Opposites Are the Same

Tzŭ Ch'i of Nan-kuo sat leaning on a table. Looking up to heaven, he sighed and became absent, as though soul and body had parted.

Tzŭ Ch'i of Nan-kuo sat leaning on a table. He looked up at the sky and sighed. He seemed lost in thought, as if his soul and body had parted.

Yen Ch'êng Tzŭ Yu, who was standing by him, exclaimed, "What are you thinking about that your body should become thus like dry wood, your mind like dead ashes? Surely the man now leaning on the table is not he who was here just now."

Yen Ch'êng Tzŭ Yu, who was standing beside him, exclaimed, "What are you thinking about? How has your body become like dry wood and your mind like dead ashes? Surely the man leaning on the table now is not the one who was here just now."

"My friend," replied Tzŭ Ch'i, "your question is apposite. To-day I have buried myself.... Do you understand?... Ah! perhaps you only know the music of Man, and not that of Earth. Or even if you have heard the music of Earth, you have not heard the music of Heaven."

"My friend," Tzŭ Ch'i replied, "your question is fitting. Today I have buried myself.... Do you understand?... Ah! Perhaps you know only the music of Man, not the music of Earth. Or even if you have heard the music of Earth, you have not heard the music of Heaven."

"Pray explain," said Tzŭ Yu.

"Please explain," said Tzŭ Yu.

"The breath of the universe," continued Tzŭ Ch'i, "is called wind. At times, it is inactive. But when active, every aperture resounds to the blast. Have you never listened to its growing roar?

"The breath of the universe," continued Tzŭ Ch'i, "is called wind. Sometimes it is still. But when it blows, every opening echoes with the blast. Have you never heard its growing roar?

"Caves and dells of hill and forest, hollows in huge trees of many a span in girth;—these are like nostrils, like mouths, like ears, like beam-sockets, like goblets, like mortars, like ditches, like bogs. And the wind goes rushing through them, sniffing, snoring, singing, soughing, puffing, purling, whistling, whirring, now shrilly treble, now deeply bass, now soft, now loud; until, with a lull, silence reigns supreme. Have you never witnessed among the trees such a disturbance as this?"

"Caves and valleys in the hills and forests, and hollows in huge trees many handspans around, take many shapes. They are like nostrils, mouths, ears, sockets for beams, cups, mortars, ditches, and bogs. The wind rushes through them, sniffing, snoring, singing, sighing, puffing, gurgling, whistling, and whirring. Now it sounds high and shrill, now deep and low, now soft, now loud. Then the wind dies down, and everything falls silent. Have you never seen the wind stir up such a commotion among the trees?"

"Well, then," enquired Tzŭ Yu, "since the music of earth consists of nothing more than holes, and the music of man of pipes and flutes,—of what consists the music of Heaven?"

"Well, then," asked Tzŭ Yu, "since the music of earth consists of nothing more than holes, and the music of man consists of pipes and flutes, what does the music of Heaven consist of?"

"The effect of the wind upon these various apertures," replied Tzŭ Ch'i, "is not uniform. But what is it that gives to each the individuality, to all the potentiality, of sound?

"The wind affects each opening differently," replied Tzŭ Ch'i. "But what gives each opening its own sound, and makes all of them capable of sound?

"Great knowledge embraces the whole:¹ small knowledge, a part only. Great speech is universal:² small speech is particular.

"Great knowledge embraces the whole:¹ small knowledge embraces only a part. Great speech is universal:² small speech is particular.

"For whether when the mind is locked in sleep or whether when in waking hours the body is released, we are subject to daily mental perturbations,—indecision, want of penetration, concealment, fretting fear, and trembling terror. Now like a javelin the mind flies forth, the arbiter of right and wrong.³

"Whether our minds are shut away in sleep or our bodies are free during waking hours, we experience daily mental disturbances. These include indecision, lack of insight, concealment, anxious worry, and trembling terror. Then the mind flies forth like a javelin, judging right and wrong.³

Now like a solemn covenanter it remains firm, the guardian of rights secured.⁴

Now, like someone bound by a solemn agreement, it stands firm, protecting rights that have been secured.⁴

Then, as under autumn and winter's blight, comes gradual decay, a passing away, like the flow of water, never to return. Finally, the block when all is choked up like an old drain,—the failing mind which shall not see light again.

Then comes gradual decay, as if under the blight of autumn and winter. Life passes away like flowing water, never to return. Finally, everything becomes blocked, like an old drain. The mind fails and will never see light again.

