The Great Master莊子 內篇 大宗師

One who knows what heaven does and knows what man does has reached the utmost.

One who knows what heaven does lives by heaven. One who knows what man does uses what his knowing knows to nourish what his knowing does not know. He lives out the years heaven gave him and does not die young along the way. This is the fullness of knowing.

Even so, there is a trouble. Knowing fits only after it has something to wait upon, and what it waits upon is not yet settled. How do I know that what I call heaven is not man? How do I know that what I call man is not heaven?

And only when there is a true man is there true knowing.

What is called a true man? The true men of old did not turn against the few, did not swagger over what they achieved, and did not lay plans for affairs. Such a man made mistakes without regret, and hit the mark without being pleased with himself. Such a man climbed high without trembling, entered water without getting wet, entered fire without feeling heat. So it is when knowing can climb as far as the Way.

The true men of old slept without dreaming and woke without care. They ate without relishing it, and their breath was deep and deep. The true man breathes with his heels. The crowd breathe with their throats. The words of a man who bends and gives way come out of his throat as if he were retching. In one whose desires and wants are deep, the springs of heaven are shallow.

The true men of old did not know how to delight in life and did not know how to hate death. They did not welcome going out and did not block coming in. They went lightly and came lightly, and that was all. They did not forget where they began and did not seek where they would end. They took what came and were glad of it, and gave it back when they forgot it. This is called not throwing away the Way with the mind and not helping heaven with man. This is what is called a true man.

Such a man had a mind that was set, a face that was still, a brow that was broad. He was cool as autumn and warm as spring. His gladness and his anger ran through the four seasons. He was fitted to things, and no one knew where his limit lay.

So when the sage uses arms, he wipes out a state and does not lose the hearts of men. His gain and his bounty reach ten thousand ages, and it is not out of love for men.

So one who takes joy in getting through to things is no sage. One who has his own favorites is not benevolent. One who reckons up the seasons of heaven is not worthy. One who does not get through both gain and loss is no gentleman. One who chases a name and loses himself is no scholar. One who loses his body and is not true does not command men.

Such men as Hu Buxie, Wu Guang, Bo Yi, Shu Qi, Jizi, Xu Yu, Ji Ta and Shentu Di were put to the service of other men's service and fitted to other men's fitness. They did not fit their own fitness.

The true men of old stood tall and made no faction. They seemed to lack, and would take nothing. They were ample and had corners, and yet were not stubborn. They were open and empty, and yet made no display. Bright and clear, they seemed glad. Rising up, they seemed to act because there was no help for it. Brimming over, they raised the color in my face. Easy and broad, they rested in my virtue. Stern, they seemed to be the world itself. Towering, they were not to be held down. Drawn in, they seemed to like being shut. Blank, they seemed to have forgotten their own words.

They took punishment for the body, ritual for the wings, knowing for the season, and virtue for the following. To take punishment for the body is to be generous in killing. To take ritual for the wings is to have a way of walking in the world. To take knowing for the season is to meet what cannot be helped in affairs. To take virtue for the following is to say that with any man who has feet one reaches the hill, and men truly think of it as walking hard.

So what he liked was one, and what he did not like was one. What was one in him was one, and what was not one in him was one. What was one in him was a companion of heaven, and what was not one in him was a companion of man. Heaven and man do not overcome each other, and this is what is called a true man.

Death and life are one's fate. That they have the constancy of night and morning is heaven. What men can have no part in is the way all things are.

Men take heaven for their father alone, and still they love it with their bodies. How much more what stands above it. Men hold only that a ruler is greater than themselves, and still they die for him with their bodies. How much more for what is true.

When the spring dries up, the fish are left together on dry land. They blow damp breath on one another and wet one another with foam. It is not as good as forgetting one another in the rivers and lakes. Rather than praise Yao and blame Jie, it is better to forget them both and be changed into their Way.

The great clod loads me with a body, wears me out with life, eases me with old age, and rests me with death. So what makes my life good is also what makes my death good.

Hide a boat in a ravine and a hill in a marsh, and men will call it secure. Yet in the middle of the night a strong man carries them off on his back, and the dull sleeper knows nothing of it. There is a fitness in hiding the small in the large, and still it may slip away.

