The Zhuangzi book: a commentary and discussion thread

[ControlledChaos]

I would like to dedicate this topic for a discussion of the taoist text known as the Zhuangzi or Chang Tzu book. I will also be giving my commentary and thoughts the verses in this book. This isnt anything too formal, I'm just making this because I think this book is very unique and would like to bring some light to its many profound messages. This is different from most other spiritual texts in its pure invention, quasi-casual tone, and seemingly absurd paradoxes. It's a work of art almost, so it will be very fun to unpack it and discuss it. All of you are welcome to give your own discussion as you please as well. My commentary is just a little ongoing writing project to pass the time. I hope you enjoy.

I'll start by giving my commentary on this rather lengthy story at the opening of the book... figured Id get this one out of the way:

"In the Northern Ocean there is a fish, the name of which is Kun - I do not know how many li in size. It changes into a bird with the name of Peng, the back of which is (also) - I do not know how many li in extent. When this bird rouses itself and flies, its wings are like clouds all round the sky. When the sea is moved (so as to bear it along), it prepares to remove to the Southern Ocean. The Southern Ocean is the Pool of Heaven.

There is the (book called) Qi Xie, a record of marvels. We have in it these words: 'When the peng is removing to the Southern Ocean it flaps (its wings) on the water for 3000 li. Then it ascends on a whirlwind 90,000 li, and it rests only at the end of six months.' (But similar to this is the movement of the breezes which we call) the horses of the fields, of the dust (which quivers in the sunbeams), and of living things as they are blown against one another by the air. Is its azure the proper colour of the sky? Or is it occasioned by its distance and illimitable extent? If one were looking down (from above), the very same appearance would just meet his view.

And moreover, (to speak of) the accumulation of water; if it be not great, it will not have strength to support a large boat. Upset a cup of water in a cavity, and a straw will float on it as if it were a boat. Place a cup in it, and it will stick fast; the water is shallow and the boat is large. (So it is with) the accumulation of wind; if it be not great, it will not have strength to support great wings. Therefore (the peng ascended to) the height of 90,000 li, and there was such a mass of wind beneath it; thenceforth the accumulation of wind was sufficient. As it seemed to bear the blue sky on its back, and there was nothing to obstruct or arrest its course, it could pursue its way to the South.

A cicada and a little dove laughed at it, saying, 'We make an effort and fly towards an elm or sapanwood tree; and sometimes before we reach it, we can do no more but drop to the ground. Of what use is it for this (creature) to rise 90,000 li, and make for the South?' He who goes to the grassy suburbs, returning to the third meal (of the day), will have his belly as full as when he set out; he who goes to a distance of 100 li will have to pound his grain where he stops for the night; he who goes a thousand li, will have to carry with him provisions for three months. What should these two small creatures know about the matter? The knowledge of that which is small does not reach to that which is great; (the experience of) a few years does not reach to that of many. How do we know that it is so? The mushroom of a morning does not know (what takes place between) the beginning and end of a month; the short-lived cicada does not know (what takes place between) the spring and autumn. These are instances of a short term of life. In the south of Chu there is the (tree) called Ming-ling, whose spring is 500 years, and its autumn the same; in high antiquity there was that called Da-chun, whose spring was 8000 years, and its autumn the same. And Peng Zu is the one man renowned to the present day for his length of life: if all men were (to wish) to match him, would they not be miserable?

In the questions put by Tang to Ji we have similar statements: 'In the bare and barren north there is the dark and vast ocean - the Pool of Heaven. In it there is a fish, several thousand li in breadth, while no one knows its length. Its name is the kun. There is (also) a bird named the peng; its back is like the Tai mountain, while its wings are like clouds all round the sky. On a whirlwind it mounts upwards as on the whorls of a goat's horn for 90,000 li, till, far removed from the cloudy vapours, it bears on its back the blue sky, and then it shapes its course for the South, and proceeds to the ocean there.' A quail by the side of a marsh laughed at it, and said, 'Where is it going to? I spring up with a bound, and come down again when I have reached but a few fathoms, and then fly about among the brushwood and bushes; and this is the perfection of flying. Where is that creature going to?' This shows the difference between the small and the great.

The way I interpret these passages, is that they seek to demonstrate the ideas of relativity (in scale) and of differences/limitations in perspective among humans and animals. This is a common topic in Zhuangzi's writing and will be explored in many other passages, but this is a quite colorful way to depict these ideas. First it describes a great mythical bird that flies a vast distance, and then highlights a cicada and a quail, who scoff at the bird needing to fly that far and describe their own limitations in flying. The message is that the cicada is limited in its nature to the perspective it can comprehend. The differences in the size of these creatures depicts relativity. These messages are further reinforced by asking what a morning mushroom knows of night, and by comparing lifespans of different crestures. It also warns against striving to go beyond your means, stating the those who strove to live longer than the worlds longest living man would be miserable.

Thus it is that men, whose wisdom is sufficient for the duties of some one office, or whose conduct will secure harmony in some one district, or whose virtue is befitting a ruler so that they could efficiently govern some one state, are sure to look on themselves in this manner (like the quail), and yet Rongzi of Song would have smiled and laughed at them. (This Rongzi), though the whole world should have praised him, would not for that have stimulated himself to greater endeavour, and though the whole world should have condemned him, would not have exercised any more repression of his course; so fixed was he in the difference between the internal (judgment of himself) and the external (judgment of others), so distinctly had he marked out the bounding limit of glory and disgrace. Here, however, he stopped. His place in the world indeed had become indifferent to him, but still he had not planted himself firmly (in the right position). There was Liezi, who rode on the wind and pursued his way, with an admirable indifference (to all external things), returning, however, after fifteen days, (to his place). In regard to the things that (are supposed to) contribute to happiness, he was free from all endeavours to obtain them; but though he had not to walk, there was still something for which he had to wait. But suppose one who mounts on (the ether of) heaven and earth in its normal operation, and drives along the six elemental energies of the changing (seasons), thus enjoying himself in the illimitable - what has he to wait for? Therefore it is said, 'The Perfect man has no (thought of) self; the Spirit-like man, none of merit; the Sagely-minded man, none of fame.'

This passage states that a man of high rank and is qualified for his position might presume that he knows everything in spite of his limited perspective, like the afforementiomed quale. This passage also contrasts this with the way a sage approaches life, eschewing fame and status. It then takes it a step forward, discussing another sage who in indifferent to all things that bring happiness. Then, it takes it farther still, and supposes a man who goes along with life's changes and enjoys themselves, having nothing to even wait for at all. Taken together, this entire opening sequences uses relativity and differences in perspective with vivid illustrations, and uses this to compare the limited (rigid) perspective of a worldly man with the 'illimitable' perspective of the sage who enjoys themselves moment by moment with no mind to gain or loss, totally immersed in the fabric of the universe.

 

[ControlledChaos]

I will continue my commentary of chapter 1 with the next passage. I'm partially doing this as an exercise to understand this text more closely, so you can expect that this will be in chronological order so that I can try and get something out of every passage. Here's the next part-

Yao, proposing to resign the throne to Xu You, said, 'When the sun and moon have come forth, if the torches have not been put out, would it not be difficult for them to give light? When the seasonal rains are coming down, if we still keep watering the ground, will not our toil be labour lost for all the good it will do? Do you, Master, stand forth (as sovereign), and the kingdom will (at once) be well governed. If I still (continue to) preside over it, I must look on myself as vainly occupying the place - I beg to resign the throne to you.' Xu You said, 'You, Sir, govern the kingdom, and the kingdom is well governed. If I in these circumstances take your place, shall I not be doing so for the sake of the name? But the name is but the guest of the reality; shall I be playing the part of the guest? The tailor-bird makes its nest in the deep forest, but only uses a single branch; the mole drinks from the He, but only takes what fills its belly. Return and rest in being ruler - I will have nothing to do with the throne. Though the cook were not attending to his kitchen, the representative of the dead and the officer of prayer would not leave their cups and stands to take his place.'

In the exchange had in this passage, a man tries resign his throne to another man who he sees as a master, stating that he has done his work as ruler already and doesn't want to "vainly occupy" the throne. His analogy about labor being wasted if you water the ground during a seasonal rain touch on the idea of moderation. The other man however rejects this notion, stating that if he takes the throne it would be "only for a name". When he says "name is the guest of reality", I think he is referring to the fleeting nature of somebody's image in the face of others. It isn't an absolute permanent reality, but rather comes and goes as things change, like a guest. This man also gives analogies about moderation such as a mole only drinking what he needs. Finally, he implies that being a ruler is not his place even if the other man abandons his post. The common denominator between these men is that they both don't want to be a ruler because they feel it is a vain occupation, and they both give analogies pointing to moderation, and these similarities add a bit of depth to this interaction.

 

[ControlledChaos]

Jian Wu asked Lian Shu, saying, 'I heard Jie Yu talking words which were great, but had nothing corresponding to them (in reality); once gone, they could not be brought back. I was frightened by them; they were like the Milky Way which cannot be traced to its beginning or end. They had no connexion with one another, and were not akin to the experiences of men.'

This passage opens up with a man discussing the words of somebody who isnt present. He essentially derides the man's words as lofty and detached from everyday experience. Judging from him saying they had no beginning or end, maybe they were paradoxical; let's find out-

'What were his words?' asked Lian Shu, and the other replied, (He said) that 'Far away on the hill of Gu Ye there dwelt a Spirit-like man whose flesh and skin were (smooth) as ice and (white) as snow; that his manner was elegant and delicate as that of a virgin; that he did not eat any of the five grains, but inhaled the wind and drank the dew; that he mounted on the clouds, drove along the flying dragons, rambling and enjoying himself beyond the four seas; that by the concentration of his spirit-like powers he could save men from disease and pestilence, and secure every year a plentiful harvest.'

At a glance, the words do appear to be lofty and incoherant as the speaker suggests. However, with a look back to a previous passage we may be able to shed light on them-

"But suppose one who mounts on (the ether of) heaven and earth in its normal operation, and drives along the six elemental energies of the changing (seasons), thus enjoying himself in the illimitable - what has he to wait for?"

The language here is very similar to the discussed man's "incoherent" words. The common denominator is that both sagelike men described are said as "enjoying himself" and "mounting on" the sky. Additionally, this chapter is sometimes translated as titled "free and easy wandering". What all this tells me is the seemingly unrealistic language here is actually talking about a certain carefree enjoyment as life as it is in its day to day ebb and flow. Let's see where the dialogue goes.

These words appeared to me wild and incoherent and I did not believe them. 'So it is,' said Lian Shu. 'The blind have no perception of the beauty of elegant figures, nor the deaf of the sound of bells and drums. But is it only the bodily senses of which deafness and blindness can be predicated? There is also a similar defect in the intelligence; and of this your words supply an illustration in yourself.

The other man replies pointedly, stating that the man simply lacks something in his intellect to understand the deeper meaning of what was meant by those lofty words.

