TAOIST TEACHINGS AND ARTS

BONSAI

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CHUNGTZU

SUNTZI ART OF WAR

THE TAO TE CHING

1 There are ways but the Way is uncharted; There are names but not nature in words: Nameless indeed is the source of creation But things have a mother and she has a name. The secret waits for the insight Of eyes unclouded by longing; Those who are bound by desire See only the outward container. These two come paired but distinct By their names. Of all things profound, Say that their pairing is deepest, The gate to the root of the world.

2 Since the world points up beauty as such, There is ugliness too. If goodness is taken as goodness, Wickedness enters as well. For is and is-not come together; Hard and easy are complementary; Long and short are relative; High and low are comparative; Pitch and sound make harmony; Before and after are a sequence. Indeed the Wise Man's office Is to work by being still; He teaches not by speech But by accomplishment; He does for everything, Neglecting none; Their life he gives to all, Possessing none; And what he brings to pass Depends on no one else. As he succeeds, He takes no credit And just because he does not take it, Credit never leaves him.

3 If those who are excellent find no preferment, The people will cease to contend for promotion. If goods that are hard to obtain are not favored, The people will cease to turn robbers or bandits. If things much desired are kept under cover, Disturbance will cease in the minds of the people. The Wise Man's policy, accordingly, Will be to empty people's hearts and minds, To fill their bellies, weaken their ambition, Give them sturdy frames and always so, To keep them uninformed, without desire, And knowing ones not venturing to act. Be still while you work And keep full control Over all.

4 The Way is a void, Used but never filled: An abyss it is, Like an ancestor From which all things come. It blunts sharpness, Resolves tangles; It tempers light, Subdues turmoil. A deep pool it is, Never to run dry! Whose offspring it may be I do not know: It is like a preface to God.

5 Is then the world unkind? And does it treat all things Like straw dogs used in magic rites? The Wise Man too, is he unkind? And does he treat the folk Like straw dogs made to throw away? Between the earth and sky The space is like a bellows, Empty but unspent. When moved its gift is copious. Much talk means much exhaustion; Better far it is to keep your thoughts!

6 The valley spirit is not dead: They say it is the mystic female. Her gateway is, they further say, The base of heaven and earth. Constantly, and so forever, Use her without labor.

7 The sky is everlasting And the earth is very old. Why so? Because the world Exists not for itself; It can and will live on. The Wise Man chooses to be last And so becomes the first of all; Denying self, he too is saved. For does he not fulfillment find In being an unselfish man?

8 The highest goodness, water-like, Does good to everything and goes Unmurmuring to places men despise; But so, is close in nature to the Way. If the good of the house is from land, Or the good of the mind is depth, Or love is the virtue of friendship, Or honesty blesses one's talk, Or in government, goodness is order, Or in business, skill is admired, Or the worth of an act lies in timing, Then peace is the goal of the Way By which no one ever goes astray.

9 To take all you want Is never as good As to stop when you should. Scheme and be sharp And you'll not keep it long. One can never guard His home when it's full Of jade and fine gold: Wealth, power and pride Bequeath their own doom. When fame and success Come to you, then retire. This is the ordained Way.

10 Can you govern your animal soul, hold to the One and never depart from it? Can you throttle your breath, down to the softness of breath in a child? Can you purify your mystic vision and wash it until it is spotless? Can you love all your people, rule over the land without being known? Can you be like a female, and passively open and shut heaven's gates? Can you keep clear in your mind the four quarters of earth and not interfere? Quicken them, feed them; Quicken but do not possess them. Act and be independent; Be the chief but never the lord: This describes the mystic virtue.

11 Thirty spokes will converge In the hub of a wheel; But the use of the cart Will depend on the part Of the hub that is void. With a wall all around A clay bowl is molded; But the use of the bowl Will depend on the part Of the bowl that is void. Cut out windows and doors In the house as you build; But the use of the house Will depend on the space In the walls that is void. So advantage is had From whatever is there; But usefulness rises From whatever is not.

12 The five colors darken the eye; The five sounds will deaden the ear; The five flavors weary the taste; Chasing the beasts of the field Will drive a man mad. The goods that are hard to procure Are hobbles that slow walking feet. So the Wise Man will do What his belly dictates And never the sight of his eyes. Thus he will choose this but not that.

13 "Favor, like disgrace Brings trouble with it; High rank, like self, Involves acute distress." What does that mean, to say That "favor, like disgrace Brings trouble with it"? When favor is bestowed On one of low degree, Trouble will come with it. The loss of favor too Means trouble for that man. This, then, is what is meant By "favor, like disgrace Brings trouble with it." What does it mean, to say That "rank, like self, Involves acute distress"? I suffer most because Of me and selfishness. If I were selfless, then What suffering would I bear? In governing the world, Let rule entrusted be To him who treats his rank As if it were his soul; World sovereignty can be Committed to that man Who loves all people As he loves himself.

14 They call it elusive, and say That one looks But it never appears. They say that indeed it is rare, Since one listens, But never a sound. Subtle, they call it, and say That one grasps it But never gets hold. These three complaints amount To only one, which is Beyond all resolution. At rising, it does not illumine; At setting, no darkness ensues; It stretches far back To that nameless estate Which existed before the creation. Describe it as form yet unformed; As shape that is still without shape; Or say it is vagueness confused: One meets it and it has no front; One follows and there is no rear. If you hold ever fast To that most ancient Way, You may govern today. Call truly that knowledge Of primal beginnings The clue to the Way.

15 The excellent masters of old, Subtle, mysterious, mystic, acute, Were much too profound for their times. Since they were not then understood, It is better to tell how they looked. Like men crossing streams in the winter, How cautious! As if all around there were danger, How watchful! As if they were guests on every occasion, How dignified! Like ice just beginning to melt, Self-effacing! Like a wood-block untouched by a tool, How sincere! Like a valley awaiting a guest, How receptive! Like a torrent that rushes along, And so turbid! Who, running dirty, comes clean like still waters? Who, being quiet, moves others to fullness of life? It is he who, embracing the Way, is not greedy; Who endures wear and tear without needing renewal.

16 Touch ultimate emptiness, Hold steady and still. All things work together: I have watched them reverting, And have seen how they flourish And return again, each to his roots. This, I say, is the stillness: A retreat to one's roots; Or better yet, return To the will of God, Which is, I say, to constancy. The knowledge of constancy I call enlightenment and say That not to know it Is blindness that works evil. But when you know What eternally is so, You have stature And stature means righteousness And righteousness is kingly And kingliness divine And divinity is the Way Which is final. Then, though you die, You shall not perish.

17 As for him who is highest, The people just know he is there. His deputy's cherished and praised; Of the third, they are frightened; The fourth, they despise and revile. If you trust people less than enough, Some of them never trust you. He is aloof, as if his talk Were priced beyond the purchasing; But once his project is contrived, The folk will want to say of it: "Of course! We did it by ourselves!"

18 The mighty Way declined among the folk And then came kindness and morality. When wisdom and intelligence appeared, They brought with them a great hypocrisy. The six relations were no more at peace, So codes were made to regulate our homes. The fatherland grew dark, confused by strife: Official loyalty became the style.

19 Get rid of the wise men! Put out the professors! Then people will profit A hundredfold over. Away with the kind ones; Those righteous men too! And let people return To the graces of home. Root out the artisans; Banish the profiteers! And bandits and robbers Will not come to plunder. But if these three prove not enough To satisfy the mind and heart, More relevant, then, let there be A visible simplicity of life, Embracing unpretentious ways, And small self-interest And poverty of coveting.

20 Be done with rote learning And its attendant vexations; For is there distinction Of a "yes" from a "yea" Comparable now to the gulf Between evil and good? "What all men fear, I too must fear"- How barren and pointless a thought! The reveling of multitudes At the feast of Great Sacrifice, Or up on the terrace At carnival in spring, Leave me, alas, unmoved, alone, Like a child that has never smiled. Lazily, I drift As though I had no home. All others have enough to spare; I am the one left out. I have the mind of a fool, Muddled and confused! When common people scintillate I alone make shadows. Vulgar folks are sharp and knowing: Only I am melancholy. Restless like the ocean, Blown about, I cannot stop. Other men can find employment, But I am stubborn; I am mean. Alone I am and different, Because I prize and seek My sustenance from the Mother!

21 The omnipresent Virtue will take shape According only to the Way. The Way itself is like some thing Seen in a dream, elusive, evading one. In it are images, elusive, evading one. In it are things like shadows in twilight. In it are essences, subtle but real, Embedded in truth. From of old until now, Under names without end, The First, the Beginning is seen. How do I know the beginning of all, What its nature may be? By these!

22 The crooked shall be made straight And the rough places plain; The pools shall be filled And the worn renewed; The needy shall receive And the rich shall be perplexed. So the Wise Man cherishes the One, As a standard to the world: Not displaying himself, He is famous; Not asserting himself, He is distinguished; Not boasting his powers, He is effective; Taking no pride in himself, He is chief. Because he is no competitor, No one in all the world can compete with him. The saying of the men of old Is not in vain: "The crooked shall be made straight-" To be perfect, return to it.

23 Sparing indeed is nature of its talk: The whirlwind will not last the morning out; The cloudburst ends before the day is done. What is it that behaves itself like this? The earth and sky! And if it be that these Cut short their speech, how much more yet should man! If you work by the Way, You will be of the Way; If you work through its virtue you will be given the virtue; Abandon either one And both abandon you. Gladly then the Way receives Those who choose to walk in it; Gladly too its power upholds Those who choose to use it well; Gladly will abandon greet Those who to abandon drift. Little faith is put in them Whose faith is small.

24 On tiptoe your stance is unsteady; Long strides make your progress unsure; Show off and you get no attention; Your boasting will mean you have failed; Asserting yourself brings no credit; Be proud and you will never lead. To persons of the Way, these traits Can only bring distrust; they seem Like extra food for parasites. So those who choose the Way, Will never give them place.

25 Something there is, whose veiled creation was Before the earth or sky began to be; So silent, so aloof and so alone, It changes not, nor fails, but touches all: Conceive it as the mother of the world. I do not know its name: A name for it is "Way"; Pressed for designation, I call it Great. Great means outgoing, Outgoing, far-reaching, Far-reaching, return. The Way is great, The sky is great, The earth is great, The king also is great. Within the realm These four are great; The king but stands For one of them. Man conforms to the earth; The earth conforms to the sky; The sky conforms to the Way; The Way conforms to its own nature.

26 The heavy is foundation for the light; So quietness is master of the deed. The Wise Man, though he travel all the day, Will not be separated from his goods. So even if the scene is glorious to view, He keeps his place, at peace, above it all. For how can one who rules Ten thousand chariots Give up to lighter moods AS all the world may do? If he is trivial, His ministers are lost; If he is strenuous, There is no master then.

27 A good runner leaves no tracks. A good speech has no flaws to censure. A good computer uses no tallies. A good door is well shut without bolts and cannot be opened. A good knot is tied without rope and cannot be loosed. The Wise Man is always good at helping people, so that none are cast out; he is always good at saving things, so that none are thrown away. This is called applied intelligence. Surely the good man is the bad man's teacher; and the bad man is the good man's business. If the one does not respect his teacher, or the other doesn't love his business, his error is very great. This is indeed an important secret.

