Daodejing—The Dao of Life and Spontaneity ..................................45
LECTURE 14
Daodejing—The Best Life Is a Simple Life .......................................48
LECTURE 15
Daodejing—Subtlety and Paradox ...................................................52
LECTURE 16
Zhuangzi on Daoism—Impermanence and Harmony ......................55
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Daodejing—The Dao of Life and Spontaneity
Lecture 13
Remember in the background that for every chapter of the Daodejing we discuss, we’ll be relying on a single translation, [but] there are hundreds of others, and … interpretation always lies behind translation.
The Daodejing is traditionally ascribed to a ¿ gure known as Laozi (“old master”), although most scholars believe that the book is actually a compilation of sayings and chapters from a variety of sources. The text, comprising 81 chapters grouped into two books, was solidi¿ ed around the 3rd or 2nd century B.C.E. The Daodejing is the most frequently translated book in the world, and its translations and interpretations differ vastly.
Although Daoism shares with Confucianism a certain preoccupation with the idea of wu-wei, the Daoists have an opposite understanding of its cultivation. For the Confucians, wu-wei is a positive thing, the building up of ever-greater virtuosity. For the Daoists, it is negative, a paring away of accretions and a return to a natural state. In Daoism, culture inhibits our natural state, whereas in Confucianism, it is part of our nature to become cultured. Language and conventions are not civilizing factors in Daoism.
The meaning of the word dao most simply is “a way,” as in a path or a way of life. Interestingly, a dao can also mean a discourse or discussion or a text or poem. In this sense, it can be a way of thinking or a way of talking. Finally, it can refer to the fundamental nature of reality—as we might put it, “the way things are.” The word de can mean moral virtue, but it can also mean nature, as in the nature of things. Other meanings include excellence, purity, power, and light.
In the Daodejing, what is the dao a dao of? Primarily, it’s a dao of life—a way of life—speci¿ cally, a way of life lived in harmony with the universe. For that reason, it’s also the dao of the universe, the fundamental nature of things, because the central insight of Daoism is that the right way to live is in harmony with the way the universe itself is. Given that human life is so concerned with talking and thinking and drawing distinctions, it’s also a dao of talk and a dao of thought. The dao here is all of these things: the nature of the universe, the way we should live, and the way we should think about the nature of the universe and the way we should live.
One of the distinctive elements of the Daoist account of life is the focus on stripping away culture and returning to nature. Also important is an emphasis on the background, not the foreground. The Daoists focus on empty space, as opposed to the positive things that occupy space. The goal is not to create spontaneity but to recover the spontaneity that we have in us from
birth. There’s also a deep suspicion of language in thought and an The dao here is all of these attempt to return to a primordial things: the nature of the mode of thinking. universe, the way we should
As mentioned, different translations
live, and the way we should of the Daodejing offer differing think about the nature of the interpretations of the text. We read universe and the way we excerpts from three translations of chapter 1 that introduce us to a should live. number of important Daoist themes. Among these is the idea that words and names are conventional, not
constant; their meanings aren’t anchored to reality. Further, there is a kind of primordial ground for the possibility of thinking that we can’t literally describe but is the basis of our ability to experience and describe anything. We also see the idea that desire and human concerns bring particular entities into a foreground; it is our concerns that make objects what they are. Finally, positive space emerges from negative space, and to understand the relationship between that emergent positive and the primordial is the deepest mystery.
Chapter 2 of the Daodejing gives us a discussion of the relativity of values to each other—good to bad, beautiful to ugly—and the mutual dependence of opposites. We can characterize something as having a particular quality only if we characterize something else as having the opposite quality. In this way, we attribute value to things in the world that have no intrinsic value. The properties or qualities we identify are projections of our own concerns and desires, and these projections distance us from reality.
The Daodejing urges us to pay attention to the background of reality, as well as the foreground. The Daoist sage gives up the effort of distinguishing foreground and background and is able, therefore, to recover a spontaneous engagement with the entire matrix of the world in which he or she exists. The sage also recognizes that he himself is not an object against a background who initiates unique actions but a participant in a vast array of processes. Our achievements are the consequence of the conÀ uence of a vast causal network of which we are only one part. Because the sage makes no claims— has no attachments—“he suffers no loss.” Ŷ
Suggested Reading
- Hansen, A Daoist Theory of Chinese Thought.
