Imperial authority declined markedly during the East Chou period (722-221 B.C.). Political power was invested in the feudal lords. Provincial princes rebelled. Discontent spread to the peasants, who had to bear the burden of supplying the armies to defend the country against barbarian invaders. By 700 B.C., the Chou emperor was reduced to the level of a nominal suzerain of about a dozen feudal states giving him only verbal allegiance.
The first 300 years of East Chou is usually called the period of Spring and Autumn and the last 200 years the period of the Warring States. Strictly speaking, there is no distinct line of demarcation. The two periods had much in common. Both were characterized by the steady decline of imperial authority and frequent warfare between the states. The real difference was that during the Spring and Autumn period, there were scores of dukedoms and principalities while during the period of the Warring States there remained only seven strong powers: Yen, Chao, Han, Wei, Ch'i, Ch'u and Ch'in. The last was the most powerful. During the earlier period, the Emperor of Chou was still looked upon by the feudal lords as their common sovereign and there was some fair play among them. In the later period, the house of Chou was ignored and relations between the feudal lords were governed by their own interests. However, it was during this time of political disorder that some of the great philosophies of China flourished. Chuang Tzu belonged to this period.
Chuang Tzu was a native of Meng in the state of Sung, a remarkable prosaist and a man of noble character and rich imagination. Like France's La Fontaine, Chuang Tzu clothes his teachings in beautiful attire. His extraordinary allegories are characterized by paradoxical language, bold expressions and subtle profundity.
Living in a troublous age when a hundred schools of philosophy contended and flourished, when feudal lords sought the counsel of sages and thinkers to benefit their administrations, Chuang Tzu disdained official honors and kept himself aloof from society. He lived in a world of Heaven, Earth and spiritual freedom.
As a philosopher, he sought the "perfect man" to whom the human being and nature are one, in whom the opposition of success and failure, gain and loss, one and many, sorrow and joy, wealth and poverty, high and low, big and small, life and death is only relative and can be identified. In his chapter "Adjusting the Controversies About Things", he maintains the Taoistic view that all things are one and one is in all. Positive and negative, right and wrong, subjective, and objective blur into indistinctness. By ignoring the distinction of opposites, we pass into the realm of the Infinite.
Contrary to Confucius, whose teachings consist of a set of moral principles and of a practical system for good administration, Chuang Tzu is a romantic and an idealist. According to the Historical Records of Sse-Ma Ch'ien, Chuang Tzu wrote for his own pleasure and his teachings could not be put to any definite use by princes. But he bequeathed to posterity a work that affords a flood of literary beauty and originality of thought.
Although he appears to be a disciple of Lao Tzu, continuing to preach the Taoist principles of the Way, Chuang Tzu enlarged the philosophy and carried his speculations into elevated realms that Master Lao Tzu ignored.
Before attempting to illustrate with some parables the literary style, the philosophical thinking and the outlook on life and death of Chuang Tzu, it is essential to cite from his works some passages defining the Tao and its virtue.
Literally, the character "Tao" means road, path or the art of doing things. But according to what Chuang Tzu wrote in Ta Tsung Shih (The Great Honored Master), this is the Tao:
"There is emotion and sincerity in the Tao but it does nothing and is formless. It may be transmitted but cannot be received. It may be apprehended but cannot be seen. It has its origin and root in itself. From time immemorial it existed, even before there were heaven and earth. From it came the existence of spirits and God. It produced the heaven and the earth. It was above the Tai Chi (primeval ether) and yet could not be considered high. It was below space and yet could not be considered deep. It was produced before the heaven and the earth and yet could not be considered as having existed for long. It was older than the greatest antiquity and yet could not be considered ancient."
Elsewhere, Chuang Tzu wrote:
"The Tao has neither beginning nor end. It is everywhere. It cannot be heard; heard, it is not the Tao. It cannot be seen; seen, it is not the Tao. It cannot be spoken of; spoken of, it is not the Tao. That which imparts form is itself formless; the Tao therefore cannot have a name since forms precede the name. The Tao is not too small for the greatest, nor too great for the smallest. All things are embosomed therein."
