Hui Tzu turned to him and said, “How do you know what fish enjoy? You’re not a fish!”
“You are not me,” answered Chuang Tzu, “so how do you know what I know about the joy of fish?”
“Well,” said his friend somewhat indignantly, “I am not you and so do not know what you know. But, as you are certainly not a fish, there is no possible way that you can know what fish enjoy.”
“Ah, then,” said Chuang Tzu, who was letting his fingers play slowly in the water as little fishes came up to nibble them. “Let us go back to the beginning of our conversation. When you asked me ‘How can you know what fish enjoy?’ you knew that I knew. The reason I know this is by walking over the river!”
As was the usual case in these kinds of conversations, Hui Tzu glared at his friend, who was languidly moving his fingers in the water and chuckling to himself.
CHUANG TZU
Anger and joy,
happiness and sorrow,
anxiety and hope,
laziness and willfulness,
enthusiasm and insolence
– like music arising from
emptiness or mushrooms
sprouting in the dark
– they spring before us,
night and day.
We do not know from
where they come.
Stop thinking about it!
How can we ever
understand it
all in one day?
CHUANG TZU
TALE 21
A Beautiful Illusion
The master had preached for many years that life was but an illusion. Then, when his son died, he wept. His students came to him and said, “Master, how can you weep so when you have told us so many times that all things in this life are an illusion?”
“Yes,” said the master, wiping away his tears while they continued to course down his ancient cheeks, “but he was such a beautiful illusion!”
CHUANG TZU
TALE 22
Going with the Flow
Once Confucius was looking down into a gorge where a great waterfall crashed down to a huge roiling chasm so violent that no fish, tortoises or even alligators could survive there. Suddenly he noticed an old man appear to tumble over the falls into the maelstrom. Horrified, Confucius, along with several of his disciples, ran downstream in hope of saving the poor unfortunate, only to find him strolling merrily along the bank, singing to himself.
Cautiously, Confucius approached the old man and said to him, “I thought at first that you were some sort of spirit, but now I can see that you are a man of flesh and blood. Tell me, how in the world did you manage to survive that plunge into the river?”
“Oh that,” answered the man. “That is simple. I merely entered the water at the centre of its whirl. I let myself flow along with it, not trying to impose my will upon it, then I left when it whirled the opposite way. It is all completely natural to me.”
“What do you mean by this?” asked Confucius. “How can this be natural to you?”
“Well,” answered the man, already beginning to wander off again, “I grew up on dry land and so am at home upon it. At the same time, I also grew up by the river and so am at home in the water. I don’t really know how I do these things, I just do them. Therefore my success is assured.”
CHUANG TZU
Who can be still
while the muddy water settles?
Who can remain still
until the time comes for action?
LAO TZU
TALE 23
Possessing the Tao
There was once a diligent and serious student of the Way, who one day asked his master, “Can you possess the Tao?”
“You can’t possess even your own body,” answered his master. “How could you possess the Tao?”
“If I don’t possess my own body,” asked the student, “then who does?”
“It has been lent to you by heaven and earth. Life itself is not your possession,” said his master. “You don’t possess your own nature or your own destiny. They have been lent to you by heaven and earth. Your children and their children are not your possession. They are as molted insect skins, lent to you by heaven and earth. So when you walk you don’t notice where you are going, when you stop you don’t know where you are. When you eat you don’t know what it is that you are eating. The chi of heaven and earth is so much stronger than yours but even it can’t possess the Tao.”
CHUANG TZU
When the superior person hears of the Tao
He diligently studies it.
When the inferior person hears of the Tao
Sometimes she remembers it,
sometimes not.
When foolish students hear of the Tao
They laugh at it.
If they did not laugh at it,
It would not be the Tao.
LAO TZU
TALE 24
Progress on the Path
Yen Hui came to his master and said, “I am making progress in my cultivation.”
“In what way?” asked his master.
“I have forgotten the rituals and the music.”
“That is good,” said his master, “but it is not enough. Keep working.”
A few days later Yen Hui came back and said, “I am doing even better.”
“And how is that?” asked his master.
“I have forgotten about humaneness and righteousness.”
“Ah,” said his master. “Very good, but still not good enough. Back to work.”
Then Yen Hui came before his master once again. “This time I think I have it,” he said.
His master sighed. “What is it this time?” he asked.
“I have learned how to sit and forget.”
At this the master pricked up his ears. “What do you mean by sitting and forgetting?” he asked.
“Well,” said Yen Hui. “I have learned to let go of my body, quiet my mind and become as one with the infinite. This is what I call sitting and forgetting.”
“Aha,” said the master, bowing to Yen Hui. “I see you have indeed attained the Way. Now it is my duty to follow after you.”
