Perfect Happiness

[This chapter is supplementary to chapter vi.]

[This chapter supplements chapter vi.]

Is perfect happiness to be found on earth, or not? Are there those who can enjoy life, or not? If so, what do they do, what do they affect, what do they avoid, what do they rest in, accept, reject, like, and dislike?

Can perfect happiness be found on earth? Are there people who can enjoy life? If so, what do they do? What do they seek and avoid? What do they find comfort in, accept, reject, like, and dislike?

What the world esteems comprises wealth, rank, old age, and goodness of heart. What it enjoys comprises comfort, rich food, fine clothes, beauty, and music. What it does not esteem comprises poverty, want of position, early death, and evil behaviour. What it does not enjoy comprises lack of comfort for the body, lack of rich food for the palate, lack of fine clothes for the back, lack of beauty for the eye, and lack of music for the ear. If men do not get these, they are greatly miserable. Yet from the point of view of our physical frame, this is folly.¹

The world values wealth, high status, a long life, and kindness. It enjoys comfort, rich food, fine clothes, beauty, and music. It does not value poverty, low status, early death, or bad behavior. It does not enjoy bodily discomfort, a lack of rich food to taste, or a lack of fine clothes to wear. Nor does it enjoy a lack of beauty to see or music to hear. If people do not have these things, they are deeply unhappy. Yet from the body's point of view, this is foolish.¹

Wealthy people who toil and moil, putting together more money than they can possibly use,—from the point of view of our physical frame, is not this going beyond the mark?

Wealthy people work hard to amass more money than they could ever use. From the body's point of view, isn't this excessive?

Officials of rank who turn night into day in their endeavours to compass the best ends;—from the point of view of our physical frame, is not this a divergence?

High-ranking officials work through the night to achieve the best outcomes. From the body's point of view, isn't this a departure from its natural course?

Man is born to sorrow, and what misery is theirs whose old age with dulled faculties only means prolonged sorrow! From the point of view of our physical frame, this is going far astray.

People are born to sorrow. How miserable for those whose dulled senses in old age only prolong their sorrow! From the standpoint of our physical nature, this is going far astray.

Patriots are in the world's opinion admittedly good. Yet their goodness does not enable them to enjoy life;² and so I know not whether theirs is veritable goodness or not. If the former, it does not enable them to enjoy life; if the latter, it at any rate enables them to cause others to enjoy theirs.

People generally agree that patriots are good. Yet their goodness does not let them enjoy life.² So I do not know whether their goodness is genuine. If it is genuine, it does not let them enjoy life. If it is not, it at least lets them help others enjoy their lives.

It has been said, "If your loyal counsels are not attended to, depart quietly without resistance." Thus, when Tzŭ Hsü³ resisted, his physical frame perished; yet had he not resisted, he would not have made his name. Is there then really such a thing as this goodness, or not?

It has been said, "If your loyal advice is not heeded, leave quietly without resisting." When Tzŭ Hsü³ resisted, he died. But if he had not resisted, he would not have made his name. Is there really such a thing as this goodness, or not?

As to what the world does and the way in which people are happy now, I know not whether such happiness be real happiness or not. The happiness of ordinary persons seems to me to consist in slavishly following the majority, as if they could not help it. Yet they all say they are happy.⁴

When I look at what the world does and how people find happiness now, I wonder if it is real happiness. Ordinary people seem to find happiness in blindly following the majority, as if they could not help it. Yet they all say they are happy.⁴

But I cannot say that this is happiness or that it is not happiness. Is there then, after all, such a thing as happiness?

But I cannot say whether this is happiness or not. Is there really such a thing as happiness?

I make true pleasure to consist in inaction, which the world regards as great pain. Thus it has been said, "Perfect happiness is the absence of happiness;⁵ perfect renown is the absence of renown."

I believe true pleasure lies in inaction, though the world considers it a great pain. As the saying goes, "Perfect happiness is the absence of happiness.⁵ Perfect renown is the absence of renown."

Now in this sublunary world of ours it is impossible to assign positive and negative absolutely. Nevertheless, in inaction they can be so assigned. Perfect happiness and preservation of life are to be sought for only in inaction.

