| 家○上○下○二○ ○二年七月二十三日 | ○定也○然且不免於罔羅機辟之患○是何罪之 | ○雖饑渴隱約○猶且胥疏於江湖之上而求食焉 | 栖於山林○伏於岩穴○靜也○夜行昼居○戒也 | 市南子曰○君之除患之術浅矣○夫豐狐文豹○ | 吾是以憂○ | 尊賢○親而行之○無須臾離居○然不免於患○ | 魯侯曰○吾學先王之道○修先君之業○吾敬鬼 | 有憂色○何也○ | 市南宜僚見魯侯○魯侯有憂色○市南子曰○君 | 乎○ | 得而必乎哉○悲夫○弟子志之○其唯道德之鄕 | 尊則議○有為則虧○賢則謀○不肖則欺○胡可 | 人倫之傳則不然○合則離○成則毁○廉則挫○ | 邪○此神農○黄帝之法則也○若夫萬物之情○ | 萬物之祖○物為物而不物於物○則胡可得而累 | 化○而無肯專為○一上一下○以和量○浮游乎 | 而浮游則不然○無譽無訾○一籠一蛇○與時俱 | 之間○似之而非也○故未免乎累○若夫乘道德 | 莊子笑曰○周將處乎材與不材之間○材與不材 | 將何處○ | 材得終其天年○今主人之雁○以不材死○先生 | 明日○弟子問於莊子曰○昨日山中之木○以不 | 主人曰○殺不能嗚者○ | 嗚○請奚殺○ | 殺雁而烹之○竪子請曰○其一能嗚○其一不能 | 夫子出於山○舍於故人之家○故人喜○命竪子 | 莊子曰○此木以不材得終其天年○ | 其旁而不取也○問其故○曰無所可用○ | 莊子行於山中○見大木○枝叶盛茂○伐木者止 | 莊子
南華經 第二十章 山木 |
| 毫毛不挫○而况有大涂者乎○ | 其强梁○随其曲傅○因其自窮○故朝夕賦斂而 | 乎○其送往而迎來○來者勿禁○往者勿止○從 | 复歸於朴○侗乎其無識○儻乎其怠疑○萃乎芒 | 奢曰○一之間無敢設也○奢聞之○既雕既琢○ | ○子何術之設○ | ○三月而成上下之縣○王子慶忌見而問焉○曰 | 北宫奢為衛灵公賦斂以為鈡○為壇乎郭門之外 | 其孰能害之○ | 今也怒○向也虛而今也實○人能虛己以游世○ | ○於是三呼邪○則必以惡聲随之○向也不怒而 | 其上○則呼張歙之○一呼而不聞○再呼而不聞 | 有虛船來触舟○雖有惼心之人不怒○有一人在 | 憂○而獨與道游於大莫之國○方舟而濟於河○ | 有人○非見有於人也○吾愿去君之累○除君之 | 此遠矣○故有人者累○見有於人者憂○故堯非 | 愈往而不知其所窮○送君者皆自崖而反○君自 | 足○君其涉於江而浮於海○望之而不見其崖○ | 市南子曰○少君之費○寡君之欲○雖無粮而乃 | 無粮○我無食○安得而至焉○ | 君曰○彼其道幽遠而無人○吾為誰與為鄰○吾 | 市南子曰○君無形倨○無留居○以君車○ | 奈何○ | 君曰○彼其道遠而險○又有江山○我無舟車○ | 捐俗○與道相輔而行○ | 蹈乎大方○其生可樂○其死可葬○吾愿君去國 | 不知義之所适○不知禮之所將○猖狂妄行○乃 | 少私而寡欲○知作而不知藏○與而不求其报○ | ○南越有邑焉○名為建德之國○其民愚而朴○ | 吾愿君刳形去皮○洒心去欲○而游於無人之野 | 有哉○其皮為之灾也○今魯國獨非君之皮邪○ |
| 相棄亦遠矣○且君子之交淡若水○小人之交甘 | ○以天属者○迫窮禍患害相收也○夫相收之與 | 此以天属也○夫以利合者○迫窮禍患害相棄也 | 璧○負赤子而趋○何也○林回曰○彼以利合○ | 布寡矣○為其累與○赤子之累多矣○棄千金之 | 之璧○負赤子而趋○或曰○為其布與○赤子之 | 子桑雽曰○子獨不聞假人之亡與○林回棄千金 | 患○親交益疏○徙友益散○何與○ | 跡於衛○窮於商周○圍於陳蔡之間○吾犯此數 | 孔子問子桑雽曰○吾再逐於魯○伐樹於宋○削 | 而况人乎○ | 杼栗○入獸不亂群○入鳥不亂行○鳥獸不惡○ | 辞其交游○去其弟子○逃於大澤○衣裘褐○食 | 孔子曰○善哉○ | 人不聞○子何喜哉○ | ○不為功名○是故無責於人○人亦無責焉○至 | 行而不名處○純純常常○乃比於狂○削跡捐势 | 孰能去功與名而還與衆人○道流而不明居○得 | 之人曰○自伐者無功○功成者墮○名成者虧○ | 昭乎如揭日月而行○故不免也○昔吾聞之大成 | 先竭○子其意者飾知以惊愚○修身以明汙○昭 | 外人卒不得害○是以免於患○直木先伐○甘井 | 食不敢先嘗○必取其緒○是故其行列不斥○而 | 而飛○迫脇而栖○進不敢為前○退不敢為后○ | 意怠○其為鳥也○翂翂翐翐○而似無能○引援 | 任曰○予嘗言不死之道○東海有鳥焉○其名曰 | 曰○然○ | 子惡死乎○ | 曰○然○ | 之○曰○子幾死乎○ | 孔子圍於陳蔡之間○七日不火食○大公任往吊 |