- ———, Tao Te Ching on the Art of Harmony: The New Illustrated Edition of the Chinese Philosophical Masterpiece.
- Red Pine, Lao-Tzu’s Taoteching.
Study Questions
1. What is the range of meanings of dao? How are they related to one another? How is the dao different from the Confucian tian?
2. Why is the issue of relativity so important? What is achieved by focusing on binaries instead of on particular poles of those binaries?
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Daodejing—The Best Life Is a Simple Life
Lecture 14
We also ¿ nd here, more speci¿ cally with respect to the … Confucian context, a speci¿ c denigration of justice and ritual, a speci¿ c denigration of the explicit forms of behavior, forms of social intercourse, and the most ritualized, calci¿ ed, speci¿ ed, and explicit forms of social interaction.
As we continue with the Daodejing, recall the multiple meanings of dao: a way of living, of talking, and of thinking; the way the universe works; and a way of understanding all these things. The ¿ rst chapter of the Daodejing points out that language and the concepts that language encodes are not ¿ xed and do not reÀ ect the nature of reality; they are, instead, projections of our own thinking onto reality. If the goal is to live in harmony with reality, these projections are obstacles. By naming objects, we are also picking them out against a background, and thus, we tend to experience the world as discrete. But according to the Daoists, reality is a seamless whole, of which our lives are a part.
Confucianism and Daoism share a valorization of wu-wei that differs from anything we have seen in the Western tradition or in the Bhagavad-GƯtƗ. The difference here lies in the concept of a meaningful life as one that is lived spontaneously, not one in which we deliberate and choose each action we perform. The contrast between the Daoists and the Confucians is in the analysis and achievement of that kind of effortless spontaneity.
In chapter 3 of the Daodejing, we read: “Bestowing no honors keeps people from ¿ ghting. Prizing no treasures keeps people from stealing. …” The positive value of winning prizes or having treasure is often valorized without noticing the negative content that creates jealousy or covetousness. Instead, the text says, “the rule of the sage empties the mind, but ¿ lls the stomach; weakens the will, but strengthens the bones.” The mind is the part of us that conceptualizes and drives us through calculation, while the stomach drives us through instinct. This passage also suggests that ¿ xing on models of success results in the occlusion of other possibilities.
Chapter 38 gives us the Daoist valuation of effort and conceptualization with regard to moral action. In both the Aristotelian and Confucian accounts, virtue required a great deal of effort and thought. In Daoism, we ¿ nd a complete rejection of that and an explicit denigration of Confucian accounts of justice and ritual. A beautifully ironic passage in this chapter reads: “When the way is lost, virtue appears; when virtue is lost, kindness appears; when kindness is lost, justice appears.” Remember that “the way” is spontaneous behavior in accordance with nature. When we lose our spontaneity—by getting caught up in conventions and focusing on the foreground—we turn to a doctrine of virtue for guidance on how to behave. If we lose virtue, then we must be instructed to at least be kind. And when we stop being kind to one another, then we need justice. Having followed this Confucian hierarchy, the Daodejing then tells us: “When justice is lost, ritual appears. Ritual marks the waning of belief and the onset of confusion.”
We see here a kind of negative valuation of effort in what it takes to be human. Each of these stages requires more effort than the preceding one, but the most effortless, spontaneous behavior is the best. Cultivation and effort emerge only as necessities when we lose our character. The Confucian ideal of
ritual—of highly explicit Winning awards is valorized, yet it can also cause jealousy and covetousness. forms of social interaction— is viewed by the Daoists as the most fossilized, least natural form of interaction. And those are often the forms that are most valorized as the foundations of our social order.
For the Daoist, every step down the hierarchy—from dao, to virtue, to kindness, to justice, to ritual—is a denigration of ourselves from a natural state to an arti¿ cial one. This denigration occurs in a single
process, cultivation. The
Confucian model of cultivation is akin to bottling spontaneous, natural behavior, and the result is the destruction of natural life.