28 Be aware of your masculine nature; But by keeping the feminine way, You shall be to the world like a canyon, Where the Virtue eternal abides, And go back to become as a child. Be aware of the white all around you; But remembering the black that is there, You shall be to the world like a tester, Whom the Virtue eternal, unerring, Redirects to the infinite past. Be aware of your glory and honor; But in never relinquishing shame, You shall be to the world like a valley, Where Virtue eternal, sufficient, Sends you back to the Virginal Block. When the Virginal Block is asunder, And is made into several tools, To the ends of the Wise Man directed, They become then his chief officers: For "The Master himself does not carve."

29 As for those who would take the whole world To tinker as they see fit, I observe that they never succeed: For the world is a sacred vessel Not to be altered by man. The tinker will spoil it; Usurpers will lose it. For indeed there are things That must move ahead, While others must lag; And some that feel hot, While others feel cold; And some that are strong, While others are weak; And vigorous ones, While others worn out. So the Wise Man discards Extreme inclinations To make sweeping judgments, Or to a life of excess.

30 To those who would help The ruler of men By means of the Way: Let him not with his militant might Try to conquer the world; This tactic is like to recoil. For where armies have marched, There do briars spring up; Where great hosts are impressed, Years of hunger and evil ensue. The good man's purpose once attained, He stops at that; He will not press for victory. His point once made, he does not boast, Or celebrate the goal he gained, Or proudly indicate the spoils. He won the day because he must: But not by force or violence. That things with age decline in strength, You well may say, suits not the Way; And not to suit the Way is early death.

31 Weapons at best are tools of bad omen, Loathed and avoided by those of the Way. In the usage of men of good breeding, Honor is had at the left; Good omens belong on the left Bad omens belong on the right; And warriors press to the right! When the general stands at the right His lieutenant is placed at the left. So the usage of men of great power Follows that of the funeral rite. Weapons are tools of bad omen, By gentlemen not to be used; But when it cannot be avoided, They use them with calm and restraint. Even in victory's hour These tools are unlovely to see; For those who admire them truly Are men who in murder delight. As for those who delight to do murder, It is certain they never can get From the world what they sought when ambition Urged them to power and rule. A multitude slain!- and their death Is a matter for grief and for tears; The victory after a conflict Is a theme for a funeral rite.

32 The Way eternal has no name. A block of wood untooled, though small, May still excel the world. And if the king and nobles could Retain its potency for good, Then everything would freely give Allegiance to their rule. The earth and sky would then conspire To bring the sweet dew down; And evenly it would be given To folk without constraining power. Creatures came to be with order's birth, And once they had appeared, Came also knowledge of repose, And with that was security. In this world, Compare those of the Way To torrents that flow Into river and sea.

33 It is wisdom to know others; It is enlightenment to know one's self. The conqueror of men is powerful; The master of himself is strong. It is wealth to be content; It is willful to force one's way on others. Endurance is to keep one's place; Long life it is to die and not perish.

34 O the great Way o'erflows And spreads on every side! All beings come from it; No creature is denied. But having called them forth, It calls not one its own. It feeds and clothes them all And will not be their lord. Without desire always, It seems of slight import. Yet, nonetheless, in this Its greatness still appears: When they return to it, No creature meets a lord. The Wise Man, therefore, while he is alive, Will never make a show of being great: And that is how his greatness is achieved.

35 Once grasp the great Form without form, And you roam where you will With no evil to fear, Calm, peaceful, at ease. At music and viands The wayfarer stops. But the Way, when declared, Seems thin and so flavorless! It is nothing to look at And nothing to hear; But used, it will prove Inexhaustible.

36 What is to be shrunken Is first stretched out; What is to be weakened Is first made strong; What will be thrown over Is first raised up; What will be withdrawn Is first bestowed. This indeed is Subtle Light; The gentle way Will overcome The hard and strong. As fish should not Get out of pools, The realm's edged tools Should not be shown To anybody.

37 The Way is always still, at rest, And yet does everything that's done. If then the king and nobles could Retain its potency for good, The creatures all would be transformed. But if, the change once made in them, They still inclined to do their work, I should restrain them then By means of that unique Original simplicity Found in the Virgin Block, Which brings disinterest, With stillness in its train, And so, an ordered world.

38 A man of highest virtue Will not display it as his own; His virtue then is real. Low virtue makes one miss no chance To show his virtue off; His virtue then is naught. High virtue is at rest; It knows no need to act. Low virtue is a busyness Pretending to accomplishment. Compassion at its best Consists in honest deeds; Morality at best Is something done, aforethought; High etiquette, when acted out Without response from others, Constrains a man to bare his arms And make them do their duty! Truly, once the Way is lost, There comes then virtue; Virtue lost, comes then compassion; After that morality; And when that's lost, there's etiquette, The husk of all good faith, The rising point of anarchy. Foreknowledge is, they say, The Doctrine come to flower; But better yet, it is The starting point of silliness. So once full-grown, a man will take The meat and not the husk, The fruit and not the flower. Rejecting one, he takes the other.

39 These things in ancient times received the One: The sky obtained it and was clarified; The earth received it and was settled firm; The spirits got it and were energized; The valleys had it, filled to overflow; All things, as they partook it came alive; The nobles and the king imbibed the One In order that the realm might upright be; Such things were then accomplished by the One. Without its clarity the sky might break; Except it were set firm, the earth might shake; Without their energy the gods would pass; Unless kept full, the valleys might go dry; Except for life, all things would pass away; Unless the One did lift and hold them high, The nobles and the king might trip and fall. The humble folk support the mighty ones; They are base on which the highest rest. The nobles and the king speak of themselves As "orphans," "desolate" and "needy ones." Does this not indicate that they depend Upon the lowly people for support? Truly a cart is more than the sum of its parts. Better to rumble like rocks Than to tinkle like jade.

40 The movement of the Way is a return; In weakness lies its major usefulness. From What-is all the world of things was born But What-is sprang in turn from What-is-not.

41 On hearing of the Way, the best of men Will earnestly explore its length. The mediocre person learns of it And takes it up and sets it down. But vulgar people, when they hear the news, Will laugh out loud, and if they did not laugh, It would not be the Way. And so there is a proverb: "When going looks like coming back, The clearest road is mighty dark." Today, the Way that's plain looks rough, And lofty virtue like a chasm; The purest innocence like shame, The broadest power not enough, Established goodness knavery, Substantial worth like shifting tides. Great space has no corners; Great powers come late; Great music is soft sound; The great Form no shape. The Way is obscure and unnamed; It is a skilled investor, nonetheless, The master of accomplishment.

42 The Way begot one, And the one, two; Then the two begot three And three, all else. All things bear the shade on their backs And the sun in their arms; By the blending of breath From the sun and the shade, Equilibrium comes to the world. Orphaned, or needy, or desolate, these Are conditions much feared and disliked; Yet in public address, the king And the nobles account themselves thus. So a loss sometimes benefits one Or a benefit proves to be loss. What others have taught I also shall teach: If a violent man does not come To a violent death, I shall choose him to teach me.

43 The softest of stuff in the world Penetrates quickly the hardest; Insubstantial, it enters Where no room is. By this I know the benefit Of something done by quiet being; In all the world but few can know Accomplishment apart from work, Instruction when no words are used.

44 Which is dearer, fame or self? Which is worth more, man or pelf? Which would hurt more, gain or loss? The mean man pays the highest price; The hoarder takes the greatest loss; A man content is never shamed, And self-restrained, is not in danger: He will live forever.

45 Most perfect, yet it seems Imperfect, incomplete: Its use is not impaired. Filled up, and yet it seems Poured out, an empty void: It never will run dry. The straightest, yet it seems To deviate, to bend; The highest skill and yet It looks like clumsiness. The utmost eloquence, It sounds like stammering. As movement overcomes The cold, and stillness, heat, The Wise Man, pure and still, Will rectify the world.

46 When the Way rules the world, Coach horses fertilize the fields; When the Way does not rule, War horses breed in the parks. No sin can exceed Incitement to envy; No calamity's worse Than to be discontented, Nor is there an omen More dreadful than coveting. But once be contented, And truly you'll always be so.

47 The world may be known Without leaving the house; The Way may be seen Apart from the windows. The further you go, The less you will know. Accordingly, the Wise Man Knows without going, Sees without seeing, Does without doing.

48 The student learns by daily increment. The Way is gained by daily loss, Loss upon loss until At last comes rest. By letting go, it all gets done; The world is won by those who let it go! But when you try and try, The world is then beyond the winning.

49 The Wise Man's mind is free But tuned to people's need: "Alike to be good and bad I must be good, For Virtue is goodness. To honest folk And those dishonest ones Alike, I proffer faith, For Virtue is faithful." The Wise Man, when abroad, Impartial to the world, Does not divide or judge. But people everywhere Mark well his ears and eyes; For wise men hear and see As little children do.

50 On leaving life, to enter death: Thirteen members form a living body; A corpse has thirteen, too: Thirteen spots by which a man may pass From life to death. Why so? Because his way of life Is much too gross. As I have heard, the man who knows On land how best to be at peace Will never meet a tiger or a buffalo; In battle, weapons do not touch his skin. There is no place the tiger's claws can grip; Or with his horn, the buffalo can jab; Or where the soldier can insert his sword. Why so? In him there is no place of death.

51 The Way brings forth, Its virtue fosters them, With matter they take shape, And circumstance perfects them all: That is why all things Do honor the Way And venerate its power. The exaltation of the Way, The veneration of its power, Come not by fate or decree; But always just because By nature it is so. So when the Way brings forth, Its power fosters all: They grow, are reared, And fed and housed until They come to ripe maturity. You shall give life to things But never possess them; Your work shall depend on none; You shall be chief but never lord. This describes the mystic power.

52 It began with a matrix: The world had a mother Whose sons can be known As ever, by her. But if you know them, You'll keep close to her As long as you live And suffer no harm. Stop up your senses; Close up your doors; Be not exhausted As long as you live. Open your senses; Be busier still: To the end of your days There's no help for you. You are bright, it is said, If you see what is small; A store of small strengths Makes you strong. By the use of its light, Make your eyes again bright From evil to lead you away. This is called "practicing constancy."

53 When I am walking on the mighty Way, Let me but know the very least I may, And I shall only fear to leave the road. The mighty Way is easy underfoot, But people still prefer the little paths. The royal court is dignified, sedate, While farmers' fields are overgrown with weeds; The granaries are empty and yet they Are clad in rich-embroidered silken gowns. They have sharp swords suspended at their sides; With glutted wealth, they gorge with food and drink. It is, the people say, The boastfulness of brigandage, But surely not the Way!