"Joy and anger, sorrow and happiness, caution and remorse, come upon us by turns, with ever-changing mood. They come like music from hollowness, like mushrooms from damp. Daily and nightly they alternate within us, but we cannot tell whence they spring. Can we then hope in a moment to lay our finger upon their very Cause?

"Joy and anger, sorrow and happiness, caution and remorse come over us in turn as our moods keep changing. They come like music from a hollow space, like mushrooms from dampness. Day and night, these feelings take turns within us, but we cannot tell where they come from. Can we really hope to pinpoint their very cause in a moment?

"But for these emotions I should not be. But for me, they would have no scope. So far we can go; but we do not know what it is that brings them into play. 'Twould seem to be a soul; but the clue to its existence is wanting. That such a Power operates, is credible enough, though we cannot see its form. It has functions without form.⁵

"Without these emotions, I would not exist. Without me, they would have no room to act. We can go this far, but we do not know what brings the emotions into play. It would seem to be a soul, but we have no clue to its existence. It is credible enough that such a Power acts, though we cannot see its form. It acts without having a form.⁵

"Take the human body with all its manifold divisions. Which part of it does a man love best? Does he not cherish all equally, or has he a preference? Do not all equally serve him? And do these servitors then govern themselves, or are they subdivided into rulers and subjects? Surely there is some soul which sways them all.

"Consider the human body and all its parts. Which part does a man love best? Does he cherish all parts equally, or does he prefer some? Don't all the parts serve him equally? Do these servants govern themselves, or are they divided into rulers and subjects? Surely some soul governs them all.

"But whether or not we ascertain what are the functions of this soul, it matters but little to the soul itself. For coming into existence with this mortal coil of mine, with the exhaustion of this mortal coil its mandate will also be exhausted. To be harassed by the wear and tear of life, and to pass rapidly through it without possibility of arresting one's course,—is not this pitiful indeed? To labour without ceasing, and then, without living to enjoy the fruit, worn out, to depart, suddenly, one knows not whither,—is not that a just cause for grief?

"But whether or not we discover what this soul does, it matters little to the soul itself. It came into existence with my mortal body, and when my body wears out, its allotted time will end too. We are worn down by life and pass quickly through it, unable to stop our course. Isn't that pitiful? We labor without stopping, then wear out and depart suddenly, without living to enjoy the fruits of our labor. We do not even know where we are going. Isn't that a just cause for grief?

"What advantage is there in what men call not dying? The body decomposes, and the mind goes with it. This is our real cause for sorrow. Can the world be so dull as not to see this? Or is it I alone who am dull, and others not so?

"What is the advantage of what people call not dying? The body decays, and the mind goes with it. That is the real reason for our sorrow. Can the world be too dull to see this? Or am I the only dull one, while everyone else understands?

"If we are to be guided by the criteria of our own minds, who shall be without a guide?⁶

"If we follow the judgments of our own minds, who will be without a guide?⁶

What need to know of the alternations of passion,⁷ when the mind thus affords scope to itself?—verily even the minds of fools! Whereas, for a mind without criteria⁸ to admit the idea of contraries, is like saying, I went to Yüeh to-day, and got there yesterday.⁹

Why try to understand the changes in passion⁷ when the mind gives itself such free rein? Even the minds of fools do this! But for a mind without standards⁸ to accept the idea of opposites is like saying, I went to Yüeh today and arrived yesterday.⁹

Or, like placing nowhere somewhere,—topography which even the Great Yü¹⁰ would fail to understand; how much more I?

Or, it is like putting nowhere somewhere, a geography that even the Great Yü¹⁰ could not understand. How much less could I?

"Speech is not mere breath. It is differentiated by meaning. Take away that, and you cannot say whether it is speech or not. Can you even distinguish it from the chirping of young birds?

"Speech is more than just breath. What makes it different is its meaning. Without meaning, you cannot say whether it is speech or not. Can you even tell it apart from the chirping of young birds?