In chapter 12, we see that this destruction is wrought by language and cognition and their role in the For the Daoist, every step down the hierarchy—from dao, to virtue, to kindness, to justice, to ritual—is a denigration of ourselves from a natural state to an arti¿ cial one.
Confucian goal-driven approach to life, as opposed to a spontaneous, natural approach. The chapter begins with a set of paradoxes: “The colors make our eyes blind. The ¿ ve tones make our ears deaf. The ¿ ve À avors make our mouths numb.” The idea here is that if we conceptualize something, such as the color red, then we tend to see scarlet, crimson, and so on as all the same color. We reduce our multifarious world to boxes de¿ ned by conceptual categories. This doesn’t reveal reality but breaks it into chunks.
Chapters 18 and 19 give us similar paradoxes, pointing out that morality is harmed—not helped—by sophistication, cultivation, and structure. Our social structures and the arti¿ cial values they embody induce not human progress but decadence and corruption. Productive action stems from wu-wei, and sometimes, doing nothing is exactly the right thing to do. Ŷ
===
Suggested Reading
- Hansen, A Daoist Theory of Chinese Thought.
- ———, Tao Te Ching on the Art of Harmony: The New Illustrated Edition of the Chinese Philosophical Masterpiece.
- Kasulis, Zen Action, Zen Person.
- Red Pine, Lao-Tzu’s Taoteching.
Study Questions
1. How does the fact that there is no constant dao ground the idea that À exibility, tolerance, and spontaneity are fundamental to moral life?
2. Why do Daoists disparage moral striving and effort, and why in particular are justice and ritual regarded as antithetical to moral life?
===
Daodejing—Subtlety and Paradox
Lecture 15
All this space between sky and earth is there, and it’s inexhaustible—it doesn’t go away—and just as it’s a bellows that makes it possible for us to have a ¿ re and be warm, it’s that space that makes it possible for things to exist, to be, and to change.
I
n chapter 5 of the Daodejing, we read, “Heaven and earth are heartless, treating creatures like straw dogs.” Straw dogs were burned in Chinese rituals as a way of expiating one’s sins. Here, the Daodejing means that as far as the universe is concerned, people are dispensable. This echoes the idea we saw in the book of Job: that the universe isn’t constructed around us.
Detachment makes sense if what we want is a life of harmony. Attachment is getting stuck in one piece of the foreground and ignoring all of space and time as a consequence. Our lives and our world are empty—they have no essence, no permanence—but it’s because of that emptiness that our lives are full of possibilities.
In chapter 7, we read, “Heaven is eternal and earth is immortal. The reason they are eternal and immortal is that they don’t live for themselves; hence, they can live forever.” The message here is that if we want to lead a life that has some endurance through positive effects, we need to let go of ourselves and our concerns. The sage, we are told, “lets himself go, but ends up safe.” Our self-centered, goal-directed behavior is often exactly what gets in the way of accomplishing our goals; if we relax and allow other ideas to À ourish and others’ goals to be met, our own will be met, too.
The Daodejing offers us a beautiful metaphor about water: “The best are like water, bringing help to all without competing, choosing what others avoid, hence approaching the dao….” Of course, water is bene¿ cial, but also important is the idea that water doesn’t compete: It À ows around rocks in a stream; it provides a home for ¿ sh; it makes things possible for others. For us, to live as spontaneously as water and to live to bene¿ t others is to approach the dao. Another water metaphor emphasizes the importance of moderation: “Instead of pouring in more, better stop while you can.”
Elsewhere, the Daodejing tells us, “Houses full of treasure can never be safe. The vanity of success invites its own failure.” If you parade your successes and set yourself up as the foreground of the universe, you put yourself in disharmony with those around you, and your projects will fail because you lack cooperation.
