On Making All Things Equal莊子 內篇 齊物論

Nanguo Ziqi sat leaning on his armrest, and he looked up at the sky and breathed out, and he was blank, as though he had lost his own mate. Yancheng Ziyou stood in attendance before him and said, "What has happened? Can the body truly be made like withered wood, and can the mind truly be made like dead ashes? The man leaning on the armrest now is not the man who leaned on the armrest before."

Ziqi said, "Yan, you do well to ask it. Just now I lost myself. Do you know it? You have heard the pipes of man but not the pipes of earth. You have heard the pipes of earth but not the pipes of heaven."

Ziyou said, "May I ask the way of it."

Ziqi said, "The great clod belches out its breath, and the name of it is wind. So long as it does not rise, nothing happens, but when it rises, then the ten thousand hollows roar in anger. Have you not heard that long drawn moaning?

The hills and forests stand steep, and the hollows of a great tree a hundred spans around are like a nose, like a mouth, like an ear, like a bracket, like a cup, like a mortar, like a puddle, like a pool. They make the sound of water dashing, the sound of whistling, the sound of scolding, the sound of drawing breath in, the sound of shouting, the sound of sobbing, a deep sound, a gnawing sound. The one in front calls out yu and the one behind answers yu. In a light breeze they answer one another softly, and in a whirlwind they answer loudly, and when the fierce wind passes the ten thousand hollows are empty. Have you not seen the branches still swaying and trembling?"

Ziyou said, "The pipes of earth, then, are these ten thousand hollows, and the pipes of man are the bamboos set in a row. May I ask about the pipes of heaven."

Ziqi said, "It blows in ten thousand ways, and it lets each one be so of itself. All of them take it up of themselves, so who is it that rouses them?"

Great knowledge is broad and easy, and small knowledge is picking and narrow. Great words are plain, and small words are chattering.

In sleep the spirits mingle, and on waking the body opens. What they touch they tangle with, and day after day they fight with the mind. There are the slack, the deep hidden, the close guarded. In small fear they tremble, and in great fear they lose themselves.

That they shoot out like the notch of a crossbow is said of the way they pick out right and wrong. That they hold back as though they had sworn an oath is said of the way they guard a victory. That they wither as in autumn and winter is said of the way they waste from day to day. What they have sunk into cannot be brought back. That they are stopped up as though sealed is said of the way they grow old and worn hollow. A mind close to death cannot be brought back to life by anything.

There is joy and anger, sorrow and delight, worry and lament, changeableness and dread, restlessness and license and affectation. As music comes out of the empty and as mushrooms rise out of the damp, so these alternate before us day and night, and no one knows where they sprout from.

Enough of it, enough of it. Morning and evening this is what is got, and is this what it is that they live by?

Without that there is no me, and without me there is nothing for it to be taken from. This too is close, and yet no one knows what it is that makes it so. There seems to be a true master, but no trace of it can be found. It works and is trusted, but its form is not seen. It has a substance and it has no form.

The hundred joints and the nine openings and the six organs are all there together, and which of them shall I be close to? Do you like them all, or do you favor one? If you favor one, then are they all made servants and concubines? Are servants and concubines unable to govern one another? Do they take turns being ruler and servant? Or is there a true ruler among them? Whether one searches out its substance and finds it or does not find it, nothing is added to its truth and nothing is taken away.

Once a man has received his finished form, he holds to it undestroyed and waits for the end. He cuts against things and is ground by them, and he runs his course as though galloping, and nothing can stop him. Is this not sad? He labors all his life and never sees the work finished. He is worn out and weary and does not know where he is going home to. Is this not pitiful? What good is it if people say he has not died? His form changes, and his mind goes with it. Shall this not be called a great sorrow?

Is a man's life truly as dark as this? Am I the only one who is in the dark, and are there others who are not?

If a man follows the mind he has already made and takes it for his teacher, then who is without a teacher? Why should only the one who knows the turning of things and takes it up in his own mind have such a teacher? The fool has one as well. To have right and wrong before the mind is finished is to say that one set out for Yue today and arrived yesterday. This is to take what is not there for something that is there. If what is not there is taken for something that is there, then even the spirit like Yu could not understand it, and what am I alone to do?

