Ethics of China: Daoism & Simplicity

In this lecture we will study ethical ideas found in the Daodejing of Laozi, the Book of Zhuangzi, the Book of Liezi, and other Daoist sources. Please read the Bamboo Laozi, and as much of the Zhuangzi as you can.

Confucius said the central thread throughout his thinking, the one underlying idea that ties all his thinking together, is compassion, being humane to be a better human. The central thread throughout the thinking of Laozi, Zhuangzi and other Daoist masters is doing more with less, what the Daoists call non-action, Wu-wei in Chinese (and in Chinese calligraphy here to the left).

Daoists think you can think by barely thinking, feel by barely feeling, eat by barely eating, talk by barely talking, sleep by barely sleeping, and interact with others by barely interacting. If we simplify and calm the mind, heart, stomach and senses, we think, speak, care and feel less, but also think, speak, care and feel clearly and easily, so we can do much more with much less with great ease.

According to tradition and legend, the founder of Daoism, Laozi, whose name simply means ‘Old Master’, also known as Lao Dan, was born sometime around 571 BCE, and had a reputation for unsurpassed wisdom when Confucius (551 – 479 BCE) was just starting down the path of lifelong learning. Daoists claim Confucius went to see Laozi, the archivist of the imperial library, and asked to be his student, but Laozi rejected him, recognizing that Confucius wanted to separate right from wrong rather than see the two as inseparable.

The legend says Laozi gave up on civilization as China continued to fall apart, and rode a water buffalo west to live as a hermit, but as he was about to leave the state he was recognized by the border guard Yin Xi who pleaded with him to leave his teachings for the people before leaving society. Laozi agreed and in the dirt road wrote the 81 passages of the Daodejing before disappearing forever.

The Daodejing is possibly the most reprinted work in all of Chinese literature and possibly the most popular and printed work of philosophy in world history. While the legend says it was written by Laozi, several discoveries in recent years have shown that the text may have several authors, such as two copies of the complete Daodejing in the tomb of Xin Zhui, wife of a local magistrate, discovered in 1973 near Mawangdui, and then 31 of the 81 verses, called the Bamboo Laozi, were discovered in 1993 near Guodian. Confusingly, Laozi’s name does not appear on either text, so the earliest text should be called the Bamboo Daodejing, but scholars thought otherwise. The texts shows us which verses and teachings came first, and how the text was adapted over several generations.

The final text was put together by Wang Bi (226 – 249 CE) just after the Han Dynasty collapsed. Wang Bi, who died at only 23, studied the Daodejing, which he believed was the work of Laozi, the Analects of Confucius and other classics, and Wang Bi’s version became the standard for everyone. The later text increasingly refers to the way of things as the One, the cosmos as a whole, and it also increasingly preaches stability and no war rather than less war, which reflects the growing environment of empire and stability that rose out of local warring states.

Zhuang Zhou (370 – 290 BCE), known by his simple name Zhuangzi (Master Zhuang, pronounced “Zshoo-ang-tsuh”), was likely from the Sung region of ancient China, torn apart by political conflicts from within and conquered repeatedly by neighboring states at war with each other. Zhuangzi repeatedly suggests that if one takes the long view over many lifetimes, the bad comes with the good and it is all part of one process and whole.

While other Chinese masters suggested various ways one could structure the state, as Laozi does in places, Zhuangzi is entirely concerned with liberating the individual in a chaotic and close-minded world.

Zhuangzi may have been the author of the inner seven chapters of the text known by his name, with the other “outer” chapters written by followers and figures from several Daoist schools who followed the work of Laozi, such as the primitivists, as scholars call them, who taught a very simple life, and the syncretists who merged Daoism with many other various ideas and practices.

Not much is known about Zhuangzi’s life, but it is said he also gave up on civilization, but rather than ride west he lived simply in nature, rejecting appeals of officials and others for him to come help them rule their kingdoms.