That man, with those attributes, though all things were one mass of confusion, and he heard in that condition the whole world crying out to him to be rectified, would not have to address himself laboriously to the task, as if it were his business to rectify the world. Nothing could hurt that man; the greatest floods, reaching to the sky, could not drown him, nor would he feel the fervour of the greatest heats melting metals and stones till they flowed, and scorching all the ground and hills. From the dust and chaff of himself, he could still mould and fashion Yaos and Shuns - how should he be willing to occupy himself with things?'

This confirms directly what was implied in the words discussed. He is saying that the man who "mounts the clouds" is simply unconcerned with the troubles and chaos of the world. He simply is "enjoying himself" in spite of all that, wandering the world carefree living his life.

A man of Song, who dealt in the ceremonial caps (of Yin), went with them to Yue, the people of which cut off their hair and tattooed their bodies, so that they had no use for them. Yao ruled the people of the kingdom, and maintained a perfect government within the four seas. Having gone to see the four (Perfect) Ones on the distant hill of Gu Ye, when (he returned to his capital) on the south of the Fen water, his throne appeared no more to his deep-sunk oblivious eyes

This part seems a bit seperate from the rest of the passage, but describes a ruler who goes to distant "perfect" lands and meets with the "perfect ones" (one of them was the "cloud mounting" man discussed in the dialogue in this passage). When he returns, his throne "appeared no more" to him. Since the "perfect ones" seem to not have much of a care for the affairs of the world, it can be assumed that after speaking with them he became disillusioned with his role as a ruler and henceforth it was as if his throne appeared no more.



Wow, what a passage! That one took some thinking to get. I never understood it as much before actually. Cheers.

 

[ControlledChaos]

Huizi told Zhuangzi, saying, 'The king of Wei sent me some seeds of a large calabash, which I sowed. The fruit, when fully grown, could contain five piculs (of anything). I used it to contain water, but it was so heavy that I could not lift it by myself. I cut it in two to make the parts into drinking vessels; but the dried shells were too wide and unstable and would not hold (the liquor); nothing but large useless things! Because of their uselessness I knocked them to pieces.'

Huizi was given seeds for a fruit and struggles to find a use for the fruit they bore. In frustration, he declares them useless and breaks the fruit to peaces. Zhuangzi is not impressed

Zhuangzi replied, 'You were indeed stupid, my master, in the use of what was large.

Zhuangzi goes on to relate a story to further illustrate Huizi's foolishness in dismissing the fruit.

There was a man of Song who was skilful at making a salve which kept the hands from getting chapped; and (his family) for generations had made the bleaching of cocoon-silk their business. A stranger heard of it, and proposed to buy the art of the preparation for a hundred ounces of silver.

A man and his family have a secret hand salve recipe but work only a modest business bleaching silk. In hearing of this, a stranger offers to buy the recipe itself. Let's see if they accept...

The kindred all came together, and considered the proposal. "We have," said they, "been bleaching cocoon-silk for generations, and have only gained a little money. Now in one morning we can sell to this man our art for a hundred ounces - let him have it."

After years of poverty, the family is desperate for some fast cash. So, they accept the bid.

The stranger accordingly got it and went away with it to give counsel to the king of Wu, who was then engaged in hostilities with Yue. The king gave him the command of his fleet, and in the winter he had an engagement with that of Yue, on which he inflicted a great defeat, and was invested with a portion of territory taken from Yue.

Upon recieving the salve the stranger takes it to a king who is at war, and is given command of an army. He uses the salve in this situation to help his soldiers' hands from being chapped in a major battle, and therefore they won and he receieved his own territory in the land he helped capture.

The keeping the hands from getting chapped was the same in both cases; but in the one case it led to the investiture (of the possessor of the salve), and in the other it had only enabled its owners to continue their bleaching. The difference of result was owing to the different use made of the art.

Finally Zhuangzi drops the lesson of the passage which can be shortened broadly to this: It isn't what you got, it's what you make of it.

Now you, Sir, had calabashes large enough to hold five piculs; why did you not think of making large bottle-gourds of them, by means of which you could have floated over rivers and lakes, instead of giving yourself the sorrow of finding that they were useless for holding anything. Your mind, my master, would seem to have been closed against all intelligence!'

Here he drives the point home, and points out a way the man could have actually made a use out of the "useless" fruit. Then he rounds it off with a final statement on his intelligence. While maybe a bit harsh, he certainly has a point here about making the most of what you've got.

 

[ControlledChaos]

Huizi said to Zhuangzi, 'I have a large tree, which men call the Ailantus. Its trunk swells out to a large size, but is not fit for a carpenter to apply his line to it; its smaller branches are knotted and crooked, so that the disk and square cannot be used on them. Though planted on the wayside, a builder would not turn his head to look at it.

In another dialogue between Huizi and Zhuangzi, Huizi again derides a big "useless" thing, this time a tree that isnt suitable for carpentry.

Now your words, Sir, are great, but of no use - all unite in putting them away from them.'

Maybe Huizi took an exchange earlier in the book where Zhuangzi insulted his intelligence a bit personally. At any rate, he compares Zhuangzi's words to the tree as lofty but useless, and even says that everybody avoids listening to them.

Zhuangzi replied, 'Have you never seen a wildcat or a weasel? There it lies, crouching and low, till the wanderer approaches; east and west it leaps about, avoiding neither what is high nor what is low, till it is caught in a trap, or dies in a net. Again there is the Yak, so large that it is like a cloud hanging in the sky. It is large indeed, but it cannot catch mice.

Zhuangzi's reference to animals is a bit cryptic, but I think that he is comparing and contrasting a skillful and active cat who ultimately gets caught in a trap, with a big and less skilled yak. He might be implying that it is the cat's skillfulness and overactivity that causes it to be trapped. This sort of idea is repeated a lot in this book, the idea of overexertion leading to one's downfall.

You, Sir, have a large tree and are troubled because it is of no use - why do you not plant it in a tract where there is nothing else, or in a wide and barren wild? There you might saunter idly by its side, or in the enjoyment of untroubled ease sleep beneath it. Neither bill nor axe would shorten its existence; there would be nothing to injure it. What is there in its uselessness to cause you distress?'

Now for Zhuangzi's comeback to Huizi's insult. He asks why it even matters that the tree is "useless" because he could simply lounge under it in leisure and enjoy himself in untroubled ease without anybody ever cutting it down. He's basically saying that it doesn't matter if something is seemingly useless because you could find a way to enjoy yourself with it anyway. I think this could be extended to "useless" people or Zhuangzi's lofty words that Huizi derided; does everything really need to have some sort of material utility to be enjoyed?

And this, is the crux of Chapter 1 and indeed the name of the chapter. Free and easy wandering, enjoyment in untroubled ease. It is the radical notion that rather than worry about usefulness or fixing the world, why not just be carefree and find enjoyment in the things that we can? Not a bad message I'd say.

 

[ControlledChaos]

If chapter 1 of the Zhuangzi called on us to enjoy ourselves, chapter 2 helps explain just why we should do that. This chapter is really the meat and potatoes of the text, and almost form the core of the ideas throughout. Consequently, this chapter is quite complex.

To the uninitiated reader, this chapter just comes across as an incomprehensible mess of cryptic paradoxes. Even me, with my 30 aya experiences, extensive Alan Watts listening, and enjoyment of the Tao Te Ching had a difficult time really cracking this chapter the first time I read it. Luckily for you, if you're reading this commentary I can try my best to make sense of some of this; which will be a bit of a challenge considering that much of this stuff is designed to break our sense of making sense itself. How? Well, let's dive in and find out. I present to you Chapter 2 of the Zhuangzi, The Adjustment Of Controversies.

Nan-Guo Zi-Qi was seated, leaning forward on his stool. He was looking up to heaven and breathed gently, seeming to be in a trance, and to have lost all consciousness of any companion. (His disciple), Yan Cheng Zi-You, who was in attendance and standing before him, said, 'What is this? Can the body be made to become thus like a withered tree, and the mind to become like slaked lime? His appearance as he leans forward on the stool to-day is such as I never saw him have before in the same position.'

To open up this passage, a master's student is quite puzzled by his master essentially falling into a meditative trance and inquires how he could get like that.

Zi-Qi said, 'Yan, you do well to ask such a question, I had just now lost myself; but how should you understand it? You may have heard the notes of Man, but have not heard those of Earth; you may have heard the notes of Earth, but have not heard those of Heaven.' Zi-You said, 'I venture to ask from you a description of all these.'

His master acknowledges that he "lost himself" but questions how the student could understand how he fell into such a trance at all. He then mentions that the student had never heard the notes of earth or heaven. The student inquires just what those notes might be.

The reply was, 'When the breath of the Great Mass (of nature) comes strongly, it is called Wind. Sometimes it does not come so; but when it does, then from a myriad apertures there issues its excited noise; have you not heard it in a prolonged gale? Take the projecting bluff of a mountain forest - in the great trees, a hundred spans round, the apertures and cavities are like the nostrils, or the mouth, or the ears; now square, now round like a cup or a mortar; here like a wet footprint, and there like a large puddle. (The sounds issuing from them are like) those of fretted water, of the arrowy whizz, of the stern command, of the inhaling of the breath, of the shout, of the gruff note, of the deep wail, of the sad and piping note. The first notes are slight, and those that follow deeper, but in harmony with them. Gentle winds produce a small response; violent winds a great one. When the fierce gusts have passed away, all the apertures are empty (and still) - have you not seen this in the bending and quivering of the branches and leaves?'

The master describes the notes of earth as the sounds different trees, geological formations, and other appetures produce when the wind is blowing. He details the different shapes and sizes of these things and the different sounds they produce with varying strengths of wind. He then asks the student he has seen this.

Zi-You said, 'The notes of Earth then are simply those which come from its myriad apertures; and the notes of Man may just be compared to those which (are brought from the tubes of) bamboo- allow me to ask about the notes of Heaven.'

The student affirms what the piping of earth and the piping of man are, but still is puzzled as to what the piping of heaven is.

Zi-Qi replied, 'Blowing the myriad differences, making them stop [proceed] of themselves, sealing their self-selecting - who is it that stirs it all up?'

The master's short description of the notes of heaven is essentially the lynchpin of this passage. It's common in the Zhuangzi for a sort of nonlinear logical progression where certain parts of a passage seem like a random reference until the point is illuminated by later context. This is one such passage.

So let's look at what he says the notes of heaven are. The "myraid differences" (also translated as "the ten thousand things") is essentially referring to basically all forms in the universe whether material, alive, or some sort of waveform.

When he says the notes of heaven are "blowing the myraid things" he is essentially talking about the lifeforce of the entire universe (aka the dao, the way, source, ect) giving these all these endless individual forms their shapes, thus "making them proceed of themselves, sealing their self-selecting". The notes of heaven is the eneffable ultimate principle, the dao, coalescimg into the infinite and vast differences in individual things.