| 何謂無受人益難○ | 乎○ | 不敢去之○執臣之道猶若是○而况乎所以待天 | 運物之泄也○言與之偕逝之謂也○為人臣者○ | 仲尼曰○饑渴寒暑○窮桎不行○天地之行也○ | 回曰○敢問無受天損易○ | 夫今之歌者其誰乎○ | ○無受人益難○無始而非卒也○人與天一也○ | 造大也○愛己而造哀也曰曰○回○無受天損易 | 之心○顏回端拱還目而窺之○仲尼恐其廣己而 | 有其聲而無宫角○木聲與人聲○犁然有當於人 | 右擊槁枝○而歌焱氏之風○有其具而無其數○ | 孔子窮於陳蔡之間○七日不火食○左据槁木○ | 可得邪○此比乾之見剖心○徵也夫○ | 以逞其能也○今處昏上亂相之間而欲無憊○奚 | ○此筋骨非有加急而不柔也○處势不便○未足 | 及其得柘棘枳枸之間也○危行側視○振動悼栗 | 蔓其枝而王長其間○雖羿○蓬蒙不能眄睨也○ | 也○王獨不見夫騰猿乎○其得楠梓豫章也○攬 | 也○衣弊履穿○貧也○非憊也○此所謂非遭時 | 莊子曰○貧也○非憊也○士有道德不能行○憊 | 曰○何先生之憊邪○ | 莊子衣大布而補之○正絜系履而過魏王○魏王 | ○不求文以待形○固不待物○ | 不離○率則不勞○不離不勞○則不求文以待形 | 禹曰○汝戒之哉○形莫若緣○情莫若率○緣則 | 愛益加進○異日○桑雽又曰○舜之將死○真泠 | 徐行翔佯而歸○絶學捐書○弟子無挹於前○其 | 孔子曰○敬聞命矣○ | 者○則無故以離○ | 若醴○君子淡以親○小人甘以絶○彼無故以合 |
| 家○上○下○二○ ○二年七月二十三日 | 有錯字請通知我 | 而不愛哉○ | 陽子曰○弟子記之○行賢而去自賢之行○安往 | 也○其惡者自惡○吾不知其惡也○ | 故○逆旅小子對曰○其美者自美○吾不知其美 | 人美○其一人惡○惡者貴而美者賤○陽子問其 | 陽子之宋○宿於逆旅○逆旅人有妾二人○其一 | 真○栗林虞人以吾為戮○吾所以不庭也○ | 於雕陵而忘吾身○異鵲感吾顙○游於栗林而忘 | ○且吾聞諸夫子曰○入其俗○從其令○今吾游 | 莊周曰○吾守形而忘身○觀於濁水而迷於清淵 | ○ | 不庭○藺且從而問之○夫子何為頃間甚不庭乎 | 捐彈而反走○虞人逐而誶之○莊周反入○三日 | 固相累○二類相召也○ | 而利之○見利而忘其真○莊周怵然曰○噫○物 | 其身○螳螂執翳而搏之○見得而忘形○異鵲從 | 蹇裳躩步○执彈而留之○睹一蟬方得美蔭而忘 | 莊周曰○此何鳥哉○翼殷不逝○目大不睹○ | 廣七尺○目大運寸○感周之顙○而集於栗林○ | 莊周游於雕陵之樊○睹一異鵲自南方來者○翼 | 能有天○性也○聖人晏然體逝而終矣○ | 仲尼曰○有人○天也○有天○亦天也○人之不 | 何謂人與天一邪○ | 終○焉知其所始○正而待之而已耳○ | 仲尼曰○化其萬物而不知其禪之者○焉知其所 | 何謂無始而非卒○ | ○ | 之而走○其畏人也而襲諸人間○社稷存焉爾○ | 於鷾鴯○目之所不宜處不給視○雖落其實○棄 | ○賢人不為窃○吾若取之何哉○故曰○鳥莫知 | 利○乃非己也○吾命其在外者也○君子不為盗 | 仲尼曰○始用四達○爵禄并至而不窮○物之所 |
Chuang Tzu was traveling over a mountain when he saw a huge tree well covered with foliage. A woodsman had stopped near by, not caring to take it; and on Chuang Tzu enquiring the reason, he was told that it was of no use.
"This tree," cried Chuang Tzu, "by virtue of being good for nothing succeeds in completing its allotted span."
When Chuang Tzu left the mountain, he put up at the house of an old friend. The latter was delighted, and ordered a servant to kill a goose and cook it.
"Which shall I kill?" enquired the servant, "the one that cackles or the one that doesn't?"
