refer to deeds that have appeared in history; they are not the source from which those deeds arose. The source leaves no trace. Who in the world could know it? It has never been given a name, so how could it be said to surpass or fall short of anything? Yet the Dao, which leaves no trace, moves through all kinds of transformation and runs through every age. The world’s fortunes shift between peace and hardship, so the achievements of historical rulers differ in quality.

[Commentary] The Youyu clan refers to Shun; the Tai clan is Taihao Fuxi. In the age of the Three Sovereigns, customs were simple and generous; in the age of the Five Emperors, people became shallow and competitive. As customs grew shallow, people used cleverness to govern and care for all things. When customs were simple, people could preserve their original nature and govern the world. This shows what “not as good as” means.

Shun may have promoted benevolence and righteousness to win people’s hearts, and so he gained the people’s support. But he never went beyond taking human judgments as the standard for right and wrong.

[Note] To take what people like as right and what they dislike as wrong is to draw boundaries through judgments of right and wrong. Only those who go beyond these boundaries enter a realm in which there is no right or wrong. In that realm, there is nothing to gain or lose and nothing that must or must not be done. How could it be limited to promoting benevolence and righteousness to win people’s hearts?

[Commentary] Shun embodied both benevolence and righteousness, using them to win over scholars and common people in the hope of gaining everyone’s allegiance… (The original text ends here.)

With no preconceived attachment in the heart, one can naturally accord with all under Heaven and so rise beyond the realm of distinguishing right from wrong.

Some editions write “zang” as “zang,” meaning goodness. To regard benevolence and righteousness as good and require others to act accordingly is itself a way of making distinctions and constraining others through one’s own intentions.

The people of the time of Tai (the era of Fuxi) slept calmly and at ease, and woke feeling lighthearted and content. The simple customs of Fuxi’s age still prevailed, so they slept peacefully and woke with joy and freedom.

At times they took themselves to be horses; at times, oxen.

[Commentary] In that case, how could there still be a distinction between “this is a human” and “that is not”? This may be said to transcend the boundary between human and nonhuman.

[Explanation] Forget the distinction between self and things, and set aside disputes over right and wrong. If others called someone a horse, he was a horse; if they called him an ox, he was an ox. When neither humans nor animals cling to a fixed identity, how could anyone remain attached to who is right or wrong?

Their understanding and feelings were genuine and trustworthy.

[Commentary] They understood things in accordance with their natural course, so their feelings were genuine and trustworthy.

[Explanation] Acting in keeping with genuine understanding, their feelings held no falseness or contrivance, and so could be trusted.

Their De (Virtue) was utterly pure.

[Commentary] They let things unfold naturally and were content, so they had no pretense.

[Explanation] De is truly De only when it is not treated as something to possess for oneself. Because they did not cling to De, they were free of pretense.

Yet they never entered the realm of disputes over right and wrong.

[Commentary] They did not become entangled in disputes over right and wrong, and so accorded with the simple customs of the age of Youyu (the legendary era when Shun ruled the world).

[Explanation] They acted in keeping with their genuine nature and did not contrive their De. Thus they went beyond scheming and cleverness, and did not become entangled in disputes over right and wrong.

Shoulder-to-shoulder met Madman Jieyu, a recluse in Daoist legend. Madman Jieyu asked, “What did Rizhongshi, your teacher, tell you?”

[Explanation] The story of Shoulder-to-shoulder and Madman Jieyu has already been told earlier. Rizhongshi is the name of a worthy man, and he was Shoulder-to-shoulder’s teacher. Madman Jieyu asks what the teacher had told him.

Shoulder-to-shoulder replied, “My teacher told me that a ruler should use his own wisdom to establish standards and educate the people through benevolence and righteousness. Then who would dare not obey and be transformed?”

[Explanation] “Model” means a standard or rule. Shoulder-to-shoulder believed that those who govern the world should use their own wisdom to plan affairs of state and guide customs through benevolence and righteousness. Then who among the people of the four quarters would not submit, and who in distant lands would not be brought into their teaching?

Madman Jieyu said, “That is merely a way of damaging De.”

[Commentary] When one imposes one’s will on all things, they lose their own nature.

[Explanation] Controlling all things through one’s own will causes them to lose their true nature. This damages De and does not accord with the genuine Dao.

To govern the world in this way is like trying to cross the sea on foot, dig a channel through a river, or make mosquitoes carry a mountain.