Words are not the blowing of wind. One who speaks has words. It is only that what the words say is not fixed. Are there words after all, or have there never yet been words? If one holds that words differ from the peeping of a newly hatched bird, is there a distinction, or is there none?

Where is the Way hidden, that true and false have come up? Where are words hidden, that right and wrong have come up? Where could the Way go and not be there? Where could words be and not be allowed? The Way is hidden by small achievements, and words are hidden by fine show. So there are the right and wrong of the Confucians and the Mohists, each calling right what the other calls wrong and calling wrong what the other calls right. If you would call right what the other calls wrong and call wrong what the other calls right, nothing is so good as to light it up with clarity.

There is nothing among things that is not that, and nothing that is not this. Seen from over there it is not seen, but known from oneself it is known. So it is said that that comes out of this, and this also follows from that. That and this are born together, so the saying goes.

Even so, being born it is at once dying, and dying it is at once born. Being allowed it is at once not allowed, and not being allowed it is at once allowed. Right follows from wrong and wrong follows from right. So the sage does not take that road, but holds it up against heaven. This too follows from what is so.

This is also that, and that is also this. That has one right and wrong, and this has one right and wrong. Are there after all a that and a this? Are there after all no that and no this? Where that and this no longer find their match is called the pivot of the Way. The pivot first finds the center of the ring, and with it it answers the endless. Right is one endless thing, and wrong is one endless thing. So it was said, "Nothing is so good as to light it up with clarity."

Using a finger to show that a finger is not a finger is not as good as using what is not a finger to show that a finger is not a finger. Using a horse to show that a horse is not a horse is not as good as using what is not a horse to show that a horse is not a horse. Heaven and earth are one finger, and the ten thousand things are one horse.

What is allowed is allowed, and what is not allowed is not allowed. A road is made by walking it, and a thing is so because it is called so. Why is it so? It is so because it is so. Why is it not so? It is not so because it is not so. Things have from the first that in which they are so, and they have from the first that in which they are allowed. There is no thing that is not so, and no thing that is not allowed.

So take up a slender stalk and a great pillar, a leper and Xishi, whatever is odd and strange, and the Way runs through them and makes them one. Their dividing is a making, and their making is a breaking. But things have neither making nor breaking, and they run through again into one. Only the one who has gone all the way knows that they run through into one. For this reason he does not use his own judgment but leaves things to their common use. Common use is usefulness, and usefulness is running through, and running through is getting there. Come to getting there and you are nearly done, and you have only followed what is so. To do this and not know that it is so is called the Way.

To wear out the spirit trying to make things one and not to know that they are the same is called three in the morning (朝三). What is three in the morning? The keeper of the monkeys was handing out acorns, and he said, "Three in the morning and four in the evening." The monkeys were all angry. He said, "Then four in the morning and three in the evening." The monkeys were all pleased. Neither the name nor the substance was marred, and yet anger and pleasure were put to work. This too follows from what is so.

So the sage brings right and wrong together and rests in the evenness of heaven. This is called walking both roads (兩行).

The men of old had knowledge that reached somewhere. How far did it reach? There were those who held that things had never yet begun to be, and that is the utmost and the end of it, and nothing can be added. Next were those who held that things are, but that there had never yet begun to be borders. Next were those who held that there are borders, but that there had never yet begun to be right and wrong.

The showing forth of right and wrong is how the Way is marred. The marring of the Way is how partial love is made. Is there after all a making and a marring? Is there after all no making and no marring? That there is a making and a marring is Master Zhao playing the zither. That there is no making and no marring is Master Zhao not playing the zither.

Zhao Wen playing the zither, Shi Kuang leaning on his staff, Huizi resting against the paulownia — the knowledge of these three men nearly reached it, and all of them stood at the height of it, and so their names were set down to their last years. It was only that they wished to set apart what they loved, and having loved it they wished to make it clear to others. They tried to make clear what could not be made clear, and so they ended in the darkness of hard and white. Zhao Wen's son too ended with his father's loose thread, and all his life finished nothing.

If such a thing can be called finishing, then I too have finished something. If such a thing cannot be called finishing, then neither things nor I have finished anything. Therefore the flickering light that confuses is what the sage throws out. For this reason he does not use his own judgment but leaves things to their common use. This is called lighting it up with clarity.