Now that we know Tao, how can we attain it? According to Chuang Tzu, the Tao may not be known by thought or cogitation. By following nothing, by pursuing nothing, the Tao may be reached.
In speaking of the Tao, the names of Lao Tzu and Chuang Tzu are not mentioned one without the other, yet we should distinguish them. The scope of Lao Tzu's teaching is more limited and abstract. From Lao Tzu's scanty sayings, we know that man should remain calm, non-active and passive under the operation of the eternal, omnipresent law of the Tao. In so doing, he will reach perfect harmony with the environment and attain a condition of general immunity. Chuang Tzu applies the Tao to more mundane problems of life, such as butchering. Because the butcher has reached the Tao, he cuts up the cow without the slightest effort.
Chuang Tzu considers life as an artistic game devoid of desire and calculation. The following parables show that he disdained official honor and preferred to keep himself aloof.
The parable of the rare bird
When Hui Shih, Chuang Tzu's bosom friend, was prime minister of the state of Liang, Chuang Tzu went there to pay him a visit. But before the meeting, someone told Hui Shih that Chuang Tzu had come with a view to replacing him. Hui Shih fearfully ordered a search for Chuang Tzu.
On the fourth day, Chuang Tzu presented himself before his friend and told him the following story:
"There was in the southern part of China a rare bird called the Yuan Ch'u. Once this rare bird made a trip from the South Sea to the North Sea. During his aerial excursion, the bird rested only on the plane tree, ate only the fruit of the melia azederach and drank only from a sweet spring. While the rare bird was passing overhead, an owl that had caught a putrid rat looked up and gave an angry scream. Now do you wish, in your capacity as prime minister, to frighten me with a similar scream?"
The story of the sacred turtle
Once Chuang Tzu was fishing on the bank of the P'u River when King Wei of Ch'u sent two envoys to him with a message that he would like to invite Chuang Tzu to be his chief minister. Holding onto his rod and not looking at them, Chuang said: "I have heard that in Ch'u there was a sacred turtle which died 3,000 years ago. But the king wrapped the shell in a piece of cloth and put it in a bamboo chest to be venerated as a shrine. Now if the turtle were to have a choice, would it choose to have its bones revered by men or would it rather crawl in the mud wagging its tail?" The two officials replied that it would rather wag its tail in a muddy pond. Thereupon Chuang Tzu said: "So would I."
On great learning and small learning
It was the time of autumn flood and a hundred streams were pouring themselves into the river. The current was so swollen that across the channel from bank to bank, an ox could not be distinguished from a horse. The Spirit of the River was delighted, believing that all the beauty of the world belonged to him. He walked eastward along the course of the river till he came to the North Sea. Facing the east, he looked at the North Sea but could not see where its waters began. Then he turned his eyes to the Ocean and said with a sigh for the God of the Sea:
"A proverb says that he who has heard only part of the Tao thinks nobody equal to himself. Such am I.
"Formerly when I heard people underrating the learning of Confucius and looking down upon the virtue of Po Yi, I did not believe it. Now I have beheld your inexhaustibility. Had I not come to your gate, I would have been in danger of being forever a laughing stock to those who have obtained the Tao."