You can see the description of "the notes of earth" as a handy analogue to the notes of heaven. Much like the tao producing the endless forms in the universe, the wind blows into all of these various appetures and produces varied sounds by blowing through them. And yet, what are all these different sounds? Fundamentally, they're just the wind. The appetures make the differences, not the wind itself.

Not one to waste words, the master ends his lecture with a poignant question about the notes of heaven, "who is it that stirs it all up?". Some might call it the tao, source, brahman, god, the universe, the way; but whatever flavor you give it, it is the fundamental creative force giving form to it all.

And what does this have to do with the master randomly falling into a trance? Well, when one is aware of just what is playing the notes of heaven and focuses very much on this while sitting still and restraining all wandering thoughts, a meditative trance is often the outcome.



Wow, that was a very complex passage too! This is why I was excited to cover chapter 2.

 

[ControlledChaos]

Great knowledge is wide and comprehensive; small knowledge is partial and restricted.

This passage unlike some of the previous ones is not a dialogue format, it is just pure philosophical parables. When he says great knowledge is wide and comprehensive and small is partial and restricted, he is saying to have an open mind that doesn't restrict itself in what it can understand.

Great speech is exact and complete; small speech is (merely) so much talk.

Here Zhuangzi is contrasting speech that is thorough to small talk. However on a deeper level, the great speech he refers to is much more broad than one might think.

When we sleep, the soul communicates with (what is external to us); when we awake, the body is set free.

Here he suggests that during sleep our soul is directly interacting with something outside of our bodies, possibly referring to dreams or the tranquil state of sound sleep.

Our intercourse with others then leads to various activity, and daily there is the striving of mind with mind.

Our interactions with others in life drives us towards striving and action.

There are hesitancies; deep difficulties; reservations; small apprehensions causing restless distress, and great apprehensions producing endless fears.

Zhuangzi is calling out some of the different problems people run into in everyday life from our various activities, striving, and interaction. These things are the antithesis of the 'free and easy wandering" in life encouraged by Zhuangzi, and cause us anxiety and hesitation. The 60's psychedelic band 13th Floor Elevators may have said it better though:

"You find no peace, it doesn't cease, it's deadly irritation. It keeps you blind, it's there behind, your every hesitation. It holds your thought, your mind is caught, you're fixed with fascination. You think you'll die, it's just a lie, it's backward elevation!"

Where their utterances are like arrows from a bow, we have those who feel it their charge to pronounce what is right and what is wrong; where they are given out like the conditions of a covenant, we have those who maintain their views, determined to overcome.

Here Zhuangzi is pretty much talking about know-it-alls; people who are so sure that of their idea on right and wrong that they almost treat it like a religious covenant and never back down from their ideas.

(The weakness of their arguments), like the decay (of things) in autumn and winter, shows the failing (of the minds of some) from day to day; or it is like their water which, once voided, cannot be gathered up again.

Zhuangzi compares the arguments of such know-it-alls to the decay of leaves in the autumn. He likens them to water splashing on the ground becaus once such arguments are debunked they can't be brought back again.

Then their ideas seem as if fast bound with cords, showing that the mind is become like an old and dry moat, and that it is nigh to death, and cannot be restored to vigour and brightness.

When he says their ideas seem fast bound with cords, he is basically saying that know-it-alls are rigid in their views. Their mind is "nigh to death" because they are so fixed in their notions that they have no room to learn or adjust any more, hence being 'unable to be restored to vigor and brightness'.

It is good for the reader of the text to understand, however, that such rigidity is not restricted to overt know-it-alls. Anybody can get caught up in this sort of mental stagnation and often without being aware of it.

Joy and anger, sadness and pleasure, anticipation and regret, fickleness and fixedness, vehemence and indolence, eagerness and tardiness;-- (all these moods), like music from an empty tube, or mushrooms from the warm moisture, day and night succeed to one another and come before us, and we do not know whence they sprout. Let us stop! Let us stop! Can we expect to find out suddenly how they are produced?


He is saying that basically, our different emotions and impressions are fickle and temporary. They pop up and fizzle out like music from a tube or like mushrooms in the morning. The music reference harkons back to a previous metaphors in the text, "the notes of heaven" where an some source produces the varied forms in the universe. I don't think this connection is a coincidence.

Once again Zhuangzi is really packing the true message of the passage into the last line. His description of the common "know it all" and of our fickle states of mind is answered with a profound question, "Can we expect to find out suddenly how they are produced?". This is a counterpoint to the know-it-all, who believes themselves to be so certain of how things work. By asking this, he is bringing attention to the fact that we really can't form an absolute true understanding of exactly where we (and our emotions) come from. Hence he says "Let us stop! Let us stop!". This is a call to loosen your rigidity and understand what you *cannot* understand.

 

[ControlledChaos]

If there were not (the views of) another, I should not have mine; if there were not I (with my views), his would be uncalled for:--

Here Zhuangzi lays out a statement, that two opposing viewpoints necessitate eachother. This is a core taoist idea right here; that opposites cause the other to exist in the first place. The common illustration of this is light and shadow.

this is nearly a true statement of the case, but we do not know what it is that makes it be so.

Zhuangzi falls short of saying that initial statement is 100% the truth, but says it is close. Yet, he says we don't know what makes it so. What makes two different viewpoints necessitate eachother? Perhaps it is the fact that an opposing view may have popped up to counteract the view it is opposing, but then you can even ask how that view showed up in the first place. It's a bit of a paradox where you can ask why ad-nauseum and often with multiple valid answers, so we ultimately can't know precisely why that would be the case.

It might seem as if there would be a true Governor concerned in it, but we do not find any trace (of his presence and acting). That such an One could act so I believe; but we do not see His form. He has affections, but He has no form.

Still referring to different viewpoints, Zhuangzi ponders if there is a cosmic judge around who can settle the matter. He speculates that there is, but digresses that there is no absolute proof or form of such a presence. The quiet part here is that an individual, with their varied viewpoint, is not a cosmic judge. Even if they were, what's to say that others aren't too? Then, which cosmic judge would be the right one? It's a socratic dilemma.

Given the body, with its hundred parts, its nine openings, and its six viscera, all complete in their places, which do I love the most? Do you love them all equally? or do you love some more than others? Is it not the case that they all perform the part of your servants and waiting women? All of them being such, are they not incompetent to rule one another? or do they take it in turns to be now ruler and now servants?

Once again he pulls a Zhuangzi and uses the beginning of a passage as the context clues for some cryptic metaphor. In this analogy, Zhuangzi is putting you in the shoes the the dao, or the "cosmic judge" so to speak. The different body parts mentioned are like different viewpoints among people, you (as the animating spirit of your body) are like the dao itself. It asks you if you prefer or love a particular body part more than the others, and if one is more suited than the others to be the ruler. Of course, as a human with a body reading this you can probably answer these questions with a no. In the metaphor, it is essentially saying "nobody is an absolute authority in their viewpoint."

There must be a true Ruler (among them) whether by searching you can find out His character or not, there is neither advantage nor hurt, so far as the truth of His operation is concerned.

The joke here is that you yourself are the ruler of your body, not any individual body part... since you know your own character. Pretty funny, now that I think about it. Of course, this really is just a metaphor for the dao versus individual people to show that nobody really has the ultimate authority on anything by asking you easy questions about your body.

When once we have received the bodily form complete, its parts do not fail to perform their functions till the end comes. In conflict with things or in harmony with them, they pursue their course to the end, with the speed of a galloping horse which cannot be stopped - is it not sad?

He completes the metaphor by comparing the endless toils of your body parts to function until it can't anymore and you die, to the vain striving of those who think they know the one true way to live.

To be constantly toiling all one's lifetime, without seeing the fruit of one's labour, and to be weary and worn out with his labour, without knowing where he is going to - is it not a deplorable case?

This is a promotion of Zhuangzi's lifestyle of "free and easy wandering", through pointing out the pitfalls of ceaseless hard work which is often done with no particular endpoint in sight. After all, we can't tell the future.

Men may say, 'But it is not death;' yet of what advantage is this? When the body is decomposed, the mind will be the same along with it - must not the case be pronounced very deplorable?

Zhuangzi addresses a counterpoint that such ceaseless toiling is favorable to death, using the fact of death itself to underscore his point that such toiling is pointless.

Is the life of man indeed enveloped in such darkness? Is it I alone to whom it appears so? And does it not appear to be so to other men?

Speaking of pointlessness, Zhuangzi subtly makes the point in these last questions that you can't even be sure if what he is saying about such a toiling lifestyle is the absolute truth even. Many people consider hard work to be a virtue in of itself, which would go against Zhuangzi's assertion that it is a life of darkness. Who can be said to be absolutely correct between the two of them?

Thenceforth, we have went in a circle. And in this circle, the point of this passage is illumimated; neither of them are correct or incorrect. Now, what was the chapter called again? "The Adjustment Of Controversies". Think about it.

 

[ControlledChaos]

If we were to follow the judgments of the predetermined mind, who would be left alone and without a teacher? Not only would it be so with those who know the sequences (of knowledge and feeling) and make their own selection among them, but it would be so as well with the stupid and unthinking.

He states that anybody with a "predetermined mind" is not alone and without a teacher, even fools who don't think. I think by predetermined he means one who is absolutely sure of what they think with no doubts at all. Such a person wouldn't have need for a teacher even if they were a fool because they would believe themselves to know more than anybody else.

For one who has not this determined mind, to have his affirmations and negations is like the case described in the saying, 'He went to Yue to-day, and arrived at it yesterday.' It would be making what was not a fact to be a fact. But even the spirit-like Yu could not have known how to do this, and how should one like me be able to do it?

In contrast, he speaks of one who isn't so set in their ways yet still pronounces what is right and wrong; he compares it to saying you left for somewhere today and arrived there yesterday. You cannot both be inconclusive and arrive at a conclusion (about right and wrong); not even the most wise sage could accomplish such a paradox. In essence this could be a warning to open minded people not to fall into misguided notions of right and wrong. In this way, Zhuangzi is also saying that he doesn't necessarily have the truth.

But speech is not like the blowing (of the wind); the speaker has (a meaning in) his words. If, however, what he says, be indeterminate (as from a mind not made up), does he then really speak or not?

Here he is questioning the meaningfulness of words from an indetermined mind, pondering if they are really any different from a gust of wind.

He thinks that his words are different from the chirpings of fledgelings; but is there any distinction between them or not?

He questions if such a person's words are even distinct from the sounds animals make.

But how can the Dao be so obscured, that there should be 'a True' and 'a False' in it? How can speech be so obscured that there should be 'the Right' and 'the Wrong' about them? Where shall the Dao go to that it will not be found? Where shall speech be found that it will be inappropriate? Dao becomes obscured through the small comprehension (of the mind), and speech comes to be obscure through the vain-gloriousness (of the speaker).