"But how can Tao be so obscured that we speak of it as true and false? And how can speech be so obscured that it admits the idea of contraries? How can Tao go away and yet not remain?¹¹

"But how can Tao be so hidden that we call it true or false? And how can speech be so unclear that it allows for opposites? How can Tao go away and yet not remain?¹¹

How can speech exist and yet be impossible?¹²

How can speech exist and yet be impossible?¹²

"Tao is obscured by our want of grasp. Speech is obscured by the gloss of this world.¹³

"Tao is obscured by our lack of understanding. Speech is obscured by the surface beauty of this world.¹³

Hence the affirmatives and negatives of the Confucian and Mihist schools,¹⁴ each denying what the other affirmed and affirming what the other denied. But he who would reconcile affirmative with negative and negative with affirmative,¹⁵ must do so by the light of nature.¹⁶

Thus, the Confucian and Mihist schools disagreed over what was right and wrong.¹⁴ Each denied what the other affirmed and affirmed what the other denied. But anyone who would reconcile affirmation with denial and denial with affirmation,¹⁵ must do so by the light of nature.¹⁶

"There is nothing which is not objective: there is nothing which is not subjective. But it is impossible to start from the objective. Only from subjective knowledge is it possible to proceed to objective knowledge. Hence it has been said,¹⁷ 'The objective emanates from the subjective; the subjective is consequent upon the objective. This is the Alternation Theory.' Nevertheless, when one is born, the other dies. When one is possible, the other is impossible. When one is affirmative the other is negative. Which being the case, the true sage rejects all distinctions of this and that. He takes his refuge in God, and places himself in subjective relation with all things.¹⁸

"There is nothing that is not objective. There is nothing that is not subjective. But it is impossible to begin with the objective. Only through subjective knowledge can we arrive at objective knowledge. That is why it has been said,¹⁷ 'The objective comes from the subjective. The subjective follows from the objective. This is the Alternation Theory.' Nevertheless, when one is born, the other dies. When one is possible, the other is impossible. When one affirms, the other denies. Because of this, the true sage rejects all distinctions between this and that. He takes refuge in God and places himself in a subjective relationship with all things.¹⁸

"And inasmuch as the subjective is also objective, and the objective also subjective, and as the contraries under each are indistinguishably blended, does it not become impossible for us to say whether subjective and objective really exist at all?¹⁹

"And since the subjective is also objective, and the objective is also subjective, the opposites within each are blended together indistinguishably. Does this not make it impossible to say whether the subjective and the objective really exist at all?¹⁹

"When subjective and objective are both without their correlates, that is the very axis of Tao. And when that axis passes through the centre at which all Infinities converge, positive and negative alike blend into an infinite One. Hence it has been said that there is nothing like the light of nature.²⁰

"When subject and object no longer have their counterparts, that is the very axis of Tao. When that axis passes through the center where all infinities meet, positive and negative alike blend into an infinite One. So it has been said that there is nothing like the light of nature.²⁰

"To take a finger in illustration of a finger not being a finger is not so good as to take something which is not a finger. To take a horse in illustration of a horse not being a horse is not so good as to take something which is not a horse.

"To show that a finger is not a finger, it is better to use something other than a finger. To show that a horse is not a horse, it is better to use something other than a horse.

"So with the universe and all that in it is. These things are but fingers and horses in this sense. The possible is possible: the impossible is impossible. Tao operates, and given results follow. Things receive names and are what they are. They achieve this by their natural affinity for what they are and their natural antagonism to what they are not. For all things have their own particular constitutions and potentialities. Nothing can exist without these.²¹

"So it is with the universe and everything in it. In this sense, these things are just fingers and horses. What is possible is possible, and what is impossible is impossible. Tao operates, and certain results follow. Things receive names and are what they are. They become what they are through their natural attraction to what they are and their natural opposition to what they are not. For all things have their own particular natures and potential. Nothing can exist without these.²¹

"Therefore it is that, viewed from the standpoint of Tao, a beam and a pillar are identical.²²

"Therefore, from the standpoint of Tao, a beam and a pillar are identical.²²

So are ugliness and beauty, greatness, wickedness, perverseness, and strangeness. Separation is the same as construction: construction is the same as destruction. Nothing is subject either to construction or to destruction, for these conditions are brought together into One.

The same is true of ugliness and beauty, greatness, wickedness, perversity, and strangeness. Separation is the same as creation. Creation is the same as destruction. Nothing is subject to either creation or destruction, because both are brought together as One.

"Only the truly intelligent understand this principle of the identity of all things. They do not view things as apprehended by themselves, subjectively; but transfer themselves into the position of the things viewed.²³

"Only the truly intelligent understand the principle that all things are one. They do not see things only from their own subjective perspective. Instead, they put themselves in the position of the things they observe.²³

And viewing them thus they are able to comprehend them, nay, to master them;—and he who can master them is near. So it is that to place oneself in subjective relation with externals, without consciousness of their objectivity,—this is Tao. But to wear out one's intellect in an obstinate adherence to the individuality of things, not recognising the fact that all things are One,—this is called Three in the Morning."