Chapter 11 concludes, “When your work is done, retire. This is the way of heaven! Focus on the empty space!” We realize that there is always more that could be done tomorrow, but we don’t need to keep ¿ lling that space. Possibilities are just as important
as accomplishments. The focus on
For us, to live as spontaneously as water and to live to bene¿ t others is to approach the dao. empty space continues with this metaphor: “Thirty spokes converge on a hub, but it’s the emptiness that makes a wheel work.” If a wheel
was nothing more than spokes and a rim—solid things—it couldn’t be put
on an axle, and it wouldn’t work. It’s the emptiness at the hub that makes the wheel work. We’re so conditioned by conceptual thought, language, and socialization to focus on the wood and the metal of the wheel that we miss that important empty space. The same is true of a pot and even a house. The conclusion here is: “Existence makes something useful, but nonexistence makes it work!” This is a key to the great mystery—the relationship between the dao and all the things that are manifest in the world. Nothing is what it is in virtue of its positive or negative aspect alone.
We’ve seen that concern for others is the best way to advance ourselves and that self-concern always back¿ res. Just as we don’t want to focus on the wheel but notice the hub, we can’t focus on just ourselves, but we have to pay attention to the social context in which we ¿ gure. Such ideas are subtle, but the Daodejing argues that a virtuous life is subtle. Indeed, the text tells us that when an idiot hears about the dao, “he laughs out loud.” From the standpoint of most social convention, the good life described in the Daodejing sounds absurd, but it’s precisely because it runs counter to cultivation that we know we’re on the right track. Often, what is imperfect is best and what we don’t have turns out to be the most useful.
Following the dao is not a positive cultivation, not building something up. It’s eliminating the rigidity that arises from cultivation. In this, it’s much more like Stoicism than it is like the GƯtƗ or Confucius. It’s also much more metaphysically charged than many of the texts we’ve read so far, an account not only of what our lives are like but of what the universe is like and of how our lives can be in harmony with the universe. Ŷ
====
Suggested Reading
Study Questions
1. Why is virtue so paradoxical? Why does Daoism valorize the paradoxical?
2. Why is imperfection valued over perfection? Why is ruling a nation like cooking a small ¿ sh?
======
Zhuangzi on Daoism—Impermanence and Harmony
Lecture 16
We can lead our lives as Chinese philosophers (or as American individuals), or we can lead our lives as butterÀ ies, just so we À it about as a butterÀ y would or À it about as a Chinese philosopher would.
That’s all that counts.
Before we move on to the Zhuangzi, we need to keep some of the “big ideas” of Daoism in mind: the emphasis on the negative rather than the positive; the idea that moral cultivation is a negative process, a stripping away of attachments and even of knowledge; and the idea that language and concepts are variable and reÀ ect more about us than they do anything beyond us. For Daoists, the recognition that language and concepts aren’t ¿ xed leads to a suspicion of logic and reason, which are also arti¿ cial constructs—tools that we invent ourselves. Interestingly, this critique of logic and reason is based on logical argument, but Daoists acknowledge that it applies to Daoism as much as to anything else. In the end, Daoism gives us good reason to reject good reasons; it urges us to strip away all accretions, even the accretion of understanding the dao.
One other point we need to keep in mind is the fact that Daoism, like Confucianism, involves an aestheticization of experience and philosophical reÀ ection. Both accounts are pregnant with aesthetic metaphors, although Daoism ¿ nds beauty in a kind of rough naturalism as opposed to a beauty of perfect cultivation and civilization. We also ¿ nd this aesthetic dimension to life in the Zhuangzi.
The core of this text seems to have been written by an author named Zhuangzi, who lived from about 369 to 286 B.C. The full text was probably completed about 150 years after the original author’s death, again, a compilation from numerous authors. Zhuangzi is said to have turned down a lucrative political post because he didn’t want to be like the ox offered in sacri¿ ce: “He is generously fed for years and dressed in the ¿ nest embroidered fabrics, so that he may one day be led into the Great Temple for slaughter.”
One of the most famous passages in the Zhuangzi concerns the philosopher named Zhuang Zhou who dreamed he was a butterÀ y; then, when he awoke, he was unsure whether he was a butterÀ y dreaming about Zhuang Zhou. Reason can’t possibly settle the question of which is the dream and which is reality, and further, the answer doesn’t matter. Whatever reality we’re in, trying to reach a conclusion about its fundamental nature merely mobilizes more concepts. This story
One of the most famous also illustrates the Daoist point
passages in the Zhuangzi that distinctions—butterÀ ies, human concerns the philosopher beings; reality, dreams—are just named Zhuang Zhou who projections. In a sense, we live in a dreamed he was a butterÀ y; dream world all the time. When you look at a tree, you’re seeing your own
then, when he awoke, he
perception of the tree; it isn’t somehow
was unsure whether he was in your mind. Experience does not put a butterÀ y dreaming about us in direct contact with reality.