In our earthly world, it is impossible to say absolutely what is positive and what is negative. Yet in inaction, these distinctions can be made. Perfect happiness and the preservation of life can be found only in inaction.

Let us consider. Heaven does nothing; yet it is clear. Earth does nothing; yet it enjoys repose. From the inaction of these two proceed all the modifications of things. How vast, how infinite is inaction, yet without source! How infinite, how vast, yet without form!

Let us consider this. Heaven does nothing, yet it is clear. Earth does nothing, yet it rests peacefully. All changes in things come from the inaction of heaven and earth. How vast and boundless this inaction is, yet it has no source! How boundless and vast it is, yet it has no form!

The endless varieties of things around us all spring from inaction. Therefore it has been said, "Heaven and earth do nothing, yet there is nothing which they do not accomplish." But among men, who can attain to inaction?⁶

All the countless things around us spring from inaction. That is why people say, "Heaven and earth do nothing, yet they accomplish everything." But who among us can achieve inaction?⁶

When Chuang Tzŭ's wife died, Hui Tzŭ went to condole. He found the widower sitting on the ground, singing, with his legs spread out at a right angle, and beating time on a bowl.

When Chuang Tzŭ's wife died, Hui Tzŭ went to offer his condolences. He found Chuang Tzŭ sitting on the ground with his legs spread at a right angle. He was singing and beating time on a bowl.

"To live with your wife," exclaimed Hui Tzŭ, "and see your eldest son grow up to be a man, and then not to shed a tear over her corpse,—this would be bad enough. But to drum on a bowl, and sing; surely this is going too far."

"You lived with your wife and watched your eldest son grow into a man," exclaimed Hui Tzŭ. "It would be bad enough not to shed a tear over her body. But to drum on a bowl and sing is surely going too far."

"Not at all," replied Chuang Tzŭ. "When she died, I could not help being affected by her death. Soon, however, I remembered that she had already existed in a previous state before birth, without form, or even substance; that while in that unconditioned condition, substance was added to spirit; that this substance then assumed form; and that the next stage was birth. And now, by virtue of a further change, she is dead, passing from one phase to another like the sequence of spring, summer, autumn, and winter. And while she is thus lying asleep in Eternity, for me to go about weeping and wailing would be to proclaim myself ignorant of these natural laws. Therefore I refrain."

"Not at all," replied Chuang Tzŭ. "When she died, I could not help feeling the loss. But soon I remembered that she had existed in an earlier state before birth, without form or even substance. In that unconditioned state, substance was added to spirit. The substance then took form, and the next stage was birth. Now, through another change, she has died. She has passed from one phase to another, like the sequence of spring, summer, autumn, and winter. She is now lying asleep in Eternity. If I went about weeping and wailing, I would be showing my ignorance of these natural laws. So I do not."

A hunchback and a one-legged man were looking at the tombs of departed heroes, on the K'un-lun Mountains, where the Yellow Emperor rests. Suddenly, ulcers broke out upon their left elbows, of a very loathsome description.

A hunchback and a one-legged man were looking at the tombs of dead heroes on the K'un-lun Mountains. The Yellow Emperor rests there. Suddenly, disgusting ulcers broke out on both men's left elbows.

"Do you loathe this?" asked the hunchback.

"Do you hate this?" asked the hunchback.

"Not I," replied the other, "why should I? Life is a loan with which the borrower does but add more dust and dirt to the sum total of existence. Life and death are as day and night; and while you and I stand gazing at the evidences of mortality around us, if the same mortality overtakes me, why should I loathe it?"

“Not I,” the other replied. “Why should I? Life is a loan, and the borrower only adds more dust and dirt to all that exists. Life and death are like day and night. You and I stand looking at the signs of mortality around us. If death overtakes me too, why should I hate it?”

Chuang Tzŭ one day saw an empty skull, bleached, but still preserving its shape. Striking it with his riding whip, he said, "Wert thou once some ambitious citizen whose inordinate yearnings brought him to this pass?—some statesman who plunged his country in ruin and perished in the fray?—some wretch who left behind him a legacy of shame?—some beggar who died in the pangs of hunger and cold? Or didst thou reach this state by the natural course of old age?"