Another central metaphor that teaches perspective found in the Zhuangzi is the dream of being a butterfly, and the dream theme comes up often in many Daoist texts and tales. The original dream of Zhuangzi is that he fell asleep and dreamed he was a butterfly, and when he woke he said he no longer knows if he is a man who was dreaming he was a butterfly, or if he is a butterfly who now dreams he is a man. Zhuangzi is often painted taking a siesta, often under a tree, and often with a butterfly or two fluttering nearby.

The Zhuangzi text does speak of Laozi in several places, which ties the two central philosophical works of Daoism together, just as it speaks of several other sages and masters, including their teachings together with Zhuangzi’s.

One passage tells us that Nan-jung Chu went to see Laozi for advice, who asked him as he entered, “Why have you brought this crowd of people with you?” but when Nan-jung spun around, there was no one behind him, as Laozi was referring to the attachments and memories Nan-jung carried with him.

Many are familiar with the Daoist image of the Yin and Yang intertwining female earth energy of darkness and male sky energy of light, however few know that the symbol originally comes from the Yin Yang school, one of the schools from the Warring States and Hundred Schools period of Chinese philosophy. The Daoists became associated with the symbol, which has also been identified as a solar calendar that charts daylight hours over the course of a year, important for farmers who were supporters and sources of both the Yin Yang and Daoist schools of thought.

The Bamboo Laozi and Great One both refer to the way and One as a “mother” (BL2, TS1), the All-Mom, the mother of all mothers, and the Great One says it gave birth to water first, water helped birth all other things, and the One hides in water as it runs through all things. In the Yi Jing cosmology, water is two female lines with an inner male line, and fire is two male lines with an inner female line, such that both are gender-fluids, but water is the earthly female element and fire is the heavenly male element.

Comparing early and late versions of the text, some scholars say that a playful trickster female valley water spirit, which takes perspectives however she likes, was increasingly blended and balanced with a stabilizing, heavenly, bright force which takes all perspectives like a monistic god, which is not named as male nor emperor but which is quite evident in the final 15 verses of Wang Bi’s canonized final version, none of which are in the earliest Bamboo Laozi.

These two together, the early trickster female increasingly associated with the mental, order, and male, gives us the final effect of an all-knowing yet tricky cosmos which is quite female and motherly, but which takes and uses the female and male, the non-being and being, the manifest and hidden, the emotional and rational, the incomprehensible and conceptual, together to do everything.

Wang Bi’s final arrangement of the Daodejing puts later-added verses that emphasize non-being and not being able to judge the whole in one way or another up front, such as the famous opening:

The endless way of all things isn’t a particular way. The endless naming of things can’t be particularly named... Always hidden, we see mystery. Always found, we see form. One and the same, but different names. Both are called mysteries. Mysteries within mysteries, the door to all mysteries. (1)

A wheel can have many parts, but the hole in the center makes it work. Jars are made out of clay, but the space in the center makes it a jar. Doors and windows are for walls, but without these holes walls can’t hold a room. Things are good, but space gets things done. (11)

In ancient thought, names are often used to mean understandings, what we would call concepts or conceptions, such that naming a thing is heavily associated with understanding it, as we still do.

In one of the famed verses Wang Bi put up front, the highest is compared to water, and the lowest of the low:

The highest good is like lowly water. Water feeds everything without trying, and settles everywhere everyone hates. In this way it is almost the way of all things. (8)

The Bamboo Laozi says nothing, not a single particular thing, can change the way things change. (32) You can’t get with it, you can’t get away from it, you can’t help it, harm it, prize it, nor cheapen it, but it is more valuable and useful than anything (56) because the isn’t between things is like fuel for fire, the space that fills with life and doesn’t stop, change or run out. (5B)

The whole isn’t anything in particular. Many like travelers stop for prized goods like food and music, but talking about the way lacks any flavor in the mouth because there is too much of it to see, too much of it to hear, and too much of it to use up. (35)

We look at what is, but can’t understand it, listen to it but can’t hear it, undefined and unimaginable. Meet it and can’t see its face (as it appears and as it begins). Follow it and can’t see its back (as it truly is and as it ends). (14)

As Zhuangzi says, the wise also have a this and a that, but their that has a this, and their this has a that, with right and wrong as a continuous circular spectrum.

