In the northern ocean there is a fish, called the k'un, I do
not know how many thousand li in size. This k'un
changes into a bird, called the p'eng. Its back is I do not know
how many thousand li in breadth. When it is moved,
it flies, its wings obscuring the sky like clouds.
When on a voyage, this bird prepares to start for the Southern
Ocean, the Celestial Lake. And in the Records of
Marvels we read that when the p'eng flies southwards, the water is
smitten for a space of three thousand li around,
while the bird itself mounts upon a great wind to a height of
ninety thousand li, for a flight of six months' duration.
There mounting aloft, the bird saw the moving white mists of
spring, the dust-clouds, and the living things
blowing their breaths among them. It wondered whether the blue of
the sky was its real color, or only the result of
distance without end, and saw that the things on earth appeared the
same to it.
If there is not sufficient depth, water will not float large
ships. Upset a cupful into a hole in the yard, and a
mustard-seed will be your boat. Try to float the cup, and it will
be grounded, due to the disproportion between water
and vessel.
So with air. If there is not sufficient a depth, it cannot
support large wings. And for this bird, a depth of ninety
thousand li is necessary to bear it up. Then, gliding upon the
wind, with nothing save the clear sky above, and no
obstacles in the way, it starts upon its journey to the south.
A cicada and a young dove laughed, saying, "Now, when I fly
with all my might, 'tis as much as I can do to get
from tree to tree. And sometimes I do not reach, but fall to the
ground midway. What then can be the use of going
up ninety thousand li to start for the south?"
He who goes to the countryside taking three meals with him
comes back with his stomach as full as when he
started. But he who travels a hundred li must take ground rice
enough for an overnight stay. And he who travels a
thousand li must supply himself with provisions for three months.
Those two little creatures, what should they
know?
Small knowledge has not the compass of great knowledge any
more than a short year has the length of a long
year. How can we tell that this is so? The fungus plant of a
morning knows not the alternation of day and night.
The cicada knows not the alternation of spring and autumn. Theirs
are short years. But in the south of Ch'u there is
a mingling (tree) whose spring and autumn are each of five hundred
years' duration. And in former days there was a
large tree which had a spring and autumn each of eight thousand
years. Yet, P'eng Tsu {1} is known for reaching
a great age and is still, alas! an object of envy to all!
It was on this very subject that the Emperor T'ang {2} spoke
to Chi, as follows: "At the north of Ch'iungta,
there is a Dark Sea, the Celestial Lake. In it there is a fish
several thousand li in breadth, and I know not how many
in length. It is called the k'un. There is also a bird, called
the p'eng, with a back like Mount T'ai, and wings like
clouds across the sky. It soars up upon a whirlwind to a height of
ninety thousand li, far above the region of the
clouds, with only the clear sky above it. And then it directs its
flight towards the Southern Ocean.
"And a lake sparrow laughed, and said: Pray, what may that
creature be going to do? I rise but a few yards in the
air and settle down again, after flying around among the reeds.
That is as much as any one would want to fly. Now,
wherever can this creature be going to?" Such, indeed, is the
difference between small and great.
Take, for instance, a man who creditably fills some small
office, or whose influence spreads over a village, or
whose character pleases a certain prince. His opinion of himself
will be much the same as that lake sparrow's. The
philosopher Yung of Sung would laugh at such a one. If the whole
world flattered him, he would not be affected
thereby, nor if the whole world blamed him would he be dissuaded
from what he was doing. For Yung can
distinguish between essence and superficialities, and understand
what is true honor and shame. Such men are rare in
their generation. But even he has not established himself.
Now Liehtse {3} could ride upon the wind. Sailing
happily in the cool breeze, he would go on for
fifteen days before his return. Among mortals who attain
happiness, such a man is rare. Yet although Liehtse could
dispense with walking, he would still have to depend upon
something. {4}
As for one who is charioted upon the eternal fitness of Heaven
and Earth, driving before him the changing
elements as his team to roam through the realms of the Infinite,
upon what, then, would such a one have need to
depend? Thus it is said, "The perfect man ignores self; the divine
man ignores achievement; the true Sage ignores
reputation."
The Emperor Yao {5} wished to abdicate in favor of Hsu: Yu,
saying, "If, when the sun and moon are
shining, the torch is still lighted, would it be not difficult for
the latter to shine? If, when the rain has fallen, one
should still continue to water the fields, would this not be a
waste of labor? Now if you would assume the reins of
government, the empire would be well governed, and yet I am filling
this office. I am conscious of my own
deficiencies, and I beg to offer you the Empire."