Suppose there are words here now. I do not know whether they are of a kind with what is right or not of a kind with it. Once of a kind and not of a kind are made a kind together, then there is nothing to tell them from that other. Even so, let me try to say it.

There is a beginning. There is a not yet having begun to be a beginning. There is a not yet having begun to be that not yet having begun to be a beginning. There is being. There is nothing. There is a not yet having begun to be nothing. There is a not yet having begun to be that not yet having begun to be nothing. All at once there was being and nothing, and yet one does not know, of being and nothing, which is there and which is not.

Now I have already said something, and yet I do not know whether what I said was after all a saying or after all not a saying.

Nothing in the world is larger than the tip of an autumn hair, and Mount Tai is small. No one has lived longer than a child that died in the cradle, and Pengzu died young. Heaven and earth were born alongside me, and the ten thousand things are one with me.

If they have already been made one, can there still be words? If they have already been called one, can there still be no words? The one and the saying make two, and the two and the one make three. Go on from here and a skilled reckoner could not get to the end of it, let alone an ordinary man. If going from nothing to being brings us to three, how much more going from being to being. Do not go on. Follow what is so, and that is all.

The Way has never yet had borders, and words have never yet had constancy. For this reason lines were drawn, and let me speak of those lines. There is a left and there is a right. There is order and there is what is fitting. There is dividing and there is discerning. There is striving and there is contending. These are called the eight virtues.

What lies outside heaven and earth the sage leaves be and does not discuss. What lies within heaven and earth the sage discusses and does not argue over. The Chunqiu is the will of the former kings in governing the world, and the sage argues over it and does not discern within it.

So to divide is to leave something undivided, and to discern is to leave something undiscerned. How is this? The sage holds it within him, and the crowd discern and display it to one another. So it is said that to discern is to leave something unseen.

The great Way is not named. The great discerning does not speak. The great benevolence is not benevolent. The great honesty is not humble. The great courage is not fierce. When the Way is shown forth it is not the Way. When words argue they do not reach. When benevolence is constant it is not made. When honesty is only clean it is not trusted. When courage is fierce it is not made. These five are round, and they come near to turning square.

So when knowledge stops at what it does not know, it is at its utmost. Who knows the discerning that does not speak, and the Way that is not called a Way? If there is one who can know it, this is called the storehouse of heaven. Pour into it and it does not fill, draw from it and it does not run dry, and no one knows where it comes from. This is called the hidden light (葆光).

Long ago Yao asked Shun, "I mean to strike Zong and Kuai and Xu'ao, and though I face south my mind is not at ease. What is the reason for it?"

Shun said, "Those three are still out among the mugwort and the weeds. What is there for you not to be at ease about? Long ago ten suns came out together and lit up the ten thousand things, and how much more does virtue that goes beyond the sun."

Nieque asked Wang Ni, "Do you know what all things alike hold to be right?"

"How would I know that?"

"Do you know what it is that you do not know?"

"How would I know that?"

"Then do things have no knowledge?"

"How would I know that? Still, let me try to say it. How do I know that what I call knowing is not in fact not knowing? How do I know that what I call not knowing is not in fact knowing?

Let me put a question to you. If a man sleeps in a damp place his back aches and half of him withers. Is it so for the loach? If he lives up a tree he shakes and is afraid. Is it so for the monkey? Of these three, which knows the right place to live?

Men eat the flesh of cattle and pigs, deer eat grass, centipedes find snakes sweet, owls and crows relish rats. Of these four, which knows the right taste?

Monkeys take monkeys for mates, elk go with deer, loaches swim with fish. Mao Qiang and Li Ji are what men call beautiful, but when fish see them they go deep down, when birds see them they fly high up, when deer see them they bolt away. Of these four, which knows the right beauty in the world?

As I see it, the beginnings of benevolence and rightness and the paths of right and wrong are tangled and confused, and how could I know how to discern among them?"

Nieque said, "If you do not know benefit from harm, then does the utmost man also not know benefit from harm?"