If we start dogmatically and one-sidedly, we have trouble with perspective, but if we start skeptically and two-sidedly, we have perspective before we begin taking sides one-sidedly, which leads to greater wisdom and ability in taking sides.

The text says, “We know harmony as stability, and stability as brilliant.” (55) Love leads to strength, which leads to wisdom, perspective and insight, in a way that strength first doesn’t lead to love, and thus doesn’t lead to wisdom and perspective.

The Daodejing says, “The softest thing on earth overtakes the hardest thing… From this one recognizes the value of non-action (wu-wei).” (43)

When we enter life we are soft and weak. When we die we are hard and strong. Plants when they enter life are soft and tender. When they die they are dry and stiff. Therefore the hard and strong are companions of death, and the soft and weak are companions of life. Therefore, when weapons are strong they are not victorious. When trees are strong they are cut down. (76)

The Zhuangzi has many impressive stories that show opposite perspectives and how we can be limited by how we live and what we see if we don’t see things oppositely.

A sage named Zichi says that when the wind blows you can hear many sounds made by many things, including the whistling of trees and the wailing of hollow logs, but there is only one wind, suggesting that there is one living thing that makes different sounds when it moves out of different mouths, minds thinking different things as equally living beings. He then says:

Words are not just wind. Words have something to say, but if what they have to say is not fixed, then do they really say something, or do they say nothing? People suppose that words are different from the peeps of baby birds, but is there any difference, or isn’t there? What does the Way rely upon, such that we have true and false? What do words rely upon, such that we have right and wrong?

When asked what we can all agree to, a sage named Wang Ni in the Zhuangzi replies:

If people sleep in damp places, their backs ache and they end up half paralyzed, but is this true of fish? If people live in trees, they are terrified and shake with fright, but is this true of monkeys? Of these three creatures, which knows the proper place to live? We eat the flesh of grass-fed and grain-fed animals, deer eat grass, centipedes find snakes tasty, and hawks and falcons love mice. Of these four, who knows how food ought to taste? Monkeys pair with monkeys, deer go out with deer, and fish play around with fish. Men claim that Mao-Qiang and Lady Li were beautiful, but if fish saw them they would dive to the bottom of the stream, if birds saw them they would fly away, and if deer saw them they would break into a run. Of these four, which knows the standard of beauty for the world?

Another sage named Jo of the North Sea tells us that from the point of view of the way of all things, things are not good or bad, but from the point of view of each thing, each thing is itself good, others are bad. Jo tells us that all things are big if big means bigger than something, and so all things are big and small (significant and insignificant) as well as useful and useless. It is here that Jo tells us the example of the well frog, which has become a common way of calling someone ignorant in Chinese culture.

You can’t discuss the ocean with a well frog. He’s limited by the space he lives in. You can’t discuss ice with a summer insect. He’s bound to a single season. You can’t discuss the Way with a cramped scholar. He’s shackled by his doctrines. Now you have come out beyond your banks and borders and have seen the great sea, so you realize your own insignificance. From now on it will be possible to talk to you about the greater Way.

In the Liezi, Yin of Chou is a rich master who works his servants hard, including an old slave who falls asleep each night and dreams he is a rich king without a care in the world. When asked if his life is hard, the slave says he can’t complain. Yin of Chou, however, constantly worries about losing his fortune, and every night dreams he is a slave who has lost everything and worked hard as he works others hard. When he asks a friend about this, his wiser friend tells him he has too much more than others, and Yin decides to demand far less of his servants.

Tan Qiao (860 – 940 CE) says in his Book of Transformations (930 CE) that children playing with shadows don’t see the shadows are playing with them. Those who run households don’t see that the households run them. Those who rule countries don’t see the countries rule them.