And by viewing them this way, they can understand them, even master them. Anyone who can master them is near. So Tao is relating to external things subjectively, without being conscious of them as objects. But wearing out one's mind by stubbornly treating things as separate, without recognizing that all things are One, is called Three in the Morning."

"What is Three in the Morning?" asked Tzŭ Yu.

"What is Three in the Morning?" asked Tzŭ Yu.

"A keeper of monkeys," replied Tzŭ Ch'i, "said with regard to their rations of chestnuts that each monkey was to have three in the morning and four at night. But at this the monkeys were very angry, so the keeper said they might have four in the morning and three at night, with which arrangement they were all well pleased. The actual number of the chestnuts remained the same, but there was an adaptation to the likes and dislikes of those concerned. Such is the principle of putting oneself into subjective relation with externals.

"A monkey keeper," replied Tzŭ Ch'i, "said that each monkey would get three chestnuts in the morning and four at night. But the monkeys were very angry. So the keeper said they could have four in the morning and three at night. The monkeys were all pleased with that arrangement. The total number of chestnuts stayed the same, but the keeper adapted to the monkeys' likes and dislikes. This is the principle of relating to external things according to one's own feelings.

"Wherefore the true Sage, while regarding contraries as identical, adapts himself to the laws of Heaven. This is called following two courses at once.²⁴

"Therefore, the true Sage sees opposites as identical while following the laws of Heaven. This is called following two courses at once.²⁴

"The knowledge of the men of old had a limit. It extended back to a period when matter did not exist. That was the extreme point to which their knowledge reached.

"The knowledge of people in ancient times had a limit. It reached back to a time when matter did not exist. That was as far as their knowledge went.

"The second period was that of matter, but of matter unconditioned.²⁵

"The second period was the period of matter, but matter without conditions.²⁵

"The third epoch saw matter conditioned, but contraries were still unknown. When these appeared, Tao began to decline. And with the decline of Tao, individual bias arose.

"In the third epoch, matter took form, but opposites were still unknown. When opposites appeared, Tao began to decline. As Tao declined, individual bias arose.

"Have then these states of falling and rising real existences? Surely they are but as the falling and rising of Chao Wên's music,—the consequences of his playing.

"Do these states of falling and rising really exist? Surely they are only like the falling and rising of Chao Wên's music, a result of his playing.

Chao Wên played the guitar. Shih K'uang wielded the bâton.²⁶

Chao Wên played the guitar. Shih K'uang used the baton.²⁶

Hui Tzŭ argued. Herein these three men excelled, and in the practice of such arts they passed their lives.

Hui Tzŭ argued. These three men excelled at such arts and spent their lives practicing them.

"Hui Tzŭ's particular views being very different from those of the world in general, he was correspondingly anxious to enlighten people. But he did not enlighten them as he should have done,²⁷ and consequently ended in the obscurity of the 'hard and white.'²⁸

"Hui Tzŭ's views were very different from those of most people, so he was eager to enlighten them. But he did not enlighten them as he should have,²⁷ and consequently ended in the obscurity of the 'hard and white.'²⁸

Subsequently, his son searched his works for some clue, but never succeeded in establishing the principle. And indeed if such were possible to be established, then even I am established; but if not, then neither I nor anything in the universe is established!

Later, his son searched his works for a clue, but never managed to establish the principle. And indeed, if the principle can be established, then even I am established. But if it cannot, then neither I nor anything in the universe is established!

"Therefore what the true Sage aims at is the light which comes out of darkness. He does not view things as apprehended by himself, subjectively, but transfers himself into the position of the things viewed. This is called using the light.

"Therefore, the true sage seeks the light that comes out of darkness. He does not view things only from his own perspective. Instead, he puts himself in the position of the things he observes. This is called using the light.

"There remains, however, Speech. Is that to be enrolled under either category of contraries, or not? Whether it is so enrolled or not, it will in any case belong to one or the other, and thus be as though it had an objective existence. At any rate, I should like to hear some speech which belongs to neither category.²⁹

"But speech remains. Does it belong in either category of opposites, or not? Whether speech is placed in either category or not, it will belong to one or the other. So it will be as though speech had an objective existence. In any case, I would like to hear some speech that belongs to neither category.²⁹

"If there was a beginning, then there was a time before that beginning. And a time before the time which was before the time of that beginning.

