Zhuang Zhou was a Daoist philosopher, who probably lived in the fourth century BC. He was also probably an official in a place called Meng, in the state of Song. Probably. The Zhuangzi was almost certainly not entirely written by him, but was added onto and amended by his followers over the centuries. Even within the text considered most likely to be authentically his, he admits to a method of using imputed words, repeated words, and goblet words—basically, putting words into the mouths of famous people to help make a point more compelling, repeating the sayings of historic figures to add weightiness, and using ambiguous words, whose meanings could fluctuate over time and context. With those caveats, Zhuang Zhou has clearly written a masterful philosophical treatise with subtle nuggets of wisdom, intriguing paradoxes, and much to mull over. Also of some dispute was his relationship with Lao Tzu, his fellow Daoist, as well as with Confucius and Mozi. He writes about them a lot, and even quotes from them liberally, in what is sometimes a clearly nonfactual (imputed) manner to make his points.
Zhuang Zhou begins, “Liezi (Lao Tzu) concluded that he had never really begun to learn anything. He went home and, for three years, did not go out. He replaced his wife at the stove, fed the pigs as though he were feeding people, and showed no preferences in the things he did. He got rid of the carving and polishing and returned to plainness, letting his body stand alone like a clod. In the midst of entanglement he remained sealed, and in this oneness he ended his life.” Zhou continues by describing the ways of the sage, in general, “The sage contemplates Heaven but does not assist it. He finds completion in Virtue but piles on nothing more. He goes forth in the Way but does not scheme. He accords with benevolence but does not set great store by it. He draws close to righteousness but does not labor over it. He responds to the demands of ritual and does not shun them. He disposes of affairs and makes no excuses. He brings all to order with laws and allows no confusion. He depends on the people and does not make light of them. He relies on things and does not throw them aside. Among things, there are none that are worth using, and yet they must be used.”
Essential to Daoist philosophy is the concept of the Way. “He who holds fast to the Way is complete in Virtue; being complete in Virtue, he is complete in body; being complete in body, he is complete in spirit; and to be complete in spirit is the Way of the sage. He is content to live among the people, to walk by their side, and never know where he is going. Witless, his purity is complete. Achievement, profit, machines, skill—they have no place in this man’s mind! A man like this will not go where he has no will to go, will not do what he has no mind to do. Though the world might praise him and say he had really found something, he would look unconcerned and never turn his head; though the world might condemn him and say he had lost something, he would look serene and pay no heed. The praise and blame of the world are no loss or gain to him. He may be called a man of Complete Virtue.”
Zhou continues with some specific advice. Be wary of those who claim that they have found the answers to life’s mysteries. “Those who know do not speak; those who speak do not know. Therefore the sage practices the teaching that has no words.” Inaction is paramount to Zhou’s worldview. The true sage practices inaction. “He who practices the Way does less every day, does less and goes on doing less until he reaches the point where he does nothing; does nothing and yet there is nothing that is not done.” Acceptance of the interconnectedness of the world also leads to wisdom. “You have only to comprehend the one breath that is the world. The sage never ceases to value oneness.” Zhou then quotes Chizhang Manqui on the paradox of virtue. “In an age of Perfect Virtue, the worthy are not honored; the talented are not employed. Rulers are like the high branches of a tree; the people, like the deer of the fields. They do what is right, but they do not know that this is righteousness. They love one another, but they do not know that this is benevolence. They are truehearted but do not know that this is loyalty. They are trustworthy but do not know that this is good faith. They wriggle around like insects, performing services for one another, but do not know that they are being kind. Therefore they move without leaving any trail behind, act without leaving any memory of their deeds.” Zhou also brings in Confucius, who, in this case, appears to agree with Zhou’s conception of the true sage. “To understand that hardship is a matter of fate, that success is a matter of the times, and to face great difficulty without fear—this is the courage of the sage.”
Zhou also quotes Confucius in cautioning against the unabashed goodness of knowledge. “The sacred turtle could appear to Lord Yuan in a dream, but it couldn’t escape from Yu Ju’s net. It knew enough to give correct answers to seventy-two queries, but it couldn’t escape the disaster of having its belly ripped open. So it is that knowledge has its limitations, and the sacred has that which it can do nothing about.” In general, Zhou cautions against being the nail that sticks out. He quotes Taigong Ren, “The straight-trunked tree is the first to be felled; the well of sweet water is the first to run dry. And you now--you show off your wisdom in order to astound the ignorant, work at your good conduct in order to distinguish yourself from the disreputable.” It is far better to know your nature and be true to it. Zhou quotes Man Goude, “The petty man will die for riches, the gentleman will die for reputation. In the manner in which they alter their true form and change their inborn nature, they differ. But insofar as they throw away what is already theirs and are willing to die for something that is not theirs, they are identical.... Do not strive to make your conduct consistent; do not try to perfect your righteousness, or you will lose what you already have. Do not race after riches; do not risk your life for success, or you will let slip the Heaven within you.”
Finally, Zhuang Zhou advises on setting limits, knowing oneself, and being content without external trifles. “He who has mastered the true nature of life does not labor over what life cannot do. He who has mastered the true nature of fate does not labor over what knowledge cannot change. He who wants to nourish his body must, first of all, turn to things. And yet it is possible to have more than enough things and for the body still to go unnourished.” He suggests that wisdom is always hard to find among the living. “The fish trap exists because of the fish; once you’ve gotten the fish, you can forget the trap. The rabbit snare exists because of the rabbit; once you’ve gotten the rabbit, you can forget the snare. Words exist because of meaning; once you’ve gotten the meaning, you can forget the words. Where can I find a man who has forgotten words so I can have a word with him?”
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