《抱朴子外篇》Vol. 26

Ge Hong expounds in The Outer Chapters of the Master Who Embraces Simplicity (Baopuzi), "On Ridiculing Confusion": When heaven and earth first separated and the myriad things came into being, all creatures possessed spiritual awareness—birds could harmonize in song, beasts understood communication, apes knew of past events and their outcomes, the mystical avian (legendary divine bird) comprehended the transformations of Yin-Yang, while serpents and ants could foresee the flow of water sources. These innate abilities surpassed even the divinatory stalks and tortoise shells, outstripping the prognostications of astrologers like Gan De and Shi Shen.

Yet humans alone initially lacked ritual propriety. In antiquity, people made no distinction between noble and base. The sages, distressed by this state of primal chaos and ignorance, deemed nest-dwelling and cave-living utterly crude. Thus they constructed dwellings to separate humanity from the communal habits of beasts and birds, establishing ritual norms to demarcate social hierarchy. Through teaching ceremonial gestures of deference—how to bow and yield, advance and withdraw—they standardized postures as upright as the ancient qing chime stone, with hands clasped like embracing a drum, forming rules for walking, kneeling, and social etiquette. The minutiae of ritual numbered three thousand articles, all serving as dikes to restrain indulgence and as linchpins maintaining human relationships.

Ge Hong emphasizes: Ritual is to humans as water is to fish. Though a fish may survive briefly out of water, it ultimately withers; though humans may appear unchanged without ritual, calamity is already seeded. He illustrates this: Lu State avoided war through strict adherence to Zhou rituals, while Wei State's reverence for the worthy Duan Ganmu made invaders withdraw. Conversely, Chu's million-strong army proved fragile as dead leaves, and Qin's strategic fortifications held less firm than willow twigs—all consequences of abandoning ritual's foundation.

Finally, he critiques contemporary society: Unrestrained emotions have led to ritual collapse and moral decay, with dignified ceremonies discarded and irreverence rampant. Like fish out of water or beasts loosed from cages, recent capricious changes in ceremonial attire (sleeves lengthening then shortening, hems widening then narrowing, footwear rising then lowering) reveal people delighting in novelty—a trend truly cause for concern.

(Note: Special terms like "mystical avian" and "Ganmu" retain original names; analogies clarify ritual's importance while historical contrasts strengthen argumentation; the closing section reflects social shifts during the Wei-Jin period.)

This passage discusses the topic of ritual customs. Ge Hong (Baopuzi) argues that regional customs naturally differ and need not be forcibly standardized. Just as the capital might favor painting broad eyebrows while distant regions only paint half-browed styles, such variations are entirely normal. He considers himself an ordinary person, unsuited to following trends, and believes matters like clothing and appearance aren’t worth fussing over—even if others mock him for it, he remains indifferent.

Ge Hong particularly opposes blindly imitating the customs of the Central Plains (the cultural heartland). He maintains that a noble person should preserve their hometown’s ritual traditions, just as one wouldn’t change their native mulberry-growing methods when traveling to another state. He cites examples: the Wu region (modern Jiangsu-Zhejiang area) had calligraphy masters like Huang Xiang and Liu Zuan, while the Central Plains had figures like Zhong Yao (style name Yuanchang) and Hu Zhao (style name Kongming), each with their own strengths. Why must one abandon local traditions to laboriously study Central Plains calligraphy?

Even more absurd are those who mimic northern speech but fail to master it, ending up comically awkward—like the proverb of "learning the Handan walk." The worst offenders are those who imitate Central Plains mourning wails during funerals, completely losing genuine emotion. Quoting Confucius, Ge Hong says grief for the departed should be as natural as a baby crying for its mother—why artificially refine one’s sobs? True sorrow lies in feeling, not form.

He also criticizes certain wealthy individuals who, during mourning periods, excuse themselves by claiming poor health, taking the "Five Minerals Powder" (a popular alchemical concoction of the Wei-Jin era), indulging in feasts, and lounging in comfortable rooms with fine wine—all while claiming, "This is the custom of Luoyang, the capital." In contrast, virtuous elders in Ge Hong’s hometown, even when aged and frail, faithfully wore coarse hemp mourning garments without altering traditions for appearances.

The entire passage emphasizes: true ritual lies in inner sincerity, not in superficial imitation or competition. Regional customs each have their merits—preserving authenticity is what matters most.

Here Ge Hong (Daoist name Baopuzi) critiques two problematic attitudes toward mourning rituals in his contemporary society. He observes that in ancient times, even people of questionable character would practice dietary restraint during bereavement (consuming only plain congee while abstaining from delicacies) and strive for self-discipline. Yet people of his era indulged themselves freely, straying far from the moral discipline of the ancients.

Some mistakenly assume that Chinese mourning customs were generally extravagant, but this couldn't be further from the truth. Ge Hong cites the examples of four Jin dynasty emperors (Emperor Xuan, Emperor Jing, Emperor Wen, and Emperor Wu) who, while observing mourning for their parents, became emaciated beyond ritual requirements. They also rejected Wang Su's proposed twenty-five-month mourning period, observing only seven months instead. During that time, all truly grieving individuals across the land took these four emperors as their model.

Ge Hong rhetorically asks: Why do people remain ignorant of such exemplary models while groundlessly slandering virtuous individuals? Isn't this utterly misguided? Through this comparison of ancient and contemporary practices, he emphasizes that the essence of mourning lies in sincere grief rather than external formalities.