齊物論

Ziqi of the South Wall sat leaning on his armrest, gazing up at the sky and breathing softly, vacant and far away, as though he had lost his companion. Yancheng Ziyou, who was standing in attendance before him, said: 'What is this? Can the body really be made like a withered tree, and the mind like dead ashes? The man leaning on the armrest now is not the one who was leaning on it before!' Ziqi said: 'Yan, it is good that you asked! Just now I lost myself — did you know? You have heard the piping of men, but not the piping of earth. You have heard the piping of earth, but not the piping of Heaven!'

Ziyou said: 'May I ask what you mean?' Ziqi said: 'The Great Clod belches out breath, and its name is wind. As long as it does not blow, nothing happens. But when it does, the ten thousand hollows begin to howl. Haven't you heard the long moaning? In the mountain forests, the crags and crevasses, the hollows of great trees a hundred spans round — they are like nostrils, like mouths, like ears, like sockets, like goblets, like mortars, like pools, like puddles. The wind makes sounds like rushing water, like whizzing arrows, like scolding, like gasping, like shouting, like wailing, like moaning, like howling. The first notes are a quavering echo, and those that follow harmonize — a gentle breeze brings a small harmony, a fierce gale a great harmony. When the blast has passed, all the hollows are empty again. Haven't you seen the way the leaves tremble and sway?'

Ziyou said: 'The piping of earth is the sound of these hollows, and the piping of men is the sound of bamboo flutes. But may I ask about the piping of Heaven?' Ziqi said: 'It blows through the ten thousand things in different ways, so that each can be itself. They all take what they need for themselves — but who is it that rouses them?'

Great knowledge is broad and leisurely; small knowledge is cramped and busy. Great speech blazes like fire; small speech is all chatter and prattle. In sleep, the soul crosses over; in waking, the body opens. Through their contact and entanglement, day after day the mind battles. Some thoughts are loose, some are deep, some are tight. Small fears make them anxious and fretful; great fears leave them stunned and dazed. They fly forth like an arrow from a crossbow, appointed as arbiters of right and wrong. They cling fast like an oath or treaty, guarding their victory. They fade like autumn into winter — describing their daily decline. They drown in what they do, and nothing can bring them back. They seal up like a stopped bottle — describing how they grow old and dull. The mind near death cannot be made to turn toward the light again. Joy, anger, grief, delight, worry, regret, fickleness, fixity, modesty, willfulness, candor, arrogance — music from empty holes, mushrooms formed from vapor. Day and night they alternate before us, yet no one knows from where they sprout. Enough, enough! Morning and evening we find them — is this the source from which they are born?

There is nothing that is not 'that'; there is nothing that is not 'this.' From the standpoint of 'that' you cannot see it, but through self-knowledge you can know it. Therefore I say: 'that' arises from 'this,' and 'this' depends on 'that' — which is to say, 'this' and 'that' give birth to each other. Although this is so, where there is birth there is death, where there is death there is birth. Where there is acceptability there is unacceptability, where there is unacceptability there is acceptability. Where there is recognition of right there follows recognition of wrong; where there is recognition of wrong there follows recognition of right. Therefore the sage does not proceed along these lines but illuminates all in the light of Heaven — and this too is simply following along with things. 'This' is also 'that,' 'that' is also 'this.' 'That' has its own right and wrong, 'this' too has its own right and wrong. Is there really a 'this' and a 'that'? Or is there really no 'this' and no 'that'? Where 'this' and 'that' cease to find their opposites — that is called the pivot of the Way. When the pivot is placed at the center of the ring, it can respond to all things without limit. Right is one infinity, wrong is another infinity. Therefore I say: there is nothing like using clarity.

When things are divided, something is completed; when something is completed, something is destroyed. But for all things, there is neither completion nor destruction — they are again made one. Only the person of penetrating understanding knows how to merge all things into one. Such a person does not use categories but lodges them in the ordinary. The ordinary is the useful; the useful is what penetrates; what penetrates is what succeeds. To succeed and stop there — that is nearly it. Just go along with things. To go along with things and not know why — this is called the Way. To wear out your spirit trying to make all things one, without knowing that they are already the same — this is called 'Three in the Morning.' What is 'Three in the Morning'? A monkey keeper was handing out chestnuts and said: 'Three in the morning and four in the evening.' All the monkeys were furious. So he said: 'All right, four in the morning and three in the evening.' All the monkeys were delighted. With no change in the actual amount, yet their joy and anger were used — this too is simply going along with things. Therefore the sage harmonizes right and wrong and rests on the balance of Heaven. This is called walking two roads.

Nie Que asked Wang Ni: 'Do you know what all things agree in considering right?' 'How would I know that!' 'Do you know what you don't know?' 'How would I know that!' 'Then do things know nothing?' 'How would I know that! But let me try saying something. How do I know that what I call knowing is not really not-knowing? How do I know that what I call not-knowing is not really knowing? Let me try a question on you: If a person sleeps in a damp place, they get an aching back and die. But what about a loach? If a person sits in a tree, they tremble with fright. But what about an ape? Of the three, which knows the correct place to live? People eat grain-fed animals. Deer eat grass. Centipedes relish snakes. Owls and crows crave mice. Of the four, which knows the correct taste? Monkeys mate with monkeys, deer consort with deer, loaches swim with fish. Mao Qiang and Lady Li were considered great beauties by men. But when fish saw them they dove to the depths; when birds saw them they soared into the sky; when deer saw them they bolted away. Of these four, which knows the correct standard of beauty in the world? From my point of view, the starting points of benevolence and righteousness, the paths of right and wrong, are all hopelessly tangled and confused. How would I be able to tell them apart!'

Once Zhuang Zhou dreamed he was a butterfly — a butterfly fluttering about, happy with itself and doing as it pleased. It did not know it was Zhuang Zhou. Suddenly he woke up, and there he was, solid and unmistakable Zhuang Zhou. But he did not know if he was Zhuang Zhou who had dreamed he was a butterfly, or a butterfly dreaming it was Zhuang Zhou. Between Zhuang Zhou and a butterfly there must certainly be a distinction. This is called the Transformation of Things.