If you hide the world in the world so that it can find nowhere to slip away to, this is the great constant way of things.

Men are glad merely to have come upon the form of a man. But a form like the form of a man goes through ten thousand changes and has never yet had an end. Can the joy of it ever be counted?

So the sage means to wander where things cannot slip away and all remain. He takes dying young as good and growing old as good, the beginning as good and the end as good. Men model themselves even on this. How much more on that to which the ten thousand things are tied, and upon which every change waits.

The Way has its own reality and its own truth. It does nothing and has no form. It can be handed on and cannot be received. It can be gained and cannot be seen. It is its own root and its own stock. Before heaven and earth were, it was firmly there from of old. It made the ghosts and the Lord on high divine. It gave birth to heaven and gave birth to earth. It is before the Great Ultimate and is not called high. It is beneath the six limits and is not called deep. It was born before heaven and earth and is not called long lasting. It is older than high antiquity and is not called old.

Xiwei got it and drew heaven and earth along. Fuxi got it and took up the mother of the breath. The Dipper got it, and from of old it does not stray. The sun and the moon got it, and from of old they do not rest. Kanpi got it and took up the Kunlun. Feng Yi got it and wanders in the great river. Jianwu got it and dwells on the great mountain. The Yellow Emperor got it and climbed to the cloudy sky. Zhuanxu got it and dwells in the Dark Palace. Yuqiang got it and stands at the north pole. The Queen Mother of the West got it and sits at Shaoguang, and no one knows her beginning and no one knows her end. Pengzu got it and reached up to Youyu and down to the Five Hegemons. Fu Yue got it and served Wuding as minister and held the whole world, and he rode the eastern beam and mounted Ji and Wei and took his place among the ranked stars.

Nanbo Zikui asked Nü Yu, "Your years are many, and your face is like a child's. How is this?"

"I have heard the Way."

Nanbo Zikui said, "Can the Way be learned?"

"Ah, how could it be? You are not the man for it. Now Bu Liangyi has the talent of a sage and not the Way of a sage. I have the Way of a sage and not the talent of a sage. I wished to teach him, thinking he might perhaps truly become a sage. Even if not, it is an easy thing to tell the Way of a sage to the talent of a sage.

I held to him and told him, and after three days he could put the world outside him. When he had put the world outside him, I held to him again, and after seven days he could put things outside him. When he had put things outside him, I held to him again, and after nine days he could put life outside him. When he had put life outside him, he could be clear as the morning light. When he was clear as the morning light, he could see the one that stands alone. When he saw the one that stands alone, he could do away with past and present. When he had done away with past and present, he could enter where there is no dying and no living.

What kills life does not die. What gives birth to life is not born. As a thing it sends off everything and welcomes everything, tears down everything and completes everything. Its name is yingning (攖寧). Yingning means what is completed after being disturbed."

Nanbo Zikui said, "Where did you alone hear it?"

"I heard it from the son of Fumo. The son of Fumo heard it from the grandson of Luosong. The grandson of Luosong heard it from Zhanming. Zhanming heard it from Niexu. Niexu heard it from Xuyi. Xuyi heard it from Wu'ou. Wu'ou heard it from Xuanming. Xuanming heard it from Canliao. Canliao heard it from Yishi."

Zisi, Ziyu, Zili and Zilai, four men, said to one another, "Who can take nothing for his head, life for his spine and death for his rump? Who knows that death and life, keeping and losing, are one body? I would be his friend." The four men looked at one another and laughed. Nothing in their minds went against it, and so they became friends.

Before long Ziyu fell ill, and Zisi went to ask after him. Ziyu said, "Great indeed. The maker of things is bending me up like this." His back was hunched and stuck out, his five organs were on top, his chin was buried in his navel, his shoulders stood higher than his crown, and the knot of his hair pointed at the sky. The breath of yin and yang was out of order in him, and yet his mind was at leisure and had nothing to do. He hobbled over and looked at himself in a well, and said, "Ah, the maker of things is bending me up like this again."

Zisi said, "Do you hate it?"