His master told him to kill the one which did not cackle. And accordingly, the next day, a disciple asked Chuang Tzu, saying, "Yesterday, that tree on the mountain, because good for nothing, was to succeed in completing its allotted span. But now our host's goose, which is good for nothing, has to die. Upon which horn of the dilemma will you rest?"
"I rest," replied Chuang Tzu with a smile, "halfway between the two. In that position, appearing to be what I am not, it is impossible to avoid the troubles of mortality; though, if charioted upon Tao [+de] and floating far above mortality, this would not be so. No praise, no blame; both great and small; changing with the change of time, but ever without special effort; both above and below; making for harmony with surroundings; reaching creation's First Cause; swaying all things and swayed by none;--how then shall such troubles come? This was the method of Shen Nung and Huang Ti.
"But amidst the mundane passions and relationships of man, such would not be the case. For where there is union, there is also separation; where there is completion, there is also destruction; where there is purity, there is also oppression; where there is honor, there is also disparagement; where there is doing, there is also undoing; where there is openness, there is also underhandedness; and where there is no semblance, there is also deceit. How then can there be any fixed point? Alas indeed! Take note, my disciples, that such is to be found only in the domain of Tao." [+de]
I Liao of Shih-nan paid a visit to the prince of Lu. The latter wore a melancholy look; whereupon the philosopher of Shih-nan enquired what was the cause.
"I study the doctrines of the ancient Sages," replied the prince. "I carry on the work of my predecessors. I respect religion. I honor the good. Never for a moment do I relax in these points; yet I cannot avoid misfortune, and consequently I am sad."