Embedded among the myriad things and following their nature, matters can come to completion naturally through Wuwei (non-action). But if one tries to govern the world by one’s own effort, one’s achievements will be hard to accomplish, and the responsibilities hard to bear.

The sea is vast and deep, beyond measure. If one tried to dig it into a canal, the task would surely fail. It is like the Dao, profound and mysterious, difficult to know: if one insists on carving it into a fixed set of doctrines, its effects will likewise be hard to realize. A mosquito is tiny, while a mountain is immense. If the mosquito were made to carry the mountain, it could never bear the weight. The same principle applies to using clever schemes to plan for the world and benevolence to govern the myriad things: one is trying to accomplish something vast with means too small.

When a sage governs the world, what is there to govern?

Only the bounds within which each thing can preserve its own nature. To govern according to what each nature permits is to refrain from forcing things to do what lies beyond their proper role. This is what “not governing” means: not imposing control beyond what is proper.

First let each thing find its proper place, and only then put teaching into practice.

That is, help each thing bring its own nature and life into proper order, then teach in a way that follows its nature.

It is enough to do well what truly lies within one’s power.

“Truly” means in reality. Follow the real nature of things and let them do what they are able to do, limiting them to their proper roles without demanding what lies beyond them.

Birds fly high to evade nets and arrows; the tiny mouse burrows deep beneath the sacred mound, the altar to the soil deity, to escape the dangers of smoke and digging.

Animals each have their own ways of preserving themselves. So if rulers let things follow their natural course and do not interfere, the myriad things can grow of their own accord.

“Zeng” is a net for catching birds; “yi” is an arrow attached to a cord, used to shoot birds. The xishu is a tiny mouse, and the sacred mound is the altar to the soil deity. Birds fly high to evade nets, and mice burrow deep to escape smoke and digging. Both avoid harm naturally, following their own nature. Who needs to teach them how? The same is true of people. So it is absurd to claim that one can act only by following the scriptures and applying fixed doctrines.

Do you really not understand even these two kinds of small creatures?

“Er” means “you.” Don’t you know that these two creatures need no instructions to understand how to avoid harm and preserve themselves? Birds can fly high and mice can hide deep underground. Surely they have intelligence of their own. How much more absurd, then, to try to control, deceive, and exploit all living beings in human society by means of scriptural rules and doctrines?

Tian Gen was traveling in Yinyang. When he came to the banks of the Liao River, he happened to meet the nameless man and asked him, “May I ask how to govern the world…”

Tiangen and Wuming are both fictional figures in this allegory; here, the two sides of the exchange are referred to by their names. The story takes place south of Yin Mountain, near the Liao River, within the territory of Zhao. Tiangen was traveling among the mountains and rivers when he happened to meet Wuming and asked him for advice on governing the world.

Wuming said, “You are a person of shallow understanding. You’d better be on your way. What you ask about displeases me greatly.”

The commentary explains that Tiangen was asking about governing the world, but his question neither began with the origins of the myriad things nor reached into the depths of the mysterious and far-reaching.

Wuming continued, “I am simply intending to follow the Creator—the natural power that brings the myriad things into being and transforms them—as I go about my life.”

The commentary explains that this means letting people act according to their own nature.

The commentary further explains: Each thing has its own proper place, and each can meet its own needs. Why exhaust the mind by laying down laws, or trouble oneself with governing? It is enough to follow the common Dao of the myriad things and let them be, without trying to make them flourish.

“When I grow weary, I ride the bird of vast obscurity—a reference to what is subtle and leaves no trace—and fly beyond the bounds of Heaven and Earth in every direction. I roam through the Land of Nowhere, the realm of nothingness, and dwell in the open, boundless wilderness.”

The commentary explains: “Vast obscurity” refers to things that gather together yet are subtle and hard to grasp. By riding these subtle things, one can travel among the myriad things; wherever one enters or leaves, one moves freely, without any narrow or obstructed place.

The commentary further explains: “Vast obscurity” describes what is deep, subtle, and far-reaching; “open wilderness” means a broad, empty expanse. The “bird” suggests something that leaves no trace and rises lightly. “The six bounds” means the six directions, or the universe: Heaven, Earth, and the four quarters. When sages govern the world, they are calm and practice Wuwei (non-action), following the nature of the myriad things and moving in harmony with the transformations of nature. If they wish to leave worldly affairs behind and return to the root, they ride the deep and far-reaching Dao, traveling through the air without leaving a trace, beyond Heaven and Earth in every direction, roaming freely through the realm of nothingness. They gather their spirit at She Mountain and dwell in the clear emptiness of the wilderness. What affairs of the world would such people still need to govern? This is what is meant by Wuwei.