Here the Dao and the speech of people are compared to illustrate the point. He views the idea of a definite "true or false" in the Dao or "right and wrong" in speech to be obfuscations of the real thing. The Dao is constantly shifting and evolving as is nature, the weather, our emotions, and so on. Even if something changes and so its previous state can no longer be called true, it is still the Dao. Hence, where shall the Dao go to that it will not be found? Nowhere! To say that anything of the Dao is necessarily true or false obfuscates the true ever-changing essence of the Dao.

Likewise, to say anything is necessarily "right or wrong" in speech obfuscates the fact that language itself has subjective meaning which changes according to our notions, and hence where shall speech be found that it will be inappropriate? Anybody can redefine a word according to their notions. Whose dictionary is the correct dictionary? To pronounce anything absolutely correct or incorrect about the Dao or speech alike is to miss the shifting nature of these things. As Lao Tzu said in the opener to the Tao Te Ching, "the Dao that can be spoken of is not the eternal Dao, the name that can be named is not the eternal name".

So it is that we have the contentions between the Literati and the Mohists, the one side affirming what the other denies, and vice versa.

The Literati and the Mohists were two opposing philosophies in China at the time Zhuangzi wrote these passages. He uses them to illustrate an example of two opposing views of "right and wrong" to demonstrate that neither are necessarily true.

If we would decide on their several affirmations and denials, no plan is like bringing the (proper) light (of the mind) to bear on them.

I've also seen this translated as "But if we want to right their wrongs and wrong their rights, then the best thing to use is clarity." In this translation, clarity is called "the proper light of the mind". It doesn't directly say what this clarity is, but it did talk earlier in this passage about the cause of obfuscation; declaring absolutely what is right or wrong. What is the obfuscation? It's that if you are locked in on a viewpoint of things, you will no longer see things clearly when things change. So what is clarity, or the proper light of mind? It is being open and not sticking fast to anything in particular, bearing in mind that all things are subject to change. This approach would in essence, "adjust the controversies" of the Mohists and Literati by demonstrating neither of their affirmations or denials are necessarily the truth or not the truth.

 

[ControlledChaos]

This one is particularly difficult to digest, so I'm going to be taking it very slow in my analysis. It ties a lot of Zhuangzi's main ideas together, though not in the most obvious or direct way.

By means of a finger (of my own) to illustrate that the finger (of another) is not a finger is not so good a plan as to illustrate that it is not so by means of what is (acknowledged to be) not a finger;

Why would a non finger be better to illustrate that a finger isn't a finger, than another finger? Well the keywords here are in the parenthesis. He doesn't just say what is not a finger, he says what is "acknowledged to be" not a finger. As in, that thing not being a finger is a result of us acknowledging it not to be. "Finger" is just a word we decided to call it. Of course, using two different "things" to demonstrate the meaninglessness of their names would be more effective than using two of the same thing.

and by means of (what I call) a horse to illustrate that (what another calls) a horse is not so, is not so good a plan as to illustrate that it is not a horse, by means of what is (acknowledged to be) not a horse.

Same case in point as the finger, but with a key difference. If you and another person call two different things a horse, you're less likely to show that their horse isn't a horse with your horse than with what neither of you call a horse. Both parties have arbitarily declared something a horse, and they both can't be horse, can they?

While in the case of a horse, two people having a different idea of it may be trivial... think of all the words people may ascribe different things to; words like justice, love, moral, correct, holy, sacred, and so on.... there's been entire wars fought over disputes on such words, and yet who is to say what the true definition even is, if everybody has their own version? That is why Zhuangzi is poking holes into the nature of language itself in this passage, and why the chapter is titled The Adjustment Of Controversies.

(All things in) heaven and earth may be (dealt with as) a finger; (each of) their myriads may be (dealt with as) a horse.
We could point at anything and call it a finger or a horse.
Does a thing seem so to me? (I say that) it is so. Does it seem not so to me? (I say that) it is not so.

We label things in an arbitary, subjective manner.

A path is formed by (constant) treading on the ground. A thing is called by its name through the (constant) application of the name to it.

Here he compares the convention of naming to a well-traveled path. By the treading of feet upon it, it eventually becomes a path; by everybody calling a thing something, it becomes its name.

How is it so? It is so because it is so. How is it not so? It is not so, because it is not so.

We arbitrarily decide what is incorrect or correct according to our experience and reasoning.

Everything has its inherent character and its proper capability. There is nothing which has not these.

Here he might be going beyond the name of a thing, pointing out that everything we name has a particular character (or distinct form) and proper capability (such as speed in a cheetah).

Therefore, this being so, if we take a stalk of grain and a (large) pillar, a loathsome (leper) and (a beauty like) Xi Shi, things large and things insecure, things crafty and things strange; they may in the light of the Dao all be reduced to the same category (of opinion about them).
We give names to all of these different things based on their form and function, but when you take the animating principle of the universe that they sprang from (the Dao) into consideration it's really all different manifestations of the same thing. Again, the naming is arbitrary, not absolute or objective. He gives a list of different things that have different form and function to further illustrate this.
It was separation that led to completion; from completion ensued dissolution.

Here he is pointing to a key aspect of the Dao, the cyclical nature of it. In the Dao, there is a process in which different things coalesce together (such as our "soul" in birth) and then dissolve (such as our "death"). Everything sprang from the Dao, and will eventually dissolve back into it. Take for instance, an island that is formed by volcano just to eventually be fully eroded by the ocean.

But all things, without regard to their completion and dissolution, may again be comprehended in their unity - it is only the far reaching in thought who know how to comprehend them in this unity.

He's taking it a level deeper. While the different things that sprang from the Dao do coalesce and dissolve, they are fundamentally still of the Dao and therefore unified.

This being so, let us give up our devotion to our own views, and occupy ourselves with the ordinary views. These ordinary views are grounded on the use of things.

This bit is a real non-dual sledgehammer to the face. Given that all things are united as part of the Dao, he states that we should stop insisting on our own views, and instead rely on "ordinary" views. He doesn't give a precise definition of what "ordinary views" are, but if he did he would be a bit hypocritical considering the subject matter. He does however, give an open ended clue that ordinary views are "grounded on the use of things". This is a bit vague, but here's my take on what ordinary views might be:

Imagine a man who plays billiards, and has a technique that generally makes him win games. It is so successful that the man forms a notion that his technique is unstoppable, and in fact THE objectively correct way to play pool. He grows very proud of this technique. Then one day, another man beats him despite his use of the technique. In fact, this other man consistently beats him. Stubbornly sticking to his technique which of course, is THE correct way to play pool, and losing time and time again, the man throws down his stick in frustration and asks him "how do you do you beat my perfect technique, which I know is the only right way to play pool?". The other man chuckles, and says:

"well, asking me how I do it certainly is a start. You play pool the correct way, so you say. What do I know? But imagine if instead of thinking about the application of your technique, you thought about what I was doing. Furthermore, what if you thought about the position of the balls, the cue ball, the 8 ball, and the angles in play, and without care to the limitations of your "perfect" technique you adapted a spontaneous and evolving strategy to dismantle me? And this, my friend, is what I did to you. By fluidly applying myself with your rigidity in mind, and learning the weaknesses in your strategy, I ensured I couldn't lose to you."

And this is essentially an illustration for what he means by ordinary views grounded in the use of things. Instead of relying on a rigid ideology, method, or way you adapt moment to moment considering the functional, active reality playing out right in front of your face.

(The study of that) use leads to the comprehensive judgment, and that judgment secures the success (of the inquiry). That success gained, we are near (to the object of our search), and there we stop. When we stop, and yet we do not know how it is so, we have what is called the Dao.

This helps us succeed because our judgement isnt anchored in any rigid attachment, but rather ready to respond to the present conditions. In sports, this is often called the "flow state" where the athlete is so actively engaged in the present during the game that their mind goes blank and they just automatically perform well. When you are truly to the Dao and detached from any rigid notions, it's as if you "stop", your mind goes blank. And yet, because you arent focusing on your preoccupations your intelligence is fully directed towards what is actually happening in the here and now, and takes on a dynamic, adaptive finesse. This is the Daoist concept of "wu wei", or effortless action.

When we toil our spirits and intelligence, obstinately determined (to establish our own view), and do not know the agreement (which underlies it and the views of others), we have what is called 'In the morning three.' What is meant by that 'In the morning three?'

In classic Zhuangzi fashion, a truth is being illuminated by proxy of its opposite. It states that exhaustively insisting on your views and not knowing that everybody's views are but a facet of the actual truth embodied in the Dao could be called "in the morning three". He goes on to tell a story to explain.

A keeper of monkeys, in giving them out their acorns, (once) said, 'In the morning I will give you three (measures) and in the evening four.' This made them all angry, and he said, 'Very well. In the morning I will give you four and in the evening three.' The monkeys were all pleased. His two proposals were substantially the same, but the result of the one was to make the creatures angry, and of the other to make them pleased - an illustration of the point I am insisting on.

This story has always been a memorable moment in this entire text for me, that that's saying something for the Zhuangzi. It perfectly encapsulates the chapter title's "adjustment of controversies" in a slightly humorous way. So a monkey keeper gives monkeys a total of 7 acorns a day, during morning and evening. When he tells the monkeys he'll give them 3 in the morning and 4 in the evening, they're quite mad. Instead of insisting on his initial plan and taking the monkey's anger personally, he said he'd give them 4 in the morning and 3 in the afternoon. For whatever reason, this pleased them. And yet, he didn't change the actual number of acorns given per day. Rather than being rigid, he adapted to the monkey's response thoughtfully and cleverly, and resolved the conflict. His concern wasn't with any hangups, and so he was able to strategize with a clear mind. In contrast, those who exhaust themselves by stubbornly insisting on their way often fail to see the most intelligent solution because their awareness isn't open to possibilities outside their narrow way.

Therefore the sagely man brings together a dispute in its affirmations and denials, and rests in the equal fashioning of Heaven. Both sides of the question are admissible.

The "equal fashioning of Heaven" is the unity of the Dao. By resting in the Dao and acting in accordance with what is happening with no regard to your "affirmations or denials", you can be like the monkey keeper and "bring together a despute" with an adaptive, strategic, and dynamic mindset. In many disputes the causes are quite assinine, but we inflate them in our mind so much with our misguided biases that you clash over them. A wise person handles disagreements with an open mind, responding to the situation with a harmonious and clever adaptiveness which plays out moment by moment and feels effortless.

 

[ControlledChaos]

Oops, I accidentally skipped a passage. That's ok though, this text is so non linear in nature that I can let it slide once. Here's the passage I missed. It's the one before the passage in my last post.

There is no thing that is not "that", and there is no thing that is not "this".

Zhuangzi is setting up a relationship here between a "this" and a "that". I interpret the "this" to represent the self we are familiar with; me, myself, ego, I, my ego, my beliefs, ect. It is everything that someone identifies with. The "that" is just the opposite, it is everything alien and other from oneself. He is saying that in actuality, nothing is really this or that. In doing this, he is dismissing our limited sense of identity outright, saying that our conceptions of "us" and "them" are fabricated by our minds.