CHUANG TZU
The emptiness between
heaven and earth is like
a bellows.
It is empty but does not
lose its form.
It can be moved but it
stretches even further.
Words do not count,
Maintain the centre.
LAO TZU
TALE 25
Love Blooms, Then Fades
In ancient China there lived a beautiful woman named Mi Tzu-hsia, who was the favourite of the Lord of Wei. At that time, according to the law, anyone found riding in the lord’s carriage without his permission was punished by having their foot cut off. Once, when Mi Tzu-hsia’s mother became ill, she was so upset that she immediately set out in the lord’s carriage to see her, without consulting him. But when the lord found out he only praised her for her filial devotion. “Imagine,” he said, “risking such a severe punishment for her mother!”
One day, while she and her lord were walking in the garden, Mi Tzu-hsia picked a ripe peach and, finding it delicious, she gave it to her lord to finish. Again he praised her, saying how much she must love him to forget her own pleasure to share it with him.
But, years later, as Mi Tzu-hsia’s beauty began to fade, she fell out of favour with her lord. Then one day, when she had done something to offend him, he rebuked her saying, “I remember how she once took my carriage without my permission. And another time she gave me a peach that she had already bitten into!”
Thus did the Lord of Wei’s love for Mi Tzu-hsia fade like a flower in the fall.
LIEH TZU
The highest good is like water.
Water gives life to the ten thousand things
and does not strive.
It flows in places men reject
and so is like the Tao.
LAO TZU<
br />
TALE 26
The Curse of Fame
Lieh Tzu was on his way to Chi but decided to turn back when he had gone halfway. He met his master along the way who asked him why he had turned back.
“I was alarmed by something,” he replied. Lieh explained that at every inn he was served first.
“Why was that such a problem?” asked his master.
“When a man’s inner integrity is not firm,” said Lieh Tzu, “something oozes out of his body and becomes like an aura about him and presses on the hearts of others. It makes other men honour him more than his elders and betters and gets him into difficulties.”
He then went on to describe that the motive of the innkeeper was to sell his wares and to make his profit. “If such a man as this values me so highly,” he said, “think of how much worse it will be when the great lord finds out about me. He will appoint me to some office and insist that I fill it efficiently. This is what has alarmed me.”
“An excellent way to look at it,” said the master. “But there is no way out of it. Even if you stay, other men will lay responsibilities upon you.”
Another time Lieh Tzu’s master came to see him and found the doorway crowded with the shoes of visitors. When he turned to leave, Lieh Tzu saw him and ran after him and asked him if he had come to give him his blessing.
“Enough,” thundered the master. “I told you confidentially that others would lay responsibilities on you, and it turns out so they have.”
He then said a very curious thing. “It is not that you are capable of allowing them to do it to you but that you are incapable of preventing them. What use is it to you to have this effect on people, which is so incompatible with your own peace? If you insist of having an effect, it will unbalance your true nature and to no purpose.”
LIEH TZU
Give up sagehood, renounce wisdom
And the people will benefit a hundredfold.
LAO TZU
TALE 27
The Natural Order of Things
When the master died, Chin Shih came to the funeral, looked around and shouted three times. One of the other disciples said, “I thought you were a friend of the master.”
“Yes, of course I am,” replied Chin Shih.
“Well, do you think it proper to behave this way?” asked the disciple.
“Yes,” said Chin Shih. “When I first walked into the room I thought that the master’s spirit was still here. Now I see that it is not. I came prepared to mourn but, upon seeing everyone here wailing at the top of their lungs, I realized that this was all wrong. This is ignoring the natural course of things.
“The master came because it was his time. When it was time for him to leave, he left. If we ourselves are also content to follow the natural flow there would be no room for grief. This is truly freedom from bondage. When the wood burns the wood itself is consumed, to where it goes we cannot say.”
CHUANG TZU
Those who know that
they have enough
are wealthy.
Those who hold their
place have great power.
Those who do not lose
their place will endure.
To die but not to perish is
to be eternally present.
LAO TZU
TALE 28
Tasting for Tea
There is a well-known story about Lu Yu, a famous tea master who was an expert on what kind of water was best for brewing tea. He actually wrote a book on twenty sources for the water to be used for brewing tea. The best, he said, was from midstream on the Yangtze at nanling.
Once, on a river trip with a local dignitary, he was given water from that spot to taste. Upon tasting it Lu Yu said that the water was not from midstream but from closer to the shore.
“But that cannot be,” said his host. “I am sure it was taken from midstream. I ordered it so myself.”
“perhaps,” conceded the master, “but there is some other water mixed into it, perhaps from another part of the river.”