Wuming continued, “Why must you try to move my heart by bringing up the matter of governing the world?”

The commentary explains: When the myriad things are all free to be themselves and find their proper place, the world will naturally be at peace without being governed.

The commentary further explains: Let the myriad things be and allow them to transform of themselves. Why use any method to govern them, or even stir my thoughts over it?

Tiangen still did not understand, so he asked again for an explanation.

Wuming said, “Let your spirit roam in a state of calm indifference.”

The commentary explains: When one follows one’s nature without embellishment, the mind becomes calm and indifferent.

“Let your breath harmonize with a state of tranquil stillness.”

The commentary explains: Keep your nature quiet and settled.

The commentary explains further: Let your spirit roam in a state of calm indifference, and let your body and breath merge with ….

In the realm of stillness and Wuwei (non-action), both body and spirit are empty, quiet, and at rest. In this way, the world needs no deliberate rule; it can transform and flourish on its own.

Follow the natural character of all things without introducing personal desires, and the world can be at peace.

Commentary: Letting all things grow naturally according to their own nature is public-mindedness; wanting to intervene further and add to them is self-interest. Self-interest cannot sustain the ceaseless generation of all things. Only by following what is right for all can they be preserved.

Explication: Follow the patterns of all things and comply with their natural character. Do not let private desires intrude when making laws or applying techniques, or when arranging governance by deliberate design. Let all things develop naturally, and both they and I can be preserved.

Yang Ziju—Yang by surname, Zhu by given name, and Ziju by courtesy name—paid a visit to Lao Dan and said, “Suppose there were a person who reacted swiftly, acted with great ability, saw things clearly, and was perceptive and intelligent, and who studied the Dao without ever slacking. Could such a person be compared to a sage ruler?”

Explication: Yang Ziju asked Laozi: Suppose a person were naturally intelligent and perceptive, with quick reactions; capable and decisive in handling affairs, and clear-sighted in understanding things; diligent in studying the Dao and never slack. Could such a person be compared to an enlightened ruler or sage emperor?

Lao Dan said, “In the eyes of a sage, such a person is no more than a weary servant, burdened by his own skills and exhausted in body and mind.”

Commentary: These efforts leave a person unable to find rest. They are not enough to make someone comparable to an enlightened ruler.

Explication: To compare such a person to an enlightened ruler would be like comparing a ruler to a weary servant. Such people constantly alter their outward appearance and are constrained by clever techniques; their bodies and minds grow tired. Their bodies become exhausted, while their minds are troubled and anxious by their concerns.

“What is more, tigers and leopards are hunted because of the markings on their coats; monkeys are bound with ropes because of their agility; hounds are restrained because they are skilled at catching prey. Could such people be compared to an enlightened ruler?”

Commentary: These are all beings burdened by outward adornment or skill, unable to remain inwardly still and respond to unending change.

Explication: “Bind” means to restrain with a rope. “Yuanju” refers to macaques. Tigers and leopards are hunted for their markings; macaques, being agile, are often caught with ropes; hounds skilled at catching foxes are often held by a leash around the neck. If people with quick reactions and exceptional abilities can be compared to sage emperors, then these three kinds of animals could also be compared to enlightened rulers.

Yang Ziju’s expression changed. He said, “May I ask how an enlightened ruler governs the world?”

Explication: Realizing that his earlier understanding was mistaken, Yang Ziju turned pale with alarm and respectfully asked again about the principles by which an enlightened ruler governs the world.

Lao Dan said, “The enlightened ruler’s achievements extend throughout the world, yet seem not to come from him.”

If the world had no enlightened ruler, the people could not truly live freely. The fact that they can now enjoy their lives is, in truth, the work of an enlightened ruler. Yet the ruler’s achievement lies in Wuwei (non-action)—in refraining from coercive interference and allowing everyone in the world to fulfill their abilities. For this reason, it seems as though the achievement is not the ruler’s.

The sage governs the world with effects like those of creation and transformation in nature. He covers all things like the sky and bears them like the earth. His work is accomplished, yet he does not claim it as his own, and so does not regard himself as the one who made it happen.

The sage nurtures and transforms all things, yet the people do not feel that they depend on him. The enlightened ruler follows the nature of all things, enabling everyone to find contentment. So people all say, “I did this myself,” without knowing that they have benefited from the enlightened ruler.

The enlightened ruler has achieved something that encompasses the whole world, yet he does not hold up that achievement as a claim to fame. The people therefore think they have gained something for themselves, and rejoice.