Zhuang Zhou.
Another famous story in the Zhuangzi is that of Cook Ding. He studied oxen for three years in an attempt to learn
how to cut them up for cooking. “But now,” he says, “I encounter [the ox] with the spirit rather than scrutinizing it with my eyes.” The cook continues, “My understanding consciousness, beholden to its speci¿ c purposes, comes to a halt, and thus do the promptings of the spirit begin to À ow.” The result for the cook is that cutting up the ox is effortless. Indeed, he says that his knife goes into the empty spaces within the joints, reminding us of the bellows metaphor from the Daodejing. This story emphasizes both the priority of spontaneous, nonconceptual engagement with reality and the insight that spontaneous engagement emerges from cultivation that involves the peeling away of a certain kind of conceptual perception, not the addition of more knowledge.
The story of Zhuangzi’s reaction after his wife’s death offers a wonderful example of the power of Daoist insight to lead us to serenity. Zhuangzi says that his immediate reaction was to mourn his wife’s death, but he stopped when he thought about the parallel between the in¿ nite period before life and the in¿ nite period afterward and about the inevitability of death. Indeed, if we want somebody to exist, we want that person to die because existence in life without death isn’t even a coherent possibility.
Finally, the Zhuangzi gives us a dialogue between Confucius and Lao Tzu that ridicules the Confucian view. Confucius says that he has sought the dao for ¿ ve years “in measures and numbers,” that is, words, concepts, and rituals. Lao Tzu tells him that names are merely “tools for public use. Goodwill [ren] and duty [li] are the grass huts of the former kings. You may put up in them for a night, but do not settle in them for too long….” If we emphasize these things too much, they will become prisons rather than useful way stations. Lao Tzu closes with the words “To ramble without a destination is wu-wei.” Ŷ
====
Suggested Reading
Graham, Chuang-Tzu: The Inner Chapters.
———, Disputers of the Tao: Philosophical Argument in Ancient China.
Hansen, A Daoist Theory of Chinese Thought.
Ziporyn, trans., Zhuangzi: The Essential Writings with Selections from Traditional Commentaries.
Study Questions
1. What is the signi¿ cance of the butterÀ y dream? What does it suggest as an appropriate attitude to reality as we experience it?
2. What is the difference between a Confucian and a Daoist approach to death and mourning? What is the origin of this difference?
Lecture 15
All this space between sky and earth is there, and it’s inexhaustible—it doesn’t go away—and just as it’s a bellows that makes it possible for us to have a ¿ re and be warm, it’s that space that makes it possible for things to exist, to be, and to change.
I
n chapter 5 of the Daodejing, we read, “Heaven and earth are heartless, treating creatures like straw dogs.” Straw dogs were burned in Chinese rituals as a way of expiating one’s sins. Here, the Daodejing means that as far as the universe is concerned, people are dispensable. This echoes the idea we saw in the book of Job: that the universe isn’t constructed around us.
Detachment makes sense if what we want is a life of harmony. Attachment is getting stuck in one piece of the foreground and ignoring all of space and time as a consequence. Our lives and our world are empty—they have no essence, no permanence—but it’s because of that emptiness that our lives are full of possibilities.
In chapter 7, we read, “Heaven is eternal and earth is immortal. The reason they are eternal and immortal is that they don’t live for themselves; hence, they can live forever.” The message here is that if we want to lead a life that has some endurance through positive effects, we need to let go of ourselves and our concerns. The sage, we are told, “lets himself go, but ends up safe.” Our self-centered, goal-directed behavior is often exactly what gets in the way of accomplishing our goals; if we relax and allow other ideas to À ourish and others’ goals to be met, our own will be met, too.