If I look at something from "that", I do not see it; only if I look at it from knowing do I know it.

If somebody views something as "other" from oneself, they aren't seeing it in its true light but rather through a biased lense that procludes everything different from them.

Hence it is said, 'That view comes from this; and this view is a consequence of that:' - which is the theory that that view and this (the opposite views) produce each the other.

Classic Daoist concept of yin and yang, which is the idea that two opposites create the other. For instance, you can't draw a picture with only black or only white; one has to serve as a contrast so that the other can give form. Zhuangzi is extending this view to people who have opposing ideas, stating that they necessitate the other.

Although it be so, there is affirmed now life and now death; now death and now life; now the admissibility of a thing and now its inadmissibility; now its inadmissibility and now its admissibility. (The disputants) now affirm and now deny; now deny and now affirm.

This is referring to the fleeting, cyclical nature of the Dao, and by proxy, of people's opinions. He likens the cycle of life and death to something being unacceptable during one time and later acceptable. Then, he further likens these to two disputants who affirm something at one point, then deny it at another. In other words- people change, seasons change, society changes, feelings change, and opinions change. Therefore, the most true opinion is a certain openness in opinions.

Therefore the sagely man does not pursue this method, but views things in the light of (his) Heaven (-ly nature), and hence forms his judgment of what is right.

Zhuangzi's language here is very similar to in the previous passage where he says "therefore the sagely man brings together a dispute in its affirmations and denials, and rests in the equal fashioning of Heaven." The message here is essentially the same; rather than hinge your viewpoint in a "this" or a "that", just see things as they are without tying yourself to any fixed view.

This view is the same as that, and that view is the same as this. But that view involves both a right and a wrong; and this view involves also a right and a wrong - are there indeed the two views, that and this? Or are there not the two views, that and this?

Here he states that "this" view and "that" view are the same thing, reflecting the Daoist idea that two arguments are two sides of the same coin, as they are both rigidly fixed in a narrow idea of right and wrong. He even questions if the two views are truly existent at all. I suppose the answer would be that it would be dependent on your perspective but as this passage subtly highlights, our perspectives are subject to change.

They have not found their point of correspondency which is called the pivot of the Dao. As soon as one finds this pivot, he stands in the centre of the ring (of thought), where he can respond without end to the changing views; without end to those affirming, and without end to those denying. Therefore I said, 'There is nothing like the proper light (of the mind).'

Zhuangzi finishes this passage by more clearly defining the "proper light of the mind" (also translated as "clarity") that he reccomends we see things in. Given two views, "this" and "that", which are in opposition to eachother, their "point of correspondency" is called the "pivot of the Dao". A pivot is something that balances two opposites. In other words, it is a sort of neutrality to either view that equalizes both. The pivot of the Dao stands in the "center of the ring of thought" as in, it doesn't branch out to any extreme of thought but sticks to a flexible, open, and adaptive way of being. In this pivot you can "respond without end to the changing views" because you aren't anchored to any one of those views, enabling you to respond to all of them, whether they are affirming or denying "this" or "that". This open-minded mentality is the "proper light of the mind".

 

[ControlledChaos]

Among the men of old their knowledge reached the extreme point. What was that extreme point? Some held that at first there was not anything. This is the extreme point, the utmost point to which nothing can be added.

To sort of illustrate what this means, I am going to ape one of Zhuangzi's own methods; I am going to give an illustration so you can picture the concept and sort of get it. For this illustration, allow me to post a rather well-known painting-



Now for the sake of this illustration, don't view this photo as Van Gogh's starry night. Don't see anything as a church or a star or a sky or a mountain. In fact, don't even see it as paint. Do not ascribe anything to it whatsoever. Shut off your mind, and just take it in. If you were able to do this, this is like the "extreme point" that Zhuangzi is mentioning.

Applying this to the broader point he's making, Zhuangzi is saying that the "men of old" as in the wisest men were so attuned to the Dao which things spring from, that they didn't even see it as a "thing" or a "this" at all, let alone a "this" and "that".

A second class held that there was something, but without any responsive recognition of it (on the part of men).

Now, allow yourself to see it as paint. Don't discriminate between what is what here; just see it all as what it is behind all the seeming forms in it; paint. This is the "second class" view here. You see that it is something, but you do not make discriminations about what that something might (and might not) be.

A third class held that there was such recognition, but there had not begun to be any expression of different opinions about it.

Now you can see it as the starry night painted by Vincent Van Gogh. Just don't compare it to the Mona Lisa and argue that one is superior to the other. You can see that it is a thing, and you can even call it what you see it as, but you aren't having arguments about it. This is that third class.

It was through the definite expression of different opinions about it that there ensued injury to (the doctrine of) the Dao.

Now, go ahead and say that this painting is leagues above the Mona Lisa. In fact, say it to a Leonardo Da Vinci art collector. Oops, you've started an argument.

Pay attention closely to the language here. By "definite expression of different opinions" he means different people devoutly declaring that they know best with absolute certainly. Now, the doctrine of the Dao doesn't stick to a fixed viewpoint, but is rather flexible in order to respond to all of the changes inherent in life. Of course, expression of different opinions would lead to an injury of this doctrine, also known as "the way".

It was this injury to the (doctrine of the) Dao which led to the formation of (partial) preferences.

Since the "docrine of the Dao" is "injured" when different people expressed different opinions with absolute or "definite" certainty, this leads to an even deeper level of conflict; partial certainty. By partial preferences, he means opinions that somebody isn't even fully secure in but still are clung onto. This of course, leads to inner conflict of all sorts and general discontent. It can also lead to conflict between several people. Beyond just criticizing know it alls who are absolutely certain, he is taking it farther by also criticizing those who don't even know for sure yet still cling onto their views regardless.

Was it indeed after such preferences were formed that the injury came? or did the injury precede the rise of such preferences?

The Dao encompasses everything, even the expression of thesr opinions is still sprung from the Dao. Therefore, Zhuangzi asks an important question which is a bit like the chicken and the egg scenario. If the doctrine of the Dao is to be flexible, then these insecure and rigid viewpoints of people would be an injury to it. Yet, wouldn't it have to already be injured for people to begin to form these different views in the first place?

If the injury arose after their formation, Zhao's method of playing on the lute was natural.

Zhao's lute playing method is used as an allegory for a particular person's rigid views. If such rigid views led to the flexible doctrine of the Dao to be injured, they must be natural since they came first.

If the injury arose before their formation, there would have been no such playing on the lute as Zhao's.

If the doctrine of the Dao was injured in the first place and this led to different opinions, then the conditions were already in for this to happen. Then why would there need to be different opinions, or way to play the lute in the first place? The way in this case would already be injured and not need different opinions to injure it.

Either way, these two statements together are like the two snakes in an ouroboros and basically flow into eachother from either direction. You could think yourself in circles for a very long time trying to decide which case is correct, which is why Zhuangzi asks and doesn't tell you. You know, there's a lot of two opposing "cases" that we could strain ourselves endlessly over too. That's the point he's making here.

Zhao Wen's playing on the lute, Shi Kuang's indicating time with his staff, and Huizi's (giving his views), while leaning against a dryandra tree (were all extraordinary). The knowledge of the three men (in their several arts) was nearly perfect, and therefore they practised them to the end of their lives. They loved them because they were different from those of others. They loved them and wished to make them known to others.

Once again, all 3 men here are stand-ins for different people's worldviews and perhaps even individual character. They're talented in their respective ways and continued in their paths until their deaths. They appreciated how they stood out from others' talents, and wanted to make sure other people knew how unique they were too.

I think we all can be a bit like this; we all have our strengths and would like others to recognize and appreciate them.

But as they could not be made clear, though they tried to make them so, they ended with the obscure (discussions) about 'the hard' and 'the white.'

Unfortunately, though they tried to have their strengths recognized, they were unable to make them clear to others. The obscure discussions about "the hard" and "the white" refer to how in this effort to be recognized they professed how their way was the best. "The hard" is like a rigid way of living or seeing things, and "the white" is like their subjective positive notion of "true" and "correct".

The cautionary tale here is evident in this light; people who stress over being recognized by others for their talents often fall into the pit of thinking their talents are superior to those of others.

And their sons, moreover, with all the threads of their fathers' compositions, yet to the end of their lives accomplished nothing.

As distinguished as those 3 men were, their sons did not accompish anything at all.

If they, proceeding in this way, could be said to have succeeded, then am I also successful; if they cannot be pronounced successful, neither I nor any other can succeed.

Here Zhuangzi is questioning the notion of success overall, questioning if the men's sons who accomplished nothing are successful. He states that if people consider them to be, then everybody is. Then he states that if people consider them not to be, then nobody is. The point is that we all have our own definition of successful, so it is pointless to declare somebody successful or not.

Therefore the scintillations of light from the midst of confusion and perplexity are indeed valued by the sagely man;

This is the real kicker of the passage. Notice how throughout this whole passage, Zhuangzi asks questions about success, or whether the injury to "the way" or partial opinions came first. However, he doesn't provide answers. Also notice how when describing the talents of the 3 men, he presented them in a positive light. Yet, he stopped short of calling their sons who accomplished nothing unsuccessful. All of these choices in his writing are encapsulated in this statement.

The "scintillations" (or flashes) of light that are "arising from the midst of confusion and doubt" is everybody's different opinions and talents; it's different colors in art and sounds in music; it's the taste of different food; it's everybody's individual sense of style; it's culture, it's stories, it's fun, it's life. Zhuangzi astutely states here that the sage values all of these differences, rather than just denounce them. They too are part of the Dao and are beautiful in their own right.

The monkey keeper story illustrated this well. Instead of disregarding the monkeys' preferences as assinine, he valued them and provided a solution where everybody won in the end and nothing was gained or lost. This is the adjustment of controveries.

but not to use one's own views and to take his position on the ordinary views is what is called using the (proper) light.

Although the sage values differences, he doesn't cling to them. Not even his own. This very flexibility allows him to respond intelligently and thoughtfully to all of the myriad differences among people, places, and things.

All in all, this passage is an effort by Zhuangzi for us to question our perspective, and even our perspective on perspective itself. It doesn't condemn or confirm anything. In that sense, it is a very living example of Zhuangzi's philosophy in action.

 

[ControlledChaos]

This is a passage that really baffled me the first time I read this text. I was less familiar with Daoism and asian philosophy as a whole when I read it that time, and out of all the passages in the entire text I remember this one having me seriously ask, "what the heck am I reading?". Let's see what value I can glean out of it now.

But here now are some other sayings - I do not know whether they are of the same character as those which I have already given, or of a different character. Whether they be of the same character or not when looked at along with them, they have a character of their own, which cannot be distinguished from the others. But though this be the case, let me try to explain myself.

Zhuangzi opens this passage by stating that what he has to say in this passage will be of a unique character when taken on its own. While we might compare and contrast what he has to say here with previous statements and find some connections or differences, the statements here are their own thing.