"Your Highness's method of avoiding misfortune," said the philosopher of Shih-nan, "is but a shadow one. A handsome fox or a stripped leopard will live in a mountain forest, hiding beneath some precipitous cliff. This is their repose. They come out at night and keep in by day. This is their caution. Though under the stress of danger and thirst, they lie hidden, hardly venturing to slink secretly to the river bank in search of food. This is their resoluteness. Nevertheless, they do not escape the misfortune of the net and the trap. But what crime have they committed? 'T is their skin which is the cause of their trouble; and is not the State of Lu your Highness's skin? I would have you Highness put away body and skin alike, and cleansing your heart and purging it of passion, betake yourself to the land where mortality is not. [meditation]
"In Nan-yueh there is a district, called Established-Virtue. Its people are simple and honest, unselfish, and without passions. They can make, but cannot keep. They give, but look for no return. They are not conscious of fulfilling obligations. They are not conscious of subservience to etiquette. Their actions are altogether uncontrolled, yet they tread in the way of the wise. Life is for enjoyment; death, for burial. And thither I would have your Highness proceed, power discarded and the world left behind, only putting trust in Tao."
"The road is long and dangerous," said the prince. "Rivers and hills to be crossed, and I without boat or chariot;--what then?"
"Unhindered by body and unfettered in mind," replied the philosopher, "your Highness will be a chariot to yourself."
"But the road is long and dreary," argued the prince, "and uninhabited. I shall have no one to turn for help; and how, without food, shall I ever be able to get there?"
"Decrease expenditure and lessen desires," answered the philosopher, "and even though without provisions, there will be enough. And then through river and over sea your Highness will travel into shore-less illimitable space. From the border-land, those who act as escort will return; but thence onwards your Highness will travel afar.
"It is the human in ourselves which is our hindrance; and the human in others which causes our sorrow. The great Yao had not this human element himself, not did he perceive it in others. And I would have your Highness put off this hindrance and rid yourself of this sorrow, and roam with Tao alone through the realms of Infinite Nought.
而獨與道游於大莫之國
"Suppose a boat is crossing a river, and another empty boat is about to collide with it. Even an irritable man would not lose his temper. But supposing there was some one in the second boat. Then the occupant of the first would shout to him to keep clear. And if the other did not hear the first time, nor even when called to three times, bad language would inevitably follow. In the first case there was no anger, in the second there was; because in the first case the boat was empty, and in the second it was occupied. And so it is with man. If he could only roam empty through life, who would be able to injure him?" [If you do Taoist meditation or nasal gaze.]
Pei Kung She, minister to Duke Ling of Wei, levied contributions for making bells. An altar was built outside the city gate; and in three months the bells, upper and lower, were all hung. When Wang Tzu Ch'ing Chi saw them, he asked, saying, "How, Sir, did you manage this?"
"In the domain of ONE," replied She, "there may not be managing. I have heard say that which is carved and polished reverts nevertheless to its natural condition. And so I made allowances for ignorance and for suspicion. I betrayed no feeling when welcomed or dismissed. I forbade not those who came, nor detained those who went away. I showed no resentment towards the unwilling, nor gratitude towards those who gave. Every one subscribed what he liked; and thus in my daily collection of subscriptions, no injury was done. How much more then those who have the great WAY?"
When Confucius was hemmed in between Ch'en and Ts'ai, he passed seven days without food. The minister Jen went to condole with him, and said, "You were near, Sir, to death>"
"I was indeed," replied Confucius.
"Do you fear death, Sir?" enquired Jen.
"I do," said Confucius.
"Then I will try to teach you," said Jen, "the way not to die. In the eastern sea there are certain birds, called the i-erh. They behave themselves in a modest and unassuming manner, as though un-possessed of ability. They fly simultaneously: they roost in a body. In advancing, none strives to be first; in retreating, none ventures to be last. In eating, none will be the first to begin; it is considered proper to take the leavings of others. Therefore, in their own ranks they are at peace, and the outside world is unable to harm them. And thus they escape trouble.
"Straight trees are the first felled. Sweet wells are soonest exhausted. And you, you make a show of your knowledge in order to startle fools. You cultivate yourself in contrast to the degradation of others. And you blaze along as though the sun and moon were under your arms; consequently, you cannot avoid trouble.