Wang Ni said, "The utmost man is a wonder. A great marsh may burn and it cannot make him hot. The Yellow River and the Han may freeze over and they cannot make him cold. A fierce thunderbolt may split the hills and the wind may shake the sea, and they cannot startle him. Such a man rides the breath of the clouds, mounts the sun and the moon, and roams beyond the four seas. Death and life make no change in him, and how much less the beginnings of benefit and harm."

Ququezi asked Changwuzi, "I heard from the Master that the sage does not make affairs his business, does not go after benefit, does not shun harm, does not delight in seeking, and is not bound to the Way. He says nothing and yet has said it, and he says it and yet has said nothing, and he roams beyond the dust and the dirt. The Master called these reckless words, but I take them for the working of a wonderful Way. What do you think of them?"

Changwuzi said, "These are words that even the Yellow Emperor would have been puzzled to hear, so how could Qiu (丘) know them? And you have reckoned far too early. It is like seeing an egg and looking for it to call the dawn, or seeing a pellet and looking for roast bird.

Let me speak to you at random, and do you listen at random. Why not set the sun and the moon at your side and take the universe under your arm, and leave things to come together as they will, and let their muddle be, and hold one another in honor as servants do? The crowd toil and toil, and the sage is dull and simple. He takes ten thousand years together and makes of them one pure whole. The ten thousand things are all of them so, and by this they hold one another within.

How do I know that to delight in life is not a delusion? How do I know that to hate death is not like being lost from home as a child and not knowing the way back?

Li Ji was the daughter of the border warden of Ai. When the state of Jin first got her, her tears wet the front of her robe. But when she came to the ruler's place and shared his couch and ate the flesh of cattle and pigs, she was sorry that she had wept. How do I know that the dead do not repent of having once begged for life?

A man who drinks wine in a dream weeps in the morning. A man who weeps in a dream goes out hunting in the morning. While he is dreaming he does not know it is a dream. In the dream he may even divine his dream, and only when he wakes does he know it was a dream. And there is a great waking, after which one knows that this was a great dream. The fool thinks he is awake and knows it all in his small way. Ruler, herdsman, how stubborn it is. Qiu and you are both of us dreaming, and when I call you a dream I am dreaming too. Words like these are named diaogui (弔詭). If after ten thousand ages one great sage were met who knew the answer to them, it would be as though he had been met between morning and evening.

Suppose now that you and I argue. If you beat me and I do not beat you, are you after all right and am I after all wrong? If I beat you and you do not beat me, am I after all right and are you after all wrong? Is one of us right and one of us wrong? Are both of us right, or both of us wrong? If you and I cannot know it between us, then others will be in that same darkness, and whom shall I set to put it right?

If I set someone who agrees with you to put it right, he already agrees with you, so how can he put it right? If I set someone who agrees with me to put it right, he already agrees with me, so how can he put it right? If I set someone who differs from both you and me to put it right, he already differs from both of us, so how can he put it right? If I set someone who agrees with both you and me to put it right, he already agrees with both of us, so how can he put it right? Then you and I and the others cannot know it between us, and whom are we waiting for?

What is it to bring things together with the evenness of heaven? Right is not right, and so is not so. If right were after all right, then there would be nothing to discern in its differing from not right. If so were after all so, then there would be nothing to discern in its differing from not so. Changing voices wait upon one another as though they did not wait upon one another. Bring them together with the evenness of heaven and let them follow the endless flow, and this is the way to live out one's years. Forget the years and forget what is fitting, and rouse yourself in the borderless, and so make your home in the borderless."

The shadow of the shadow asked the shadow, "A moment ago you were walking and now you have stopped. A moment ago you were sitting and now you have risen. How is it that you have no constancy of your own?"

The shadow said, "Is it that I have something I lean on, and so am like this? Is it that what I lean on has something it leans on in turn, and so is like this? Am I waiting on the scales of a snake or the wings of a cicada? How should I know why it is so, and how should I know why it is not so?"

Long ago Zhuang Zhou dreamed he was a butterfly. He was a butterfly fluttering about. He was pleased with himself and it suited his mind, and he did not know that he was Zhou. All at once he woke, and he was Zhou, stiff and solid.

Was it Zhou who dreamed he was a butterfly, or is it the butterfly who dreams he is Zhou? Between Zhou and the butterfly there must surely be a division. This is called the changing of things (物化).