54 Set firm in the Way: none shall uproot you; Cherish it well and none shall estrange you; Your children's children faithful shall serve Your forebears at the altar of your house. Cultivate the Way yourself, and your Virtue will be genuine. Cultivate it in the home, and its Virtue will overflow. Cultivate it in the village, and the village will endure. Cultivate it in the realm, and the realm will flourish. Cultivate it in the world, and Virtue will be universal. Accordingly, One will be judged by the Man of the Way; Homes will be viewed through the Home of the Way; And the Village shall measure the village; And the Realm, for all realms, shall be standard; And the World, to this world, shall be heaven. How do I know the world is like this? By this.

55 Rich in virtue, like an infant, Noxious insects will not sting him; Wild beasts will not attack his flesh Nor birds of prey sink claws in him. His bones are soft, his sinews weak, His grip is nonetheless robust; Of sexual union unaware, His organs all completely formed, His vital force is at its height. He shouts all day, does not get hoarse: His person is a harmony. Harmony experienced is known as constancy; Constancy experienced is called enlightenment; Exuberant vitality is ominous, they say; A bent for vehemence is called aggressiveness. That things with age decline in strength, You well may say, suits not the Way; And not to suit the Way is early death.

56 Those who know do not talk And talkers do not know. Stop your senses, Close the doors; Let sharp things be blunted, Tangles resolved, The light tempered And turmoil subdued; For this is mystic unity In which the Wise Man is moved Neither by affection Nor yet by estrangement Or profit or loss Or honor or shame. Accordingly, by all the world, He is held highest.

57 "Govern the realm by the right, And battles by stratagem." The world is won by refraining. How do I know this is so? By this: As taboos increase, people grow poorer; When weapons abound, the state grows chaotic; Where skills multiply, novelties flourish; As statutes increase, more criminals start. So the Wise Man will say: As I refrain, the people will reform: Since I like quiet, they will keep order; When I forebear, the people will prosper; When I want nothing, they will be honest.

58 Listlessly govern: Happy your people; Govern exactingly: Restless your people. "Bad fortune will Promote the good; Good fortune, too, Gives rise to the bad." But who can know to what that leads? For it is wrong and would assign To right the strangest derivations And would mean that goodness Is produced by magic means! Has man thus been so long astray? Accordingly, the Wise Man Is square but not sharp, Honest but not malign, Straight but not severe, Bright but not dazzling.

59 "For ruling men or serving God, There's nothing else like stores saved up." By "stores saved up" is meant forehandedness, Accumulate Virtue, such that nothing Can resist it and its limit None can guess: such infinite resource Allows the jurisdiction of the king; Whose kingdom then will long endure If it provides the Mother an abode. Indeed it is the deeply rooted base, The firm foundation of the Way To immortality of self and name.

60 Rule a large country As small fish are cooked. The evil spirits of the world Lose sanction as divinities When government proceeds According to the Way; But even if they do not lose Their ghostly countenance and right, The people take no harm from them; And if the spirits cannot hurt the folk, The Wise Man surely does no hurt to them. Since then the Wise Man and the people Harm each other not at all, Their several virtues should converge.

61 The great land is a place To which the streams descend; It is the concourse and The female of the world: Quiescent, underneath, It overcomes the male. By quietness and by humility The great land then puts down the small And gets it for its own; But small lands too absorb the great By their subservience. Thus some lie low, designing conquest's ends; While others lowly are, by nature bent To conquer all the rest. The great land's foremost need is to increase The number of its folk; The small land needs above all else to find Its folk more room to work. That both be served and each attain its goal The great land should attempt humility.

62 Like the gods of the shrine in the home, So the Way and its mystery waits In the world of material things: The good man's treasure, The bad man's refuge. Fair wordage is ever for sale; Fair manners are worn like a cloak; But why should there be such waste Of the badness in men? On the day of the emperor's crowning, When the three noble dukes are appointed, Better than chaplets of jade Drawn by a team of four horses, Bring the Way as your tribute. How used the ancients to honor the Way? Didn't they say that the seeker may find it, And that sinners who find are forgiven? So did they lift up the Way and its Virtue Above everything else in the world.

63 Act in repose; Be at rest when you work; Relish unflavored things. Great or small, Frequent or rare, Requite anger with virtue. Take hard jobs in hand While they are easy; And great affairs too While they are small. The troubles of the world Cannot be solved except Before they grow too hard. The business of the world Cannot be done except While relatively small. The Wise Man, then, throughout his life Does nothing great and yet achieves A greatness of his own. Again, a promise lightly made Inspires little confidence; Or often trivial, sure that man Will often come to grief. Choosing hardship, then, the Wise Man Never meets with hardship all his life.

64 A thing that is still is easy to hold. Given no omen, it is easy to plan. Soft things are easy to melt. Small particles scatter easily. The time to take care is before it is done. Establish order before confusion sets in. Tree trunks around which you can reach with your arms were at first only minuscule sprouts. A nine-storied terrace began with a clod. A thousand-mile journey began with a foot put down. Doing spoils it, grabbing misses it; So the Wise Man refrains from doing and doesn't spoil anything; He grabs at nothing so never misses. People are constantly spoiling a project when it lacks only a step to completion. To avoid making a mess of it, be as careful of the end as you were of the beginning. So the Wise Man wants the unwanted; he sets no high value on anything because it is hard to get. He studies what others neglect and restores to the world what multitudes have passed by. His object is to restore everything to its natural course, but he dares take no steps to that end.

65 Those ancients who were skilled in the Way Did not enlighten people by their rule But had them ever held in ignorance: The more the folk know what is going on The harder it becomes to govern them. For public knowledge of the government Is such a thief that it will spoil the realm; But when good fortune brings good times to all The land is ruled without publicity. To know the difference between these two Involves a standard to be sought and found. To know that standard always, everywhere, Is mystic Virtue, justly known as such; Which Virtue is so deep and reaching far, It causes a return, things go back To that prime concord which at first all shared.

66 How could the rivers and the seas Become like kings to valleys? Because of skill in lowliness They have become the valley's lords. So then to be above the folk, You speak as if you were beneath; And if you wish to be out front, Then act as if you were behind. The Wise Man so is up above But is no burden to the folk; His station is ahead of them To see they do not come to harm. The world will gladly help along The Wise Man and will bear no grudge. Since he contends not for his own The world will not contend with him.

67 Everywhere, they say the Way, our doctrine, Is so very like detested folly; But greatness of its own alone explains Why it should be thus held beyond the pale. If it were only orthodox, long since It would have seemed a small and petty thing! I have to keep three treasures well secured: The first, compassion; next, frugality; And third, I say that never would I once Presume that I should be the whole world's chief. Given compassion, I can take courage; Given frugality, I can abound; If I can be the world's most humble man, Then I can be its highest instrument. Bravery today knows no compassion; Abundance is, without frugality, And eminence without humility: This is the death indeed of all our hope. In battle, 'tis compassion wins the day; Defending, 'tis compassion that is firm: Compassion arms the people God would save!

68 A skillful soldier is not violent; An able fighter does not rage; A mighty conqueror does not give battle; A great commander is a humble man. You may call this pacific virtue; Or say that it is mastery of men; Or that it is rising to the measure of God, Or to the stature of the ancients.

69 The strategists have a saying: "If I cannot be host, Then let me be guest. But if I dare not advance Even an inch, Then let me retire a foot." This is what they call A campaign without a march, Sleeves up but no bare arms, Shooting but no enemies, Or arming without weapons. Than helpless enemies, nothing is worse: To them I lose my treasures. When opposing enemies meet, The compassionate man is the winner!

70 My words are easy just to understand: To live by them is very easy too; Yet it appears that none in all the world Can understand or make them come to life. My words have ancestors, my works a prince; Since none know this, unknown I too remain. But honor comes to me when least I'm known: The Wise Man, with a jewel in his breast, Goes clad in garments made of shoddy stuff.

71 To know that you are ignorant is best; To know what you do not, is a disease; But if you recognize the malady Of mind for what it is, then that is health. The Wise Man has indeed a healthy mind; He sees an aberration as it is And for that reason never will be ill.

72 If people do not dread your majesty, A greater dread will yet descend on them. See then you do not cramp their dwelling place, Or immolate their children or their stock, Nor anger them by your own angry ways. It is the Wise Man's way to know himself, And never to reveal his inward thoughts; He loves himself but so, is not set up; He chooses this in preference to that.

73 A brave man who dares to, will kill; A brave man who dares not, spares life; And from them both come good and ill; "God hates some folks, but who knows why?" The Wise Man hesitates there too: God's Way is bound to conquer all But not by strife does it proceed. Not by words does God get answers: He calls them not and all things come. Master plans unfold but slowly, Like God's wide net enclosing all: Its mesh is coarse but none are lost.

74 The people do not fear at all to die; What's gained therefore by threatening them with death? If you could always make them fear decease, As if it were a strange event and rare, Who then would dare to take and slaughter them? The executioner is always set To slay, but those who substitute for him Are like would-be master carpenters Who try to chop as that skilled craftsman does And nearly always mangle their own hands!

75 The people starve because of those Above them, who consume by tax In grain and kind more than their right. For this, the people are in want. The people are so hard to rule Because of those who are above them, Whose interference makes distress. For this, they are so hard to rule. The people do not fear to die; They too demand to live secure: For this, they do not fear to die. So they, without the means to live, In virtue rise above those men Who value life above its worth.

76 Alive, a man is supple, soft; In death, unbending, rigorous. All creatures, grass and trees, alive Are plastic but are pliat too, And dead, are friable and dry. Unbending rigor is the mate of death, And wielding softness, company of life: Unbending soldiers get no victories; The stiffest tree is readiest for the ax. The strong and mighty topple from their place; The soft and yielding rise above them all.

77 Is not God's Way much like a bow well bent? The upper part has been disturbed, pressed down; The lower part is raised up from its place; The slack is taken up; the slender width Is broader drawn; for thus the Way of God Cuts people down when they have had too much, And fills the bowls of those who are in want. But not the way of man will work like this: The people who have not enough are spoiled For tribute to the rich and surfeited. Who can benefit the world From stored abundance of his own? He alone who has the Way, The Wise Man who can act apart And not depend on others' whims; But not because of his high rank Will he succeed; he does not wish To flaunt superiority.

78 Nothing is weaker than water, But when it attacks something hard Or resistant, then nothing withstands it, And nothing will alter its way. Everyone knows this, that weakness prevails Over strength and that gentleness conquers The adamant hindrance of men, but that Nobody demonstrates how it is so. Because of this the Wise Man says That only one who bears the nations shame Is fit to be its hallowed lord; That only one who takes upon himself The evils of the world may be its king. This is paradox.

79 How can you think it is good To settle a grievance too great To ignore, when the settlement Surely evokes other piques? The Wise Man therefore will select The left-hand part of contract tallies: He will not put the debt on other men. This virtuous man promotes agreement; The vicious man allots the blame. "Impartial though the Way of God may be, It always favors good men."

80 The ideal land is small Its people very few, Where tools abound Ten times or yet A hundred-fold Beyond their use; Where people die And die again But never emigrate; Have boats and carts Which no one rides. Weapons have they And armor too, But none displayed. The folk returns To use again The knotted chords. Their meat is sweet; Their clothes adorned, Their homes at peace, Their customs charm. And neighbor lands Are juxtaposed So each may hear The barking dogs, The crowing cocks Across the way; Where folks grow old And folks will die And never once Exchange a call.

