The Secret of Caring for Life

The Secret of Caring for Life

Our life has its limits, but knowledge has none. To pursue the limitless with the limitless—this is perilous indeed. And having recognized this, yet still to pursue knowledge—this is perilous beyond all remedy. In doing good, do not seek fame; in doing evil, do not court punishment. Follow the central vein as your constant way. This will preserve your body, keep your life whole, nurture those you care for, and fulfill your natural years.

Butcher Ding was cutting up an ox for Lord Wenhui. Wherever his hand touched, wherever his shoulder leaned, wherever his foot planted itself, wherever his knee pressed—zip! whoosh!—the blade slit and sliced, never missing a beat. It moved in rhythm with the Dance of the Mulberry Grove and harmonized with the melodies of the Jing Shou. Lord Wenhui said, "Ah, excellent! Can skill really reach such heights?" Butcher Ding set down his knife and replied, "What I care about is the Way, which goes beyond skill. When I first began cutting oxen, all I could see was the ox itself. Three years later, I no longer saw the whole ox as a single mass. Now I encounter it with my spirit and do not look with my eyes. My senses stop and my spirit moves as it will. I follow the natural grain, cleaving the great crevices, guiding the blade through the great hollows, going along with what is inherently so. I never touch a ligament or tendon, much less a large bone! A good cook changes his knife once a year—he cuts. A middling cook changes his once a month—he hacks. I have had this knife for nineteen years and have carved several thousand oxen, yet the blade is as fresh as when it came from the grindstone. The joints have spaces between them, and the blade's edge has no thickness. When that which has no thickness enters that which has space, there is more than enough room for the blade to play about freely. That is why after nineteen years my blade is as fresh as when it came from the grindstone. Even so, whenever I come to a complex place, I see how difficult it will be. I grow cautious and alert. My gaze stops. My movements slow. I move the knife ever so slightly—and suddenly, the parts separate like earth crumbling to the ground. I lift my knife and stand there, looking around, lingering over my accomplishment with quiet satisfaction. Then I wipe my knife and put it away." Lord Wenhui said, "Excellent! I have heard the words of Butcher Ding and learned from them how to nurture life."

Lord Wenxuan saw the Righteous Teacher and was startled. "What kind of man is this? Why does he have only one foot? Is it Heaven's doing or man's?" "It is Heaven's doing, not man's. Heaven gave him life with this single foot. His appearance is what Heaven has bestowed. So I know it is Heaven's doing, not man's." A pheasant in the marshes takes ten steps for one peck and a hundred steps for one drink. It does not wish to be kept in a cage. Even if its spirit were to thrive there, it would not be good.

Laozan died. Qin Shi went to mourn him and cried out three times, then left. His disciples said, "Wasn't he your friend?" "Yes." "Then is it proper to mourn him like this?" "Yes. At first I took him to be an ordinary man, but now I see he was not. Just now when I went in to mourn, there were old people weeping for him as though they had lost their son, and young people weeping for him as though they had lost their mother. This means those who gathered here must have spoken words they did not wish to speak and wept tears they did not wish to shed. This is fleeing from Heaven and doubling emotion, forgetting what was received from the ancients. This is called the punishment of fleeing Heaven. When he came, it was his time. When he departed, it was his going along with it. To be at peace with the time and to dwell in what is fitting—then sorrow and joy cannot enter. The ancients called this the release of the Emperor from his bonds." The finger that feeds the fire is worn out, but the flame passes on and no one knows where it ends.