Supreme Joy

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Original Chinese text

English translation

Is there supreme joy in the world or not? Is there a way to keep oneself alive or not? Now what should one do, and what should one rely on? What should one avoid, and what should one abide in? What should one approach, and what should one leave? What should one delight in, and what should one dislike?

Original Chinese text

English translation

What the world honors is wealth, high rank, long life, and good name; what it delights in is bodily ease, rich flavors, fine clothes, beautiful colors, and pleasing sounds; what it despises is poverty, low status, early death, and bad name; what it suffers is that the body does not get ease, the mouth does not get rich flavors, the body does not get fine clothes, the eyes do not get beautiful colors, and the ears do not get sounds. If they do not get these, they are greatly anxious and fearful—as a way of caring for the body, is this not foolish!

Original Chinese text

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The wealthy tire their bodies and work hard; they accumulate much wealth but cannot use it all—their way of caring for the body is also outward. The noble ponder day and night whether things are good or bad—their way of caring for the body is also neglectful. When people are born, worry is born along with them. The long-lived are muddled; long worried, they do not die—how bitter this is! Their way of caring for the body is also far off. A man of ardent resolve is regarded as good by the world, but that is not enough to keep his body alive.

Original Chinese text

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I do not know whether what is called good is truly good, or truly not good. If one deems it good, it is not enough to keep oneself alive; if one deems it not good, it is enough to keep others alive. Hence it is said: “When loyal remonstrance is not heeded, withdraw and do not contend.”

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Thus Zixu contended over it and had his body mutilated; had he not contended, his name would not have been made. Is there truly good or not? As for what the vulgar do and enjoy, I in turn do not know whether their joy is really joy, or really not joy. When I observe what the vulgar enjoy—the whole crowd rushing after it, pressing forward as if driven by necessity—and all saying it is joy, I do not find it joyful, nor do I find it not joyful.

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Is there really joy or not? I regard non-action as truly joyful, and yet it is what the vulgar consider great suffering. Therefore it is said: “Supreme joy is without joy; supreme renown is without renown.”

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The right and wrong of the world are indeed not yet determinable. Even so, through non-action one can settle right and wrong. Supreme joy enlivens the body; only through non-action can it perhaps be preserved. Let me try to speak of it: heaven through non-action is clear; earth through non-action is tranquil. Thus when the two non-actions unite, all things are transformed and born. How dim and indistinct—yet there is no discernible source from which it comes forth! How indistinct and dim—yet there is no form or manifestation!

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The myriad things proliferate; all grow from non-action. Therefore it is said, ‘Heaven and earth practice non-action, and yet nothing is left undone.’

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Among humans, who can attain non-action!

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Zhuangzi’s wife died. Huizi went to offer condolences. Zhuangzi, however, was sitting with his legs sprawled out, beating a basin and singing. Huizi said, “She lived with you, raised children, grew old, and died. Not to weep would already be enough; to beat a basin and sing—is that not going too far?”

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Zhuangzi said, “Not so. When she first died, how could I alone be without grief? But examining her beginning, originally she had no life. Not only no life—originally she had no form. Not only no form—originally she had no qi. Mingled within the indistinct and blurred, a change produced qi; qi changed and produced form; form changed and produced life. Now again a change has come and she has gone to death. This is together the movement of spring, autumn, winter, and summer, the four seasons.”

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She now sleeps peacefully in the great chamber—the great house of Heaven and Earth—while I wail and cry after her. I judged myself not to comprehend fate, and so I stopped.”

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Zhilishu and Huajieshu were viewing the hill of Mingbo and the open waste of Kunlun, where the Yellow Emperor had rested. Before long a tumor grew on his left elbow; his mind was startled and he disliked it. Zhilishu said, 'Do you dislike it?'

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Gu Jieshu said, 'No—why should I dislike it? Life is something borrowed; that which, by borrowing it, gives rise to and sustains life is mere dust and dirt. Death and life are like day and night. Moreover, you and I were observing transformation, and transformation has reached me; why then should I dislike it?'