Tan says when emptiness turns into spirit, spirit turns into energy, energy turns into form, form turns into life, life turns into attention, attention turns into social gestures, social gestures turn into elevation and humiliation, these turn into high and low positions, these turn into judgement. Judgement turns into status, status turns into cars, cars turn into mansions, mansions turn into palaces, palaces turn into banquet halls, banquet halls turn into luxury, luxury turns into hoarding, hoarding turns into fraud, fraud turns into punishment, punishment turns into rebellion, rebellion turns into armies, armies turn into terror, terror turns into defeat and destruction.

Tan says when this comes, its momentum can’t be stopped. When it goes, its power can’t be removed. Beings do not wish to be born, but have no choice but to be born. Beings don’t wish to die, but have no choice but to die. Those who see this way empty themselves and feel for others.

The main difference between the wise and most people, who are tense, ignorant fools, is the wise take things slow and easy, not as if they don’t matter, but as if everything matters equally. Most people think some things are important, other things are unimportant, and the things that are important are either good or bad, not both, and unimportant things are neither good nor bad. In the Islamic tradition, Jesus says that he can perform miracles because mud and gold are equal in his eyes, and aren’t in the eyes of others.

In the early Bamboo Laozi says that trying for the good life tempts fate, and the mind can’t control without violence. If we get strong it ages us, but getting flexible makes us young. (55) It says, “Which is loved more, a famous name or a healthy self? Which is worth more, yourself or your wealth?” (44) We prize health over fame, and fame over wealth, but people seek wealth, and seek fame, and become infamous seeking wealth, and unhealthy seeking fame. If we try to make ourselves, others and other things more than what they are, we often ruin or lose them. (64C)

The later verses in the Daodejing add, “The strong do not die a natural death”, (42) or the violent die a violent death, which is quite similar to Jesus saying, “Those who live by the sword die by the sword.” Too many try too hard to be strong, and make themselves weak.

One later verse says, “To realize that our knowledge is ignorance is a noble insight, but to regard our ignorance as knowledge is mental sickness”. (72)

The Zhuangzi says Pang of Qin had a son who saw white as black, tasted sweet as bitter and smelled the fragrant as foul. Pang found Laozi and asked him what he should do, and Laozi replied that the world and all its inhabitants are just as deluded, that he himself does not know whether these words he speaks are meaningful or nonsense, and that Pang should keep his money.

A sage in the Zhuangzi asks if we have heard of the praying mantis that waved its arms angrily in front of an approaching carriage, unaware that it was incapable of stopping it. It suggests that we move in response to life rather than hold our ground taking pride in our own abilities.

In the Liezi there is a pair of stories that show us how love and hate, desire and fear, shape our reality in absurd and foolish ways. In the first story about desire, a man wanted gold more than anything else. One morning, he walked to the market, found a gold dealer, grabbed much of his gold and fled. When the police caught him, they asked him why he had stolen in front of so many people. He replied that at the time he had not seen the people, only the gold.

In the second story about fear, a man lost his ax, and suspected a boy who lived next door of stealing it. Everything about the boy’s behavior, the way he talked, his expressions, betrayed that he had stolen the ax. Then the man found the ax buried in his cellar. When he saw the boy again, nothing in his behavior suggested that he would ever steal an ax. Unfortunately, there are psychology experiments that clearly show prejudice causing people to swear they see a gun when there is no gun.

We are told the ancient sages were simple and strong, but also deep and hard to see, so it is hard to see who they are or say what they were like compared to others, but we can say they were, “Patient as if wading into a winter stream, careful as if threatened on all sides, calm as guests, giving as ice melting, plain as un-carved wood, and muddy as a puddle. Who’s muddy enough to calm and clarify? Who’s still enough to stir things up?” (15)

There is a Japanese story that illustrates non-action (wu-wei) and awareness very well. A samurai has three sons and must decide who is best to take his place and rule after him. He tests them by placing a pillow on the sliding door to his room and calling them one at a time. The eldest son enters and annihilates the pillow in a frenzy of skilled sword strikes. The middle son draws his sword but sees the pillow in midair and catches it. The youngest son sees the pillow on the door, tucks it under his arm and enters the room to the joy of his father. The youngest son, not the oldest, inherits his father’s title, which is a reversal of traditional practice as well as the Confucian idea of younger son deferring to older. The youngest son is simply aware, empty of thoughts such that he can pay more attention to everything around him.