Using his own words as the example, Zhuangzi is pointing out how we tend to make frivolous associations from past experiences, and often mislabel the character of something or someone based on those previously formed notions. He's pointing out our tendency towards bias, and asking us to look at his statement here in its own light without making connections or asumptions. That is to say, with the proper light of the mind.

There was a beginning. There was a beginning before that beginning. There was a beginning previous to that beginning before there was the beginning.

The Dao has a cyclical nature which can be observed throughout many systems in nature and even in the societies that we construct. The earth revolves around the sun and we have yearly cycles. We have day and night. We have the waves of the ocean splashing onto the shore and receding. We have the cycle of coming into our lives imbued with energy, and then that energy returning to the earth upon our death. We have the cycle of raising children then your children raising children. We have our heartbeat. We have the rise and fall of civilizations, the stock market, radio waves, photons, internet, things going viral then fading into obscurity. These cycles are ubiquitous through all levels of this universe big and small, and they are a primary feature of the Dao.

Hence, there are endless beginnings before endless beginnings. This is why Daoism promotes flexibility rather than rigidity. These many cycles happen so rapidly that clinging to one way becomes assinine in even a short time as conditions are constantly on the move.

There was existence; there had been no existence. There was no existence before the beginning of that no existence. There was no existence previous to the no existence before there was the beginning of the no existence.

Likewise to there being endless beginnings before beginnings due to the cyclical nature of the Dao, there have also been endless ends before endless ends. As they say, "the only constant is change".

If suddenly there was nonexistence, we do not know whether it was really anything existing, or really not existing.

If everything suddenly ceased to exist, how would we know that it existed in the first place? And how would we know it didn't exist if there was no existence to point to in order to substantiate non existence? This is the interlocking nature of the Dao.

There's a certain push-pull between all of these different opposites, and the tension between them is what animates things into being. A shadow is not merely darkness in itself, it is a lack of light. And if there were only light and no shadow, we would be likewise blinded. If there were no opposing sets of directions, we'd be living in a one dimensional plane. If there was no depth and shallowness, we'd be like the super mario brothers. Even this internet that allows me to type all of this is based on wavelengths which are cyclical in nature, bouncing between two extremes. Even the particles making up our bodies have properties like this. Computer programming is based on binary code, essentially using many variations of "yes" and "no" to produce everything you see on this screen piecewise. Your "IRL" experience is manifested in much the same way, there's just many more different sets of opposites than a 1 and a 0. Yet ultimately, it all hinges on the interplay of a "positive" thing and a "negative" nothing; the hinge of the Dao, if you will.

Now I have said what I have said, but I do not know whether what I have said be really anything to the point or not.

He finishes in classic Zhuangzi fashion, stopping short of claiming that he has (or has not) said something substantial. He's very principled in his flexibility of principle, a sort of paradox now isn't it?

 

[ControlledChaos]

Under heaven there is nothing greater than the tip of an autumn down, and the Tai mountain is small. There is no one more long-lived than a child which dies prematurely, and Peng Zu did not live out his time.

Zhuangzi opens this passage by saying a series of statements which seem to be untrue from any conventional standpoint. I believe that he does this as part of his wider point that the definitions of things such as big, small, long, and short are arbitrarly asigned by people. While from our perspective these statements are untrue, Zhuangzi may hypothetically have his own definition for such words.

Heaven, Earth, and I were produced together, and all things and I are one.

This is a statement of non-duality, the concept that all the different things in life that appear as seperate are just parts of one interconnected reality. His reasoning is that since it was all produced together, or came about from the same process, it's all one in the same. That process is the Dao.

Since they are one, can there be speech about them?

If it's all part of the same thing, is there really any credence to it when we point at one thing or another and speak of it as its own seperate thing?

But since they are spoken of as one, must there not be room for speech?

He points out the very paradox inherent even in speaking of all things as one, since the speech itself has definitions that are assigned to form it and thus in a sense the discrimination of differences take place even by calling it all one.

One and Speech are two; two and one are three. Going on from this (in our enumeration), the most skilful reckoner cannot reach (the end of the necessary numbers), and how much less can ordinary people do so! Therefore from non-existence we proceed to existence till we arrive at three; proceeding from existence to existence, to how many should we reach?

Using basic arithmetic, Zhuangzi outlines the way in which we arrive at all of these myraid differences in things from our own perspective. Through our speech we give endless attributions to countless things. We even have speech about speech, books about books, books about books about books. Theoretically, the amount and complexity of speech we can have about different things has no endpoint.

Let us abjure such procedure, and simply rest here.

After laying out how we reach farther and farther levels of abstraction away from the true oneness of everything, Zhuangzi presents a radical piece of advice; quit speaking of all of these different things as a "this" or a "that", and just rest yourself in their "oneness". Rather than overthink and stress over all the different thing in life, recognize they are part of the whole and find peace in that unity.

 

[ControlledChaos]

The Dao at first met with no responsive recognition. Speech at first had no constant forms of expression.

Zhuangzi gets to the heart of the matter here, speaking on the origin of speech itself. At first, speech may not have had a particular "this" and "that". It was a basic form of communication that hadn't yet unblurred the lines of what we were trying to communicate. The Dao is sort of like speech in the sense that it is also this process that goes from vague and formless, to a myriad of forms.

Because of this there came the demarcations (of different views).

This basic form of speech that didn't have distinctions gave way to the speech we know today, where everything has a name and a definition according to our perspective, and hence different views on those names and definitions.

Let me describe those demarcations: they are the Left and the Right; the Relations and their Obligations; Classifications and their Distinctions; Emulations and Contentions. These are what are called 'the Eight Qualities.'

The "left and the right" are basic sets of opposite, such as up and down or light and dark. The "relations and their obligations" is how we relate different things together, and what those relations imply. The "classifications and their distinctions" is different "types of things". The "emulations and contentions" are peoples' tendencies to both copy and go against the views of others in life. Together, these make up the boundaries inherent in our language.

Outside the limits of the world of men, the sage occupies his thoughts, but does not discuss about anything; inside those limits he occupies his thoughts, but does not pass any judgments.

The sage too might live in a society that had this framework of language creating these distinctions. He accepts this, but doesn't let it pin him down or limit his knowledge of life in its true unity, and rests in the actual state of things in the moment which is outside our language's discrepencies.

In the Chun Qiu, which embraces the history of the former kings, the sage indicates his judgments, but does not argue (in vindication of them). Thus it is that he separates his characters from one another without appearing to do so, and argues without the form of argument.

The sage might have distinctions of his own, as anybody who grew up in a society with language and culture does. However, he does not argue these distinctions, knowing that we are all limited to our own perspective according to our experience in life.

How does he do so? The sage cherishes his views in his own breast, while men generally state theirs argumentatively, to show them to others. Hence we have the saying, 'Disputation is a proof of not seeing clearly.'

You can have your own views that you cherish, but if you spend your time arguing about them and showing them off for recognition then you lack clarity. In the context of Zhuangzi, clarity is the ability to see things without the filter of our biases clouding our judgement.

The Great Dao does not admit of being praised.

The Dao is the endless process unfolding before your eyes, it doesn't need to praise itself or be praised. Here Zhuangzi links the way of the sage with the natural way of the Dao as seen in life itself.

The Great Argument does not require words.

If something is true, it won't need to be argued because it is self evident to anybody who sees things with clarity. And if they don't have clarity, then no argument would convince them anyhow.

Great Benevolence is not (officiously) benevolent.

If you are truly benevolent, then the point isn't going to about making everybody do it your way, or see how benevolent you are.

Great Disinterestedness does not vaunt its humility.

Disinterestedness or dispassion in the context of Daoism is often seen as the very clear view of the sage who isn't swayed by their biases. If one is truly like this, they won't be going out of their way to show how disinterested or humble they are.

Great Courage is not seen in stubborn bravery.

Running into obvious danger to show how brave you are is not an act of courage because if it is actually based in the fear of being seen as cowardly.

The Dao that is displayed is not the Dao.

The Dao isn't any one form that we can point to.

Words that are argumentative do not reach the point.

Argumentative words are often based in language that is already steeped in preconceived biases and notions we gained from our experience.

Benevolence that is constantly exercised does not accomplish its object. Disinterestedness that vaunts its purity is not genuine. Courage that is most stubborn is ineffectual.

All of this is to say, "don't talk about it, be about it".

These five seem to be round (and complete), but they tend to become square (and immovable).

While good traits on their own, the second somebody becomes too attached to being benevolent, disinterested, right, courageous, and so on... it diminishes the very trait because these things aren't forced but come about naturally.

Therefore the knowledge that stops at what it does not know is the greatest. Who knows the argument that needs no words, and the Way that is not to be trodden?

Here he reaches the heart of the matter. We cannot find the one true way because the way aka the Dao is constantly on the moves. The second you think you've got it, the conditions have already changed and you have to figure out the new way to the new conditions. Therefore, don't cling to any one way or viewpoint. Be flexible.

He who is able to know this has what is called 'The Heavenly Treasure-house.' He may pour into it without its being filled; he may pour from it without its being exhausted; and all the while he does not know whence (the supply) comes. This is what is called 'The Store of Light.'

The "heavenly treasure house" is that adaptive and flexible way of being that clings to no one way. It provides you with the ability to respond to any situation with clarity and intelligence, hence it can be filled or poured from endlessly because there is no rigid way procluding you from other possible ways to deal with things.

Why doesn't one who posesses this ability know where it comes from? Well, if anybody knew that then there wouldn't be such a massive conflict on religion in the world. Zhuangzi is saying that for the sage, it is completely ok to just admit "I don't know". Once you think you know, you're locked into that notion and can't act outside it. It is self-limiting.

Therefore of old Yao asked Shun, saying, 'I wish to smite (the rulers of) Zong, Kuai, and Xu-Ao. Even when standing in my court, I cannot get them out of my mind. How is it so?' Shun replied, 'Those three rulers live (in their little states) as if they were among the mugwort and other brushwood - how is it that you cannot get them out of your mind?

Yao is spending his time obsessing over his desire to smite the rulers of some petty states that he has an issue with. Shun replies that they are small rulers and that he ought not to stress over them.

Formerly, ten suns came out together, and all things were illuminated by them; how much should (your) virtue exceed (all) suns!'

In this analogy, the ten suns are everything as a whole, the Dao. It's all possibilities of what virtue even could be. Shun begs the question, 'how are your views above all other possible views'. This story is another illustration by Zhuangzi to encourage flexibility. All-in-all, this passage criticizes the limits of speech, rigid viewpoints, and forced virtue... and dares us to adapt a more flexible way of being that doesn't talk about it, but is about it.

 

[ControlledChaos]

Nie Que asked Wang Ni, saying, 'Do you know, Sir, what all creatures agree in approving and affirming?' 'How should I know it?' was the reply.