"If there was a beginning, then there was a time before it. And there was a time before that earlier time.

"If there is existence, there must have been non-existence. And if there was a time when nothing existed, then there must have been a time before that—when even nothing did not exist. Suddenly, when nothing came into existence, could one really say whether it belonged to the category of existence or of non-existence? Even the very words I have just now uttered,—I cannot say whether they have really been uttered or not.³⁰

"If things exist, there must have been a time when nothing existed. And if there was a time when nothing existed, there must have been a time before that, when even nothing did not exist. Suddenly, when nothing came into existence, could anyone really say whether it was existence or non-existence? Even the words I have just spoken, I cannot say whether I have really spoken them or not.³⁰

"There is nothing under the canopy of heaven greater than the tip of an autumn spikelet. A vast mountain is a small thing. Neither is there any age greater than that of a child cut off in infancy. P'êng Tsu himself died young. The universe and I came into being together; and I, and everything therein, are One.

"Nothing under the sky is greater than the tip of an autumn spikelet. A vast mountain is small. No one is older than a child who died in infancy. P'êng Tsu himself died young. The universe and I came into being together. I and everything in the universe are One.

"If then all things are One, what room is there for Speech? On the other hand, since I can utter these words, how can Speech not exist?

"If all things are One, then what room is there for Speech? On the other hand, since I can say these words, how can Speech not exist?

"If it does exist, we have One and Speech = two; and two and one = three. From which point onwards even the best mathematicians will fail to reach:³¹ how much more then will ordinary people fail?

"If it does exist, we have One and Speech, which make two. Two and one make three. From that point on, even the best mathematicians will fail to keep up.³¹ How much more will ordinary people fail?"

"Hence, if from nothing you can proceed to something, and subsequently reach three, it follows that it would be still more easy if you were to start from something. To avoid such progression, you must put yourself into subjective relation with the external.

"So, if you can move from nothing to something and then reach three, starting from something would make reaching three even easier. To avoid such a progression, you must relate to the external world subjectively."

"Before conditions existed, Tao was. Before definitions existed, Speech was. Subjectively, we are conscious of certain delimitations which are,—

"Before conditions existed, Tao existed. Before definitions existed, Speech existed. In our own experience, we are aware of certain boundaries, which are:

These are called the Eight Predicables.³²

These are called the Eight Predicables.³²

For the true Sage, beyond the limits of an external world, they exist, but are not recognised. By the true Sage, within the limits of an external world, they are recognised, but are not assigned. And so, with regard to the wisdom of the ancients, as embodied in the canon of Spring and Autumn,³³ the true Sage assigns, but does not justify by argument. And thus, classifying he does not classify; arguing, he does not argue."

For the true Sage, things beyond the limits of the external world exist, but are not recognized. Within those limits, the true Sage recognizes things, but does not classify them. And so, the true Sage classifies the wisdom of the ancients, as embodied in the canon of Spring and Autumn,³³ but does not justify it through argument. Thus, in classifying, the Sage does not classify. In arguing, the Sage does not argue."

"How can that be?" asked Tzŭ Yu.

"How can that be?" asked Tzŭ Yu.

"The true Sage," answered Tzŭ Ch'i, "keeps his knowledge within him, while men in general set forth theirs in argument, in order to convince each other. And therefore it is said that in argument he does not manifest himself.³⁴

"The true Sage," answered Tzŭ Ch'i, "keeps his knowledge to himself. Most people, however, put theirs forward in arguments to convince each other. That is why it is said that the Sage does not reveal himself in argument.³⁴

"Perfect Tao does not declare itself. Nor does perfect argument express itself in words. Nor does perfect charity show itself in act. Nor is perfect honesty absolutely incorruptible. Nor is perfect courage absolutely unyielding.

"Perfect Tao does not announce itself. Perfect argument does not express itself in words. Perfect charity does not show itself in actions. Perfect honesty is not absolutely incorruptible. Perfect courage is not absolutely unyielding.

"For the Tao which shines forth is not Tao. Speech which argues falls short of its aim. Charity which has fixed points loses its scope. Honesty which is absolute is wanting in credit. Courage which is absolute misses its object. These five are, as it were, round, with a strong bias towards squareness. Therefore that knowledge which stops at what it does not know, is the highest knowledge.

