Part 1: Fables
Among Lao Dan’s disciples there was Gengsang Chu, who part‑attained the Dao of Lao Dan – he grasped a portion of the Dao, but had not fully realised it. He travelled north and dwelt on Mount Wei‑lei.
He sent away those among his attendants who displayed clever‑minded ostentation. He kept his distance from female servants who made a show of benevolence‑righteousness. He lived alongside plain, simple folk and employed hard‑working, unpretentious people.
After three years under him, the region of Wei‑lei enjoyed a great harvest. The local people talked among themselves:
“When Gengsang Chu first arrived, we thought him strange. Judged day‑by‑day his benefits seem small; judged year‑by‑year, there is abundant gain. Surely he must be a sage! Why should we not offer him sacrificial honours and treat him like a local tutelary god?”
When Gengsang Chu heard this proposal, he sat facing south, ill‑at‑ease. His disciples wondered why.
Gengsang Chu said:
“Why do you find my reaction strange? Spring‑qi stirs and all grasses spring forth; autumn arrives and all fruits ripen. Do spring and autumn achieve this by deliberate intent? It is simply the working of Heaven’s Dao.
I have heard that the Ultimate Person dwells in a humble small room, while the common people wander freely, knowing not where they are going. Now these petty folk of Wei‑lei wish to set me up as an object of reverence among worthies. Would I become a target for all eyes? That is why I cannot set aside Lao Dan’s teachings.”
One disciple objected:
“Not so. In a narrow ditch great fish cannot turn their bodies, yet minnows and loaches can dominate there. On low hills giant beasts cannot hide themselves, yet crafty foxes run wild there. Moreover, honouring the worthy and employing the capable, rewarding goodness and granting benefits – this was already the way of Yao and Shun. How much more so for the people of Wei‑lei! Master, you ought to accept this.”
Gengsang Chu replied:
“Come, young one. A beast big enough to carry a cart, once it leaves the mountains, cannot escape nets and traps. A fish large enough to swallow boats, once stranded out of water, suffers even at the hands of ants. Therefore birds and beasts never weary of high mountains; fish and turtles never weary of deep waters. One who preserves his body and inborn nature hides himself, and shuns neither depth nor obscurity.
Moreover, what is there to praise in Yao and Shun themselves? The way they discriminated worth and folly resembles hacking open a wall only to plant mugwort and thistle. Combing hair strand‑by‑strand, counting grains of rice before cooking – such petty meticulousness can never save the world. Exalt the worthy, and people will tear each other down. Employ cleverness, and people will rob one another. These practices cannot make the people sincere and generous. People are fiercely drawn to profit: sons may kill fathers, ministers may kill lords. Robberies happen in broad daylight; walls are broken‑into at mid‑day.
I tell you: The seeds of great chaos germinated already in the age of Yao and Shun. Its poisonous after‑effects endure for a thousand generations. A thousand generations hence, there will surely be people devouring one another.”
Then Nan Rong Chu, startled, sat upright and asked:
“I am already advanced in years. How shall I apply myself to attain such insight?”
Gengsang Chu said:
“Preserve your bodily form, hold fast to your inborn life‑nature. Do not let your thoughts race and toil. If you abide like this for three years, you may reach that understanding.”
Nan Rong Chu answered:
“Eyes share the same physical form, yet the blind cannot see. Ears share the same form, yet the deaf cannot hear. The heart shares our bodily frame, yet the mad cannot attain inner peace. Bodies are of one kind, yet something stands in‑between. I seek that state, yet cannot reach it. Now you tell me: preserve your form, cherish your life‑nature, do not let thoughts wear you out. I hear your words, but they only enter my ears.”
Gengsang Chu said:
“I have said all I can. Ground‑bees cannot transform caterpillars of the mugwort plant. Yue chickens cannot hatch swan eggs, yet Lu chickens certainly can. Between chicken and chicken their inborn power is not different; capacity simply comes in great and small measure. My own capacity is small, insufficient to transform you. Why do you not travel south to see Laozi?”
Nan Rong Chu packed provisions, journeying seven days and seven nights until he reached Laozi’s dwelling.
Laozi said: ”Do you come from Gengsang Chu?”
Nan Rong Chu: ”I do.”
Laozi: ”Why do you bring so many companions along with you?”
Nan Rong Chu started and looked behind him.
Laozi: ”You do not grasp my meaning.”
Nan Rong Chu bowed in shame, then sighed: ”Now I have forgotten my reply, and forgotten what question I came to ask.”
Laozi: ”What do you mean?”
Nan Rong Chu said:
“If I possess no cleverness, men call me dull‑witted. If I use cleverness, my own self suffers distress. Without benevolence I harm others; with benevolence I distress myself. Without righteousness I injure others; with righteousness I distress my own person. How can I escape this tangle? These three things torment me. I hoped to ask you through Gengsang Chu.”
Laozi replied:
“Already when I looked into your eyes and eyebrows I understood you. Your words now confirm it. You look distraught as one who has lost father and mother, as though you wave a pole searching for something out upon the great sea. You are one who has lost your true root! Bewildered, you wish to return to your genuine nature, yet find no gate. What a pity.”
