The Way of Heaven

The Way of Heaven

The Way of Heaven operates without accumulation, and thus the ten thousand things are completed. The Way of the Emperor operates without accumulation, and thus all under Heaven turns to him. The Way of the Sage operates without accumulation, and thus the whole world submits. Those who are illumined in Heaven, who penetrate the Sage, who comprehend all directions and all dimensions, and who possess the virtue of emperors and kings—when they act of themselves, they are dim and unknowing, yet nothing fails to be still. That the sage is still—it is not that he says "stillness is good, therefore I am still." Rather, nothing among the ten ten thousand things is sufficient to disturb his mind, and thus he is still. When water is still, it clearly illuminates beard and eyebrows; its levelness is the standard, and the great craftsman takes it as his model. If still water is clear, how much more so the spirit? The mind of the sage—how still it is! It is the mirror of Heaven and Earth, the looking-glass of the ten thousand things!

Now emptiness, stillness, tranquility, silence, and non-action—these are the level of Heaven and Earth, and the substance of the Way. Therefore, emperors and sages rest therein. In resting, there is emptiness; in emptiness, there is fullness; fullness is order. In emptiness, there is stillness; in stillness, there is movement; in movement, there is attainment. In stillness, there is non-action; in non-action, those who bear responsibilities are held to account. In non-action, there is ease. In ease, sorrow and anxiety cannot take hold, and the years of life are prolonged. Emptiness, stillness, tranquility, silence, and non-action—these are the root of the ten thousand things. To be illumined in this and face south—this is Yao's way of being a ruler. To be illumined in this and face north—this is Shun's way of being a minister. To occupy the highest position by means of this—this is the virtue of emperors and Sons of Heaven. To occupy the lowest position by means of this—this is the way of dark sages and uncrowned kings. To retire and wander in leisure by means of this—scholars of rivers and lakes, mountains and forests submit to it. To advance and bring order to the age by means of this—then merit is great, fame is illustrious, and the world is unified. In stillness, a sage; in movement, a king. Through non-action, honored. In simplicity and plainness, none in the world can rival his beauty. To be clear and illumined about the virtue of Heaven and Earth—this is called the Great Root, the Great Source, that which harmonizes with Heaven. That by which one brings equitable order to the world—that which harmonizes with others. To harmonize with others is called human joy; to harmonize with Heaven is called Heavenly joy. Zhuangzi said: "My teacher! My teacher! He crushes the ten thousand things yet is not cruel; his bounty extends through ten thousand generations yet he is not benevolent; he is older than highest antiquity yet he is not aged; he covers and bears up Heaven and Earth, carves and sculpts the multitude of forms, yet he is not skillful." This is called Heavenly joy. Therefore it is said: "Those who know Heavenly joy—when they live, they move with Heaven; when they die, they are transformed with things. In stillness, they share the power of the yin; in movement, they share the waves of the yang." Therefore, those who know Heavenly joy—Heaven does not resent them, men do not reproach them, things do not burden them, ghosts do not blame them. Therefore it is said: "In movement, they are Heaven; in stillness, they are Earth. With mind unified, they are king over the world. Their ghosts bring no misfortune; their souls know no weariness. With mind unified, the ten thousand things submit." This means that through emptiness and stillness, one extends through Heaven and Earth, penetrates the ten thousand things—this is called Heavenly joy. Heavenly joy is the mind of the sage, by which he nurtures the world.

The virtue of emperors and kings takes Heaven and Earth as its ancestor, takes the Way and its power as its master, and takes non-action as its constant. With non-action, one employs the whole world and still has surplus; with action, one is employed by the whole world and finds it insufficient. Therefore, the ancients valued non-action. If the superior practices non-action, and the inferior also practices non-action, then the inferior shares the same virtue as the superior; when the inferior shares the same virtue as the superior, they are not truly ministers. If the inferior acts, and the superior also acts, then the superior shares the same Way as the inferior; when the superior shares the same Way as the inferior, they are not truly masters. The superior must practice non-action and thereby employ the world; the inferior must act and thereby be employed by the world—this is the unchanging Way. Therefore, those who were kings over the world in ancient times—though their knowledge encompassed Heaven and Earth, they did not plan by themselves; though their eloquence could carve and ornament the ten thousand things, they did not speak by themselves; though their ability could exhaust the whole world, they did not act by themselves. Heaven produces nothing, yet the ten thousand things are transformed; Earth grows nothing, yet the ten thousand things are nurtured; emperors and kings practice non-action, yet the world is completed. Therefore it is said: "Nothing is more spirit-like than Heaven; nothing is more rich than Earth; nothing is greater than emperors and kings." Therefore it is said: "The virtue of emperors and kings is matched with Heaven and Earth." This is the way of riding upon Heaven and Earth, galloping upon the ten thousand things, and employing the multitudes of men.