Later it was discovered that some of the water from the container had been lost when the boat had rocked and the servant had replaced it with water taken from nearer the shore.
Thus was the wisdom of the old masters both deep and all-encompassing. If they could taste the difference between one part of the river and another, how profound was their understanding of the Tao?
SOLALA TOWLER
Use the light to return to the Light.
Then you can die yet be ever living.
LAO TZU
The Tao that can be put
into words
is not the true and
eternal Tao.
LAO TZU
TALE 29
The Way of Wu Wei
Once upon a time, in the Land of the Middle Kingdom, there lived a great emperor. This mighty lord lived in a magnificent castle, surrounded by many guards, ladies-in-waiting, cooks, artists, philosophers and doctors. He awoke each day to the soft caresses of one of his many wives, ate his breakfast in a wonderful garden surrounded by the morning song of his many birds, and passed his days in the company of his many admirers and flatterers. But he was not happy.
He felt that he was missing out on some essential thing of life. Just what this essential thing was he did not know, but he knew that he did not have it, and this distressed him endlessly. He filled his court with various magicians and philosophers, all of whom tried to tell him that if he would only listen to them and them alone he would find this essential and missing ingredient of his life. But he knew that each was only trying to better his own individual situation, and so did not heed their shining and flattering words.
Instead, he winnowed them out, one by one, until there were only two groups left, the Confucians and the Taoists. But he could not decide which one of them had the secret and essential thing that he was lacking. The Confucians were a haughty yet wise lot. They did not flatter him in silken phrases like the other philosophers had. They told him where his character was lacking and how he only had to reinstate the old rituals and he would be fine. They told him of the mighty days of old, when the emperor was truly the son of heaven and could rule in heaven’s name. All he had to do was return to those days and revive the ancient ways of the old rites and rituals and his kingdom would prosper – he would be happy and fulfilled, both as a ruler and a man.
The Taoists, on the other hand, seemed an unorganized and motley crew. They never seemed to agree on anything, even among themselves and spent their days performing strange movements like animals in the garden; their nights drinking wine, reciting poetry and trying to seduce his ladies-in-waiting. But they were said to have great powers over the elements and the secret of eternal life. Of course, when he questioned them about this they only shrugged and said, “We have but one precious secret and one only, my Lord.”
“Well then,” he would say, “what is this precious thing?”
“Ah,” they would counter, “we cannot describe this secret in words, great and powerful Lord, we can only show it to you.”
“Agreed,” said the emperor, and announced a contest between the Confucians and the Taoists. Whichever could show him the true secret of their power, he said, would become the supreme teachers of the land.
On the appointed day, the Confucians and the Taoists were led to a great chamber deep in the heart of the castle. A great curtain was drawn down the centre of the room, dividing the Taoists from the Confucians. Both groups were told that they were to create a painting, a great work of art, on the wall on either side. This would be the final test of their power and knowledge. Whoever impressed the emperor the most would be awarded the prize.
The Confucians smiled and quickly ordered all the colours that were available in the royal storerooms. They immediately went to work designing and painting a magnificent mural. The Taoists, on the other hand, ordered a great deal of wine and a few dozen soft cloths, the softest that were available. Then they went to work on opening the
wine.
Day after day the Confucians laboured on their huge and wondrous mural. Day after day the Taoists ordered more wine and simply rubbed the wall with their soft cloths, over and over, while singing old drinking songs at the top of their lungs.
Finally came the day when the emperor would view each work of art and make his decision. First he visited the Confucians’ side of the room, certain that he would be in for a visual treat. He had watched how assiduously the Confucians had applied their layers of colours on the wall and how they stopped often to study the ancient texts and perform slow and stately rituals before taking up their brushes again.
He was not disappointed. The Confucians had created a marvel of colour and form. He saw his whole city laid out before him, with his own castle in the very centre of the city, the golden light of the setting sun glinting off its shapely and graceful roofs. At the edge of the painting he saw his own magnificent form astride his favourite war horse, leading his victorious troops into battle against an already vanquished enemy.
A great river ran across the bottom of the painting with cunning little waves painted all over it and the curly shadows of birds suspended above it. It was truly a wondrous and amazing sight and the emperor was at a loss as to how the Taoists could top it.
Imagine his surprise then when he crossed over to the other side of the room to view the Taoists’ work only to find a completely blank wall and a lot of slightly tipsy Taoists doing their strange cloud-like movements. True, the wall was very shiny and smooth after numerous applications with the soft cloths but there was nothing there, no paintings of his magnificence, no golden palace, no wondrous river. “What is this?” he thundered. “You did not even try to paint a picture. Is this the way you curry my favour?”
Tales From the Tao Page 6