"The Tao that shines forth is not the Tao. Speech that argues fails to achieve its aim. Charity confined to fixed limits loses its range. Absolute honesty lacks credibility. Absolute courage misses its aim. These five are like round things with a strong tendency to become square. Therefore, knowledge that stops at the limits of what it knows is the highest knowledge.

"Who knows the argument which can be argued without words?—the Tao which does not declare itself as Tao? He who knows this may be said to be of God. To be able to pour in without making full, and pour out without making empty, in ignorance of the power by which such results are accomplished,—this is accounted Light."

"Who knows the argument that can be made without words, the Tao that does not declare itself as Tao? Anyone who knows this may be said to be of God. This is called Light: being able to pour in without filling, and pour out without emptying, without knowing the power that makes this possible."

Of old, the Emperor Yao said to Shun, "I would smite the Tsungs, and the Kueis, and the Hsü-aos. Ever since I have been on the throne I have had this desire. What do you think?"

Long ago, Emperor Yao said to Shun, "I want to attack the Tsungs, the Kueis, and the Hsü-aos. I have wanted to do this ever since I took the throne. What do you think?"

"These three States," replied Shun, "are paltry out-of-the-way places. Why can you not shake off this desire? Once upon a time, ten suns came out together, and all things were illuminated thereby. How much more then should virtue excel suns?"³⁵

"These three states," Shun replied, "are small, unimportant places. Why can't you let go of this desire? Once, ten suns appeared together and lit up everything. How much more, then, should virtue surpass the suns?"³⁵

Yeh Ch'üeh asked Wang I,³⁶ saying, "Do you know for certain that all things are subjectively the same?"

Yeh Ch'üeh asked Wang I,³⁶ "Do you know for certain that all things are subjectively the same?"

"How can I know?" answered Wang I. "Do you know what you do not know?"

"How can I know?" Wang I replied. "Do you know what you don't know?"

"How can I know?" replied Yeh Ch'üeh. "But can then nothing be known?"

"How can I know?" replied Yeh Ch'üeh. "But does that mean nothing can be known?"

"How can I know?" said Wang I. "Nevertheless, I will try to tell you. How can it be known that what I call knowing is not really not knowing, and that what I call not knowing is not really knowing? Now I would ask you this. If a man sleeps in a damp place, he gets lumbago and dies. But how about an eel? And living up in a tree is precarious and trying to the nerves;—but how about monkeys? Of the man, the eel, and the monkey, whose habitat is the right one, absolutely? Human beings feed on flesh, deer on grass, centipedes on snakes, owls and crows on mice. Of these four, whose is the right taste, absolutely? Monkey mates with monkey, the buck with the doe; eels consort with fishes, while men admire Mao Ch'iang and Li Chi,³⁷ at the sight of whom fishes plunge deep down in the water, birds soar high in the air, and deer hurry away.³⁸

“How can I know?” said Wang I. “Still, I’ll try to tell you. How can I know whether what I call knowing is really not knowing? And how can I know whether what I call not knowing is really knowing? Now let me ask you this. If a man sleeps in a damp place, he gets back pain and dies. But what about an eel? Living in a tree is dangerous and nerve-racking, but what about monkeys? Of the man, the eel, and the monkey, whose habitat is absolutely right? Human beings eat flesh, deer eat grass, centipedes eat snakes, and owls and crows eat mice. Of these four, whose taste is absolutely right? Monkeys mate with monkeys, bucks with does, and eels with fish. Men admire Mao Ch'iang and Li Chi,³⁷ but fish dive deep at the sight of them. Birds soar high into the air, and deer hurry away.³⁸

Yet who shall say which is the correct standard of beauty? In my opinion, the standard of human virtue, and of positive and negative, is so obscured that it is impossible to actually know it as such."

Yet who can say what the correct standard of beauty is? In my opinion, the standard of human virtue and of positive and negative is so unclear that we cannot truly know it."

"If you then," asked Yeh Ch'üeh, "do not know what is bad for you, is the Perfect Man equally without this knowledge?"

"If you don't know what is bad for you," asked Yeh Ch'üeh, "does the Perfect Man not know what is bad for him either?"

"The Perfect Man," answered Wang I, "is a spiritual being. Were the ocean itself scorched up, he would not feel hot. Were the Milky Way frozen hard, he would not feel cold. Were the mountains to be riven with thunder, and the great deep to be thrown up by storm, he would not tremble. In such case, he would mount upon the clouds of heaven, and driving the sun and the moon before him, would pass beyond the limits of this external world, where death and life have no more victory over man;—how much less what is bad for him?"