If someone can swim underwater, they may never have seen a boat before and still they’ll know how to handle it. That’s because they see the water as so much dry land, and regards the capsizing of a boat as they would the overturning of a cart. The ten thousand things may all be capsizing and turning over at the same time right in front of them and it can’t get at them and affect what’s inside, so where could they go and not be at ease? When you’re betting for tiles in an archery contest, you shoot with skill. When you’re betting for fancy belt buckles, you worry about your aim, and when you’re betting for real gold, you’re a nervous wreck. Your skill is the same in all three cases, but because one prize means more to you than another, you let outside considerations weigh on your mind. They who look too hard on the outside get clumsy on the inside. (Zhuangzi)

Tan Qiao says that it is easy to stand on a board on the ground, but hard to sit on the same-size board on the top of a pole, and that it is not whether or not the board is big enough, but whether the mind is empty enough. Those who complain about the heat feel hotter, and those who fear the pain of disease get sicker.

These passages reminds me of a metaphor used by the psychotherapist Milton Erickson. If you put a board on the ground, everyone can walk across it with confidence. If you put the same board three hundred feet up in the air, most people would be terrified, even though walking across the board is the same set of physical motions. Erickson is thinking of clients petrified by fear, such as codependents who can’t leave their abusive partner by taking several steps to the door and then several more out it.

The wise don’t judge, or judge less. There are many passages in the Zhuangzi that show the difference between the wise judging less with an open and easy mind and the foolish judging more with a closed and difficult mind.

Those who divide fail to divide. Those who judge fail to judge. What does this mean, you ask? The wise embraces things. Ordinary people judge among things and parade their discriminations in front of others. So I say, those who discriminate fail to see.

When our ways rely on little accomplishments and words rely on vain show, then we have the rights and wrongs of the Confucians and the Moists. What one calls right the other calls wrong, and what one calls wrong the other calls right, but if we want to right their wrongs and wrong their rights, then the best thing to use is clarity.

So the wise don’t work in such ways, but illuminate all in the light of day. The wise do have a ‘this’ and a ‘that’, but their ‘that’ has a ‘this’, and their ‘this’ has a ‘that’. The wise’s ‘that’ has both right and a wrong in it, and their ‘this’ too has both right and a wrong in it, so: Do the wise still have a ‘this’ or a ‘that’? A state in which ‘this’ and ‘that’ no longer find their opposites is called the hinge of the Way. When the hinge is fitted into the socket, it can respond endlessly. Its right and its wrong are a single endlessness, so I say: The best thing to use is clarity.

Chuchuehzi said, “I have heard Confucius say that the sage does not work at anything, does not pursue profit, does not dodge harm, does not enjoy being sought after, does not follow the Way, says nothing yet says something, says something yet says nothing, and wanders beyond the dust and grime. Confucius himself regarded these as wild and flippant words, though I believe they describe the working of the mysterious Way. What do you think of them?”

Changwuzi said, “Even the Yellow Emperor would be confused if he heard such words, so how could you expect Confucius to understand them? What’s more, you’re too hasty in your own appraisal. You see an egg and demand a crowing rooster, see a crossbow pellet and demand a roast dove. I’m going to try speaking some reckless words and I want you to listen to them recklessly. How will that be? The sage leans on the sun and the moon, tucks the universe under his arm, merges himself with things, leaves the confusion and muddle as it is, and looks on slaves as exalted. Ordinary people strain and struggle. The sage is stupid and block-headed. The sage takes part in ten thousand ages and achieves simplicity in oneness… Confucius and you are both dreaming, and when I say you are dreaming, I am dreaming too. Words like these will be labeled the Supreme Swindle.