One day, Chuang Tzŭ saw an empty skull. It was bleached but still held its shape. He struck it with his riding whip and said, "Were you once an ambitious citizen whose excessive desires brought you to this? Were you a statesman who ruined his country and died in the struggle? Were you a wretch who left behind a legacy of shame? Were you a beggar who died in the pain of hunger and cold? Or did you come to this through the natural course of old age?"

When he had finished speaking, he took the skull, and placing it under his head as a pillow, went to sleep. In the night, he dreamt that the skull appeared to him and said, "You speak well, Sir; but all you say has reference to the life of mortals, and to mortal troubles. In death there are none of these. Would you like to hear about death?"

When he finished speaking, he took the skull, put it under his head as a pillow, and went to sleep. That night, he dreamed that the skull appeared to him and said, "You speak well, sir, but everything you say concerns the lives and troubles of mortals. In death, there are no such troubles. Would you like to hear about death?"

Chuang Tzŭ having replied in the affirmative, the skull began:—"In death, there is no sovereign above, and no subject below. The workings of the four seasons are unknown. Our existences are bounded only by eternity. The happiness of a king among men cannot exceed that which we enjoy."

Chuang Tzŭ said yes, and the skull began: "In death, there is no ruler above us and no subject below us. We know nothing of the passing seasons. Our existence is bounded only by eternity. No king among the living can be happier than we are."

Chuang Tzŭ, however, was not convinced, and said, "Were I to prevail upon God to allow your body to be born again, and your bones and flesh to be renewed, so that you could return to your parents, to your wife, and to the friends of your youth,—would you be willing?"

Chuang Tzŭ, however, was not convinced. He said, "Suppose I persuaded God to let your body be born again and renew your bones and flesh. You could then return to your parents, your wife, and the friends of your youth. Would you be willing?"

At this, the skull opened its eyes wide and knitted its brows and said, "How should I cast aside happiness greater than that of a king, and mingle once again in the toils and troubles of mortality?"⁷

At this, the skull opened its eyes wide and frowned. It said, "Why would I give up happiness greater than a king's and return to the hardships and troubles of mortal life?"⁷

When Yen Yüan⁸ went eastwards to the Ch'i State, Confucius was sad. Tzŭ Kung arose and said, "Is it, Sir, because Hui⁹ has gone east to Ch'i that you are sad?"

When Yen Yüan⁸ went east to the Ch'i State, Confucius was sad. Tzŭ Kung stood up and said, "Sir, are you sad because Hui⁹ has gone east to Ch'i?"

"A good question," replied Confucius. "There is a saying by Kuan Chung¹⁰ of old which I highly esteem: 'Small bags won't hold big things; short ropes won't reach down deep wells.' Thus, destiny is a pre-arrangement, just as form has its limitations. From neither, to neither, can you either take away or add. And I fear lest Hui, on his visit to the prince of Ch'i, should preach the Tao of Yao and Shun, and dwell on the words of Sui Jen and Shên Nung. The prince will then search within himself, but will not find. And not finding, he will doubt. And when a man doubts, he will kill.¹¹

"Good question," Confucius replied. "There is an old saying by Kuan Chung¹⁰ that I greatly value: 'Small bags cannot hold big things, and short ropes cannot reach down deep wells.' In the same way, destiny is fixed in advance, just as physical form has its limits. You can neither take anything away from nor add anything to either one. I fear that when Hui visits the prince of Ch'i, he will preach the Tao of Yao and Shun. He may also dwell on the words of Sui Jen and Shên Nung. The prince will then search within himself, but he will not find what he seeks. And when he does not find it, he will doubt. And when a man doubts, he will kill.¹¹