Nie Que asks Wang Ni a seemingly simple question, what do all creatutures agree on? His reply isn't just I don't know, but "how should I know?". Why shouldn't he know? He cannot read the mind of every creature. And if there is one thing that is commonly known about humans, it's their wildly differing opinions and perspectives. There isn't anything that everybody agrees on, and even if there was we wouldn't know what that is. And even if we did, people often change their minds.

'Do you know what it is that you do not know?' asked the other again, and he got the same reply.

Nie Que tries again to get him to answer that question with different wording, and gets the same reply.

He asked a third time, 'Then are all creatures thus without knowledge?' and Wang Ni answered as before,

Nie Que then asks if in light of him not knowing if that means that no creatures know anything at all. However, Wang Ni doesn't know this either. Again, he does not know all creatures, so how can he know if all of them don't know?

(adding however), 'Notwithstanding, I will try and explain my meaning. How do you know that when I say "I know it," I really (am showing that) I do not know it, and that when I say "I do not know it," I really am showing that I do know it.'

I believe the "it" in question here that he could say he knows or does not know, is the endless possibilities inherent in the Dao. If he says he knows it and gives a concrete answer, then he is procluding all of the other possibilities, and therefore doesn't know the full scope of the Dao. If says he doesn't know, he isn't sticking fast to any specific answer and therefore remains open to all of the many possibilities, henceforth in a paradoxal way knowing "it".

And let me ask you some questions: 'If a man sleep in a damp place, he will have a pain in his loins, and half his body will be as if it were dead; but will it be so with an eel? If he be living in a tree, he will be frightened and all in a tremble; but will it be so with a monkey? And does any one of the three know his right place ?

Here he is delving into the experiental and subjective nature of our 'knowledge', because a lot of what we "know" to be true is just a function of our opinion. Some people "know" that pineapples on pizza is an amazing combos, but many others would fiercely object. Which is really the truth? None are, or all are... perhaps both at once; the grand paradox of knowledge.

Men eat animals that have been fed on grain and grass; deer feed on the thick-set grass; centipedes enjoy small snakes; owls and crows delight in mice; but does any one of the four know the right taste?

As I just did in my very analysis of his last statement, Wang Ni points out that different creatures have different food preferences and asks which knows the right taste.

The dog-headed monkey finds its mate in the female gibbon; the elk and the axis deer cohabit; and the eel enjoys itself with other fishes. Mao Qiang and Li Ji were accounted by men to be most beautiful, but when fishes saw them, they dived deep in the water from them; when birds, they flew from them aloft; and when deer saw them, they separated and fled away. But did any of these four know which in the world is the right female attraction?

He extends his point to the idea of physical attraction.

As I look at the matter, the first principles of benevolence and righteousness and the paths of approval and disapproval are inextricably mixed and confused together - how is it possible that I should know how to discriminate among them?'

This is to say, with all of these wildly different opinions on right and wrong flying around between different people, all of which are subject to change, how in the world is he to know which one is the correct opinion?

Nie Que said (further), 'Since you, Sir, do not know what is advantageous and what is hurtful, is the Perfect man also in the same way without the knowledge of them?'

Nie Que cleverly asks him if the perfect man also does not know, perhaps anticipating him to substantiate perfectness and make him be hypocritical. Very Socratic on his part.

Wang Ni replied, 'The Perfect man is spirit-like. Great lakes might be boiling about him, and he would not feel their heat; the He and the Han might be frozen up, and he would not feel the cold; the hurrying thunderbolts might split the mountains, and the wind shake the ocean, without being able to make him afraid.

He replies that the perfect man is unbothered by catastrophic changes, even natural disasters of a huge magnitude such as lightning splitting mountains. This echoes other statements about the sage in eastern philosophy, which generally paint such a person as dispassionate in the face of massive adversity. But what about that other less talked about aspect of the sage? He goes on to elaborate:

Being such, he mounts on the clouds of the air, rides on the sun and moon, and rambles at ease beyond the four seas. Neither death nor life makes any change in him, and how much less should the considerations of advantage and injury do so!'

To cap his statement on the perfect man and end the passage, Wang Ni describes how the perfect man just sort of catches the waves of life and surfs on them, rather than allowing them to tumble over him as he vainly resists their currents. Wang Ni's perfect man uses the constant changes and chaos in life to their advantage and keeps it relaxed, rather than allowing things out of their control to control their emotions. In essence, he has good self control and an adaptive attitude.

I really like this passage, because unlike many other passages in chapter 2, it really strikes at the point directly. While the more cryptic passages are useful for deepening your understanding and sort of shocking you into getting it with its clever paradoxes, this one is greatly helpful for anybody who may have missed his implications and helps shed light on this whole chapter in a general sense. This is why the Zhuangzi gets better with repeated readings.

 

[ControlledChaos]

Qu Quezi asked Chang Wuzi, saying, 'I heard the Master (speaking of such language as the following): "The sagely man does not occupy himself with worldly affairs. He does not put himself in the way of what is profitable, nor try to avoid what is hurtful; he has no pleasure in seeking (for anything from any one); he does not care to be found in (any established) Way; he speaks without speaking; he does not speak when he speaks; thus finding his enjoyment outside the dust and dirt (of the world)."

These words describing the sage sound like Daoism 101. Not seeking good things, not avoiding bad things, not looking for others' approval, not speaking on behalf of or following any rigid or established viewpoint, and finding enjoyment in just being. You see that word very often in the Zhuangzi, enjoyment. It's a very key detail because it shows that Zhuangzi isn't just telling us to detach from the world, but rather detach from all of the rigid ideologies and attachments that make it hard to enjoy the world in its true light.

The Master considered all this to be a shoreless flow of mere words, and I consider it to describe the course of the Mysterious Way - What do you, Sir, think of it?'

Qu Quezi also considered this to be Daoism 101, as the Dao is also called the way. He asks Chang Wuzi what he thinks.

Chang Wuzi replied, 'The hearing of such words would have perplexed even Huang Di, and how should Qiu be competent to understand them? And you, moreover, are too hasty in forming your estimate (of their meaning). You see the egg, and (immediately) look out for the cock (that is to be hatched from it); you see the bow, and (immediately) look out for the dove (that is to be brought down by it) being roasted.

Chang Wuzi believes that Qu Quezi is missing the point, and say that he "sees the egg and immediately looks for the cock". That is to say, he sees the source of the way and immediately looks for the way in a defined sense.

I will try to explain the thing to you in a rough way; do you in the same way listen to me.

He prepares to elaborate "in a rough way" and asks Qu Quezi to listen, also in a rough way. I think by rough he means to listen without looking too hard to define what he's saying. Let's give it a try.

How could any one stand by the side of the sun and moon, and hold under his arm all space and all time? (Such language only means that the sagely man) keeps his mouth shut, and puts aside questions that are uncertain and dark; making his inferior capacities unite with him in honouring (the One Lord).

Chang Wuzi believes that those words just mean that the sage doesn't try and speak with authority on things that he really doesn't have any true certainty on. By inferior capacities, he may mean the part of the sage that isnt certain. By uniting those inferior capacities with him in honoring the "one lord", which I believe is the Dao, he might mean that the sage doesn't presume to know the way for certain, and hence honors the vast nature of the Dao.

Men in general bustle about and toil; the sagely man seems stupid and to know nothing.

The sage seems stupid because he doesn't try to be a know-it-all.

He blends ten thousand years together in the one (conception of time); the myriad things all pursue their spontaneous course, and they are all before him as doing so.

Time isn't necessarily something that can be truly split up. We divide history into different eras, but this is a human effort. Time ia continuous, flowing event that never stops. It's part of the Dao. When he says the myraid things all pursue their spontaneous course, he is saying that everything is part of this flowing and infinite event of the Dao. They are before him as doing so because he doesn't try to pin them down to any one fixed conception or notion, as all things are subject to change.

How do I know that the love of life is not a delusion? and that the dislike of death is not like a young person's losing his way, and not knowing that he is (really) going home?

This language mirrors a common theme in eastern philosophy, which doesn't shy away from death as this awful and horrific thing. Rather, it is seen as a homecoming as sorts, part of the way.

Li Ji was a daughter of the border Warden of Ai. When (the ruler of) the state of Jin first got possession of her, she wept till the tears wetted all the front of her dress. But when she came to the place of the king, shared with him his luxurious couch, and ate his grain-and-grass-fed meat, then she regretted that she had wept.

Here he describes a ruler's daughter who at first was very upset to be a posession of another ruler and wept, until she experienced the luxury of royal life which made her regret weeping. This is a demonstration of how people are subject to change in their view of things. What seems horrible one moment could seem to be a luxury the next.

How do I know that the dead do not repent of their former craving for life? Those who dream of (the pleasures of) drinking may in the morning wail and weep; those who dream of wailing and weeping may in the morning be going out to hunt.

This is to say, not everything is necessarily as it seems on first glance. He uses the examples of life, drinking alcohol, and dreaming as examples.

When they were dreaming they did not know it was a dream; in their dream they may even have tried to interpret it; but when they awoke they knew that it was a dream. And there is the great awaking, after which we shall know that this life was a great dream.

He compares life itself to a dream where one doesn't realize they are dreaming. This concept comparing dreams and life is recurring in both the Zhuangzi and eastern philosophy as a whole. It implies that there is something beyond this life, but doesn't substantiate it with a form. Some might call it the ultimate reality, or the Dao. It is formless and infinite, yet from it springs all forms.

All the while, the stupid think they are awake, and with nice discrimination insist on their knowledge; now playing the part of rulers, and now of grooms. Bigoted was that Qiu! He and you are both dreaming. I who say that you are dreaming am dreaming myself.

He further criticizes people who think thy have it all figured out, saying they are merely 'playing the part' of their societal roles. He tells Qu Quezi that him and the master who dismissed the words on the sage as dreaming, but then doubles back and says that by saying that he too is dreaming. That is to say, he made a declaration about them with certainty, which may not be necessarily true. He dreamt that they were dreaming. Much like those who say that others are "this" or "that" might be missing the full scope of that person.

These words seem very strange; but if after ten thousand ages we once meet with a great sage who knows how to explain them, it will be as if we met him (unexpectedly) some morning or evening.

The words of a sage can come unexpectedly from anywhere at anytime. We can't pigeonhole the particular form of the sage or his words to predict when or where we will hear them.

Since you made me enter into this discussion with you, if you have got the better of me and not I of you, are you indeed right, and I indeed wrong? If I have got the better of you and not you of me, am I indeed right and you indeed wrong? Is the one of us right and the other wrong? are we both right or both wrong? Since we cannot come to a mutual and common understanding, men will certainly continue in darkness on the subject.

Here he details the futility of opposing sides that argue that they are right and the other is wrong. They both live within their own perspective and are not open minded, so the debate rages on forever and is inconclusive and often contentious. You see this a lot in online discourse on a very wide plethora of controversial topics, especially these days.