What is fundamental lies above; what is secondary lies below. The essentials rest with the ruler; the details rest with the ministers. The deployment of the three armies and the five weapons is a secondary matter of virtue. Rewards and punishments, benefits and harms, the enactments of the five punishments—these are secondary matters of instruction. Rites and laws, measurements and standards, the comparison and examination of forms, names, and punishments—these are secondary matters of governance. The sounds of bells and drums, the display of feathered banners—these are secondary matters of music. Weeping and wailing, mourning garments, the gradations of funeral dress—these are secondary matters of grief. These five secondary matters all require the operation of pure spirit and the activation of the mind before they can be pursued. The study of such secondary matters existed among the ancients, but it was not what was given priority.

The ruler takes precedence and the minister follows; the father takes precedence and the son follows; the elder brother takes precedence and the younger brother follows; the elder takes precedence and the younger follows; the man takes precedence and the woman follows; the husband takes precedence and the wife follows. The ordering of high and low, of first and last, is the course of Heaven and Earth, and thus the sage took it as his model. Heaven is exalted and Earth is humble—this is the position of the spiritual and luminous. Spring and summer come first; autumn and winter come after—this is the sequence of the four seasons. The myriad things are transformed and born; sprouts and shoots have their forms; flourishing and decline succeed one another—this is the flow of change. Now, Heaven and Earth are supremely spiritual, yet they still have their sequence of high and low, of first and last—how much more so the human way! In the ancestral temple, kinship is honored; in the court, rank is honored; in the village community, age is honored; in the conduct of affairs, worthiness is honored. This is the sequence of the Great Way. To speak of the Way but not in accordance with its sequence is not the Way. To speak of the Way but not in accordance with the Way—how could one obtain the Way? Therefore, those of old who illuminated the Great Way first made clear Heaven, and the Way and its virtue came next. Once the Way and its virtue were clear, benevolence and righteousness came next. Once benevolence and righteousness were clear, the allotment of duties and responsibilities came next. Once the allotment of duties and responsibilities were clear, forms and names came next. Once forms and names were clear, assigning tasks accordingly came next. Once assigning tasks accordingly was clear, examination and assessment came next. Once examination and assessment were clear, right and wrong came next. Once right and wrong were clear, rewards and punishments came next. Once rewards and punishments were clear, the foolish and the wise each occupied their proper place, the noble and the base each stood in their proper station, the benevolent and the worthy, the incompetent and the unworthy each acted according to their true nature. Each was assigned according to his ability; each was called by his proper name. By this one serves one's superior; by this one nourishes one's subordinates; by this one governs things; by this one cultivates oneself. Wisdom and scheming are not employed; all returns to what is Heaven-given. This is called Great Peace—the utmost in governance.

Thus the Book says: "There are forms and there are names." The examination of forms and names existed among the ancients, but it was not what was given priority. Among those of old who spoke of the Great Way, after five transformations, forms and names could be discussed; after nine transformations, rewards and punishments could be discussed. To speak of forms and names abruptly is to be ignorant of their root. To speak of rewards and punishments abruptly is to be ignorant of their origin. To speak inverting the Way, to expound in opposition to the Way—this is what others will use to govern you; how could you govern others? To speak of forms and names, rewards and punishments abruptly is to know only the instruments of governance, not the Way of governance. Such a person may be employed by the world but is not sufficient to employ the world. This is called a sophist—a person of one narrow corner.

Rites and laws, measurements and standards, the comparison and examination of forms and names—these existed among the ancients. These are the means by which the inferior serves the superior, not the means by which the superior nourishes the inferior.

In former times, Shun asked Yao, "How does the true king apply his mind?" Yao said, "I do not ignore those who have no one to speak for them; I do not abandon the impoverished people. I grieve for the dead; I cherish the young and pity widows. This is how I apply my mind."

Shun said, "Beautiful, indeed—but not yet great."

Yao said, "Then what would you do?"

Shun said, "Virtue issues forth from Heaven and settles in tranquility. The sun and moon shine and the four seasons proceed; it is as though day and night have their fixed course, clouds move and rain descends."

Yao said, "What a fuss and tumult! You, my son, are in harmony with Heaven; I am in harmony with man."

Now, Heaven and Earth were what the ancients considered great, and what the Yellow Emperor, Yao, and Shun all held in common admiration. Therefore, what did the kings of old do in ruling the world? They simply followed Heaven and Earth!

Confucius wished to deposit his books in the Zhou archives. Zilu devised a plan: "I have heard that the Zhou archives keeper is a certain Laodan, who has been dismissed and has returned home. If you wish to deposit books, why not try approaching him?"

Confucius said, "Good." He went to see Laodan, but Laodan would not agree. Thereupon Confucius set forth the Twelve Classics to explain. Laodan interrupted his explanation and said, "Too verbose! I wish to hear the essentials."

Confucius said, "The essentials lie in benevolence and righteousness."

Laodan said, "May I ask: are benevolence and righteousness the nature of man?"