Nan Rong Chu asked for lodging. He sought what he liked and cast off what he disliked. After ten days he was still afflicted by inner sorrow and returned to see Laozi.
Laozi said:
“You have sought to cleanse yourself – why are you still so heavy‑hearted? Still bad impulses well‑up inside you. When you are fettered by outward things, do not clutch frantically at the outer world, or your inner self will bolt‑shut. When you are fettered by inner obsessions, do not clutch frantically at your inner mind, or the outer world will bolt‑shut. If you are fettered both within and without, even those who hold the Dao‑Virtue cannot sustain you – how much less those who wander away from the Dao!”
Nan Rong Chu said:
“When a villager falls ill and neighbours question him, if he can name his sickness, then he is not yet fatally sick. For me, hearing the great Dao is like taking medicine which worsens my complaint. I only wish to hear the maxims for nourishing‑life.”
Laozi answered:
“The maxims for nourishing‑life:
Can you hold fast to the One? Can you never lose it?
Can you know good fortune and misfortune without divination?
Can you know when to stop? Can you know when to desist?
Can you abandon seeking from others and seek within yourself?
Can you be free‑spirited? Can you be simple‑minded?
Can you be like an infant?
An infant cries all day without his throat growing hoarse – this is perfect harmony. He clenches his fist all day and his hand does not cramp – he abides by innate virtue. He gazes all‑day and his eyes do not blink, for his attention does not lean outwards. He walks knowing not where he goes; dwells knowing not what he does. He yields to things and flows along with their waves. This is the art of nourishing‑life.”
Nan Rong Chu asked: ”Is this then the Virtue of the Ultimate Person?”
Laozi: ”No. This is merely ice melting and frost thawing, releasing inner knots. The Ultimate Person shares sustenance from the earth and shares joy with Heaven. He is not perturbed by human‑world gain and loss. He does not wonder at others; he plots nothing with others; he engages in no contrived business. Free‑spirited he goes, simple‑minded he comes. This also belongs to nourishing‑life.”
Nan Rong Chu: ”Is this the ultimate then?”
Laozi: ”Not yet. Did I not tell you: can you be like an infant? The infant acts knowing not what he does; walks knowing not where he travels. His body like dry branches, his mind like dead ashes. For such a one, misfortune does not arrive, nor good fortune. If neither fortune nor misfortune exists, where shall human‑made calamities find entry?”
Commentary note: The text ends the fable without telling whether Nan Rong Chu finally attained enlightenment.
Part 2: Philosophical reflections
When inner peace is firmly established, the radiance of Heaven‑born light shines forth. Where that heavenly light shines, each human stands revealed as human, each thing stands revealed as thing. Only through self‑cultivation does one gain constancy. The constant one, people cleave to; Heaven protects him. Those whom people cleave to are called People‑of‑Heaven; those whom Heaven protects are called Sons‑of‑Heaven.
What the scholar studies – does he study what cannot be learned? What the practitioner practises – does he practise what cannot be practised? What the debater debates – does he debate what cannot be debated?
To let knowing stop at what one cannot know – this is perfection. Whoever does not follow this, the equalising power of Heaven will undo them.
Receive all things so as to complete your bodily form. Harbour no scheming thoughts so as to quicken your spirit‑mind. Reverence your inner self so as to respond to the outer world. If, even after this, manifold evils still befall you, these are from Heaven, not from human doing. Do not let them disturb your perfected inner being; do not let them enter your Spirit‑Terrace (灵台, Ling‑tai).
The Spirit‑Terrace holds something, yet you must not consciously grasp what it holds; it cannot be forced. If you stir yourself before you are sincere toward your own true self, every stirring will be mis‑directed. If outer impressions settle in you and you cannot release them, every shift brings further loss.
Do evil openly, and other people will condemn you. Do evil hidden in darkness, and ghosts will condemn you. He who understands both human judgement and ghost‑like inner conscience can walk alone.
He who seeks fulfilment within himself acts without chasing renown. He who chases outward gain aims for profit and recompense – he is no better than a merchant. People see him straining on tiptoes, yet he thinks himself lofty.
One who reconciles fully with things will receive things into himself. One who clashes against things cannot even tolerate his own self – how shall he tolerate others? Who cannot tolerate others has no kin; having no kin, all become alien to him.
No weapon is sharper than the will; even the famous Mo‑ye sword ranks below it. No calamity is greater than yin‑yang transformations. There is nowhere to flee from them under heaven‑and‑earth. It is not yin‑yang that injures you; it is your own mind that brings harm. (兵莫憯于志，镆铘为下；寇莫大于阴阳，无所逃于天地之间。非阴阳贼之，心则使之也。)
The Dao permeates all divisions of things. When something comes‑to‑be, something else perishes. We hate division because our minds cling to completeness; we hate completeness precisely because we are fixated on it. When your spirit rushes outward and does not return, you become like a ghost. To rush outward and think you have gained something is called gaining death. Your true nature perishes yet your physical form remains: this is one kind of ghost. Let your bodily form model the formless Dao, and you find peace.