81 As honest words may not sound fine, Fine words may not be honest ones; A good man does not argue, and An arguer may not be good! The knowers are not learned men And learned men may never know. The Wise Man does not hoard his things; Hard-pressed, from serving other men, He has enough and some to spare; But having given all he had, He then is very rich indeed. God's Way is gain that works no harm; The Wise Man's way, to do his work Without contending for a crown.

The Chuang Tzu

Chuang Tzu (Translated by Yutang Lin

A Happy Excursion (Chapter 1) In the northern ocean there is a fish, called the k'un, I do not know how many thousand li in size. This k'un changes into a bird, called the p'eng. Its back is I do not know how many thousand li in breadth. When it is moved, it flies, its wings obscuring the sky like clouds. When on a voyage, this bird prepares to start for the Southern Ocean, the Celestial Lake. And in the Records of Marvels we read that when the p'eng flies southwards, the water is smitten for a space of three thousand li around, while the bird itself mounts upon a great wind to a height of ninety thousand li, for a flight of six months' duration. There mounting aloft, the bird saw the moving white mists of spring, the dust-clouds, and the living things blowing their breaths among them. It wondered whether the blue of the sky was its real color, or only the result of distance without end, and saw that the things on earth appeared the same to it. If there is not sufficient depth, water will not float large ships. Upset a cupful into a hole in the yard, and a mustard-seed will be your boat. Try to float the cup, and it will be grounded, due to the disproportion between water and vessel. So with air. If there is not sufficient a depth, it cannot support large wings. And for this bird, a depth of ninety thousand li is necessary to bear it up. Then, gliding upon the wind, with nothing save the clear sky above, and no obstacles in the way, it starts upon its journey to the south. A cicada and a young dove laughed, saying, "Now, when I fly with all my might, 'tis as much as I can do to get from tree to tree. And sometimes I do not reach, but fall to the ground midway. What then can be the use of going up ninety thousand li to start for the south?" He who goes to the countryside taking three meals with him comes back with his stomach as full as when he started. But he who travels a hundred li must take ground rice enough for an overnight stay. And he who travels a thousand li must supply himself with provisions for three months. Those two little creatures, what should they know? Small knowledge has not the compass of great knowledge any more than a short year has the length of a long year. How can we tell that this is so? The fungus plant of a morning knows not the alternation of day and night. The cicada knows not the alternation of spring and autumn. Theirs are short years. But in the south of Ch'u there is a mingling (tree) whose spring and autumn are each of five hundred years' duration. And in former days there was a large tree which had a spring and autumn each of eight thousand years. Yet, P'eng Tsu(1) is known for reaching a great age and is still, alas! an object of envy to all! It was on this very subject that the Emperor T'ang(2) spoke to Chi, as follows: "At the north of Ch'iungta, there is a Dark Sea, the Celestial Lake. In it there is a fish several thousand li in breadth, and I know not how many in length. It is called the k'un. There is also a bird, called the p'eng, with a back like Mount T'ai, and wings like clouds across the sky. It soars up upon a whirlwind to a height of ninety thousand li, far above the region of the clouds, with only the clear sky above it. And then it directs its flight towards the Southern Ocean. "And a lake sparrow laughed, and said: Pray, what may that creature be going to do? I rise but a few yards in the air and settle down again, after flying around among the reeds. That is as much as any one would want to fly. Now, wherever can this creature be going to?" Such, indeed, is the difference between small and great. Take, for instance, a man who creditably fills some small office, or whose influence spreads over a village, or whose character pleases a certain prince. His opinion of himself will be much the same as that lake sparrow's. The philosopher Yung of Sung would laugh at such a one. If the whole world flattered him, he would not be affected thereby, nor if the whole world blamed him would he be dissuaded from what he was doing. For Yung can distinguish between essence and superficialities, and understand what is true honor and shame. Such men are rare in their generation. But even he has not established himself. Now Liehtse(3) could ride upon the wind. Sailing happily in the cool breeze, he would go on for fifteen days before his return. Among mortals who attain happiness, such a man is rare. Yet although Liehtse could dispense with walking, he would still have to depend upon something(4). As for one who is charioted upon the eternal fitness of Heaven and Earth, driving before him the changing elements as his team to roam through the realms of the Infinite, upon what, then, would such a one have need to depend? Thus it is said, "The perfect man ignores self; the divine man ignores achievement; the true Sage ignores reputation." The Emperor Yao(5) wished to abdicate in favor of Hsu: Yu, saying, "If, when the sun and moon are shining, the torch is still lighted, would it be not difficult for the latter to shine? If, when the rain has fallen, one should still continue to water the fields, would this not be a waste of labor? Now if you would assume the reins of government, the empire would be well governed, and yet I am filling this office. I am conscious of my own deficiencies, and I beg to offer you the Empire." "You are ruling the Empire, and the Empire is already well ruled," replied Hsu: Yu. "Why should I take your place? Should I do this for the sake of a name? A name is but the shadow of reality, and should I trouble myself about the shadow? The tit, building its nest in the mighty forest, occupies but a single twig. The beaver slakes its thirst from the river, but drinks enough only to fill its belly. I would rather go back: I have no use for the empire! If the cook is unable to prepare the funeral sacrifices, the representative of the worshipped spirit and the officer of prayer may not step over the wines and meats and do it for him." Chien Wu said to Lien Shu, "I heard Chieh Yu: talk on high and fine subjects endlessly. I was greatly startled at what he said, for his words seemed interminable as the Milky Way, but they are quite detached from our common human experience." "What was it?" asked Lien Shu. "He declared," replied Chien Wu, "that on the Miao-ku-yi mountain there lives a divine one, whose skin is white like ice or snow, whose grace and elegance are like those of a virgin, who eats no grain, but lives on air and dew, and who, riding on clouds with flying dragons for his team, roams beyond the limit's of the mortal regions. When his spirit gravitates, he can ward off corruption from all things, and bring good crops. That is why I call it nonsense, and do not believe it." "Well," answered Lien Shu, "you don't ask a blind man's opinion of beautiful designs, nor do you invite a deaf man to a concert. And blindness and deafness are not physical only. There is blindness and deafness of the mind. His words are like the unspoiled virgin. The good influence of such a man with such a character fills all creation. Yet because a paltry generation cries for reform, you would have him busy himself about the details of an empire! "Objective existences cannot harm. In a flood which reached the sky, he would not be drowned. In a drought, though metals ran liquid and mountains were scorched up, he would not be hot. Out of his very dust and siftings you might fashion two such men as Yao and Shun(6). And you would have him occupy himself with objectives!" A man of the Sung State carried some ceremonial caps to the Yu:eh tribes for sale. But the men of Yu:eh used to cut off their hair and paint their bodies, so that they had no use for such things. The Emperor Yao ruled all under heaven and governed the affairs of the entire country. After he paid a visit to the four sages of the Miao-ku-yi Mountain, he felt on his return to his capital at Fenyang that the empire existed for him no more. Hueitse(7) said to Chuangtse, "The Prince of Wei gave me a seed of a large-sized kind of gourd. I planted it, and it bore a fruit as big as a five bushel measure. Now had I used this for holding liquids, it would have been too heavy to lift; and had I cut it in half for ladles, the ladles would have been too flat for such purpose. Certainly it was a huge thing, but I had no use for it and so broke it up." "It was rather you did not know how to use large things," replied Chuangtse. "There was a man of Sung who had a recipe for salve for chapped hands, his family having been silk-washers for generations. A stranger who had heard of it came and offered him a hundred ounces of silver for this recipe; whereupon he called together his clansmen and said, 'We have never made much money by silk-washing. Now, we can sell the recipe for a hundred ounces in a single day. Let the stranger have it.' "The stranger got the recipe, and went and had an interview with the Prince of Wu. The Yu:eh State was in trouble, and the Prince of Wu sent a general to fight a naval battle with Yu:eh at the beginning of winter. The latter was totally defeated, and the stranger was rewarded with a piece of the King's territory. Thus, while the efficacy of the salve to cure chapped hands was in both cases the same, its applications were different. Here, it secured a title; there, the people remained silk-washers. "Now as to your five-bushel gourd, why did you not make a float of it, and float about over river and lake? And you complain of its being too flat for holding things! I fear your mind is stuffy inside." Hueitse said to Chuangtse, "I have a large tree, called the ailanthus. Its trunk is so irregular and knotty that it cannot be measured out for planks; while its branches are so twisted that they cannot be cut out into discs or squares. It stands by the roadside, but no carpenter will look at it. Your words are like that tree -- big and useless, of no concern to the world." "Have you never seen a wild cat," rejoined Chuangtse, "crouching down in wait for its prey? Right and left and high and low, it springs about, until it gets caught in a trap or dies in a snare. On the other hand, there is the yak with its great huge body. It is big enough in all conscience, but it cannot catch mice. Now if you have a big tree and are at a loss what to do with it, why not plant it in the Village of Nowhere, in the great wilds, where you might loiter idly by its side, and lie down in blissful repose beneath its shade? There it would be safe from the ax and from all other injury. For being of no use to others, what could worry its mind?"