The God of the Ocean replied: "One cannot speak of the ocean to a frog in a well, because it is confined to the limits of its hole. One cannot speak of ice to a summer insect because it knows nothing beyond its own season. One cannot speak of the Tao to a scholar of limited views because he is bound by the teaching he has received. Now that you have come forth from between your banks and beheld the great sea, you know of your own pettiness and I can speak to you about great principles. Of all the waters under heaven, there are none so great as the sea. Myriad streams flow into it without ceasing, yet it is never filled. Afterward, it discharges itself without ceasing, yet is not emptied. In spring and autumn, it undergoes no change; it ignores both flood and drought. Its superiority over streams and rivers cannot be told by measure or numbers. Yet I have never made much of myself because I compare my bodily form to heaven and earth and remember that I receive my breath from the Yin and the Yang (the principle of dualism in Chinese cosmology). Between heaven and earth, I am only a small stone or a small tree on a great hill. As long as I consider myself small, how can I make much of myself? Between heaven and earth, are not the four seas as a pile of stones in a large marsh? Within the four seas, is not the Middle Kingdom as small as a grain in a big granary? Of what exists, we must speak of myriads and man is only one of them. Compared with such a myriad, is not man like a single hair on the body of a horse? Within this range are comprehended all that the Five Emperors received in succession, all that the Three Kings contended for, all that excited the anxiety of benevolent men, all that men in office toiled for. Po Yi was accounted famous for declining to share in man's government. Confucius was accounted erudite because of the lessons he addressed to men. Were they not as pretentious as you a while ago because of your volume of water?"
The usefulness of useless things
A master mechanic named Shih arrived at Ch'u Yuan in Ch'u state and saw an oak tree used as the altar for the spirits of the land. It was so large that it could shelter a thousand oxen. It measured a myriad of spans around. It rose to a height of 80 feet before it spread out any branches and its wood could have been used to make some 10 ships. 'People came from afar to look at it but the mechanic ignored it and kept on walking. One of his workmen who had looked at it long and admiringly said to the master: "Since first I followed you with ax and drill, I have never seen such a beautiful mass timber as this. Why do you not look at it?"
"Speak no more about it," replied the mechanic. "It is a useless tree. A boat made from its wood would sink; a coffin would quickly rot; a piece of furniture would soon go to pieces; a door would be covered with exuding sap; a pillar would be riddled by insects; its material is good for nothing. So it has attained so great an age."
When the mechanic returned home, the altar-oak appeared to him in a dream and said: "What other tree will you compare with me? Will you compare me to your ornamental plants? There are hawthorns, pear trees, orange trees, pummelo trees, gourds and other fruit-bearing plants. When their fruits are ripe, they are knocked down, which is a maltreatment. The big branches are broken, the smaller ones are torn away. It is their productivity that makes their life bitter. That is why they do not complete their term of existence but come to a premature end in the middle of their allotted time, being destroyed by men. It is so with all things. For a long time I have sought to discover how I was so useless. Now I have learned that my uselessness has been of the greatest use to me. Had I possessed useful properties, would I have become of the great size I am?"
The parable of the goose
Chuang Tzu was walking on a mountain when he saw a big tree with huge branches and luxuriant foliage. A woodcutter was resting by its side but would not touch it. When asked why, he said that it was useless. Thereupon Chuang Tzu said to his disciples: "This tree will live out its term of years because of its uselessness."
Having left the mountain, Chuang Tzu stopped at the house of an old friend. Glad to see him, the friend ordered his cook to kill a goose and boil it. The cook said: "One of our geese can honk, the other cannot. Which one shall I kill?" The host said: "Kill the one that cannot honk."
The following day, his disciples asked Chuang Tzu: "Yesterday, you said that the tree of the mountain would live out its years because of its uselessness. Now the goose of our host has died because of its incapacity to honk. Which of these conditions, Master, would you prefer to be in?"
Chuang Tzu laughed and said: "I would prefer to be between usefulness and uselessness. I would seem to be useful yet I am not. But that position still involves me in trouble. Only he who takes his seat on the Tao and its virtue is above the reach both of praise and detraction. Now he mounts aloft like a dragon, now he hides himself like a snake. He is transformed with the changing character of time and is not willing to addict himself to anyone thing. Now high, now low, he is in harmony with his surroundings. He enjoys himself with the author of all things. He treats things as things and is not a thing to them. Where then is his liability to be involved in trouble? It is not so with those who occupy themselves with things and human relations. Union brings separation, success brings failure; honor brings critical remarks, action brings loss. Where is the possibility of permanence in these conditions? Remember, my disciples, let your abode be in the Tao and its virtue."