Coming‑forth has no root; entering‑in has no aperture. Real existence without fixed location; enduring continuity without beginning or end. To have reality without location is space (宇, Yu). To endure without origin or end is time (宙, Zhou). There is birth, there is death; there is going‑out, there is coming‑in. Going‑out and coming‑in show no shape: this is called the Gate‑of‑Heaven (天门). The Gate‑of‑Heaven means Non‑being. All ten‑thousand things emerge from Non‑being. Being cannot generate Being from Being itself; it must emerge out of Non‑being. And Non‑being itself dissolves into absolute Non‑being‑of‑Non‑being. The sage dwells hidden within this.
The ancients possessed a highest‑order knowing: What was this height? Some held that originally there were no things at all – this was the ultimate, complete, beyond addition. Next came those who accepted that things exist; they saw birth as exile, death as home‑coming – already making divisions. Next: first there was Non‑being; then came life, which quickly passes into death. Taking Non‑being as head, life as torso, death as rump. Who understands that being‑non‑being, life‑death are one, I would wish to be his friend. These three views differ, yet spring from one stock. Like the Zhao Jing Shen clans of Chu: they gain status from office or fief, yet are branches of one great house.
Life is a smudge of condensed vapour. We speak of shifting‑yes‑no (移是) – yet this cannot be captured in words. Still the idea must be grasped. At sacrificial rites, offal and hooves may be divided yet must still be assembled for the offering. One touring a palace‑temple also must visit the latrines. This illustrates shifting‑yes‑no.
Shifting‑yes‑no: taking life as ground, taking knowledge as teacher, thereby generating yes‑and‑no judgements. Fix names and realities, take your own self as measure, demand others conform to you, even die for your principles. Such folk treat utility as wisdom, uselessness as folly; prominence as glory, destitution as shame. This shifting‑yes‑no belongs to people of today. Their perspective is no different from the cicada and the little quail who mock the great roc.
If you step on another person’s foot in the market, you apologise for your recklessness. If you step on an elder brother’s foot you offer gentle consolation. If you step on your parent’s foot you do nothing at all.
Hence:
The highest ritual makes no distinctions between persons;
The highest righteousness makes no distinctions between things;
The highest wisdom uses no plotting;
The highest benevolence knows no partial affection;
The highest trust discards gold‑pledge tokens.至礼有不人，至义不物，至知不谋，至仁无亲，至信辟金。
Cast‑off the disturbances of will; untie the entanglements of the mind; remove burdens from Virtue; unblock what bars access to the Dao.
Six things disturb the will: nobility, wealth, eminence, stern dignity, name, profit.
Six things entangle the mind: bearing, movement, complexion, reasoning, vital‑energy, intent.
Six things burden Virtue: hatred, desire, joy, anger, grief, delight.
Six things block the Dao: retreat‑advance, taking‑giving, knowledge‑skill.
If these twenty‑four impulses do not stir within your breast, you become upright. Upright > tranquil; tranquil > clear‑sighted; clear‑sighted > empty; empty > wu‑wei, and yet nothing remains undone.
The Dao is what Virtue reveres. Life is the radiance of Virtue. Inborn nature is the substance of life. Movement of in‑born nature is called doing; doing twisted by contrivance is called loss. Knowing is contact with outer things; deliberation is inner scheming. What you cannot know is like seeing only sideways, partial and limited. Acting out of unavoidable necessity is Virtue. Acting wholly from your true self is harmony. Names may oppose each other, yet realities run together.
Yi the archer excelled at hitting tiny marks, yet he was poor at making people refrain from praising him. Sages excel at following Heaven, yet are clumsy with human‑affairs. Only the Complete Man excels both at Heaven and at human affairs. Insects live as insects, yet also abide by Heaven. The Complete Man does not dwell on “what is Heaven” and “what is human” – still less on “this is my Heaven, that is human humanity”.
If a sparrow flies toward Yi, Yi will surely hit it – this comes from his power. If you take all‑under‑heaven as your bird‑cage, no sparrow can escape. Thus Tang recruited Yi Yin through the office of cook; Duke Mu of Qin won Baili Xi with five sheep‑skins. You cannot win people without appealing to their inclinations.
He whose feet have been cut‑off casts aside fine adornment, for he has transcended praise and blame. Convicted labourers climb high places without fear, for they have cast aside thoughts of life and death. One who expects no repayment forgets the human‑self; forgetting the human‑self, he becomes a man‑of‑Heaven.
He who is honoured feels no joy; he who is insulted feels no anger – only one who accords with heavenly harmony can be like this. Anger arising without prior anger‑inclination; action arising without prior striving‑inclination. If you wish calm, pacify your vital‑energy. If you wish spirit‑clarity, harmonise your heart‑mind. If your action seeks to be fitting, let it spring from unavoidable necessity. To act from unavoidable necessity is the way of the sage.
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