"No. What should I hate? Suppose he goes on and changes my left arm into a rooster. Then I will ask it to call the hours of the night. Suppose he goes on and changes my right arm into a crossbow pellet. Then I will ask it for roast owl. Suppose he goes on and changes my rump into wheels and makes my spirit a horse. Then I will ride it, and what need will there be to harness anything else?

And what we get is the season, and what we lose is the way things follow. Rest in the season and dwell in the following, and sorrow and joy cannot get in. This is what the men of old called being loosed from hanging. Those who cannot loose themselves are tied by things. And things have not overcome heaven for a long time now. What then should I hate?"

Before long Zilai fell ill. He was gasping and about to die, and his wife and children stood round him weeping. Zili went to ask after him and said, "Hush, get back. Do not startle the change."

He leaned on the door and spoke with Zilai. "Great indeed. What will the maker and changer make of you next? Where will he send you? Will he make you into a rat's liver? Will he make you into an insect's arm?"

Zilai said, "When a father and mother tell a child to go east or west or south or north, the child only follows their word. Yin and yang are more to a man than a father and mother. If they draw me near to death and I do not listen, then I am the unruly one. What fault is theirs?

The great clod loads me with a body, wears me out with life, eases me with old age, and rests me with death. So what makes my life good is also what makes my death good.

Now suppose a great smith is casting metal, and the metal leaps up and says, 'I must be made into Moye.' The great smith would surely think it metal of ill omen. Now suppose a man has once come upon the form of a man and says, 'A man, only a man.' The maker and changer would surely think him a man of ill omen.

Now take heaven and earth as one great furnace and the maker and changer as the great smith. Where could one go and it not be right?"

He fell peacefully asleep, woke with a start, and broke out in sweat.

Zi Sanghu, Meng Zifan and Zi Qinzhang, three men, became friends and said, "Who can be together with others in not being together, and act for others in not acting for them? Who can climb to heaven and wander in the mist and turn about in the endless, forgetting one another in life, with no coming to an end?" The three men looked at one another and laughed. Nothing in their minds went against it, and so they became friends.

They said nothing more for a while, and then Zi Sanghu died and was not yet buried. Confucius heard of it and sent Zigong to help with the work. One of them was putting words to a tune and one was playing the zither, and they sang together in answer to each other. "Ah, Sanghu. Ah, Sanghu. You have gone back to what is true, and we are still men."

Zigong hurried forward and said, "May I ask, is it ritual to sing before a corpse?"

The two men looked at each other and laughed, and said, "What does this man know of the meaning of ritual?"

Zigong went back and told Confucius. "What manner of men are they? They have no cultivated conduct and they put their bodies outside them. They sing before a corpse and their faces do not change. There is no name for it. What manner of men are they?"

Confucius said, "They wander outside the world, and I wander inside it. Outside and inside do not reach each other, and yet I sent you to condole with them. I was narrow.

They are about to become companions of the maker of things and wander in the one breath of heaven and earth. They take life for a hanging wart and a dangling growth, and they take death for a boil that bursts and a sore that breaks open. How could such men know where the before and after of death and life lie?

They borrow other stuff and lodge it in the same body. They forget their liver and gall and let go their ears and eyes. They turn end and beginning over and over and do not know where the thread starts. Far off, they stroll beyond the dust and dirt. They wander in the business of doing nothing. How could they bother with the fuss of worldly ritual, to be a show for the ears and eyes of the crowd?"

Zigong said, "Then on which side does the Master lean?"

Confucius said, "I am one of heaven's punished people. Even so, I will share this with you."

Zigong said, "May I ask the way of it?"

Confucius said, "Fish are made for one another in water, and men are made for one another in the Way. For those made for one another in water, dig a pond and the feeding is enough. For those made for one another in the Way, leave affairs alone and life settles. So it is said, the fish forget one another in the rivers and lakes, and men forget one another in the arts of the Way."

Zigong said, "May I ask about the odd man?"

"The odd man is odd to men and matches heaven. So it is said, heaven's small man is man's gentleman, and man's gentleman is heaven's small man."

