In the Human World (Chapter 4)

Yan Hui went to see Confucius and asked permission to travel. Confucius asked, "Where are you going?" Yan Hui said, "I am going to Wei." Confucius asked, "What for?"

Yan Hui said, "I have heard that the ruler of Wei is in the prime of life, acts arbitrarily and willfully, handles state affairs rashly, and does not see his own faults. He also recklessly drives the people to their deaths, and the number of the dead is as vast as the grass and reeds spreading over the marshes—the people truly have nowhere to go. I have heard you, Master, say: 'A stable state one may leave; a chaotic state one should enter. It is like the many patients before a doctor's door.' I hope to use the principles I have learned to think of a way to govern, and perhaps this state can still be saved!"

Confucius said, "Alas! If you go, I fear you will meet with punishment and death!"

"The Way does not like clutter. Clutter leads to many affairs; many affairs lead to disorder; disorder leads to anxiety; and once anxiety comes, there is no remedy. The perfected men of old first established the Way within themselves, and only then helped others. If one has not yet gained a foothold in oneself, how can there be time to attend to the conduct of a tyrant?

"Moreover, do you know why virtue is lost and why wisdom arises? Virtue is lost because of the pursuit of fame; wisdom arises because of contention. Fame is something people use to tear each other down; wisdom is a tool for contention. These two are instruments of ill omen, not means to perfect one's conduct.

"Furthermore, even if your virtue is pure and your trustworthiness solid, you may not necessarily penetrate another's temperament; even if your reputation is illustrious and you do not contend, you may not necessarily reach another's inner heart. If you forcibly use words like benevolence and righteousness as standards to flaunt before a tyrant, this is like using others' faults to display your own virtue—this is called harming others. Those who harm others will surely be harmed in return—you are likely to be harmed by him! Besides, if the ruler of Wei truly loved the worthy and hated the unworthy, why would he need you to show that you are different? If you do not remonstrate, the nobles and princes will certainly take the chance to suppress you and show off their quickness in debate. Then your eyes will be dazzled by him, your expression will become compliant, your mouth will be busy coping, your countenance will follow his lead, and your heart will yield to him. This is like using fire to save fire, using water to save water—it is called adding to the excess. If you go along with the beginning, there will be no end. If you, relying on an attitude of distrust, speak loyal words, you will surely die before the tyrant!

"Moreover, of old, Jie of Xia killed Guan Longfeng, and Zhou of Shang killed Prince Bigan. Both of them cultivated their own persons, and as subjects, they cherished the people and went against their ruler's wishes. Thus their rulers cast them out because of their cultivation. This is the consequence of seeking fame. Of old, Yao attacked Congzhi and Xuao, and Yu attacked Youhu. Those states were reduced to ruins, their people became vengeful ghosts, and their rulers were killed. They used arms without ceasing and sought gain without end—these were all results of seeking fame and profit. Have you not heard of this? Fame and profit—even sages find it hard to transcend them completely. How much more so for you?

"Nevertheless, you must have your own reasons. Try to tell me!"

Yan Hui said, "Be correct and empty-minded, diligent and single-minded—will this do?"

Confucius said, "Alas! How could that do? The ruler of Wei is filled with yang energy within, displays it outwardly, and his expression is unstable. Ordinary people dare not oppose him, and he uses this to suppress others' feelings in order to gratify his own heart. This is called failing to accumulate even small virtues daily—how much less great virtues! He will be stubborn and unyielding, outwardly agreeing while inwardly not accepting. How could your approach work?"

"Then, let me be inwardly upright and outwardly bending, and cite ancient precedents for comparison. Being inwardly upright means being of the same kind as Heaven. Being of the same kind as Heaven means knowing that the Son of Heaven and oneself are both children nurtured by Heaven—would I then hope for others to praise my words, or hope for them not to praise them? In this way, people will say I am like an uncarved child. This is being of the same kind as Heaven. Being outwardly bending means being of the same kind as the world. Bowing with folded hands, kneeling and prostrating—these are the rites of a subject. Others all do them; dare I not do them? Doing what others do, others will not find fault with him. This is being of the same kind as the world. Citing ancient precedents for comparison means being of the same kind as antiquity. Though these words have an instructive intent, they are in substance critical. This has been done since ancient times; it is not my own invention. In this way, though straightforward, it will not bring disaster. This is being of the same kind as antiquity. Will this do?"

Confucius said, "Alas! How could that do? You are correcting too many things. Though there are rules, they are not thorough; though you are stubborn, it is not a crime. But this is as far as it goes—how can you transform him? You are still clinging to your own preconceptions."

Yan Hui said, "I have no better method. May I ask for a way?"

Confucius said, "First, fast, and I will tell you. To act with preconceptions—is that easy? If you think it easy, that is not in accord with the Way of Heaven."

Yan Hui said, "My family is poor. For several months I have not drunk wine or eaten meat. Can this be considered fasting?"

Confucius said, "This is the fasting of sacrifice, not the fasting of the mind."

Yan Hui said, "May I ask what is the fasting of the mind?"

Confucius said, "Unify your will. Do not listen with your ears, but listen with your mind. Do not listen with your mind, but listen with your vital energy! The hearing of the ears stops at sounds; the function of the mind stops at matching things. Vital energy is emptiness, capable of containing all things. Only the Way gathers in emptiness. Emptiness—this is the fasting of the mind."

Yan Hui said, "Before I received this teaching on the fasting of the mind, I indeed felt that I was Yan Hui. After receiving this teaching, I feel that there is no longer any Yan Hui. Can this be called emptiness?"