On Leveling All Things Tsech'i of Nankuo sat leaning on a low table. Gazing up to heaven, he sighed and looked as though he had lost his mind. Yench'eng Tseyu, who was standing by him, exclaimed, "What are you thinking about that your body should become thus like dead wood, your mind like burnt-out cinders? Surely the man now leaning on the table is not he who was here just now." "My friend," replied Tsech'i, "your question is apposite. Today I have lost my Self.... Do you understand? ... Perhaps you only know the music of man, and not that of Earth. Or even if you have heard the music of Earth, perhaps you have not heard the music of Heaven." "Pray explain," said Tseyu. "The breath of the universe," continued Tsech'i, "is called wind. At times, it is inactive. But when active, all crevices resound to its blast. Have you never listened to its deafening roar? "Caves and dells of hill and forest, hollows in huge trees of many a span in girth -- some are like nostrils, and some like mouths, and others like ears, beam-sockets, goblets, mortars, or like pools and puddles. And the wind goes rushing through them, like swirling torrents or singing arrows, bellowing, sousing, trilling, wailing, roaring, purling, whistling in front and echoing behind, now soft with the cool blow, now shrill with the whirlwind, until the tempest is past and silence reigns supreme. Have you never witnessed how the trees and objects shake and quake, and twist and twirl?" "Well, then," inquired Tseyu, "since the music of Earth consists of hollows and apertures, and the music of man of pipes and flutes, of what consists the music of Heaven?" "The effect of the wind upon these various apertures," replied Tsech'i, "is not uniform, but the sounds are produced according to their individual capacities. Who is it that agitates their breasts? "Great wisdom is generous; petty wisdom is contentious. Great speech is impassioned, small speech cantankerous. "For whether the soul is locked in sleep or whether in waking hours the body moves, we are striving and struggling with the immediate circumstances. Some are easy-going and leisurely, some are deep and cunning, and some are secretive. Now we are frightened over petty fears, now disheartened and dismayed over some great terror. Now the mind flies forth like an arrow from a cross-bow, to be the arbiter of right and wrong. Now it stays behind as if sworn to an oath, to hold on to what it has secured. Then, as under autumn and winter's blight, comes gradual decay, and submerged in its own occupations, it keeps on running its course, never to return. Finally, worn out and imprisoned, it is choked up like an old drain, and the failing mind shall not see light again(8). "Joy and anger, sorrow and happiness, worries and regrets, indecision and fears, come upon us by turns, with ever-changing moods, like music from the hollows, or like mushrooms from damp. Day and night they alternate within us, but we cannot tell whence they spring. Alas! Alas! Could we for a moment lay our finger upon their very Cause? "But for these emotions I should not be. Yet but for me, there would be no one to feel them. So far we can go; but we do not know by whose order they come into play. It would seem there was a soul;(9) but the clue to its existence is wanting. That it functions is credible enough, though we cannot see its form. Perhaps it has inner reality without outward form. "Take the human body with all its hundred bones, nine external cavities and six internal organs, all complete. Which part of it should I love best? Do you not cherish all equally, or have you a preference? Do these organs serve as servants of someone else? Since servants cannot govern themselves, do they serve as master and servants by turn? Surely there is some soul which controls them all. "But whether or not we ascertain what is the true nature of this soul, it matters but little to the soul itself. For once coming into this material shape, it runs its course until it is exhausted. To be harassed by the wear and tear of life, and to be driven along without possibility of arresting one's course, -- is not this pitiful indeed? To labor without ceasing all life, and then, without living to enjoy the fruit, worn out with labor, to depart, one knows not whither, -- is not this a just cause for grief?" "Men say there is no death -- to what avail? The body decomposes, and the mind goes with it. Is this not a great cause for sorrow? Can the world be so dull as not to see this? Or is it I alone who am dull, and others not so?" Now if we are to be guided by our prejudices, who shall be without a guide? What need to make comparisons of right and wrong with others? And if one is to follow one's own judgments according to his prejudices, even the fools have them! But to form judgments of right and wrong without first having a mind at all is like saying, "I left for Yu:eh today, and got there yesterday." Or, it is like assuming something which does not exist to exist. The (illusions of) assuming something which does not exist to exist could not be fathomed even by the divine Yu:; how much less could we? For speech is not mere blowing of breath. It is intended to say some thing, only what it is intended to say cannot yet be determined. Is there speech indeed, or is there not? Can we, or can we not, distinguish it from the chirping of young birds? How can Tao be obscured so that there should be a distinction of true and false? How can speech be so obscured that there should be a distinction of right and wrong?(10) Where can you go and find Tao not to exist? Where can you go and find that words cannot be proved? Tao is obscured by our inadequate understanding, and words are obscured by flowery expressions. Hence the affirmations and denials of the Confucian and Motsean(11) schools, each denying what the other affirms and affirming what the other denies. Each denying what the other affirms and affirming what the other denies brings us only into confusion. There is nothing which is not this; there is nothing which is not that. What cannot be seen by what (the other person) can be known by myself. Hence I say, this emanates from that; that also derives from this. This is the theory of the interdependence of this and that (relativity of standards). Nevertheless, life arises from death, and vice versa. Possibility arises from impossibility, and vice versa. Affirmation is based upon denial, and vice versa. Which being the case, the true sage rejects all distinctions and takes his refuge in Heaven (Nature). For one may base it on this, yet this is also that and that is also this. This also has its 'right' and 'wrong', and that also has its 'right' and 'wrong.' Does then the distinction between this and that really exist or not? When this (subjective) and that (objective) are both without their correlates, that is the very 'Axis of Tao.' And when that Axis passes through the center at which all Infinities converge, affirmations and denials alike blend into the infinite One. Hence it is said that there is nothing like using the Light. To take a finger in illustration of a finger not being a finger is not so good as to take something which is not a finger to illustrate that a finger is not a finger. To take a horse in illustration of a horse not being a horse is not so good as to take something which is not a horse to illustrate that a horse is not a horse(12). So with the universe which is but a finger, but a horse. The possible is possible: the impossible is impossible. Tao operates, and the given results follow; things receive names and are said to be what they are. Why are they so? They are said to be so! Why are they not so? They are said to be not so! Things are so by themselves and have possibilities by themselves. There is nothing which is not so and there is nothing which may not become so. Therefore take, for instance, a twig and a pillar, or the ugly person and the great beauty, and all the strange and monstrous transformations. These are all leveled together by Tao. Division is the same as creation; creation is the same as destruction. There is no such thing as creation or destruction, for these conditions are again leveled together into One. Only the truly intelligent understand this principle of the leveling of all things into One. They discard the distinctions and take refuge in the common and ordinary things. The common and ordinary things serve certain functions and therefore retain the wholeness of nature. From this wholeness, one comprehends, and from comprehension, one to the Tao. There it stops. To stop without knowing how it stops -- this is Tao. But to wear out one's intellect in an obstinate adherence to the individuality of things, not recognizing the fact that all things are One, -- that is called "Three in the Morning." What is "Three in the Morning?" A keeper of monkeys said with regard to their rations of nuts that each monkey was to have three in the morning and four at night. At this the monkeys were very angry. Then the keeper said they might have four in the morning and three at night, with which arrangement they were all well pleased. The actual number of nuts remained the same, but there was a difference owing to (subjective evaluations of) likes and dislikes. It also derives from this (principle of subjectivity). Wherefore the true Sage brings all the contraries together and rests in the natural Balance of Heaven. This is called (the principle of following) two courses (at once). The knowledge of the men of old had a limit. When was the limit? It extended back to a period when matter did not exist. That was the extreme point to which their knowledge reached. The second period was that of matter, but of matter unconditioned (undefined). The third epoch saw matter conditioned (defined), but judgments of true and false were still unknown. When these appeared, Tao began to decline. And with the decline of Tao, individual bias (subjectivity) arose. Besides, did Tao really rise and decline?(13) In the world of (apparent) rise and decline, the famous musician Chao Wen did play the string instrument; but in respect to the world without rise and decline, Chao Wen did not play the string instrument. When Chao Wen stopped playing the string instrument, Shih K'uang (the music master) laid down his drum-stick (for keeping time), and Hueitse (the sophist) stopped arguing, they all understood the approach of Tao. These people are the best in their arts, and therefore known to posterity. They each loved his art, and wanted to excel in his own line. And because they loved their arts, they wanted to make them known to others. But they were trying to teach what (in its nature) could not be known. Consequently Hueitse ended in the obscure discussions of the "hard" and "white"; and Chao Wen's son tried to learn to play the stringed instrument all his life and failed. If this may be called success, then I, too, have succeeded. But if neither of them could be said to have succeeded, then neither I nor others have succeeded. Therefore the true Sage discards the light that dazzles and takes refuge in the common and ordinary. Through this comes understanding. Suppose here is a statement. We do not know whether it belongs to one category or another. But if we put the different categories in one, then the differences of category cease to exist. However, I must explain. If there was a beginning, then there was a time before that beginning, and a time before the time which was before the time of that beginning. If there is existence, there must have been non-existence. And if there was a time when nothing existed, then there must have been a time when even nothing did not exist. All of a sudden, nothing came into existence. Could one then really say whether it belongs to the category of existence or of non-existence? Even the very words I have just now uttered, -- I cannot say whether they say something or not. There is nothing under the canopy of heaven greater than the tip of a bird's down in autumn, while the T'ai Mountain is small. Neither is there any longer life than that of a child cut off in infancy, while P'eng Tsu himself died young. The universe and I came into being together; I and everything therein are One. If then all things are One, what room is there for speech? On the other hand, since I can say the word 'one' how can speech not exist? If it does exist, we have One and speech -- two; and two and one -- three(14) from which point onwards even the best mathematicians will fail to reach (the ultimate); how much more then should ordinary people fail? Hence, if from nothing you can proceed to something, and subsequently reach there, it follows that it would be still easier if you were to start from something. Since you cannot proceed, stop here. Now Tao by its very nature can never be defined. Speech by its very nature cannot express the absolute. Hence arise the distinctions. Such distinctions are: "right" and "left," "relationship" and "duty," "division" and "discrimination, "emulation and contention. These are called the Eight Predicables. Beyond the limits of the external world, the Sage knows that it exists, but does not talk about it. Within the limits of the external world, the Sage talks but does not make comments. With regard to the wisdom of the ancients, as embodied in the canon of Spring and Autumn, the Sage comments, but does not expound. And thus, among distinctions made, there are distinctions that cannot be made; among things expounded, there are things that cannot be expounded. How can that be? it is asked. The true Sage keeps his knowledge within him, while men in general set forth theirs in argument, in order to convince each other. And therefore it is said that one who argues does so because he cannot see certain points. Now perfect Tao cannot be given a name. A perfect argument does not employ words. Perfect kindness does not concern itself with (individual acts of) kindness(15). Perfect integrity is not critical of others(16). Perfect courage does not push itself forward. For the Tao which is manifest is not Tao. Speech which argues falls short of its aim. Kindness which has fixed objects loses its scope. Integrity which is obvious is not believed in. Courage which pushes itself forward never accomplishes anything. These five are, as it were, round (mellow) with a strong bias towards squareness (sharpness). Therefore that knowledge which stops at what it does not know, is the highest knowledge. Who knows the argument which can be argued without words, and the Tao which does not declare itself as Tao? He who knows this may be said to enter the realm of the spirit (17). To be poured into without becoming full, and pour out without becoming empty, without knowing how this is brought about, -- this is the art of "Concealing the Light." Of old, the Emperor Yao said to Shun, "I would smite the Tsungs, and the Kueis, and the Hsu:-aos. Since I have been on the throne, this has ever been on my mind. What do you think?" "These three States," replied Shun, "lie in wild undeveloped regions. Why can you not shake off this idea? Once upon a time, ten suns came out together, and all things were illuminated thereby. How much greater should be the power of virtue which excels the suns?" Yeh Ch'u:eh asked Wang Yi, saying, "Do you know for certain that all things are the same?" "How can I know?" answered Wang Yi. "Do you know what you do not know?" "How can I know!" replied Yeh Ch'u:eh. "But then does nobody know?" "How can I know?" said Wang Yi. "Nevertheless, I will try to tell you. How can it be known that what I call knowing is not really not knowing and that what I call not knowing is not really knowing? Now I would ask you this, If a man sleeps in a damp place, he gets lumbago and dies. But how about an eel? And living up in a tree is precarious and trying to the nerves. But how about monkeys? Of the man, the eel, and the monkey, whose habitat is the right one, absolutely? Human beings feed on flesh, deer on grass, centipedes on little snakes, owls and crows on mice. Of these four, whose is the right taste, absolutely? Monkey mates with the dog-headed female ape, the buck with the doe, eels consort with fishes, while men admire Mao Ch'iang and Li Chi, at the sight of whom fishes plunge deep down in the water, birds soar high in the air, and deer hurry away. Yet who shall say which is the correct standard of beauty? In my opinion, the doctrines of humanity and justice and the paths of right and wrong are so confused that it is impossible to know their contentions." "If you then," asked Yeh Ch'u:eh, "do not know what is good and bad, is the Perfect Man equally without this knowledge?" "The Perfect Man," answered Wang Yi, "is a spiritual being. Were the ocean itself scorched up, he would not feel hot. Were the great rivers frozen hard, he would not feel cold. Were the mountains to be cleft by thunder, and the great deep to be thrown up by storm, he would not tremble with fear. Thus, he would mount upon the clouds of heaven, and driving the sun and the moon before him, pass beyond the limits of this mundane existence. Death and life have no more victory over him. How much less should he concern himself with the distinctions of profit and loss?" Chu: Ch'iao addressed Ch'ang Wutse as follows: "I heard Confucius say, 'The true Sage pays no heed to worldly affairs. He neither seeks gain nor avoids injury. He asks nothing at the hands of man and does not adhere to rigid rules of conduct. Sometimes he says something without speaking and sometimes he speaks without saying anything. And so he roams beyond the limits of this mundane world. 'These,' commented Confucius, 'are futile fantasies.' But to me they are the embodiment of the most wonderful Tao. What is your opinion?" "These are things that perplexed even the Yellow Emperor," replied Ch'ang Wutse. "How should Confucius know? You are going too far ahead. When you see a hen's egg, you already expect to hear a cock crow. When you see a sling, you are already expected to have broiled pigeon. I will say a few words to you at random, and do you listen at random. "How does the Sage seat himself by the sun and moon, and hold the universe in his grasp? He blends everything into one harmonious whole, rejecting the confusion of this and that. Rank and precedence, which the vulgar sedulously cultivate, the Sage stolidly ignores, amalgamating the disparities of ten thousand years into one pure mold. The universe itself, too, conserves and blends all in the same manner. "How do I know that love of life is not a delusion after all? How do I know but that he who dreads death is not as a child who has lost his way and does not know his way home? "The Lady Li Chi was the daughter of the frontier officer of Ai. When the Duke of Chin first got her, she wept until the bosom of her dress was drenched with tears. But when she came to the royal residence, shared with the Duke his luxurious couch, and ate rich food, she repented of having wept. How then do I know but that the dead may repent of having previously clung to life? "Those who dream of the banquet, wake to lamentation and sorrow. Those who dream of lamentation and sorrow wake to join the hunt. While they dream, they do not know that they are dreaming. Some will even interpret the very dream they are dreaming; and only when they awake do they know it was a dream. By and by comes the great awakening, and then we find out that this life is really a great dream. Fools think they are awake now, and flatter themselves they know -- this one is a prince, and that one is a shepherd. What narrowness of mind! Confucius and you are both dreams; and I who say you are dreams -- I am but a dream myself. This is a paradox. Tomorrow a Sage may arise to explain it; but that tomorrow will not be until ten thousand generations have gone by. Yet you may meet him around the corner. "Granting that you and I argue. If you get the better of me, and not I of you, are you necessarily right and I wrong? Or if I get the better of you and not you of me, am I necessarily right and you wrong? Or are we both partly right and partly wrong? Or are we both wholly right and wholly wrong? You and I cannot know this, and consequently we all live in darkness. "Whom shall I ask as arbiter between us? If I ask someone who takes your view, he will side with you. How can such a one arbitrate between us? If I ask someone who takes my view, he will side with me. How can such a one arbitrate between us? If I ask someone who differs from both of us, he will be equally unable to decide between us, since he differs from both of us. And if I ask someone who agrees with both of us, he will be equally unable to decide between us, since he agrees with both of us. Since then you and I and other men cannot decide, how can we depend upon another? The words of arguments are all relative; if we wish to reach the absolute, we must harmonize them by means of the unity of God, and follow their natural evolution, so that we may complete our allotted span of life. "But what is it to harmonize them by means of the unity of God? It is this. The right may not be really right. What appears so may not be really so. Even if what is right is really right, wherein it differs from wrong cannot be made plain by argument. Even if what appears so is really so, wherein it differs from what is not so also cannot be made plain by argument. "Take no heed of time nor of right and wrong. Passing into the realm of the Infinite, take your final rest therein." The Penumbra said to the Umbra, "At one moment you move: at another you are at rest. At one moment you sit down: at another you get up. Why this instability of purpose?" "Perhaps I depend," replied the Umbra, "upon something which causes me to do as I do; and perhaps that something depends in turn upon something else which causes it to do as it does. Or perhaps my dependence is like (the unconscious movements) of a snake's scales or of a cicada's wings. How can I tell why I do one thing, or why I do not do another?" Once upon a time, I, Chuang Chou (18), dreamt I was a butterfly, fluttering hither and thither, to all intents and purposes a butterfly. I was conscious only of my happiness as a butterfly, unaware that I was Chou. Soon I awaked, and there I was, veritably myself again. Now I do not know whether I was then a man dreaming I was a butterfly, or whether I am now a butterfly, dreaming I am a man. Between a man and a butterfly there is necessarily a distinction. The transition is called the transformation of material things (19).