"You are ruling the Empire, and the Empire is already well
ruled," replied Hsu: Yu. "Why should I take your
place? Should I do this for the sake of a name? A name is but the
shadow of reality, and should I trouble myself
about the shadow? The tit, building its nest in the mighty forest,
occupies but a single twig. The beaver slakes its
thirst from the river, but drinks enough only to fill its belly. I
would rather go back: I have no use for the empire! If
the cook is unable to prepare the funeral sacrifices, the
representative of the worshipped spirit and the officer of
prayer may not step over the wines and meats and do it for him."
Chien Wu said to Lien Shu, "I heard Chieh Yu: talk on high and
fine subjects endlessly. I was greatly startled at
what he said, for his words seemed interminable as the Milky Way,
but they are quite detached from our common human experience."
"What was it?" asked Lien Shu.
"He declared," replied Chien Wu, "that on the Miao-ku-yi
mountain there lives a divine one, whose skin is white
like ice or snow, whose grace and elegance are like those of a
virgin, who eats no grain, but lives on air and dew, and
who, riding on clouds with flying dragons for his team, roams
beyond the limit's of the mortal regions. When his
spirit gravitates, he can ward off corruption from all things, and
bring good crops. That is why I call it nonsense, and
do not believe it."
"Well," answered Lien Shu, "you don't ask a blind man's
opinion of beautiful designs, nor do you invite a deaf
man to a concert. And blindness and deafness are not physical
only. There is blindness and deafness of the mind.
His words are like the unspoiled virgin. The good influence of
such a man with such a character fills all creation. Yet
because a paltry generation cries for reform, you would have him
busy himself about the details of an empire!
"Objective existences cannot harm. In a flood which reached
the sky, he would not be drowned. In a drought,
though metals ran liquid and mountains were scorched up, he would
not be hot. Out of his very dust and siftings
you might fashion two such men as Yao and Shun {6}. And you
would have him occupy himself with
objectives!"
A man of the Sung State carried some ceremonial caps to the
Yu:eh tribes for sale. But the men of Yu:eh used to
cut off their hair and paint their bodies, so that they had no use
for such things.
The Emperor Yao ruled all under heaven and governed the
affairs of the entire country. After he paid a visit to
the four sages of the Miao-ku-yi Mountain, he felt on his return to
his capital at Fenyang that the empire existed for
him no more.
Hueitse {7} said to Chuangtse, "The Prince of Wei gave me
a seed of a large-sized kind of gourd. I planted it,
and it bore a fruit as big as a five bushel measure. Now had I
used this for holding liquids, it would have been too
heavy to lift; and had I cut it in half for ladles, the ladles
would have been too flat for such purpose. Certainly it was
a huge thing, but I had no use for it and so broke it up."
"It was rather you did not know how to use large things,"
replied Chuangtse. "There was a man of Sung who had
a recipe for salve for chapped hands, his family having been
silk-washers for generations. A stranger who had heard
of it came and offered him a hundred ounces of silver for this
recipe; whereupon he called together his clansmen and
said, 'We have never made much money by silk-washing. Now, we can
sell the recipe for a hundred ounces in a
single day. Let the stranger have it.'
"The stranger got the recipe, and went and had an interview
with the Prince of Wu. The Yu:eh State was in
trouble, and the Prince of Wu sent a general to fight a naval
battle with Yu:eh at the beginning of winter. The latter
was totally defeated, and the stranger was rewarded with a piece of
the King's territory. Thus, while the efficacy of
the salve to cure chapped hands was in both cases the same, its
applications were different. Here, it secured a title;
there, the people remained silk-washers.
"Now as to your five-bushel gourd, why did you not make a
float of it, and float about over river and lake? And
you complain of its being too flat for holding things! I fear your
mind is stuffy inside."
Hueitse said to Chuangtse, "I have a large tree, called the
ailanthus. Its trunk is so irregular and knotty that it
cannot be measured out for planks; while its branches are so
twisted that they cannot be cut out into discs or
squares. It stands by the roadside, but no carpenter will look at
it. Your words are like that tree -- big and useless, of
no concern to the world."
"Have you never seen a wild cat," rejoined Chuangtse,
"crouching down in wait for its prey? Right and left and
high and low, it springs about, until it gets caught in a trap or
dies in a snare. On the other hand, there is the yak with
its great huge body. It is big enough in all conscience, but it
cannot catch mice. Now if you have a big tree and are
at a loss what to do with it, why not plant it in the Village of
Nowhere, in the great wilds, where you might loiter idly
by its side, and lie down in blissful repose beneath its shade?
There it would be safe from the axe and from all other
injury. For being of no use to others, what could worry its mind?"