Attacks against benevolence and righteousness
Chuang Tzu opposed the principles of benevolence and righteousness because the hypocrites used them. Furthermore, he thought that one must not do violence to human nature in order to develop the principles of benevolence and righteousness. In so doing, it is possible to cause human nature to turn itself against the principles. According to Chuang Tzu, there always will be great thieves and robbers to steal the principles so as to cover up their bad conduct. How do we know it will be so? Because one who steals a hoe is killed for theft but one who steals a state under cover of benevolence and righteousness becomes a marquis.
Let everything follow its natural course
From the following two parables, we know that Chuang Tzu is of the opinion that we should follow our own nature without bowing to external pressure or restraint. We should let everything follow its natural course and let life take its natural course.
The story of the sea bird
Once a sea bird stopped in the state of Lu. The Duke of Lu took it home in his carriage and offered it wine in the ancestral temple. The music of Chiu Shao was played to it and an ox was killed to feed it. The bird was so saddened that it did not dare to touch the food or drink the wine. At the end of three days it died.
The ruler of the South Sea
The ruler of the South Sea was called Shu, that of the North Sea Hu, that of the Center Hun Tun. Shu and Hu often met in Hun Tun's place and were always well treated. Eager to repay his kindness, they said to each other: "Men all have seven orifices for the purpose of seeing, hearing, eating and breathing while this poor ruler alone has not one. Let us try and make them for him." Accordingly, they made one orifice in him every day with a chisel and at the end of seven days, Hun Tun died.
The butterfly dream
Once Chuang Tzu dreamed that he was a butterfly flying here and there and enjoying himself. He was aware only of following his fancies as a butterfly and was unconscious of his individuality as a man. Then he wakened and there he lay, himself again. So he wondered whether he was a man who dreamed of being a butterfly or whether he was a butterfly dreaming of being a man. This is what he called the transformation of things.
The butterfly dream can be explained in the following ways:
1. The mingling of ego and the objective world. As a naturalist philosopher, Chuang Tzu considered nature a place where we grow, live, enjoy and rest. Nature is a world of beauty, not a mechanical order. Nature and man are one. There should be constant overflow of man into nature.
2. A symbol of freedom. As a lover of freedom, Chuang Tzu likes to enjoy himself in the vast realm of nature just as the butterfly flutters its wings among the flowers without restraint.
3. Outlook on death. Most people consider death a calamity. But Chuang Tzu thinks it natural for the human being to go through the four stages of birth, growth, dotage and death. Human beings take shape during birth and lose their bodily form while dying. This process of metamorphosis is as natural as dreaming that one is transformed into a butterfly.
The problem of death
In his chapter entitled Ta Tsung Shih (The Great, Honored Master), Chuang Tzu defines death in this manner: "Here is the great mass of nature. My body is sustained by it, my life is spent in toil on it, my old age seeks ease on it and dying, I find rest in it. What has made my life pleasant will also make my death so."
Stories about death
The death of Lao Tan. When Lao Tan died, Ch'in Shih went to present his condolences and came out after crying out three times. His disciples asked him: "Was not the Master a friend of yours?"
"Yes," said Ch'in Shih.
"Is it proper then to express your condolences in that way?"
"It is," replied Ch'in Shih. "At first I thought he was a perfect man and did not want to cry. But I do not think so now. When I entered a little while ago and offered my condolences, there was an old man wailing as if he had lost a son. There was also a young man wailing as if he had lost a mother. Judging from the manner in which they expressed their condolences, I know that Lao Tan must have attracted them in such a way that they could not conduct themselves otherwise. This implied an escape from Heaven and an excessive indulgence of human feelings. A forgetting of what one has received from Heaven is what the ancients called punishment due to escaping Heaven.