The Preservation of Life Human life is limited, but knowledge is limitless. To drive the limited in pursuit of the limitless is fatal; and to presume that one really knows is fatal indeed! In doing good, avoid fame. In doing bad, avoid disgrace. Pursue a middle course as your principle. Thus you will guard your body from harm, preserve your life, fulfill your duties by your parents, and live your allotted span of life. Prince Huei's cook was cutting up a bullock. Every blow of his hand, every heave of his shoulders, every tread of his foot, every thrust of his knee, every whshh of rent flesh, every chhk of the chopper, was in perfect rhythm, --like the dance of the Mulberry Grove, like the harmonious chords of Ching Shou. "Well done!" cried the Prince. "Yours is skill indeed!" "Sire," replied the cook laying down his chopper, "I have always devoted myself to Tao, which is higher than mere skill. When I first began to cut up bullocks, I saw before me whole bullocks. After three years' practice, I saw no more whole animals. And now I work with my mind and not with my eye. My mind works along without the control of the senses. Falling back upon eternal principles, I glide through such great joints or cavities as there may be, according to the natural constitution of the animal. I do not even touch the convolutions of muscle and tendon, still less attempt to cut through large bones. "A good cook changes his chopper once a year, -- because he cuts. An ordinary cook, one a month, -- because he hacks. But I have had this chopper nineteen years, and although I have cut up many thousand bullocks, its edge is as if fresh from the whetstone. For at the joints there are always interstices, and the edge of a chopper being without thickness, it remains only to insert that which is without thickness into such an interstice. Indeed there is plenty of room for the blade to move about. It is thus that I have kept my chopper for nineteen years as though fresh from the whetstone. "Nevertheless, when I come upon a knotty part which is difficult to tackle, I am all caution. Fixing my eye on it, I stay my hand, and gently apply my blade, until with a hwah the part yields like earth crumbling to the ground. Then I take out my chopper and stand up, and look around, and pause with an air of triumph. Then wiping my chopper, I put it carefully away." "Bravo!" cried the Prince. "From the words of this cook I have learned how to take care of my life." When Hsien, of the Kungwen family, beheld a certain official, he was horrified, and said, "Who is that man? How came he to lose a leg? Is this the work of God, or of man?" "Why, of course, it is the work of God, and not of man," was the reply. "God made this man one-legged. The appearance of men is always balanced. From this it is clear that God and not man made him what he is." A pheasant of the marshes may have to go ten steps to get a peck, a hundred to get a drink. Yet pheasants do not want to be fed in a cage. For although they might have less worries, they would not like it. When Laotse died, Ch'in Yi went to the funeral. He uttered three yells and departed. A disciple asked him saying, "Were you not our Master's friend?" "I was," replied Ch'in Yi. "And if so, do you consider that a sufficient expression of grief at his death?" added the disciple. "I do," said Ch'in Yi. "I had thought he was a (mortal) man, but now I know that he was not. When I went in to mourn, I found old persons weeping as if for their children, young ones wailing as if for their mothers. When these people meet, they must have said words on the occasion and shed tears without any intention. (To cry thus at one's death) is to evade the natural principles (of life and death) and increase human attachments, forgetting the source from which we receive this life. The ancients called this 'evading the retribution of Heaven.' The Master came, because it was his time to be born; He went, because it was his time to go away. Those who accept the natural course and sequence of things and live in obedience to it are beyond joy and sorrow. The ancients spoke of this as the emancipation from bondage. The fingers may not be able to supply all the fuel, but the fire is transmitted, and we know not when it will come to an end."