“Mo” means “not,” and “ju” means “to display.” The enlightened ruler credits the people with the achievement and does not reveal his own fame. He makes everyone feel they have gained something for themselves, and so they rejoice.

The enlightened ruler establishes himself in a realm beyond measurement, dwelling amid change. He renews himself day after day without taking any fixed form, and his spirit roams in “nonbeing”—the fundamental realm of the Dao, which cannot be grasped or readily put into words.

When one becomes one with all things, one roams in emptiness. If one cannot merge inwardly with all things, one will be at odds with them everywhere. How could one then have any leisure to roam in the realm of emptiness?

“Nonbeing” is the wondrous root. The sage establishes De (Virtue) and accomplishes great works, yet his miraculous power cannot be measured. He responds to things as they arise without departing from the root, and so his spirit is always roaming in the highest realm.

In the state of Zheng there was a strange diviner named Jixian.

A remarkably accurate diviner came from the state of Qi to Zheng. His family name was Ji, and his given name was Xian.

He could see whether a person would live or die, prosper or perish, meet with good or ill fortune, and how long they would live. He could also accurately predict the year, month, ten-day period, and day when events would come to pass. When the people of Zheng saw him, they dropped what they were carrying and fled.

People did not want to hear their own death dates with their own ears.

Jixian never made a mistake when predicting good or ill fortune, and could even give the exact dates when his predictions would come true. His accuracy was like that of spirits and gods. People did not want to hear of disasters before they happened, so they avoided him whenever they saw him.

Liezi met Jixian and greatly admired him. When he returned, he told Huzi about it.

Liezi’s story has already been introduced in the chapter “Free and Easy Wandering,” so it will not be repeated here. Huzi was an enlightened man of Zheng named Lin, and Liezi’s teacher. When Liezi saw Jixian perform his minor arts with accuracy like that of spirits and gods, he felt deep admiration and envy, and became dazed… (The original text ends here.)

Liezi returned as if in a daze and told his teacher, Huzi (Hu Qiuzi Lin), everything he had seen and heard.

“At first I thought your art of the Dao had reached its highest point. I never imagined there was someone whose skill surpassed yours.”

Note: Liezi believed that Jixian’s art of the Dao surpassed Huzi’s.

Commentary: Huzi was Liezi’s teacher. “Highest point” means the utmost limit. When Liezi first studied his teacher’s art of the Dao, he thought it had reached perfection. But now, after meeting Jixian, he felt that Jixian’s skill was greater than Huzi’s. Liezi spoke this way because his mind had been shaken.

Huzi said, “What I passed on to you was only the language and outward forms of the Dao. I have not yet conveyed all its true meaning, and you already think you have attained the Dao?”

Commentary: “Pass on” means to teach, and “all” means completely. Huzi says that what he taught Liezi before was only words about the Dao; Liezi had not truly grasped its mysteries. Yet Liezi clung to the written words, believing that understanding the words meant attaining the Dao. He did not know that words are like a fish trap or a rabbit snare: once the fish or rabbit is caught, the tool cannot be mistaken for the creature itself.

“If there were only a flock of female birds and no male, how could there be any eggs?”

Note: This means that Liezi had not yet truly taken the Dao into himself.

Commentary: Without a male bird, a flock of females cannot produce eggs. If you have only words, without any genuine experience, how can you speak of possessing the Dao?

“You use these words about the Dao to compete with the world, eager to make people believe you. That is why others can see through you.”

Note: Liezi had not truly embodied the Dao and still clung to things in his heart. He was attached to one side of the matter and wanted others to believe him, so people could see through him.

Commentary: You merely use arguments based on written words to debate the world. You have no genuine, superior wisdom, so it is easy for you to trust shallow judgments. That is why Jixian saw through you.

“Why not bring him here and let him look at me?”

Commentary: A true perfected person—a person who has reached an exceptionally high level of cultivation—is deep and remote, with a mysterious nature that cannot be fathomed. Neither ordinary people nor their perceptions can see through the person’s appearances and disappearances, or movements and stillness. So Huzi asked Liezi to bring Jixian and let him look at him.

The next day, Liezi and Jixian came together to see Huzi. After they left, Jixian said to Liezi, “Alas, your teacher is near death. He cannot be saved; he will not live more than ten days. I saw something unusual about him, like damp ashes.”

Commentary: “Alas” is an exclamation of grief. Huzi had appeared quiet and detached, so Jixian thought he was about to die. He declared that this sign would come true within ten days at most, seeing Huzi’s state as lifeless as damp ashes.