"The Perfect Man," Wang I answered, "is a spiritual being. If the ocean itself dried up in the heat, he would not feel hot. If the Milky Way froze solid, he would not feel cold. If thunder split the mountains and a storm churned up the great sea, he would not tremble. In such a case, he would ride on the clouds, driving the sun and moon before him. He would pass beyond the limits of this external world, where neither death nor life can overcome him. How much less could anything harmful to him overcome him?"

Chü Ch'iao addressed Chang Wu Tzŭ³⁹ as follows:—"I heard Confucius say, 'The true sage pays no heed to mundane affairs. He neither seeks gain nor avoids injury. He asks nothing at the hands of man. He adheres, without questioning, to Tao. Without speaking, he can speak; and he can speak and yet say nothing. And so he roams beyond the limits of this dusty world. These,' added Confucius, 'are wild words.'⁴⁰

Chü Ch'iao said to Chang Wu Tzŭ³⁹: "I heard Confucius say, 'The true sage pays no attention to everyday affairs. He neither seeks gain nor avoids harm. He asks nothing of others. He follows Tao without question. He can speak without words, and he can speak without saying anything. And so he wanders beyond the limits of this dusty world. These,' Confucius added, 'are wild words.'⁴⁰

Now to me they are the skilful embodiment of Tao. What, Sir, is your opinion?"

To me, they skillfully embody Tao. What do you think, sir?"

"Points upon which the Yellow Emperor doubted," replied Chang Wu Tzŭ, "how should Confucius know?⁴¹

"If the Yellow Emperor had doubts about these points," replied Chang Wu Tzŭ, "how could Confucius know?⁴¹

You are going too fast. You see your egg, and expect to hear it crow. You look at your cross-bow, and expect to have broiled duck before you. I will say a few words to you at random, and do you listen at random.

You are moving too fast. You see an egg and expect to hear it crow. You look at your crossbow and expect to have roast duck before you. I will say a few words at random, and you listen at random.

"How does the Sage seat himself by the sun and moon, and hold the universe in his grasp? He blends everything into one harmonious whole, rejecting the confusion of this and that. Rank and precedence, which the vulgar prize, the Sage stolidly ignores. The revolutions of ten thousand years leave his Unity unscathed. The universe itself may pass away, but he will flourish still.

"How does the Sage sit beside the sun and moon and hold the universe in his grasp? He brings everything together into one harmonious whole, rejecting the confusion of this and that. Ordinary people value rank and precedence, but the Sage calmly ignores them. The passing of ten thousand years leaves his Unity unharmed. The universe itself may pass away, but he will still flourish."

"How do I know that love of life is not a delusion after all? How do I know but that he who dreads to die is not as a child who has lost the way and cannot find his home?

"How do I know that loving life isn't a delusion after all? How do I know that someone who fears death isn't like a child who is lost and can't find home?

"The lady Li Chi was the daughter of Ai Fêng.⁴²

"The lady Li Chi was the daughter of Ai Fêng.⁴²

When the Duke of Chin first got her, she wept until the bosom of her dress was drenched with tears. But when she came to the royal residence, and lived with the Duke, and ate rich food, she repented of having wept. How then do I know but that the dead repent of having previously clung to life?

When the Duke of Chin first took her, she wept until the front of her dress was soaked with tears. But then she came to the royal residence, lived with the Duke, and ate rich food. She regretted having wept. How, then, do I know that the dead do not regret having clung to life?

"Those who dream of the banquet, wake to lamentation and sorrow. Those who dream of lamentation and sorrow wake to join the hunt. While they dream, they do not know that they dream. Some will even interpret the very dream they are dreaming; and only when they awake do they know it was a dream. By and by comes the Great Awakening, and then we find out that this life is really a great dream. Fools think they are awake now, and flatter themselves they know if they are really princes or peasants. Confucius and you are both dreams; and I who say you are dreams,—I am but a dream myself. This is a paradox. Tomorrow a sage may arise to explain it; but that tomorrow will not be until ten thousand generations have gone by.