This Human World Yen huei (20) went to take leave of Confucius. "Whither are you bound?" asked the Master. "I am going to the State of Wei," was the reply. "And what do you propose to do there?" continued Confucius. "I hear," answered Yen Huei, "that the Prince of Wei is of mature age, but of an unmanageable disposition. He behaves as if the people were of no account, and will not see his own faults. He disregards human lives and the people perish; and their corpses lie about like so much under growth in a marsh. The people do not know where to turn for help. And I have heard you say that if a state be well governed, it may be passed over; but that if it be badly governed, then we should visit it. At the door of physicians there are many sick people. I would test my knowledge in this sense, that perchance I may do some good at that state." "Alas!" cried Confucius, "you will be only going to your doom. For Tao must not bustle about. If it does it will have divergent aims. From divergent aims come restlessness; from restlessness comes worry, and from worry one reaches the stage of being beyond hope. The Sages of old first strengthened their own character before they tried to strengthen that of others. Before you have strengthened your own character, what leisure have you to attend to the doings of wicked men? Besides, do you know into what virtue evaporates by motion and where knowledge ends? Virtue evaporates by motion into desire for fame and knowledge ends in contentions. In the struggle for fame men crush each other, while their wisdom but provokes rivalry. Both are instruments of evil, and are not proper principles of living. "Besides, if before one's own solid character and integrity become an influence among men and before one's own disregard for fame reaches the hearts of men, one should go and force the preaching of charity and duty and the rules of conduct on wicked men, he would only make these men hate him for his very goodness. Such a person may be called a messenger of evil. A messenger of evil will be the victim of evil from others. That, alas! will be your end. "On the other hand, if the Prince loves the good and hates evil, what object will you have in inviting him to change his ways? Before you have opened your mouth, the Prince himself will have seized the opportunity to wrest the victory from you. Your eyes will be dazzled, your expression fade, your words will hedge about, your face will show confusion, and your heart will yield within you. It will be as though you took fire to quell fire, water to quell water, which is known as aggravation. And if you begin with concessions, there will be no end to them. If you neglect this sound advice and talk too much, you will die at the hands of that violent man. "Of old, Chieh murdered Kuanlung P'ang, and Chou slew Prince Pikan. Their victims were both men who cultivated themselves and cared for the good of the people, and thus offended their superiors. Therefore, their superiors got rid of them, because of their goodness. This was the result of their love for fame. "Of old, Yao attacked the Ts'ung-chih and Hsu:-ao countries, and Ya attacked the Yu-hus. The countries were laid waste, their inhabitants slaughtered, their rulers killed. Yet they fought without ceasing, and strove for material objects to the last. These are instances of striving for fame or for material objects. Have you not heard that even Sages cannot overcome this love of fame and this desire for material objects (in rulers)? Are you then likely to succeed? But of course you have a plan. Tell it to me." "Gravity of demeanor and humility; persistence and singleness of purpose, -- will this do?" replied Yen Huei. "Alas, no," said Confucius, "how can it? The Prince is a haughty person, filled with pride, and his moods are fickle. No one opposes him, and so he has come to take actual pleasure in trampling upon the feelings of others. And if he has thus failed in the practice of routine virtues, do you expect that he will take readily to higher ones? He will persist in his ways, and though outwardly he may agree with you, inwardly he will not repent. How then will you make him mend his ways?" "Why, then," (replied Yen Huei) "I can be inwardly straight, and outwardly yielding, and I shall substantiate what I say by appeals to antiquity. He who is inwardly straight is a servant of God. And he who is a servant of God knows that the Son of Heaven and himself are equally the children of God (21). Shall then such a one trouble whether his words are approved or disapproved by man? Such a person is commonly regarded as an (innocent) child. This is to be a servant of God. He who is outwardly yielding is a servant of man. He bows, he kneels, he folds his hands -- such is the ceremonial of a minister. What all men do, shall I not do also? What all men do, none will blame me for doing. This is to be a servant of man. He who substantiates his words by appeals to antiquity is a servant of the Sages of old. Although I utter the words of warning and take him to task, it is the Sages of old who speak, and not I. Thus I shall not receive the blame for my uprightness. This is to be the servant of the Sages of old. Will this do?" "No! How can it?" replied Confucius. "Your plans are too many. You are firm, but lacking in prudence. However, you are only narrow minded, but you will not get into trouble; but that is all. You will still be far from influencing him because your own opinions are still too rigid." "Then," said Yen Huei, "I can go no further. I venture to ask for a method." Confucius said, "Keep fast, and I shall tell you. Will it be easy for you when you still have a narrow mind? He who treats things as easy will not be approved by the bright heaven." "My family is poor," replied Yen Huei, "and for many months we have tasted neither wine nor flesh. Is that not fasting?" "That is a fast according to the religious observances," answered Confucius, "but not the fasting of the heart." "And may I ask," said Yen Huei, "in what consists the fasting of the heart?" "Concentrate your will. Hear not with your ears, but with your mind; not with your mind, but with your spirit. Let your hearing stop with the ears, and let your mind stop with its images. Let your spirit, however, be like a blank, passively responsive to externals. In such open receptivity only can Tao abide. And that open receptivity is the fasting of the heart." "Then," said Yen Huei, "the reason I could not use this method was because of consciousness of a self. If I could apply this method, the assumption of a self would have gone. Is this what you mean by the receptive state?" "Exactly so," replied the Master. "Let me tell you. Enter this man's service, but without idea of working for fame. Talk when he is in a mood to listen, and stop when he is not. Do without any sort of labels or self- advertisements. Keep to the One and let things take their natural course. Then you may have some chance of success. It is easy to stop walking: the trouble is to walk without touching the ground. As an agent of man, it is easy to use artificial devices; but not as an agent of God. You have heard of winged creatures flying. You have never heard of flying without wings. You have heard of men being wise with knowledge. You have never heard of men wise without knowledge "Look at that emptiness. There is brightness in an empty room. Good luck dwells in repose. If there is not (inner) repose, your mind will be galloping about though you are sitting still. Let your ears and eyes communicate within but shut out all knowledge from the mind. Then the spirits will come to dwell therein, not to mention man. This is the method for the transformation (influencing) of all Creation. It was the key to the influence of Yu and Shun, and the secret of the success of Fu Hsi and Chi Chu. How much more should the common man follow the same rule?" [Two Sections Are Omitted Here] A certain carpenter Shih was traveling to the Ch'i State. On reaching Shady Circle, he saw a sacred li tree in the temple to the God of Earth. It was so large that its shade could cover a herd of several thousand cattle. It was a hundred spans in girth, towering up eighty feet over the hilltop, before it branched out. A dozen boats could be cut out of it. Crowds stood gazing at it, but the carpenter took no notice, and went on his way without even casting a look behind. His apprentice however took a good look at it, and when he caught up with his master, said, "Ever since I have handled an adz in your service, I have never seen such a splendid piece of timber. How was it that you, Master, did not care to stop and look at it?" "Forget about it. It's not worth talking about," replied his master. "It's good for nothing. Made into a boat, it would sink; into a coffin, it would rot; into furniture, it would break easily; into a door, it would sweat; into a pillar, it would be worm-eaten. It is wood of no quality, and of no use. That is why it has attained its present age." When the carpenter reached home, he dreamt that the spirit of the tree appeared to him in his sleep and spoke to him as follows: "What is it you intend to compare me with? Is it with fine-grained wood? Look at the cherry-apple, the pear, the orange, the pumelo, and other fruit bearers? As soon as their fruit ripens they are stripped and treated with indignity. The great boughs are snapped off, the small ones scattered abroad. Thus do these trees by their own value injure their own lives. They cannot fulfill their allotted span of years, but perish prematurely because they destroy themselves for the (admiration of) the world. Thus it is with all things. Moreover, I tried for a long period to be useless. Many times I was in danger of being cut down, but at length I have succeeded, and so have become exceedingly useful to myself. Had I indeed been of use, I should not be able to grow to this height. Moreover, you and I are both created things. Have done then with this criticism of each other. Is a good-for-nothing fellow in imminent danger of death a fit person to talk of a good-for-nothing tree?" When the carpenter Shih awaked and told his dream, his apprentice said, "If the tree aimed at uselessness, how was it that it became a sacred tree?" "Hush!" replied his master. "Keep quiet. It merely took refuge in the temple to escape from the abuse of those who do not appreciate it. Had it not become sacred, how many would have wanted to cut it down! Moreover, the means it adopts for safety is different from that of others, and to criticize it by ordinary standards would be far wide of the mark." Tsech'i of Nan-po was traveling on the hill of Shang when he saw a large tree which astonished him very much. A thousand chariot teams of four horses could find shelter under its shade. "What tree is this?" cried Tsech'i. "Surely it must be unusually fine timber." Then looking up, he saw that its branches were too crooked for rafters; and looking down he saw that the trunk's twisting loose grain made it valueless for coffins. He tasted a leaf, but it took the skin off his lips; and its odor was so strong that it would make a man intoxicated for three days together. "Ah!" said Tsech'i, "this tree is really good for nothing, and that is how it has attained this size. A spiritual man might well follow its example of uselessness." In the State of Sung there is a land belonging to the Chings, where thrive the catalpa, the cedar, and the mulberry. Such as are of one span or so in girth are cut down for monkey cages. Those of two or three spans are cut down for the beams of fine houses. Those of seven or eight spans are cut down for the solid (unjointed) sides of rich men's coffins. Thus they do not fulfill their allotted span of years, but perish young beneath the ax. Such is the misfortune which overtakes worth. For the sacrifices to the River God, neither bulls with white foreheads, nor pigs with high snouts, nor men suffering from piles, can be used. This is known to all the soothsayers, for these are regarded as inauspicious. The wise, however, would regard them as extremely auspicious (to themselves). There was a hunchback named Su. His jaws touched his navel. His shoulders were higher than his head. His neck bone stuck out toward the sky. His viscera were turned upside down. His buttocks were where his ribs should have been. By tailoring, or washing, he was easily able to earn his living. By sifting rice he could make enough to support a family of ten. When orders came down for a conscription, the hunchback walked about unconcerned among the crowd. And similarly, in government conscription for public works, his deformity saved him from being called. On the other hand, when it came to government donations of grain for the disabled, the hunchback received as much as three chung and of firewood, ten faggots. And if physical deformity was thus enough to preserve his body until the end of his days, how much more should moral and mental deformity avail! When Confucius was in the Ch'u State, the eccentric Chieh Yu passed his door, saying, "O phoenix! O phoenix! How has thy virtue fallen! Wait not for the coming years, nor hanker back to the past. When the right principles prevail on earth, prophets will fulfill their mission. When the right principles prevail not, they will but preserve themselves. At the present day, they are but trying to keep out of jail! The good fortunes of this world are light as feathers, yet none estimates them at their true value. The misfortunes of this life are weighty as the earth, yet none knows how to keep out of their reach. No more, no more, show off your virtue. Beware, beware, move cautiously on! O brambles, O brambles, wound not my steps! I pick my way about, hurt not my feet!" (22) The mountain trees invite their own cutting down; lamp oil invites its own burning up. Cinnamon bark can be eaten; therefore the tree is cut down. Lacquer can be used, therefore the tree is scraped. All men know the utility of useful things; but they do not know the utility of futility.