The Peng Bird – Dove & Cicada story

Hui Shi said to Zhuangzi, “Your words are useless!” Zhuangzi replied, “A man has to understand the useless before you can talk to him about the useful. The earth is certainly vast and broad, though a man uses no more of it than the area he puts his feet on. If, however, you were to dig away all the earth from around his feet until you reach the Yellow Springs, then would the man still be able to make use of it?” “No, it would be useless,” said Hui Shi. “It is obvious, then,” said Zhuangzi, that the useless has its use.”

The Bamboo Laozi says, “There is no mistake worse than not knowing when you have enough. Only those who know they have enough can have enough,” (46C). If we know enough, we know no shame or harm, mental or physical. (44) Taking slow and easy care of each thing and not rushing to the end is unbeatable. (64C) Doing without overdoing is what can’t be undone. (30) Be strong and wide so you won’t be broken and scattered. (64A)

Don’t hunger to be full. (15) “See plainly and embrace simply.” (19) Do enough and then leave. (40) Don’t force all you can out of things, don’t boast, don’t seek more, as this is overdoing. (30) The wise care without caring, teach without talking, and grow without saving or claiming. If you’re not choosy, you always have everything. (2) The wise return again and again to what most rush past, because they don’t desire the rare more than the common. (64C)

Taste the tasteless, enjoy formlessness and freedom in things. “Treat the small like it’s big and the easy like it’s hard. The wise see all as difficult, and have no difficulties.” (63AC) The difficult is easy if you take it with slow care, like a tree from a sprout, or a tower from a pile of dirt, or a journey of a thousand miles starts with a single footstep right in front of you. (64A) The way gets easier, unlike control/knowledge/power/positioning, brings problems. (48A)

Just as slower things are easier to catch, life, including ourselves and all things, is easier to understand when we understand things slowly and simply. Treating everyone the same calm, easy way, prepares for every sort of situation with others. (45)

You can do without harm, even though doing can’t fully do anything forever. (45) “Five colors blind eyes. Five notes deafen ears. Five tastes wither tongues. Races and hunts madden the mind. Rare treasures lead us off. The wise feed the belly, not the eye.” (12) It is good to name and order things, but also good to know when to stop. (32) Understanding means speaking less. Speaking much is trying too hard. (56) “Use few words, if you don’t stand with all of your words, others won’t stand with you.” (17) “If things grow and desire thrives, I’ll cool them with unnamed simplicity.” (37)

The later verses of the Daodejing add many additional insights: “A great nation must be led the way one fries a small fish. If one administers the world according to the Dao, then the ancestors do not swarm about as spirits. Not that the ancestors are not spirits, but their spirits do not harm humanity.” (60)

“Whoever knows others is clever. Whoever knows himself is wise. Whoever conquers others has force. Whoever conquers themselves is truly strong.” (33) “Whoever knows how to lead well is not warlike. Whoever knows how to fight well is not angry. Whoever knows how to conquer enemies does not fight them. Whoever knows how to use men well keeps themselves low.” (68) The wise are free from themselves, such that they can become themselves. (7) “Words keep trying to dive to its depths. Best to live in the middle of it.” (5)

There is a famous Daoist story known as Sai Weng loses his horse, which Sai says isn’t bad, as we have to wait and see. Then Sai’s horse comes back with another free horse, which Sai says isn’t good, as we have to wait and see. Then Sai’s son breaks his leg after riding the free horse. Then war comes and Sai’s son has to stay home, and isn’t killed along with all the other sons of his village. The loss of the horse eventually, after a few cycles, saved Sai’s son.

We are also told of the monkey trainer who told the monkeys that they get three acorns in the morning and four at night, which made them angry, so he told them they get four in the morning instead, which made them delighted, even though they get 7 acorns each day either way. “There was no change in the reality behind the words, and yet the monkeys responded with joy and anger. Let them, if they want to. The wise harmonize with both right and wrong and rests in the Cosmos, the equalizer.”