Liezi went inside and wept until his tears soaked his robe. He told Huzi what Jixian had said. Huzi said, “Just now I showed him the ‘patterns of the earth,’ a state as still as the earth: nothing stirs, and nothing tries to set itself right.”

Note: This state is motionless and makes no effort to adjust itself, like a dead tree that no longer blossoms or damp ashes sunk in stillness. It is a moment when the perfected person responds to nothing and cannot be moved by external things. In action, the perfected person follows the Way of Heaven; in stillness, the person is settled like the earth; in motion, the person flows like water…

When he is still, he is as quiet as an abyss; when he moves, he is as natural as flowing water and the revolving heavens. He practices Wuwei (non-action), and the myriad things come into being of themselves. These are all expressions of one and the same thing.

When Jixian saw Master Huzi sitting as still as a corpse, as though entering “sitting in oblivion,” a state of stillness in which body and mind are forgotten, he said that Huzi was close to death. When he saw Huzi’s spirit and vital energy stir and respond to the workings of Heaven, he said that Huzi had come back to life. Huzi could indeed respond to things without directing them through his own subjective intentions. His inner principle was subtle and mysterious, in accord with change. He shifted with the rise and fall of worldly affairs, yet did not judge the myriad things by worldly standards. In this way, he could become master of the myriad things and respond to the times without limit. Huzi, therefore, was not someone an ordinary person could see through. This is the general meaning of the chapter “Responding to Emperors and Kings.”

Commentary: This passage concerns outward appearances. “Zhen” means movement. The earth rests in stillness without intention, so the image of the earth is used to describe what does not move. Huzi appeared quiet and detached, wholly unmoved; his body seemed like a withered, collapsed tree. This was a moment when the Great Sage showed no outward response, but the lesser shaman Jixian thought he was dead. Huzi displayed himself in four ways. First, he revealed the mysterious root: empty, still, settled, and unmoving. Second, he revealed traces of responding and adapting to external circumstances, with sensitivity and movement. Third, root and trace were one, with movement and stillness present together. Fourth, he clung to neither root nor trace, and movement and stillness both dissolved. This passage describes the first way: the mysterious root, empty, still, settled, and unmoving.

Huzi said, “Perhaps he saw the workings of my De (Virtue/Power) sealed away and held in reserve.”

Note: When the workings of De do not stir, this is called “du,” meaning sealed away and held in reserve.

Commentary: “Dai” means “perhaps”; “du” means closed off; and “ji” is the pivot from which movement arises. The pivot of utmost De had not been revealed. Huzi appeared settled, quiet, and detached, like damp ashes, without any sign of life. The lesser shaman had little insight and saw only this aspect.

After a while, Huzi again had Jixian come to see him.

Commentary: The last time, Jixian had rashly declared Huzi dead. This time, Huzi once again gave the order for Jixian to be summoned.

The next day, Jixian came to see Huzi again. After leaving, he said to Liezi, “Fortunately, your teacher met me. His illness has improved; he has completely recovered his vitality!”

Commentary: This is the second way Huzi displayed himself: he responded and adapted to external circumstances, showing movement without being truly still. He let some activity of spirit and vital energy appear; he no longer seemed like a withered tree, but looked entirely as alive as an ordinary person. Jixian, however, mistook the Sage’s workings for his own achievement and rashly claimed, “Fortunately, he met me, and his illness improved.”

Huzi said, “I saw how he recognized the shifting power of my sealed-away pivot.”

Note: “Quan” means the pivot. Only now did Huzi realize that Jixian had understood yesterday’s appearance as a pivot sealed shut and motionless, which was why he had said Huzi was close to death.

Commentary: “Quan” means the pivot. Earlier, Jixian saw Huzi like damp ashes and concluded that he had no vitality at all. Now he imagined that Huzi had regained his vitality because he had met him. The lesser shaman had limited insight, yet claimed credit for Huzi’s transformation.

Liezi went in and told Huzi what had happened. Huzi said, “What I revealed to him just now was the way Heaven and Earth move, covering and nurturing all things.”

Commentary: The powers that cover and bear all things are made visible between Heaven and Earth. Compared with the pattern of the earth, is this not an outward expression of responding to things and being moved by them?

Explanation: “Soil” means the earth. To “reveal the pattern of Heaven and Earth” means to reveal the way of moving in response to things. Just as the two powers of Heaven and Earth cover and bear all things, so too does the Perfected One—a person whose virtue and wisdom have reached the highest level—respond to things and be moved by them.