修身以明汙○昭昭乎如揭日月而行○
Cultivating self (body) is to understand still water. It is clear like holding the sun and moon in motion. [Study carefully. We see our face in still water. Taking eyes as sun and moon, moving them inwards to form word ming 明 , clear.]
"Formerly, I heard a very wise man say, 'Self-praise is no recommendation. In merit achieved there is deterioration. In fame achieved there is loss. Who can discard both merit and fame and become one with the rest? Tao pervades all things but is not seen. Te (virtue) moves through all things but its place is not known. In its purity and constancy, it may be compared with the purposeless. Remaining concealed, rejecting power, it works not for merit nor for fame. Thus, not censuring others, it is not censured by others.' And if the perfect man cares not for fame, why, Sir, should you take pleasure in it?"
"Good indeed!" replied Confucius; and forthwith he took leave of his friends and dismissed his disciples and retired to the wilds, where he dressed himself in skins and serge and fed on ac-corns and chestnuts. He passed among the beasts and birds and they took no heed of him. And if so, how much more among men? [Be one with Nature]
Confucius asked Tzu Sang Hu, saying, "I have been twice expelled from Lu. My tree was cut down in Sung. I have been tabooed in Wei. I am a failure in Shang and Chou. I was surrounded between Ch'en and Ts'ai. And in addition to all these troubles, my friends have separated from me and my disciples are gone. How is this?"
"Have you not heard," replied Sang Hu, "how when the men of Kuo fled, one of them, named Lin Hui, cast aside most valuable regalia and carried away his child upon his back? Some one suggested that he was influenced by the value of the child;-- but the child's value was small. Or by the inconvenience of the regalia;--but the inconvenience of the child would be much greater. Why then did he leave behind the regalia and carry off his child? Lin Hui himself said, 'The regalia involved a mere question of money. The child was from God.' And so it is that in trouble and calamity mere money questions are neglected, while we ever cling nearer to that which is from God. And between neglecting and clinging to, the difference is great.
"The friendship of the superior man is negative like water. The friendship of the mean man is full-flavored like wine. That of the superior man passes from the negative to the affectionate. That of the mean man passes from the full-flavored to nothing. The friendship of the mean man begins without due cause, and in like manner comes to an end."
"I hear and obey," replied Confucius; and forthwith he went quietly home, put an end to his studies and cast aside his books. His disciples no longer saluted him as teacher; but his love for them deepened every day.
On another occasion, Sang Hu said to him again, "When Shun was about to die, he commanded the Great Yu as follows:-- Be careful. Act in accordance with your physical body. Speak in accordance with your feelings. You will thus not get into difficulty with the former nor suffer annoyance in the latter. And as under these conditions you will not stand in need of outward embellishment of any kind, it follows that you therefore will not stand in need of anything."
Chuang Tzu put on cotton clothes with patches in them, and arranging his girdle and tying on his shoes, went to see the prince of Wei.
"How miserable you look, Sir!" cried the prince.
"It is poverty, not misery," replied Chuang Tzu. "A man who has Tao [+de] cannot be miserable. Ragged clothes and old boots make poverty, not misery. Mine is what is called being out of harmony with one's age. Has your Highness never seen a climbing ape? Give it some large tree, and it will twist and twirl among the branches as though monarch of all it surveys. Yi and Feng Meng can never catch a glimpse of it. But put it in a bramble bush, and it will move cautiously with sidelong glances, trembling all over with fear. Not that its muscles relax in the face of difficulty, but because it is at a disadvantage as regards position, and is unable to make use of its skill. And how should any one, living under foolish sovereigns and wicked ministers, help being miserable, even though he might wish not to be so? It was under such circumstances that Pi Kan was disemboweled."
When Confucius was hemmed in between Ch'en and Ts'ai and had gone seven days without food, then, holding in his left hand a piece of dry wood and on his right hand a dry stick, he sang a ballad of Piao Shih. He had an instrument, but the gamut was wanting. There was sound, but no tune. The sound of the wood accompanied by the voice of the man yielded a harsh result, but it was in keeping with the feelings of his audience.