Daoism values patience, which is much about observing how things work over time. We can’t keep a knife sharp by sharpening it, and we can’t guard a room full of priceless treasures. (9)

In the Daodejing it says, “What you want to weaken you must first allow to grow strong. What you want to destroy, you must first allow to flourish,” (36) and, “The more the sages do for others, the more they possess. The more they give to others, the more they have.” (81)

The Duke of Qi was looking down from Ox Mountain on his capital city, when he began to weep, wondering why if his land was so beautiful he must one day leave it in death. His servants began to cry, replying that they had far less than the duke but they also feared death. Yenzi alone was smiling, and the duke asked him why. Yenzi replied that if we could hold on to life by merit, then the duke’s great ancestors would be immortal, they would still be sitting on the throne, and the duke would be wading in a rice paddy with a bamboo hat on. The duke was ashamed of himself.

An old man wishes to move a seven thousand foot tall set of mountains, and begins digging with his sons. His wife ridicules him, saying that he will clearly die before he puts a small dent in even one of them. He replies that this is true, but his sons will have sons, and they will have sons, and the mountain isn’t getting any bigger.

In a single verse of the Bamboo Laozi (41) we are told that the bright way is dim, the way forward seems backward, true power seems lowly, the pure seems poisoned, the steady seems lazy, the easy seems difficult, and the straight seems crooked, so the wise work on the way, most try the way and lose it, and the bad hear the way and laugh at it. The text tells us that if no one laughs, you’re not with the way.

The Daoists often act like fools to conceal that they are wise, sometimes to not be bothered by fools who want things, and other times to test others and see if they are wise or fools. This foolery became famous in Zen Buddhism, which borrowed the very un-Buddhist but very Daoist strategies of using lies and foolishness to teach us how to be wise rather than foolish. In Chinese literature, and movies such as Drunken Master, Iron Monkey, and Star Wars, wise masters live obscurely and teach those who are wise by pretending to be jerks.

Liezi had many students who he argued with day and night, but lived next to Nan Guozi, whom he never spoke with. His students asked him if he was an enemy, to which Liezi replies that there is simply no speaking with him. Liezi suggests they all go to see what he is about. When they enter, Nan Guozi is like a statue with no recognition of Liezi, but then suddenly he points at the last student in the back of the crowd and begins heckling him, “like a bigot who is always determined to be in the right”. They return to Liezi’s house perplexed, but Liezi tells them that this is a man who truly knows how to say nothing. This story is much like a Zen koan encounter, and predates these.

Oceans and rivers rule small valley streams because they swim below them. The wise lead in front by putting themselves last. They’re above others but speak lowly of themselves. They’re on top but others don’t feel weighed down. They’re in front of others but no one feels threatened. Everyone in the world is happy to support them without getting tired of it. Because they don’t compete, no one can compete with them. (66)

The wise does not boast, and is thus admired by everyone, that he does not want to shine, and is thus will be enlightened, that he does not seek excellence, and is thus exalted, that because he does not argue, no one can argue with him. If you desire nothing, everything will flock to you. (22)

The Bamboo Laozi says that, “Work is best when it works for everyone equally and everyone thinks that they equally did the work,” and so, “The best rulers are unknown, the next best are loved, the next are feared, and the worst are fought.” (17)

Aikido, the Japanese martial art that uses the force of the opponent to defeat the opponent, one defeats one’s opponent by moving out of their way and allowing the situation to take its course, not by directly striking them. If your opponent wants to punch in a particular direction, you allow them to do so, and use their momentum to throw them rather than waste your own energy striking with a fist or foot.

“Raise everyone. Feed everyone. Be a leader, not a butcher.” (10)

The final words of the Zhuangzi are: The fish trap exists because of the fish. Once you’ve gotten the fish, you can forget the trap. The rabbit snare exists because of the rabbit. Once you’ve gotten the rabbit, you can forget the snare. Words exist because of meaning. Once you’ve gotten the meaning, you can forget the words. Where can I find someone who has forgotten words so that I can have a word with them?

The author and artist Tsai Chih Chung has created comic book forms of the great Chinese and Buddhist classics of philosophy, including a three part cartoon of the Zhuangzi on YouTube. I highly recommend all of his works on the classics of Chinese philosophy, and he has created television programs for teaching philosophy to young children in Taiwan.