I Love Chuang-tzu

I love Chuang-tzu, one of the great Taoist writers and thinkers. His work is deep and wide and absurd and funny. Old School, yet quite unique for its time. Yes, I love Chuang-tzu. Or Chuang Chou as he was known to friends, family and colleagues in fourth century China, where he lived and wrote about life, the universe and everything.

Chuang-tze’s world was much as ours today. A world of ongoing war. The many feudal states were in continuous struggle with one another. Their relentless border wars and genocide became, as in our own generation, a sign of the times. So much so that the period of 400 - 200 BC was known in China as the Warring States Period.

Wars stimulated technological advancement and a new set of skilled workers. Professional soldiers, metal workers, craftsmen and artisans arose. As did technical advancements in writing and communication. These advancements helped spread the myriad philosophies which had arisen during China’s golden age of thought, or the ‘hundred schools period’ of the third century. Teachers and followers of these various schools traveled across the land, looking to sell their brand of thought and social reform to the many feudal lords, hoping to find a patron, official support and a name for themselves.

Most of the schools of thought advocated a plan of reform to cure the ills of the world. Reform the individual, society, ethics, politics, said the Confucians, the Moists, the Legalists, preaching to anyone who would listen. Reform the World.

Living in a generation wearied from the rhetoric of reform and righteousness amidst a reality of war and slaughter, the approach Chuang-tzu presented was one of the mystic. Do not reform the World, he wrote. Instead, free yourself from the World. Free yourself from the values, conventions, and definitions of the World system which act to restrict perception. It is rigid definition, says this Taoist, which causes ongoing suffering. From Chuang-tzu’s standpoint, man himself is the author of his own suffering, because he lives in bondage to a web of mind sets which keep him trapped in an ongoing cycle of fear and desire.

Freedom is one of the major themes running through the writing of the Chuang-tzu..Freedom of Mind. From attachment, division, and rigidity. So that we may discover Original Nature's spontaneity, openness, and creativity. By finding newness in each moment, we connect with the Tao, the Great Way, the Universal Creative Current running through all of Creation.

I love Chuang-tzu and over the years have drunk him up, along with voluminous pots of tea. I would like now, to pour you a cup. Here are some musings of one Chou of Sung.

An excerpt from chapter one of the Chuang-tzu, Free and Easy Wandering, an excerpt from Discussion on Making All Things Equal.


Free and Easy Wandering

In the Northern darkness, there is a fish with the name of Kun, the breadth of which cannot be measured. It changes into a bird with the name of Peng, with a back so long there is no way to know where it ends.
Only with enormous effort can it rise, on huge wings that cross the heavens.
What a bird!
Its wings are like clouds all across the sky.

When the sea begins to move, this bird sets off for the Southern darkness,
which is the Pool of Heaven.
In the book of Universal harmony it is written;
"When the Peng journeys to the southern darkness, he beats the waters with his wings for three thousand li and then rising up on a whirlwind to a height of ninety thousand li, travels on the jet streams of late summer and flies south for three months before landing.

The bluest blue of the heavens. Is this its true color, or just the result of its boundless extent?
So high is its ascent, that when the Peng looks down, all it sees, as well, is deep blue.
Now if water is not piled up deep enough, it won’t have the strength to bear up a large boat.
So it is with wind; if it be not great, it will not have strength to support great wings.
Therefore the Peng waits for the stirring of the seasonal winds and then, beating his wings, catches the support and gliding upon the currents, rises ninety thousand li, and sets off on the sixth-month gale, and bearing the blue sky on its back, sets its eyes to the South.

The cicada and the little dove laugh at this,
saying, "Now just where does he think he is going? I give a great leap and fly up, and up but no further than a few yards before I come down, among the weeds and brambles, and that is the best kind of flying anyway!! Where does he think he is going? What could be the possible use of going up ninety thousand li and fly to the south?"
What should these small creatures understand about the matter? The knowledge of that which is small does not reach to that which is great, the experience of a few years does not reach to that of many.

How do we know that this is so? The mushroom of the morning knows nothing of twilight and dawn; the summer cicada knows nothing of spring and autumn.
Such is the difference between the Great and Small.

Suppose there is a man whose creditably fills some office
or whose influence spreads over a village,
or whose character pleases a certain prince,
or whose talent is called into service for the state,
His opinion of himself may be much the same as these small creatures.

Of which, Master sung of Yung would have smiled and laughed.
Though the whole world should have praised him, he would not have stimulated himself to greater endeavor; and though the whole world would have condemned him, he would not have changed his course. So fixed was he in the difference between the internal and the external. So clearly had he marked out the bounding limit of glory and disgrace. As far as the world went, he didn’t fret and worry.
But there was still ground left unturned.

There was Lieh-tze, who could ride upon the wind. Sailing happily in the cool breeze, for fifteen days before he came back to earth. Among mortals such a man is rare. Yet although Lieh-tze could dispense with walking, he still had to depend upon something.

But suppose,
one could mount upon the eternal fitness of Heaven and Earth,
riding the changing elements to roam through the realms of the Infinite,
and wander, enjoying the boundless,
- what has he, then, to wait for?
Therefore it is said,
the Perfect Man has no thought of self;
the Spirit-like man, none of merit;
the Sage has no thought of fame.


Discussion On making All Things Equal

The Way has never known boundaries. But because of speech there came to be boundaries. Let me tell you what the boundaries are. There is left, there is right, there are theories, there are debates, there are divisions, there are discriminations, there are emulations, and there are contentions. These are called the Eight Vitures.

Beyond the Six Realms, the sage exists but does not theorize. Within the Six Realms, he theorizes but does not debate. So I say, those who divide, fail to divide; those who discriminate, fail to discriminate. What does this mean, you ask? The sage embraces things. Ordinary men discriminate among them and parade their discriminations before others. So I say, those who discriminate fail to see.

The Great Way is beyond name; Great Argument uses no words; Great Benevolence is not kind; Great Modesty is not humble; Great Courage is not aggressive. Tao that is manifest is not Tao. Words that argue miss the point. Perpetual kindness does not work. Obvious integrity is not believed. Aggressive courage will not win. These five are all round, but they tend toward the square, and inflexible.

Knowing enough to stop when one does not know is perfection.
Who can understand an argument that has no words and the Way that cannot be expressed? If a man can understand this, then he may be called the treasure house of heaven. Pour into it, and it will never be filled; pour out of it, and it will never be emptied. Yet no one knows why this is so. This is called the hidden light.