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Zhuangzi was on his way to Chu when he saw an empty skull, its dry bones still retaining their form. He tapped it with a horsewhip and then asked it, saying: 'Sir, was it because you clung to life and lost the principle that you came to this? Or did you come to this through the destruction of your state and execution by axes and halberds? Or did you come to this because of some bad conduct, ashamed to leave the disgrace to your parents, wife, and children? Or did you come to this because of the affliction of cold and hunger?'

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Or was it simply that your allotted years had reached this point?

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Thereupon, when the conversation ended, he drew the skull over, pillowed his head on it, and lay down. At midnight the skull appeared in his dream and said: 'Your manner of talking makes you seem like a skilled debater. All the things you said are burdens of the living; in death there are none of these. Would you like to hear an account of death?'

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Zhuangzi said, 'Yes.'

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The skull said: “In death there is no ruler above and no subject below, nor any affairs of the four seasons. Calmly taking heaven and earth as spring and autumn, even the joy of a south-facing king cannot surpass it.”

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Zhuangzi did not believe it and said: “I will have the Master of Destinies bring your form back to life, give you bones, flesh, and skin, and return you to your parents, wife and children, neighbors, and acquaintances. Would you want this?”

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The skull frowned deeply and wrinkled its brow, saying: “How could I cast aside the joy of a south-facing king and again take on the toil of the human world!”

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Yan Yuan was going east to Qi, and Confucius looked worried. Zigong left his mat and asked, "I venture to ask, young student that I am: Hui is going east to Qi, and you, Master, look worried—why is that?"

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Confucius said, "Your question is good. Formerly Guanzi had a saying that I, Qiu, greatly approve: 'A small bag cannot hold something large; a short rope cannot draw water from a deep well.'"

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In cases like this, one holds that one’s allotted destiny has its fixed limits, and one’s bodily form has its proper suitability; these cannot be increased or diminished. I fear that Hui will speak to the Marquis of Qi of the Way of Yao, Shun, and the Yellow Emperor, and follow it with the words of Suiren and Shennong. The Marquis will seek it within himself and not find it; not finding it, he will be confused; when a person is confused, he dies. Moreover, have you alone not heard of this?

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In former times, a sea bird stopped in the outskirts of Lu. The Marquis of Lu welcomed it and toasted it in the ancestral temple, had the Nine Shao performed as music, and prepared the Great Sacrifice as its meal. The bird then grew dizzy and distressed, did not dare eat a single morsel or drink a single cup, and died after three days. This is nurturing a bird by what nourishes oneself, not nurturing a bird by what nourishes a bird.

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To nurture a bird by what nurtures birds, one should let it perch in deep forests, roam over open land, float on rivers and lakes, feed on mudfish and minnows, settle according to the ranks of its flock, and dwell at ease. It only dislikes hearing human speech; why make all that clamor?

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When the music of Xianchi and the Nine Shao is played in the wilds of Dongting, birds hear it and fly away, beasts hear it and run off, fish hear it and dive beneath the water; people hear it and gather round to watch. Fish live in water, while people die in water. They differ from one another, so their likes and dislikes also differ. Thus the sages of old did not require all beings to have the same abilities or perform the same tasks.

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Names stop at actuality; meanings are established according to what is fitting. This is called being orderly and penetrating while fortune is maintained.

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Liezi was traveling and eating by the roadside. He then saw a hundred-year-old skull; parting the fleabane, he pointed at it and said, 'Only you and I know that there has never truly been death or birth. Are you truly troubled? Am I truly joyful?'

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How many kinds of transformation are there? In water a thing becomes Ji; at the meeting of water and soil it becomes Wa-bin-zhi-yi; on a high mound it becomes Lingxi. When Lingxi meets Yuqi, it becomes Wuzu; the root of Wuzu becomes a grub, and its leaves become a butterfly. The butterfly soon transforms into an insect born beneath the stove, looking as if it had just shed its skin; it is called Quduo.

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Quduo, after a thousand days, becomes a bird; its name is Ganyu Gu. The foam of Ganyu Gu becomes Simi; Simi becomes Shixi. Yilu is born from Shixi; Huang Kuang is born from Jiuyou; Maorui is born from Fuquan; Yangxi resembles, or is comparable to, Busun; old bamboo produces Qingning; Qingning produces Cheng; Cheng produces the horse; the horse produces man; and man in turn returns to the workings of transformation. All things come forth from these workings and return to them.

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