Deformities, or Evidence of a Full Character (23) In the state of Lu there was a man, named Wang T'ai, who had had one of his legs cut off. His disciples were as numerous as those of Confucius. Ch'ang Chi asked Confucius, saying, "This Wang T'ai has been mutilated, yet he has as many followers in the Lu State as you. He neither stands up to preach nor sits down to give discourse; yet those who go to him empty, depart full. Is he the kind of person who can teach without words and influence people's minds without material means? What manner of man is this?" "He is a sage," replied Confucius, "I wanted to go to him, but am merely behind the others. Even I will go and make him my teacher, -- why not those who are lesser than I? And I will lead, not only the State of Lu, but the whole world to follow him." "The man has been mutilated," said Ch'ang Chi, "and yet people call him 'Master.' He must be very different from the ordinary men. If so, how does he train his mind?" "Life and Death are indeed changes of great moment," answered Confucius, "but they cannot affect his mind. Heaven and earth may collapse, but his mind will remain. Being indeed without flaw, it will not share the fate of all things. It can control the transformation of things, while preserving its source intact." "How so?" asked Ch'ang Chi. "From the point of view of differentiation of things," replied Confucius, "we distinguish between the liver and the gall, between the Ch'u State and the Yueh State. From the point of view of their sameness, all things are One. He who regards things in this light does not even trouble about what reaches him through the senses of hearing and sight, but lets his mind wander in the moral harmony of things. He beholds the unity in things, and does not notice the loss of particular objects. And thus the loss of his leg is to him as would be the loss of so much dirt." "But he cultivates only himself," said Ch'ang Chi. "He uses his knowledge to perfect his mind, and develops his mind into the Absolute Mind. But how is it that people flock around him?" "A man," replied Confucius, "does not seek to see himself in running water, but in still water. For only what is itself still can instill stillness into others. The grace of earth has reached only the pines and cedars; winter and summer alike, they are green. The grace of God has reached to Yao and to Shun, who alone attained rectitude. Happily he was able to rectify himself and thus become the means through which all were rectified. For the possession of one's original (nature) is evidenced in true courage. A man will, single-handed, brave a whole army. And if such a result can be achieved by one in search of fame through self control, how much greater courage can be shown by one who extends his sway over heaven and earth and gives shelter to all things, who, lodging temporarily within the confines of a body with contempt for the superficialities of sight and sound, brings his knowledge to level all knowledge and whose mind never dies! Besides, he (Wang T'ai) is only awaiting his appointed hour to go up to Heaven. Men indeed flock to him of their own accord. How can he take seriously the affairs of this world?" Shent'u Chia had only one leg. He studied under Pohun Wujen (Muddle-Head No-Such-Person") together with Tsech'an (24) of the Cheng State. The latter said to him, "When I leave first, do you remain behind. When you leave first, I will remain behind." Next day, when they were again together sitting on the same mat in the lecture-room, Tsech'an said, "When I leave first, do you remain behind. Or if you leave first, I will remain behind. I am now about to go. Will you remain or not? I notice you show no respect to a high personage. Perhaps you think yourself my equal?" "In the house of the Master," replied Shent'u Chia, "there is already a high personage (the Master). Perhaps you think that you are the high personage and therefore should take precedence over the rest. Now I have heard that if a mirror is perfectly bright, dust will not collect on it, and that if it does, the mirror is no longer bright. He who associates for long with the wise should be without fault. Now you have been seeking the greater things at the feet of our Master, yet you can utter words like these. Don't you think you are making a mistake?" "You are already mutilated like this." retorted Tsech'an, "yet you are still seeking to compete in virtue with Yao. To look at you, I should say you had enough to do to reflect on your past misdeeds!" "Those who cover up their sins," said Shent'u Chia, "so as not to lose their legs, are many in number. Those who forget to cover up their misdemeanors and so lose their legs (through punishment) are few. But only the virtuous man can recognize the inevitable and remain unmoved. People who walked in front of the bull's-eye when Hou Yi (the famous archer) was shooting, would be hit. Some who were not hit were just lucky. There are many people with sound legs who laugh at me for not having them. This used to make me angry. But since I came to study under our Master, I have stopped worrying about it. Perhaps our Master has so far succeeded in washing (purifying) me with his goodness. At any rate, I have been with him nineteen years without being aware of my deformity. Now you and I are roaming in the realm of the spiritual, and you are judging me in the realm of the physical. (25) Are you not committing a mistake?" At this Tsech'an began to fidget and his countenance changed, and he bade Shent'u Chia to speak no more. There was a man of the Lu State who had been mutilated, by the name of Shushan No-toes. He came walking on his heels to see Confucius; but Confucius said, "You were careless, and so brought this misfortune upon yourself. What is the use of coming to me now?" "It was because I was inexperienced and careless with my body that I hurt my feet," replied No-toes. "Now I have come with something more precious than feet, and it is that which I am seeking to preserve. There is no man, but Heaven shelters him; and there is no man, but the Earth supports him. I thought that you, Master, would be like Heaven and Earth. I little expected to hear these words from you." "Pardon my stupidity," said Confucius. "Why not come in? I shall discuss with you what I have learned." But No-toes left. When No-toes had left, Confucius said to his disciples, "Take a good lesson. No-toes is one-legged, yet he is seeking to learn in order to make atonement for his previous misdeeds. How much more should those who have no misdeeds for which to atone?" No-toes went off to see Lao Tan (Laotse) and said, "Is Confucius a Perfect One or is he not quite? How is it that he is so anxious to learn from you? He is seeking to earn a reputation by his abstruse and strange learning, which is regarded by the Perfect One as mere fetters." "Why do you not make him regard life and death, and possibility and impossibility as alternations of one and the same principle," answered Lao Tan, "and so release him from these fetters?" "It is God who has thus punished him," replied No-toes. "How could he be released?" Duke Ai of the Lu State said to Confucius, "In the Wei State there is an ugly person, named Ait'ai (Ugly) T'o. The men who have lived with him cannot stop thinking about him. Women who have seen him, would say to their parents, 'Rather than be another man's wife, I would be this man's concubine.' There are scores of such women. He never tries to lead others, but only follows them. He wields no power of a ruler by which he may protect men's lives. He has no hoarded wealth by which to gratify their bellies, and is besides frightfully loathsome. He follows but does not lead, and his name is not known outside his own State. Yet men and women alike all seek his company. So there must be some thing in him that is different from other people. I sent for him, and saw that he was indeed frightfully ugly. Yet we had not been many months together before I began to see there was something in this man. A year had not passed before I began to trust him. As my State wanted a Prime Minister, I offered him the post. He looked sullenly before he replied and appeared as if he would much rather have declined. Perhaps he did not think me good enough for him! At any rate, I gave the post to him; but in a very short time he left me and went away. I grieved for him as for a lost friend, as though there were none left with whom I could enjoy having my kingdom. What manner of man is this?" "When I was on a mission to the Ch'u State," replied Confucius, "I saw a litter of young pigs sucking their dead mother. After a while they looked at her, and then all left the body and went off. For their mother did not look at them any more, nor did she seem any more to have been of their kind. What they loved was their mother; not the body which contained her, but that which made the body what it was. When a man is killed in battle, his coffin is not covered with a square canopy. A man whose leg has been cut off does not value a present of shoes. In each case, the original purpose of such things is gone. The concubines of the Son of Heaven do not cut their nails or pierce their ears. Those (servants) who are married have to live outside (the palace) and cannot be employed again. Such is the importance attached to preserving the body whole. How much more valued is one who has preserved his virtue whole? "Now Ugly T'o has said nothing and is already trusted. He has achieved nothing and is sought after, and is offered the government of a country with the only fear that he might decline. Indeed he must be the one whose talents are perfect and whose virtue is without outward form!" What do you mean by his talents being perfect?" asked the Duke. Life and Death, ' replied Confucius, "possession and loss, success and failure, poverty and wealth, virtue and vice, good and evil report hunger and thirst, heat and cold -- these are changes of things in the natural course of events. Day and night they follow upon one another, and no man can say where they spring from. Therefore they must not be allowed to disturb the natural harmony, nor enter into the soul's domain. One should live so that one is at ease and in harmony with the world, without loss of happiness, and by day and by night, share the (peace of) spring with the created things. Thus continuously one creates the seasons in one's own breast. Such a person may be said to have perfect talents." "And what is virtue without outward form?" "When standing still," said Confucius, "the water is in the most perfect state of repose. Let that be your model. It remains quietly within, and is not agitated without. It is from the cultivation of such harmony that virtue results. And if virtue takes no outward form, man will not be able to keep aloof from it." Some days afterwards Duke Ai told Mintse saying, "When first I took over the reins of government, I thought that in guiding the people and caring for their lives, I had done all my duty as a ruler. But now that I have heard the words of a perfect man, I fear that I have not achieved it, but am foolishly squandering my bodily energy and bringing ruin to my country. Confucius and I are not prince and minister, but friends in spirit.' Hunchback-Deformed-No-Lips spoke with Duke Ling of Wei and the Duke took a fancy to him. As for the well- formed men, he thought their necks were too scraggy. Big-Jar-Goiter spoke with Duke Huan of Ch'i, and the Duke took a fancy to him. As for the well-formed men, he thought their necks were too scraggy. Thus it is that when virtue excels, the outward form is forgotten. But mankind forgets not that which is to be forgotten, forgetting that which is not to be forgotten. This is forgetfulness indeed! And thus the Sage sets his spirit free, while knowledge is regarded as extraneous growths - agreements are for cementing relationships, goods are only for social dealings, and the handicrafts are only for serving commerce. For the Sage does not contrive, and therefore has no use for knowledge; he does not cut up the world, and therefore requires no cementing of relationships; he has no loss, and therefore has no need to acquire; he sells nothing, and therefore has no use for commerce. These four qualifications are bestowed upon him by God, that is to say, he is fed by God. And he who is thus fed by God has little need to be fed by man. He wears the human form without human passions. Because he wears the human form he associates with men. Because he has not human passions the questions of right and wrong do not touch him. Infinitesimal indeed is that which belongs to the human; infinitely great is that which is completed in God. Hueitse said to Chuangtse, "Do men indeed originally have no passions?" "Certainly," replied Chuangtse. "But if a man has no passions," argued Hueitse, "what is it that makes him a man?" "Tao," replied Chuangtse, "gives him his expressions, and God gives him his form. How should he not be a man?" "If then he is a man," said Hueitse, "how can he be without passions?" "Right and wrong (approval and disapproval)," answered Chuangtse, "are what I mean by passions. By a man without passions I mean one who does not permit likes and dislikes to disturb his internal economy, but rather falls in line with nature and does not try to improve upon (the materials of) living." "But how is a man to live this bodily life," asked Hueitse. "He does not try to improve upon (the materials of) his living?" "Tao gives him his expression," said Chuangtse, "and God gives him his form. He should not permit likes and dislikes to disturb his internal economy. But now you are devoting your intelligence to externals, and wearing out your vital spirit. Lean against a tree and sing; or sit against a table and sleep! God has made you a shapely sight, yet your only thought is the hard and white." (26)

The Great Supreme He who knows what is of God and who knows what is of Man has reached indeed the height (of wisdom). One who knows what is of God patterns his living after God. One who knows what is of Man may still use his knowledge of the known to develop his knowledge of the unknown, living till the end of his days and not perishing young. This is the fullness of knowledge. Herein, however, there is a flaw. Correct knowledge is dependent on objects, but the objects of knowledge are relative and uncertain (changing). How can one know that the natural is not really of man, and what is of man is not really natural? We must, moreover, have true men before we can have true knowledge. But what is a true man? The true men of old did not override the weak, did not attain their ends by brute strength, and did not gather around them counsellors. Thus, failing they had no cause for regret; succeeding, no cause for self-satisfaction. And thus they could scale heights without trembling, enter water without becoming wet, and go through fire without feeling hot. That is the kind of knowledge which reaches to the depths of Tao. The true men of old slept without dreams and waked up without worries. They ate with indifference to flavour, and drew deep breaths. For true men draw breath from their heels, the vulgar only from their throats. Out of the crooked, words are retched up like vomit. When man's attachments are deep, their divine endowments are shallow. The true men of old did not know what it was to love life or to hate death. They did not rejoice in birth, nor strive to put off dissolution. Unconcerned they came and unconcerned they went. That was all. They did not forget whence it was they had sprung, neither did they seek to inquire their return thither. Cheerfully they accepted life, waiting patiently for their restoration (the end). This is what is called not to lead the heart astray from Tao, and not to supplement the natural by human means. Such a one may be called a true man. Such men are free in mind and calm in demeanor, with high fore heads. Sometimes disconsolate like autumn, and sometimes warm like spring, their joys and sorrows are in direct touch with the four seasons in harmony with all creation, and none know the limit thereof. And so it is that when the Sage wages war, he can destroy a kingdom and yet not lose the affection of the people; he spreads blessing upon all things, but it is not due to his (conscious) love of fellow men. Therefore he who delights in understanding the material world is not a Sage. He who has personal attachments is not humane. He who calculates the time of his actions is not wise. He who does not know the interaction of benefit and harm is not a superior man. He who pursues fame at the risk of losing his self is not a scholar. He who loses his life and is not true to himself can never be a master of man. Thus Hu Puhsieh, Wu Kuang, Po Yi, Shu Chi, Chi Tse, Hsu Yu, Chi T'o, and Shent'u Ti, were the servants of rulers, and did the behests of others, not their own. (27) The true men of old appeared of towe