"Those who dream of a feast wake to grief and sorrow. Those who dream of grief and sorrow wake to join the hunt. While people dream, they do not know they are dreaming. Some even interpret their dreams while they are still dreaming them. Only when they wake do they know they were dreaming. Eventually comes the Great Awakening. Then we discover that this life is really a great dream. Fools think they are awake now. They flatter themselves that they know whether they are princes or peasants. Confucius and you are both dreams. And I, who say you are dreams, am only a dream myself. This is a paradox. Tomorrow a sage may appear to explain it. But that tomorrow will not come until ten thousand generations have passed."

"Granting that you and I argue. If you beat me, and not I you, are you necessarily right and I wrong? Or if I beat you and not you me, am I necessarily right and you wrong? Or are we both partly right and partly wrong? Or are we both wholly right and wholly wrong? You and I cannot know this, and consequently the world will be in ignorance of the truth.

"Suppose you and I argue. If you win and I lose, are you necessarily right and I wrong? If I win and you lose, am I necessarily right and you wrong? Or are we both partly right and partly wrong? Or are we both completely right and completely wrong? You and I cannot know the answer, so the world will not know the truth."

"Who shall I employ as arbiter between us? If I employ some one who takes your view, he will side with you. How can such a one arbitrate between us? If I employ some one who takes my view, he will side with me. How can such a one arbitrate between us? And if I employ some one who either differs from, or agrees with, both of us, he will be equally unable to decide between us. Since then you, and I, and man, cannot decide, must we not depend upon Another?⁴³

"Who should I ask to judge between us? If I ask someone who agrees with you, that person will side with you. How can such a person judge between us? If I ask someone who agrees with me, that person will side with me. How can such a person judge between us? And if I ask someone who either disagrees with both of us or agrees with both of us, that person will be just as unable to decide between us. Since you, I, and other people cannot decide, must we not depend on Another?⁴³

Such dependence is as though it were not dependence. We are embraced in the obliterating unity of God. There is perfect adaptation to whatever may eventuate; and so we complete our allotted span.

Such dependence is as if it were not dependence at all. We are embraced in the unity of God, where all distinctions vanish. We adapt perfectly to whatever may happen, and so we live out our allotted time.

"But what is it to be embraced in the obliterating unity of God? It is this. With reference to positive and negative, to that which is so and that which is not so,—if the positive is really positive, it must necessarily be different from its negative: there is no room for argument. And if that which is so really is so, it must necessarily be different from that which is not so: there is no room for argument.

"But what does it mean to be embraced in the obliterating unity of God? It means this. Consider the positive and the negative, what is so and what is not so. If the positive is truly positive, it must be different from its negative. There is no room for argument. And if what is so really is so, it must be different from what is not so. There is no room for argument.

"Take no heed of time, nor of right and wrong. But passing into the realm of the Infinite, take your final rest therein."⁴⁴

"Pay no attention to time or to right and wrong. But enter the realm of the Infinite and find your final rest there."⁴⁴

The Penumbra said to the Umbra, "At one moment you move: at another you are at rest. At one moment you sit down: at another you get up. Why this instability of purpose?" "I depend," replied the Umbra, "upon something which causes me to do as I do; and that something depends in turn upon something else which causes it to do as it does. My dependence is like that of a snake's scales or of a cicada's wings.⁴⁵

The Penumbra said to the Umbra, "One moment you move, and the next you are still. One moment you sit down, and the next you get up. Why are you so unsure of what you want to do?" The Umbra replied, "I depend on something that makes me act as I do. In turn, that something depends on something else that makes it act as it does. My dependence is like that of a snake's scales or a cicada's wings.⁴⁵

How can I tell why I do one thing, or why I do not do another?"⁴⁶

How can I know why I do one thing and not another?"⁴⁶

Once upon a time, I, Chuang Tzŭ, dreamt I was a butterfly, fluttering hither and thither, to all intents and purposes a butterfly. I was conscious only of following my fancies as a butterfly, and was unconscious of my individuality as a man. Suddenly, I awaked, and there I lay, myself again. Now I do not know whether I was then a man dreaming I was a butterfly, or whether I am now a butterfly dreaming I am a man. Between a man and a butterfly there is necessarily a barrier. The transition is called Metempsychosis.⁴⁷

Once, I, Chuang Tzŭ, dreamed I was a butterfly, fluttering here and there, a butterfly in every way. I knew only that I was following my whims as a butterfly. I was unaware of myself as a man. Suddenly, I woke up and found myself lying there, myself again. Now I do not know whether I was a man dreaming I was a butterfly, or a butterfly dreaming I am a man. There must be a barrier between a man and a butterfly. The transition is called Metempsychosis.⁴⁷