Fame and material gain cannot enter his heart.

Commentary: When one lets the natural Dao cover and bear all things, the workings of Heaven subtly respond to them; the trappings of fame and profit become things that can be cast aside.

Explanation: Even when he appears in the world and lives among ordinary people, restraining his brilliance and benefiting all things, neither fame nor material gain enters his heart in the slightest.

His subtle workings arise from his heels.

Commentary: They always arise from the highest foundation.

Explanation: “Heel” means foundation. Even when stirred into action by external things, he never loses the right moment or measure. His miraculous capacities arise from a mysterious foundation; though he acts, his heart remains still.

Perhaps this is what he saw: my skill in responding to the workings of things.

Commentary: The subtle workings stirred and appeared to surpass the other person, who then saw this.

Explanation: Huzi revealed a state of skillful responsiveness, and Jixian, the diviner skilled at reading people, saw it and called it “skillful.” Once a lively form appears, it is regarded as a visible kind of “skill.”

A day later, Huzi met Jixian again. After leaving, Jixian said to Liezi, “Your teacher’s breath is unsettled, so I cannot read his face. Wait until his breath is even, then bring him back for me to read.”

Explanation: This is the third revelation, showing that substance and manifestation are one, and that movement and stillness coexist. The Perfected One’s virtue is complete and wisdom whole; his mind is empty, still, and brightly aware. Substance and manifestation are not separate, and movement and stillness do not differ. His Dao is profound and mysterious—how could a petty diviner measure it? Jixian said to wait until Huzi had evened his breath and settled his outward signs before reading his face. He did not dare pronounce good or ill fortune, and so only said, “Bring him back for me to read again.”

Liezi went in and told Huzi what had happened. Huzi said, “What I revealed to him just now was the Great Vacuity, a state of utmost stillness and openness, in which there was no victory or defeat.”

Commentary: Abiding in the utmost Great Vacuity, the mind is vast and harmonizes mysteriously with all things. Thus victory and defeat have no place to enter.

Explanation: “Vacuity” means emptiness. The sage illuminates the mysterious and gathers his mind into stillness, equal in vastness to the Great Void. Substance and manifestation are one, and movement and stillness coexist. From the beginning there has been no superiority or inferiority, so how could there be victory or defeat?

Perhaps this is what he saw: my Qi balanced and unified, with nothing divided.

Commentary: This state has no fixed name or form and is neither tilted nor partial; it is unified as a whole. Someone who peers at Heaven and Earth through a tube cannot see its limits, and so takes it to be unsettled.

“Balance” means equality. In outward expression as well as inner foundation, there is no distinction of higher and lower, better and worse. Spirit and Qi are equal, too.

Judging the Pot Master by this display, Ji Xian showed limited understanding and an inability to see far ahead. His mind was therefore confused and unsettled.

So the Pot Master asked Ji Xian to come again.

The place where a large fish circles can become an abyss; still water can become an abyss; flowing water can become an abyss. There are nine names for abysses, but only three are mentioned here.

Note: “Abyss” refers to stillness and silence. Water has no will of its own; it changes in response to what happens around it. So whether the water flows or stands still, whether a large fish circles or a flood dragon soars, it remains deep and calm, never losing its state of stillness and silence. The Perfected Person—one who has attained the Dao—is like this as well: acting when it is time to act, stopping when it is time to stop. Although action and stillness differ, the inner state of quiet mystery is the same. That is why only three different situations are briefly mentioned here. No matter how varied the changes in the outside world, or how tangled its order and disorder, a person at the highest level remains calm and content, at ease in stillness and unattached to action.

Commentary: Water is used here as a metaphor. “Ni” means a large fish, “huan” means circling, and “shen” describes water that is deep and still. Water itself has no will: whether it moves or rests depends on what happens around it. Sometimes a large fish circles and a flood dragon soars; sometimes the water is still and deep; sometimes its waves surge and race in torrents. Though the water’s conditions change in countless ways, its underlying stillness and lack of intention remain the same. Thus, a large fish circling can symbolize the harmony of Qi; still water can symbolize the patterns of the earth; and flowing water can symbolize the changes between Heaven and Earth. Though these three differ, their essential nature—empty, still, and clearly reflective—is the same.

The scripture says, “There are nine names for abysses.” These are Ni-huan, still water, flowing water, fan water, lan water, fa water, yong water, wen water, and fei water. All these names appear in the Liezi, where they are described in greater detail. Only three are mentioned briefly here.