"When the Master came to the world, it was at the proper time. When he left the world, it was the simple sequence of his coming. Quietly accepting what happens at its proper time and quietly consenting to its ceasing afford no occasion for grief or rejoicing. The ancients described death as the loosening of the cord on which God suspended life. What we can point to is the faggots that have been consumed; but the fire is transmitted elsewhere and we know not that it is ended."
The empty skull. Chuang Tzu saw one day an empty skull, bleached but still preserving its shape. Striking it with his riding whip, he said to the skull: "Were you once some ambitious man whose inordinate yearnings brought him to this pass, some statesman who plunged his country into ruin and perished in the fray, some wretch who left behind him a legacy of shame? Or did you reach this state by the natural course of old age?"
Having finished speaking, Chuang Tzu took the skull and placing it under his head as a pillow, went to sleep. In the night, the skull appeared to him in a dream: "You speak well, sir, but all that you say has reference only to the life of mortals and to mortal troubles. In death there are none of these. Would you like to hear about death?"
Chuang Tzu having replied in the affirmative, the skull said: "In death, there is no sovereign above and no subject below. The workings of the four seasons are unknown. Our existences are bounded only by eternity. The happiness of a king among men cannot exceed ours."
The death of Chuang Tzu’s wife. When the wife of Chuang Tzu died, Hui Shih went to console the husband and finding him squatted on the ground, drumming on a basin and singing, said to him: "When a wife has lived with her husband and brought up children and then dies in her old age, not to wail for her is enough. Is not your drumming on this basin and singing an exaggeration?"
Chuang Tzu replied: "It is not so. When she first died, it was not possible for me to be singular and unaffected by the sad event. But then I meditated on the commencement of her being. First she had not been born to life. Not only had she no life but she had no bodily form. Not only she had no bodily form but she had no breath. During the development of things out of the chaos, there ensued a change and she had breath. Another change and she had her bodily form. Still another change and she had life and was born. This is now changed again and she is dead. The relation between these things is like the procession of the four seasons from spring to summer and from autumn to winter. There now she sleeps in the great chamber. If I keep on wailing for her, I should think that I did not understand human destiny. Therefore I restrained myself."
The death of Chuang Tzu. When Chuang Tzu was about to die, his disciples wanted to give him a grand funeral. Chuang Tzu replied: "I shall have heaven and earth for my coffin and its shell; the sun and the moon for my two round symbols of jade; the stars for my pearls and the myriad things will be my mourners. Will not the provisions for my burial be complete? What could you add to them?"
"We fear lest the crows and kites should eat our master," replied the disciples.
Chuang Tzu replied: "Above, the crows and kites will eat me. Below, the mole-crickets and ants will eat me. To take from the former and give to the latter would only show your partiality."
The Taoistic way of life in the modern world
What a Taoist strives for and aims at is a state of mind, a mood both peaceful and detached, in which he can extricate himself from the narrow world of worries and self-interest in order to achieve spiritual freedom. This is a mood in which time and eternity are one, in which the ego and the objective world are the same. To attain such a mood, one should devote oneself to spiritual cultivation until he can glimpse the infinite in a moment of self-oblivion.
Endowed with such a peaceful state of mind, the hermit can become one with nature, soaring high with the drifting clouds and the flying birds. Endowed with such a state of mind, the painter can place a tiny human figure in a grandiose landscape to show the mingling of ego and nature. Endowed with such a state of mind, the philosopher can transcend time and space and identify himself with infinity and eternity. Endowed with such a state of mind, an ordinary man can become free from care, desire, love and fear. Being one with the world, he attaches no more importance to himself than an insect, a pebble or a frail plant and can transcend life and death. When one can consider death a homeward trip, nothing in this world is of much consequence.
In this bustling world where the rhythm of life is hectic, where competition is keen, where the enjoyment of spiritual freedom is a lost art, where cases of schizophrenia are increasing, the Taoist elixir of life may be a needed answer. It could amount to the philosophical tranquilizer that man needs.