Whom shall I employ to adjudicate in the matter? If I employ one who agrees with you, how can he, agreeing with you, do so correctly? If I employ one who agrees with me, how can he, agreeing with me, do so correctly? If I employ one who disagrees with you and I, how can he, disagreeing with you and I, do so correctly? If I employ one who agrees with you and I, how can he, agreeing with you and I, do so correctly?

Who is to judge which one of two opposing parties is right or wrong? They too are steeped in their own perspective that locks them in. The very act of a judgement betrays bias.

In this way I and you and those others would all not be able to come to a mutual understanding; and shall we then wait for that (great sage)? (We need not do so.) To wait on others to learn how conflicting opinions are changed is simply like not so waiting at all.

The sage isn't necessarily the one to wait for in order for people to reach a mutual understanding and cease their bickering. This is because the sage is not interested in imposing their ways on opinionated people, as this would just create disharmony and contempt. Even these various viewpoints that people argue over are part of the Dao, and the sage recognizes this. They do not need to interfere because learning the futility of arguing over such opinions is a natural process that people have to undergo on their own terms. When a math teacher just simply hands the students a formula without explaining why it is true, it often creates confusion more than understanding. Better to give the students room to learn the proofs behind these formulas and think it through on their own so they can have a deep understanding. Likewise, the way of the sage can't just be told, but is the result of a naturally unfolding process that all of us are on different stages of. We all have our own journey.

The harmonising of them is to be found in the invisible operation of Heaven, and by following this on into the unlimited past. It is by this method that we can complete our years (without our minds being disturbed).

The invisible operation of heaven is the Dao, or the way. We follow it by simply experiencing life without overlaying contrived notions onto it, and this keeps our mind at ease.

What is meant by harmonising (conflicting opinions) in the invisible operation of Heaven? There is the affirmation and the denial of it; and there is the assertion of an opinion and the rejection of it. If the affirmation be according to the reality of the fact, it is certainly different from the denial of it - there can be no dispute about that. If the assertion of an opinion be correct, it is certainly different from its rejection - neither can there be any dispute about that.

If an opinion is actually correct, it will be such an evident truth that there will be no dispute over it at all. The fact that such endless debates rage on some issues highlights that neither position is purely based on absolute eality.

Let us forget the lapse of time; let us forget the conflict of opinions. Let us make our appeal to the Infinite, and take up our position there.'

He ends his speech with a call to cease our futile debates and simply rest in the reality before our eyes without worrying about the conflict of "this" and "that".

 

[ControlledChaos]

The Penumbra asked the Shadow, saying, 'Formerly you were walking on, and now you have stopped; formerly you were sitting, and now you have risen up - how is it that you are so without stability?' The Shadow replied, 'I wait for the movements of something else to do what I do, and that something else on which I wait waits further on another to do as it does.

We did not set the initial conditions of the universe, nor do we know what they were or where they are going to go. Every moment is culmination of everything before it, and things tend to happen in cycles with each iteration having its own unique character yet still posessing similarities and patterns from the previous cycles. The shadow's movement in this passage could be interpreted as any movement in the universe, both internally and externally. Things happen, and then other things happen as a result, like dominoes.

A penembru is the lighter edge of a shadow which still has some light in it. It could be seen as somebody who is questioning why things in life change so much, as the shadow's movement also causes the penembru on its edges to move. The shadow's reply explains how really, these changes were inevitable and the result of a sort of domino effect. This passage also touches on the yin-yang principle through the references to light, penumbras, and shadows. The shadow, light, and penembru move mutually with eachother and produces forms.

My waiting, is it for the scales of a snake, or the wings of a cicada?

Two such forms mentioned here are the scales of a snake and the wings of a cicada. These are used here as examples of potential things that could cause movement in the shadow ie. two potential events that happen in the unfoldment of conditions within the Dao. However, their mention is not arbitrary. Both the wings of a cicada and scales of a snake have a certain mathematical pattern to them. They subtly reference how, despite the seemingly chaotic unfoldments in nature, there still is a certain order in its course. The wings and scales are evidence of this.

Another example that demonstrates how the Dao is not merely pure chaos is the fibonacci spiral, which has a particular mathematical profile and appears in several disconnected things in nature, from ferns to seashells.

How should I know why I do one thing, or do not do another?

We cannot predict the future or pin down exactly what conditions lead us down the path we end up on. Much of this is out of our direct control, the circumstances of our birth for instance. But we don't need to know all that or control it. We can work with the present conditions in a manner that yields results, rather than fight against reality. By doing so, it can feel rather effortless. This is the "wu wei" of Daoism, or effortless action.

 

[ControlledChaos]

Formerly, I, Zhuang Zhou, dreamt that I was a butterfly, a butterfly flying about, feeling that it was enjoying itself. I did not know that it was Zhou.

Zhuangzi himself details an experience of dreaming of being a butterfly that is enjoying itself. Again there is this motif of enjoyment. The image of a butterfly happily fluttering about is very evocative.

Suddenly I awoke, and was myself again, the veritable Zhou.

He wakes up, as the "veritable" Zhou. As in, the real deal. Or is he?

I did not know whether it had formerly been Zhou dreaming that he was a butterfly, or it was now a butterfly dreaming that it was Zhou.

Perhaps it is the case that both are true, or neither!

But between Zhou and a butterfly there must be a difference.

Zhuangzi and the butterfly seem to be interconnected in this instance, dreaming of one another. Yet, they are 2 distinct experiences.

This is a case of what is called the Transformation of Things.'

This "transformation of things" might be the most mystic passage in all of chapter 2. It is also the final passage, and the capstone on its many reflections. While the previous passage on the shadow and the penumbra explores the unfathomable nature of causality, this one explores the vast implications of that causality.

This "transformation of things" is a suggestion that in a sense, there is more than meets the eye. It hints at the possibility of other realities that are connected yet distinct from our own, by questioning if the dream of being a butterfly was the true reality, and characterizing the dream as a distinct reality from the waking state of Zhuangzi.

But what are dreams really? To this day science hasn't came up with a convincing answer to that question, and it's a bit of a mystery. However, one can observe some aspects of dreams from our own experiences, and allow me to make some observations here:

- Dreams can contain aspects of things you have seen and can remember seeing; people, places, and things.

- However, dreams can also warp these familiar elements enough for them to be uncannily different. For instance a familiar environment can be turned topsy-turvy, re-arranged, re-scaled, made more more vertical, and so on. People say or do things they wouldn't do in real life.

- There can be fantasy aspects to dreams, such as magic and places out of fiction.

- There are also forms in dreams which appear to be uniquely from that dream, although they may just be a mishmash of associations, some of which we do not even consciously remember.

-Dreams often reflect on and reference our psychology, such as fears and hopes. They also seem to draw from our imagination, and from things we have seen both real and fictional.

There is much art based on dreams, and many dreams based on art. And what is the commonality between dreams and art? Both serve as conduits for the imagination, dreams unconsciously and art consciously. And what is imagination? It's something entirely new, coming from our minds. Imagination is the creative force in our intellect, and dreams channel from it directly, fusing it seemlessly with snippets from our conscious memories. Art also channels directly from our imagination, and our imagination mixes from what we experience in order to make art. Much of art fuses imagination and lived experience to reflect on various aspects of life's journey.

Zhuangzi often mentions that we should seek to just enjoy life in ease rather than worry about the "best" way to live. Now what are some of our most common sources of enjoyment? Music, stories, television, paintings. Products of our creative force, our imaginations. Zhuangzi encourages us not to rigid so that we may enjoy life, so it is worth reflecting on the things that do bring us enjoyment. Notice how he said that in the butterfly dream he was enjoying himself. He questions if he is a butterfly dreaming he is Zhuangzi, implying the dream could be its own distinct reality which is connected yet seperate from his life as Zhuangzi.

Now, what else brings us enjoyment and is connected yet seperate from our lived experience? Art. Art is derived from our pure creative force of imagination. And yet often enough, it is relatable. It says something about life, almost like a reflection of some aspect of it albiet, more symbolic. And in this sense, art, imagination, and reality are inextricably linked. And where do all of them converge? Dreams. Art, dreams, and imagination bring us enjoyment, are spontaneous and freely associated to everything internal and internal, and infinitely varied. They represent the chaotic jumble of the Dao in a sense, and the way they interact with eachother is the "transformation of things" Zhuangzi is hinting at. We often forget our dreams, and if we didn't take the time to make art we often forget what we imagine. It is constantly changing, much like the Dao.

And by suggesting that in fact, the dream could be the actual reality, or both could be- Zhuangzi is suggesting that they are all associated and have potential to be realities all of their own, which interact and compliment eachother; these things give us enjoyment and allows us to reflect on the many facets, aspects, archetypes, forms, and dimensions in our experience. If rigid ideology and fixed viewpoints are what Zhuangzi suggests we take our focus away from, these things which relate to the imagination and experience seem to be the "good stuff", which makes our "free and easy wandering" all the more enjoyable.

By ending chapter 2 in this manner, he gives a closing statement which substantiates exactly why we shouldn't be so attached to what we think is true; there is more than meets the eye, and it is often beautiful, imaginative, awe-inspiring, mysterious, and enjoyable. But in order to have these things, we need to be looking on the moment with clarity, unburdened by what we think we know.

 

[ControlledChaos]

Chapter 3, Nourishing the Lord of Life


There is a limit to our life, but to knowledge there is no limit. With what is limited to pursue after what is unlimited is a perilous thing;

Variables are constantly changing and intermixing in life, and this means there is never an end to knowledge because more and more things to know spring from reality at every moment. Human lifespans only go so far, and relative all of time it is practically nothing. So for one person to try and gain a comprehensive knowledge of the universe with absolute totality is like trying to use a raindrop to fill an ocean basin. The futility of this can make it perilous since, as the amount of knowledge is endless, so is the lengths people can go trying to chase it. Our tampering with nuclear energy is a good example of this peril.

and when, knowing this, we still seek the increase of our knowledge, the peril cannot be averted.

If you know that knowledge is limitless and still strive to know everything, it is a bit like zealously trying to surf on a tsunami even knowing what it is.

There should not be the practice of what is good with any thought of the fame (which it will bring), nor of what is evil with any approximation to the punishment (which it will incur):

This idea is often discussed in eastern philosophy, that one should not act with attachment to gain or loss in mind. In light of the peril of a reckless pursuit of knowledge, throwing desire and fear into the mix can make it that much more irrational.

an accordance with the Central Element (of our nature) is the regular way to preserve the body, to maintain the life, to nourish our parents, and to complete our term of years.

That is to say, in accordance with the Dao. Rather than recklessly trying to grab hold of a knowledge that is perpetually shifting in its contents, just try and take care of yourself. Eat healthy, exercise your mind and body, cut out stressful attachments and notions, and generally cultivate yourself. And of course, find the little things to enjoy in the moment while they're still there. As the song says, "don't go chasing waterfalls."

The title of chapter 3 is "nourishing the lord of life", and from this passage I suspect it could be focusing on a holistic way of living. Further passages should make this more clear, let's keep moving forward with the commentary!