Yen Hui, who was standing by in a respectful attitude, thereupon began to turn his eyes about him; and Confucius, fearing lest he should be driven by exaltation into bragging, or by a desire for safety into sorrow, spoke to him as follows:--
"Hui! it is easy to escape injury from God; it is difficult to avoid the benefits of man. There is no beginning and there is no end. Man and God [tien] are ONE. Who then was singing just now?"
"Pray, Sir, what do you mean," asked Yen Hui, "by saying that it is easy to escape injury from God?"
"Hunger, thirst, cold, and heat," replied Confucius, "are but as fetters in the path of life. They belong to the natural laws which govern the universe; and in obedience thereto I pass on my allotted course. The subject dares not disregard the mandates of his prince. And if this is man's duty to man, how much more shall it be his duty to God?"
"What is the meaning of difficult to avoid the benefits of man?" asked Yen Hui.
"If one begins," replied Confucius, "by adaptation to surroundings, rank and power follow without cease. Such advantages are external; they are not derived from oneself. And my life is more or less dependent upon the external. The superior man does not steal these; nor does the good man pilfer them. What then do I but take them as they come?
"Therefore it has been said that no bird is so wise as the swallow. If it sees a place unfit to dwell in, it will not bestow a glance thereon; and even though it should drop food there, it will leave the food and fly away. Now swallows fear man. Yet they dwell among men. Because there they find their natural abode."
"And what is the meaning," enquired Yen Hui, "of no beginning and no end?"
"The work goes on," replied Confucius, "and no man knows the cause. How then shall he know the end, or the beginning? There is nothing left to us but to wait."
"And that man and God [tien] are ONE," said Yen Hui. "What does that mean?"
"That man is," replied Confucius, "is from God [Tao or Spiritual Soul]. That God [Tao or Spiritual Soul] is, is also from God [Universe-something like ocean]. That man is not God, is his nature. The Sage quietly waits for death as the end."
When Chuang Tzu was wandering in the park at Tiao-ling, he saw a strange bird which came from the south. Its wings were seven feet across. Its eyes were an inch in circumference. And it flew close past Chuang Tzu's head to alight in a chestnut grove.
"What manner of bird is this?" cried Chuang Tzu. "With strong wings it does not fly away. With large eyes it does not see."
So he picked up his skirts and strode towards it with his cross-bow, anxious to get a shot. Just then he saw a cicada enjoying itself in the shade, forgetting of all else. And he saw a mantis spring and seize it, forgetting in the act its own body, which the strange bird immediately pounced upon and made its prey. And this it was which had caused the bird to forget its own nature.
"Alas!" cried Chuang Tzu with a sigh, "how creatures injure one another. Loss follows the pursuit of gain."
So he laid aside his bow and went home, driven away by the park-keeper who wanted to know what business he had there.
For three months after this, Chuang Tzu did not leave the house; and at length Lin Chu asked him, saying, "Master, how is it that you have not been out for so long?"
"While keeping my physical frame," replied Chuang Tzu, "I lost sight of the clear abyss. Besides, I have learnt from the Master as follows:--'When you go into the world, follow its customs.' Now when I strolled into the park at Tiao-ling, I forgot my real self. That strange bird which flew close past me to the chestnut grove, forgot its nature. The keeper of the chestnut grove took me for a thief. Consequently I have not been out."
When Yang Tzu went to the Sung State, he passed a night at an inn. The innkeeper had two concubines, one beautiful, the other ugly. The latter he loved; the former, he hated.
Yang Tzu asked how this was; whereupon one of the inn servants said, "The beautiful one is so conscious of her beauty that one does not think her beautiful. The ugly one is so conscious of her ugliness that one does not think her ugly."
"Note this, my disciples!" cried Yang Tzu. "Be virtuous, but without being conscious so; and wherever you go, you will be beloved."
Edited on 9th June 2008