"Besides, have you not heard that of old when a sea-bird alighted outside the capital of Lu, the prince went out to receive it, and gave it wine in the temple, and had the Chiu Shao¹² played to amuse it, and a bullock slaughtered to feed it? But the bird was dazed and too timid to eat or drink anything; and in three days it was dead. This was treating the bird like oneself, and not as a bird would treat a bird. Had he treated it as a bird would have treated a bird, he would have put it to roost in a deep forest, to wander over a plain, to swim in a river or lake, to feed upon fish, to fly in order, and to settle leisurely. When the bird was already terrified at human voices, fancy adding music! Play the Hsien Ch'ih¹³ or the Chiu Shao in the wilds of Tung-t'ing, and birds will fly away, beasts will take themselves off, and fishes will dive down below. But men will collect to hear.¹⁴

“Besides, haven’t you heard what happened long ago when a seabird landed outside the capital of Lu? The prince went out to welcome it and gave it wine in the temple. He had the Chiu Shao¹² played to entertain it and a young bull slaughtered to feed it. But the bird was dazed and too frightened to eat or drink. Three days later, it was dead. The prince had treated the bird as he would treat himself, not as a bird would treat another bird. If he had treated it as a bird would, he would have let it roost in a deep forest. He would have let it wander over a plain, swim in a river or lake, and feed on fish. He would have let it fly in formation and settle at its own pace. The bird was already terrified by human voices. Imagine adding music! Play the Hsien Ch’ih¹³ or the Chiu Shao in the wilds of Tung-t’ing, and birds will fly away. Beasts will run off, and fish will dive deep. But people will gather to listen.¹⁴

"Water, which is life to fishes, is death to man. Being differently constituted, their likes and dislikes are different. Therefore the Sages of the past favoured not uniformity of skill or of occupation. Reputation was commensurate with reality; means were adapted to the end. This was called a due relationship with others coupled with advantage to oneself."¹⁵

"Water gives life to fish, but it brings death to humans. Fish and humans are made differently, so they like and dislike different things. Therefore, the sages of the past did not favor making everyone follow the same skills or occupations. A person's reputation matched reality, and the means suited the goal. This was called having a proper relationship with others while also benefiting oneself."¹⁵

Lieh Tzŭ, being on a journey, was eating by the roadside, when he saw an old skull. Plucking a blade of grass, he pointed at it and said, "Only you and I know that there is no such thing as life and no such thing as death.¹⁶

Lieh Tzŭ was traveling and eating by the roadside when he saw an old skull. He picked a blade of grass, pointed it at the skull, and said, "Only you and I know that there is no such thing as life and no such thing as death.¹⁶

Are you really at peace? Or am I really happy?¹⁷

Are you really at peace? Or am I really happy?¹⁷

"Certain germs, falling upon water, become duckweed. When they reach the junction of the land and the water, they become lichen. Spreading up the bank, they become the dog-tooth violet. Reaching rich soil, they become wu-tsu, the root of which becomes grubs, while the leaves comes from butterflies, or hsü. These are changed into insects, born in the chimney corner, which look like skeletons. Their name is ch'ü-to. After a thousand days, the ch'ü-to becomes a bird, called Kan-yü-ku, the spittle of which becomes the ssŭ-mi. The ssŭ-mi becomes a wine fly, and that comes from an i-lu. The huang-k'uang produces the chiu-yu and the mou-jui produces the fire-fly. The yang-ch'i grafted to an old bamboo which has for a long time put forth no shoots, produces the ch'ing-ning, which produces the leopard, which produces the horse, which produces man.

"Certain germs become duckweed when they fall on water. When they reach the boundary between land and water, they become lichen. As they spread up the bank, they become the dog-tooth violet. When they reach rich soil, they become wu-tsu. Its root becomes grubs, while its leaves come from butterflies, or hsü. These change into insects born in the chimney corner. The insects look like skeletons and are called ch'ü-to. After a thousand days, the ch'ü-to becomes a bird called Kan-yü-ku. Its spit becomes the ssŭ-mi. The ssŭ-mi becomes a wine fly, and that comes from an i-lu. The huang-k'uang produces the chiu-yu, and the mou-jui produces the firefly. The yang-ch'i is grafted onto an old bamboo that has not put out shoots for a long time. It then produces the ch'ing-ning, which produces the leopard. The leopard produces the horse, and the horse produces man.

"Then man goes back into the great Scheme, from which all things come and to which all things return."¹⁸

"Then man returns to the great Scheme, where all things come from and where all things return."¹⁸