The Pot Master said again, “Why not come once more?”

Commentary: This means that to respond to matters of the deepest subtlety, Ji Xian must be called back again.

The next day, Ji Xian came to visit once more. The Pot Master had only just stood up and had not yet found his footing when Ji Xian, alarmed and disoriented, ran away.

Commentary: In his earlier visits, Ji Xian had tried to read the Pot Master’s appearance, but his understanding remained shallow. This time, the Pot Master’s state was exceedingly profound: neither his inner foundation nor his outward expression was attached to anything, and neither movement nor stillness constrained him. His state of mind and conduct were beyond the measure of ordinary people. So Ji Xian ran off before he had even found his footing.

The Pot Master said, “Catch up with him!”

Commentary: Ji Xian had already fled in panic, so the Pot Master ordered someone to bring him back.

Liezi could not catch up. He returned and reported to the Pot Master, “He has vanished. He is nowhere to be seen. I can’t catch up with him.”

Commentary: Ji Xian was terrified, and he fled so quickly that in an instant no one knew where he had gone.

The Pot Master said, “Just now I showed him a state in which the Dao had not yet revealed its own guiding principle.” The commentary says: Though the Dao changes without end, it remains deeply rooted in the source of stillness. The subcommentary says: The mysterious source is deep and indistinct, beyond what these four phrases can express, and it does not fall into the errors of making distinctions. It cannot be grasped through thought, so how could outward forms and names capture it? Neither words nor images can point to it; its guiding principle and path are difficult to discern. That is why Ji Xian, the shaman skilled in physiognomy, lost his composure and fled.

“I responded to him with an empty, still mind, not knowing who he really was.” The commentary says: With no fixed mind, one follows the transformations of all things; naturally at ease, one is bound by nothing. The subcommentary says: “Winding and yielding” describes following along. When the Perfected Person encounters things, they remain open and forget themselves, adapting as circumstances require rather than clinging to a single guiding principle. Since no name can identify him, it is natural not to know who he really is.

“I acted in accord with the decline and change of worldly affairs, moving with the current of the world. That is why Ji Xian fled.” The commentary says: Worldly affairs decline and change, flowing like waves; in every situation, one follows the circumstances and responds to them. The Perfected Person’s nature is steadfast, yet he also changes with worldly affairs and acts in step with the times. Thus the physiognomist had nothing he could observe and could only flee in confusion. This shows that there is no fixed method for responding to worldly affairs. The subcommentary says: “Decline” means to let things take their course; “flow” means to follow along. The person of highest De responds without a fixed mind: when touched by something, they respond to it. They do not act deliberately, but follow things as they arise and move with the course of the world, without attachment or obstruction. Faced with endless change, the physiognomist could not see through them, so Ji Xian naturally fled.

Only after this did Liezi realize that he had never truly learned before, and he went home. The subcommentary says: After Ji Xian fled, Liezi recognized how lost he had been. He began to understand that the Pot Master’s Dao was profound, while the shaman’s skill was shallow. Knowing that he had not yet truly learned the Dao, he asked to return home and continue studying the esteem for Wuwei (non-action) and devoting himself to cultivating the mysterious Dao.

Liezi stayed indoors for three years. He cooked for his wife, and when he fed the pigs, he treated them as if they were guests. The commentary says: He had forgotten the distinction between high and low. The subcommentary says: By staying indoors for three years, he withdrew from worldly affairs. He cooked without concern for honor or disgrace, and treated pigs and people alike, no longer distinguishing clean from filthy.

In dealing with worldly affairs, he no longer distinguished between those close to him and those distant from him. The commentary says: He simply responded to whatever he encountered. The subcommentary says: Having understood the ultimate principle, he regarded himself and others as equal; in dealing with the world, he no longer made distinctions between the near and the far.

He cast off ornament and returned to simplicity. The commentary says: He abandoned outward display and kept what was true. The subcommentary says: He cast aside all embellishment and artifice, followed things as they naturally were, and returned to the simple state of the Dao.

He stood alone, quiet and unadorned, preserving his own form. The commentary says: Outward ornament had been removed.

Outwardly, one is like an uncarved stone, free of artifice; inwardly, one is not led by the mind’s distinctions. The body is like a withered tree, standing alone without attachment.

Though living amid the clamor of worldly affairs, one’s true nature does not scatter or fade. “Seal” means to keep and guard: even when associating with others and responding to external things, one holds firmly to what is genuine. From beginning to end, one meets things in this way, allowing all things to complete their own course. One’s actions do not disturb inner stillness; amid turmoil, one remains with what is constant and true. One holds fast to purity and unity throughout.