Confucius said, "Yes. The gentleman without benevolence would not be complete; without righteousness he would not live. Benevolence and righteousness are truly the nature of man. What else could one do?"

Laodan said, "May I ask: what are benevolence and righteousness?"

Confucius said, "To be joyful at heart within, to love universally without selfishness—this is the true substance of benevolence and righteousness."

Laodan said, "Ah! These are nearly dangerous words! To love universally—is that not impractical? To be without selfishness is in fact to have a selfishness. Sir, if you wish to prevent the world from losing its proper nourishment—Heaven and Earth have their constant regularity, the sun and moon have their constant brightness, the stars and constellations have their constant positions, the birds and flocks have their constant groupings, the trees and plants have their constant standings. You, sir, too, should let virtue guide your conduct and follow the Way in your pursuits—that would already be enough. Why must you so strenuously display benevolence and righteousness, like beating a drum in search of a lost child? Ah! Sir, you are confusing the nature of man!"

Shicheng Qi, having an audience with Laozi, said, "I have heard that you, sir, are a sage. I have not grumbled at the long journey to come and see you; I have worn calluses upon calluses and dared not rest. But now I observe you, and you are not a sage. In the soil around your mice holes there are leftover vegetables, yet you discard your sister's share—that is unbenevolent. Raw and cooked food are never exhausted before you, yet your hoarding and collecting know no bounds."

Laozi remained impassive and did not respond.

The next day Shicheng Qi saw him again and said, "Yesterday I made some cutting remarks to you, but now my mind has turned inward and I feel a sense of release. Why is that?"

Laozi said, "I have separated myself from the category of the cunningly wise and the spiritually sagely. Formerly, if you called me an ox, I would say I was an ox; if you called me a horse, I would say I was a horse. If there is substance behind it, and others give you a name and you refuse it, you will suffer the consequences a second time. What I wear, I always wear. I do not wear it because I have a reason to wear it."

Shicheng Qi walked sideways to avoid his shadow, advanced with cautious steps, and asked, "How should one cultivate oneself?"

Laozi said, "Your bearing is stern and forbidding; your eyes are piercing and penetrating; your forehead is broad and protruding; your mouth is boasting and aggressive; your demeanor is righteous and imposing—like a horse held back yet straining to go. In movement you are guarded; in action you are like a trigger; in observation you are meticulous; in cleverness you display a complacency that borders on excess. None of this is genuine. Wherever there are such people on the borders, their name is 'thieves.'"

Laozi said: "As for the Way, it does not cease in the great, nor does it neglect the small; therefore it is present in all things. Vast, indeed, nothing it does not embrace! Deep, indeed, it cannot be fathomed! The shaping of virtue and the practice of benevolence and righteousness are but the dregs of spirit — who but the Ultimate Person could determine their place? The Ultimate Person possesses the world, is that not indeed great? Yet it is not enough to burden him. The world may vie for power, but he does not join it; he examines what is without falseness and does not shift with things; he reaches the utmost reality of things and is able to guard their root. Thus he stands outside Heaven and Earth and leaves all things behind, and his spirit has never been entangled. When one penetrates the Way, accords with Virtue, sets aside benevolence and righteousness, and puts ritual and music in a secondary place, the mind of the Ultimate Person has found its stability."

What the world values in the Way is books. Books are no more than words, and words have what is valuable. What is valuable in words is meaning. Meaning has that to which it is bound. That to which meaning is bound cannot be conveyed in words. Yet the world, because it values words, transmits books. Although the world values them, they are not truly worth valuing, for what it values is not what is truly valuable. Thus what can be seen by looking is form and color; what can be heard by listening is name and sound. How sad! The people of the world suppose that form, color, name, and sound are sufficient to capture the reality of that which they describe! Since form, color, name, and sound are in fact not sufficient to capture its reality, those who know do not speak, and those who speak do not know — how then could the world recognize this?

Duke Huan was reading a book in the upper hall; Wheelwright Pian was shaping a wheel in the lower hall. Setting aside his mallet and chisel, he ascended and addressed Duke Huan, saying, "May I ask — what words does Your Grace read?"

The Duke said, "The words of the sages."

Pian said, "Are the sages still alive?"

The Duke said, "They are already dead."

Pian said, " Then what Your Grace is reading is nothing but the dregs of the ancients!"

Duke Huan said: "How can a wheelwright presume to criticize what I read? If you have an explanation, you may live; if not, you shall die!"

Wheelwright Pian said: "I, your servant, look at this from the perspective of my own craft. If I shape the wheel too loosely, the pegs go in sweetly but do not hold firm; if I shape it too tightly, they resist and will not enter. Neither too loose nor too tight — I grasp it in my hands and respond with my heart. My mouth cannot put it into words, yet there is some principle residing therein. I cannot make it known to my son, and my son cannot receive it from me. For this reason, though I have reached the age of seventy, I am still shaping a wheel. The ancients — and what could not be transmitted — are dead! Then what Your Grace is reading is nothing but the dregs of the ancients!"