The Daodejing offers us a beautiful metaphor about water: “The best are like water, bringing help to all without competing, choosing what others avoid, hence approaching the dao….” Of course, water is bene¿ cial, but also important is the idea that water doesn’t compete: It À ows around rocks in a stream; it provides a home for ¿ sh; it makes things possible for others. For us, to live as spontaneously as water and to live to bene¿ t others is to approach the dao. Another water metaphor emphasizes the importance of moderation: “Instead of pouring in more, better stop while you can.”
Elsewhere, the Daodejing tells us, “Houses full of treasure can never be safe. The vanity of success invites its own failure.” If you parade your successes and set yourself up as the foreground of the universe, you put yourself in disharmony with those around you, and your projects will fail because you lack cooperation.
Chapter 11 concludes, “When your work is done, retire. This is the way of heaven! Focus on the empty space!” We realize that there is always more that could be done tomorrow, but we don’t need to keep ¿ lling that space. Possibilities are just as important
as accomplishments. The focus on
For us, to live as spontaneously as water and to live to bene¿ t others is to approach the dao. empty space continues with this metaphor: “Thirty spokes converge on a hub, but it’s the emptiness that makes a wheel work.” If a wheel
was nothing more than spokes and a rim—solid things—it couldn’t be put
on an axle, and it wouldn’t work. It’s the emptiness at the hub that makes the wheel work. We’re so conditioned by conceptual thought, language, and socialization to focus on the wood and the metal of the wheel that we miss that important empty space. The same is true of a pot and even a house. The conclusion here is: “Existence makes something useful, but nonexistence makes it work!” This is a key to the great mystery—the relationship between the dao and all the things that are manifest in the world. Nothing is what it is in virtue of its positive or negative aspect alone.
We’ve seen that concern for others is the best way to advance ourselves and that self-concern always back¿ res. Just as we don’t want to focus on the wheel but notice the hub, we can’t focus on just ourselves, but we have to pay attention to the social context in which we ¿ gure. Such ideas are subtle, but the Daodejing argues that a virtuous life is subtle. Indeed, the text tells us that when an idiot hears about the dao, “he laughs out loud.” From the standpoint of most social convention, the good life described in the Daodejing sounds absurd, but it’s precisely because it runs counter to cultivation that we know we’re on the right track. Often, what is imperfect is best and what we don’t have turns out to be the most useful.
Following the dao is not a positive cultivation, not building something up. It’s eliminating the rigidity that arises from cultivation. In this, it’s much more like Stoicism than it is like the GƯtƗ or Confucius. It’s also much more metaphysically charged than many of the texts we’ve read so far, an account not only of what our lives are like but of what the universe is like and of how our lives can be in harmony with the universe. Ŷ
====
Suggested Reading
- Hansen, A Daoist Theory of Chinese Thought.
- ———, Tao Te Ching on the Art of Harmony: The New Illustrated Edition of the Chinese Philosophical Masterpiece.
- Kasulis, Zen Action, Zen Person.
- Red Pine, Lao-Tzu’s Taoteching.
Study Questions
1. Why is virtue so paradoxical? Why does Daoism valorize the paradoxical?
2. Why is imperfection valued over perfection? Why is ruling a nation like cooking a small ¿ sh?
======
Zhuangzi on Daoism—Impermanence and Harmony
Lecture 16
We can lead our lives as Chinese philosophers (or as American individuals), or we can lead our lives as butterÀ ies, just so we À it about as a butterÀ y would or À it about as a Chinese philosopher would.
That’s all that counts.
Before we move on to the Zhuangzi, we need to keep some of the “big ideas” of Daoism in mind: the emphasis on the negative rather than the positive; the idea that moral cultivation is a negative process, a stripping away of attachments and even of knowledge; and the idea that language and concepts are variable and reÀ ect more about us than they do anything beyond us. For Daoists, the recognition that language and concepts aren’t ¿ xed leads to a suspicion of logic and reason, which are also arti¿ cial constructs—tools that we invent ourselves. Interestingly, this critique of logic and reason is based on logical argument, but Daoists acknowledge that it applies to Daoism as much as to anything else. In the end, Daoism gives us good reason to reject good reasons; it urges us to strip away all accretions, even the accretion of understanding the dao.