Yan Hui asked Zhongni, "When Mengsun Cai's mother died, he wailed without tears, he did not grieve in his heart, and he did not mourn while he kept the mourning. These three were missing, and yet his name for mourning well covered the state of Lu. Is there truly such a thing as getting the name without the substance? I find this very strange."

Zhongni said, "That Mengsun has gone the whole way. He has gone beyond knowing. He wished to make it simple and could not, and yet there is already something he has made simple.

Mengsun does not know why he lives and does not know why he dies. He does not know how to go toward what is ahead and does not know how to go toward what is behind. Changed into a thing, he only waits for the change he does not know.

And when he is about to change, how does he know he will not change? When he is about to not change, how does he know he has not changed already? Is it not that you and I alone have not yet woken from the dream?

Besides, he has a body that is startled and a mind that is not harmed. His dwelling shifts at dawn and there is no death of the feelings in him. Mengsun alone is awake, and when others wail he wails too. This is why he does as he does. And we call each other 'I,' and no more. How do I know that what I call 'I' is an I?

And you dream you are a bird and rise into the sky, and you dream you are a fish and sink into the deep. There is no telling whether the one who speaks now is awake or dreaming.

Reaching what fits falls short of a smile, and offering a smile falls short of being pushed along. Rest in being pushed along and leave the changing behind, and you enter the stillness of heaven's one."

Yi Erzi went to see Xu You, and Xu You said, "What did Yao give you to go on with?"

Yi Erzi said, "Yao told me, 'You must wear benevolence and rightness on your own body and speak clearly of right and wrong.'"

Xu You said, "Then why have you come? Yao has already tattooed you with benevolence and rightness and cut off your nose with right and wrong. How will you wander on the far, free, roaming and shifting road?"

Yi Erzi said, "Even so, I wish to wander along its hedge."

Xu You said, "It cannot be. A man without eyes can take no part in the beauty of brows and eyes and faces. A blind man can take no part in the sight of blue and yellow figured silk."

Yi Erzi said, "When Wuzhuang lost her beauty, when Juliang lost his strength, when the Yellow Emperor lost his knowing, it was all in the space between the furnace and the hammer. How do I know that the maker of things will not give my tattoo rest and mend my cut nose, and let me ride on being whole and follow you, sir?"

Xu You said, "Ah, there is no knowing. Let me tell you the rough of it. My teacher, my teacher. He breaks the ten thousand things and is not called righteous. His bounty reaches ten thousand ages and he is not called benevolent. He is older than high antiquity and is not called old. He covers heaven and carries earth and carves every shape, and he is not called skillful. This is where one wanders."

Yan Hui said, "I have gained something."

Zhongni said, "What do you mean?"

"I have forgotten benevolence and rightness."

"Good. But not yet."

On another day he saw him again and said, "I have gained something."

"What do you mean?"

"I have forgotten ritual and music."

"Good. But not yet."

On another day he saw him again and said, "I have gained something."

"What do you mean?"

"I sit and forget."

Zhongni was startled and said, "What do you mean, to sit and forget?"

Yan Hui said, "I let my limbs and my trunk fall away, I drive out the sharpness of my ears and eyes, I leave the body and cast off knowing, and I become the same as the great thoroughfare. This is called zuowang (坐忘), sitting and forgetting."

Zhongni said, "If you are the same as it, you have no likes. If you are changed by it, you have nothing constant. You are worthy indeed. I, Qiu, ask leave to follow behind you."

Ziyu was a friend of Zisang, and the rains fell for ten days. Ziyu said, "Zisang is likely in trouble." He wrapped up some food and went to feed him.

When he came to Zisang's door there was something like singing and something like wailing, and the zither was playing. "Was it my father? Was it my mother? Was it heaven? Was it man?" The voice could not carry it, and he was hurrying the words of the song along.

Ziyu went in and said, "Why is the song you sing like this?"

"I have thought about what brought me to this end, and I have not found it. Would my father and mother have wanted me poor? Heaven covers without partiality and earth carries without partiality. Would heaven and earth make me poor out of partiality? I looked for what did it and did not find it. And yet I have come to this end. It is my fate."