One does not deliberately make oneself the master of reputation. One follows the circumstances of things, allowing each to reveal its fitting place and name. If one can even forget oneself, where could one entrust one’s reputation? So one no longer takes pains to cultivate a name.

One does not deliberately become the hub of plans. One lets things arrange themselves as they should. The mind remains empty, still, and untroubled; it does not cling to deliberation, and so no longer schemes within.

One does not deliberately take charge of affairs. One entrusts matters to the things themselves, letting each proceed according to its inborn nature, rather than taking every responsibility upon oneself.

One does not deliberately become the master of wisdom. One forgets private concerns, stills deliberation, and follows the nature of all things, no longer using the mind to control what lies beyond oneself.

When one realizes the source of the Great Dao, one can accord with the boundless. Since all things in the world follow their own course, there is no limit to the ways of responding to them. One moves through the world without leaving a conspicuous trace. “Sign” means a mark: though traveling throughout the world and helping living beings, one gathers in one’s radiance and conceals one’s tracks.

One fully expresses the nature bestowed by Heaven. The natures received by the myriad things differ; each fulfills what it is capable of, and so lacks nothing. When something appears before one, one does not cling to making it one’s own. If one pursues gain without restraint, one loses sight of when to stop. Even when one sees and gains things, one does not regard them inwardly as worth grasping.

One can do all this only because the mind is empty and still. Without such emptiness and stillness, one cannot receive and respond to the myriad things.

The Perfected One uses the mind like a mirror.

A mirror simply reflects what is before it; it has no feelings of its own.

The ancients hung mirrors in their great halls. When an object came before one, the mirror reflected it. The Perfected Person responds to things in just the same way.

A mirror does not greet an object or hold it back. When an object comes, it reflects it; when the object leaves, it ceases to reflect it.

“Sending off” means bidding farewell. Objects come and go, but the mirror has no intention of welcoming or sending them off. Whatever comes before it, the mirror reflects; it does not deliberately hide anything. So it is with the sage’s wisdom: empty, still, and settled, it leaves no darkness beyond its perception. When external things prompt a response, the sage responds naturally, without deliberate thought. Since there is no intention to welcome or send off, how could there be any deliberate concealment or omission?

Thus the mirror can reflect all things without being harmed by them.

When an object comes, the mirror reflects it. Because this reflection does not depend on deliberate thought, even if everything under Heaven appeared before the mirror, it would not exhaust or weary it.

All things come into being and pass away, but the mirror’s brightness does not change on their account. It can therefore keep reflecting things without being harmed by them. So it is with the sage: his De accords with Heaven and Earth. Bright as the sun, moon, and stars, his perception reaches far; he shelters and nourishes all things without favoritism. He responds to things without wearing himself out, and so suffers no harm. Because he can meet all things without being burdened by them, it is said: “He prevails over things without being harmed.”

The ruler of the South Sea was named Shu; the ruler of the North Sea was named Hu; and the ruler of the Center was named Hundun.

The South Sea is a place of brightness, so “Shu” suggests appearing. The North Sea is dark and remote, so “Hu” suggests vanishing. The Center lies neither to the south nor to the north; “Hundun” therefore suggests what belongs neither to being nor to nonbeing.

Shu and Hu often met in Hundun’s realm, and Hundun treated them very kindly.

The two notions of being and nonbeing meet in a state that is neither being nor nonbeing. Each lets go of its own bias and returns to the middle way; hence Hundun treated them so well.

Shu and Hu discussed how to repay Hundun’s kindness. They said, “Everyone has seven openings, through which they see, hear, eat, and breathe. He alone has none. Let’s try to bore seven openings for him.”

Shu and Hu still held to their own biases and had not truly come into harmony. They thought learning and altering things could bring some benefit, but they did not understand Hundun’s original state: without deliberate thought and still undivided. Instead, they believed that forcibly making openings would do him good.

Each day they bored one opening in Hundun. On the seventh day, Hundun died.

Forcing action can ruin things.

A person’s limbs move among external things, while the seven openings take in the dust of the world. If one thereby departs from one’s uncarved, natural nature and insists on choosing between being and nonbeing, one cannot enjoy the full span of life and dies before one’s time. Those who study the Way should take heed and do their best to avoid this. Guo Xiang’s commentary likewise says, “When one acts upon things, one ends up ruining them.”