One other point we need to keep in mind is the fact that Daoism, like Confucianism, involves an aestheticization of experience and philosophical reÀ ection. Both accounts are pregnant with aesthetic metaphors, although Daoism ¿ nds beauty in a kind of rough naturalism as opposed to a beauty of perfect cultivation and civilization. We also ¿ nd this aesthetic dimension to life in the Zhuangzi.
The core of this text seems to have been written by an author named Zhuangzi, who lived from about 369 to 286 B.C. The full text was probably completed about 150 years after the original author’s death, again, a compilation from numerous authors. Zhuangzi is said to have turned down a lucrative political post because he didn’t want to be like the ox offered in sacri¿ ce: “He is generously fed for years and dressed in the ¿ nest embroidered fabrics, so that he may one day be led into the Great Temple for slaughter.”
One of the most famous passages in the Zhuangzi concerns the philosopher named Zhuang Zhou who dreamed he was a butterÀ y; then, when he awoke, he was unsure whether he was a butterÀ y dreaming about Zhuang Zhou. Reason can’t possibly settle the question of which is the dream and which is reality, and further, the answer doesn’t matter. Whatever reality we’re in, trying to reach a conclusion about its fundamental nature merely mobilizes more concepts. This story
One of the most famous also illustrates the Daoist point
passages in the Zhuangzi that distinctions—butterÀ ies, human concerns the philosopher beings; reality, dreams—are just named Zhuang Zhou who projections. In a sense, we live in a dreamed he was a butterÀ y; dream world all the time. When you look at a tree, you’re seeing your own
then, when he awoke, he
perception of the tree; it isn’t somehow
was unsure whether he was in your mind. Experience does not put a butterÀ y dreaming about us in direct contact with reality.
Zhuang Zhou.
Another famous story in the Zhuangzi is that of Cook Ding. He studied oxen for three years in an attempt to learn
how to cut them up for cooking. “But now,” he says, “I encounter [the ox] with the spirit rather than scrutinizing it with my eyes.” The cook continues, “My understanding consciousness, beholden to its speci¿ c purposes, comes to a halt, and thus do the promptings of the spirit begin to À ow.” The result for the cook is that cutting up the ox is effortless. Indeed, he says that his knife goes into the empty spaces within the joints, reminding us of the bellows metaphor from the Daodejing. This story emphasizes both the priority of spontaneous, nonconceptual engagement with reality and the insight that spontaneous engagement emerges from cultivation that involves the peeling away of a certain kind of conceptual perception, not the addition of more knowledge.
The story of Zhuangzi’s reaction after his wife’s death offers a wonderful example of the power of Daoist insight to lead us to serenity. Zhuangzi says that his immediate reaction was to mourn his wife’s death, but he stopped when he thought about the parallel between the in¿ nite period before life and the in¿ nite period afterward and about the inevitability of death. Indeed, if we want somebody to exist, we want that person to die because existence in life without death isn’t even a coherent possibility.
Finally, the Zhuangzi gives us a dialogue between Confucius and Lao Tzu that ridicules the Confucian view. Confucius says that he has sought the dao for ¿ ve years “in measures and numbers,” that is, words, concepts, and rituals. Lao Tzu tells him that names are merely “tools for public use. Goodwill [ren] and duty [li] are the grass huts of the former kings. You may put up in them for a night, but do not settle in them for too long….” If we emphasize these things too much, they will become prisons rather than useful way stations. Lao Tzu closes with the words “To ramble without a destination is wu-wei.” Ŷ
====
Suggested Reading
Graham, Chuang-Tzu: The Inner Chapters.
———, Disputers of the Tao: Philosophical Argument in Ancient China.
Hansen, A Daoist Theory of Chinese Thought.
Ziporyn, trans., Zhuangzi: The Essential Writings with Selections from Traditional Commentaries.
Study Questions
1. What is the signi¿ cance of the butterÀ y dream? What does it suggest as an appropriate attitude to reality as we experience it?
2. What is the difference between a Confucian and a Daoist approach to death and mourning? What is the origin of this difference?