Confucius said, "You have spoken thoroughly. I will tell you! If you can enter the cage of the ruler of Wei without being moved by fame or profit, speak if he is receptive, stop if he is not. Do not open doors, do not apply remedies. Settle your mind in one place, entrust yourself to necessity—that will be close. It is easy to leave no trace, but hard to walk without touching the ground. When driven by human beings, it is easy to be false; when driven by Heaven, it is hard to be false. You have heard of having wings to fly, but not of flying without wings. You have heard of using wisdom to know things, but not of knowing without wisdom. Look into that empty brightness: an empty chamber gives birth to light, and auspiciousness rests in the heart. If the heart does not rest, this is called 'sitting and galloping.' Let the ears and eyes turn inward and exclude the mind—even ghosts and spirits will come to lodge, let alone human beings! This is the root of all transformation, the pivot grasped by Yu and Shun, and what Fuxi and Jiqu practiced to the end—how much more so for ordinary people!"

Zi Gao, the Duke of She, was about to go on a mission to Qi. He asked Confucius, saying, "The mission entrusted to me by the King of Chu is very important. Qi's treatment of envoys will probably be outwardly respectful but inwardly negligent. Even common people are hard to persuade, let alone a feudal lord! I am very afraid. You once said to me: 'In matters great or small, few are successfully completed without the Way. If a matter fails, there will surely be human calamity; if it succeeds, there will surely be the calamity of yin and yang imbalance. To have neither calamity whether in success or failure—only the virtuous can do this.' I ordinarily eat simple meals, and the cook does not need to cool things. But now, having received the mission this morning, I must drink ice water tonight—is this not because I am burning with internal heat? Before I have even touched the actual affairs, I already have the calamity of yin and yang imbalance. If the matter fails, there will surely be human calamity. These two calamities combined—as a subject, I truly cannot bear them. Do you have any advice for me?"

Confucius said, "There are two great principles in the world: one is fate, the other is duty. A child's love for its parents is fate; it cannot be undone in the heart. A subject's service to his ruler is duty; there is no place under heaven where one can be without a ruler, and nowhere between heaven and earth can one escape this. These are the great principles. Therefore, in serving one's parents, no matter the circumstances, one must bring them comfort—this is the ultimate in filial piety. In serving one's ruler, no matter what one does, one must set the ruler's mind at ease—this is the ultimate in loyalty. Those who concentrate on cultivating their inner selves will not be easily swayed by grief or joy; they know that some things cannot be helped and accept them peacefully, as if accepting fate—this is the ultimate in virtue. As a subject, there are inevitably times when one has no choice. Act according to the actual situation, forget your own self—where then would you find leisure to be greedy for life or fear death? Just go ahead and do it!

Let me tell you what I have heard: In dealings with neighboring states, one must use trustworthiness to draw close to them; in dealings with distant states, one must use words to express loyalty, and those words must be conveyed by someone. Conveying words that please both sides or anger both sides is the hardest thing in the world. When both sides are pleased, they are sure to speak many excessive words of praise; when both sides are angry, they are sure to speak many excessive words of blame. All excessive words are like falsehoods; false words are hard to believe, and when they are hard to believe, disaster befalls the messenger. Therefore, the proverb says: 'Convey plain and factual words, do not convey excessive words—this way you can nearly preserve yourself.'

Moreover, those who wrestle with skill start out openly and fairly, but later often resort to underhanded tactics; at the extreme, they use all kinds of cunning. Those who drink according to ritual rules start out orderly and proper, but later often fall into disorder; at the extreme, they give rise to all kinds of strange pleasures. Everything is like this. It begins with trustworthiness, but later often becomes base; it begins with simplicity, but at the end it inevitably becomes enormous.

Words are like wind and waves; actions cause a loss of substance. Wind and waves are easily stirred up, and the loss of substance easily brings danger. Therefore, anger arises for no other reason than clever talk and biased words. When a wild animal is about to die, it does not choose its sounds; its breath comes in gasps, and it gives rise to a vicious mind. When harsh reproach goes too far, others are sure to respond with a bad heart, and one does not know why oneself. If one does not know why, who can know what the outcome will be! Therefore, the proverb says: 'Do not alter orders, do not force things to completion; going too far is adding excess.' Altering orders and forcing completion spoil things; good deeds take time to accomplish, and when bad deeds are done, it is too late to correct them—can one not be cautious! Moreover, to go along with things and let the mind roam freely, to entrust oneself to what cannot be helped and nurture the inner energy—this reaches the ultimate! Why must one deliberately seek to repay? It is better to convey the true command. This is the hardest part."

Yan He was about to become the tutor of the crown prince of Wei, Duke Ling of Wei, and asked Qu Boyu, saying, "There is a man here whose nature is violent. If I let him be, he will endanger our state; if I restrain him strictly, he will endanger me. His wisdom is just enough to recognize the faults of others, but he does not know what his own faults are. In such a case, what should I do?"

Qu Boyu said, "A good question! Be on guard, be cautious—first, correct your own self! In outward appearance, it is better to draw close to him; inwardly, it is better to harmonize with him. Even so, these two things still have hidden dangers. When drawing close to him, do not become too involved; when harmonizing with him, do not let it show. If you draw close and become too involved, you will follow him into ruin and collapse, stumbling and falling. If you harmonize and let it show, you will be taken as seeking fame and become an evil omen. If he is like an infant, you too follow him and be like an infant; if he has no boundaries, you too follow him and have no boundaries; if he has no limits, you too follow him and have no limits. Penetrate these principles, and you can enter a state without fault.

Do you not know the praying mantis? It raises its arms to block the wheels of a chariot, not knowing that it cannot succeed—this is because it regards its own abilities as too wonderful. Be on guard, be cautious! If you constantly boast of your own strengths and thereby offend him, that will be dangerous!

Do you not know the one who raises tigers? He dares not feed them live animals, for fear they will rouse their anger in killing them; he dares not feed them whole animals, for fear they will rouse their anger in tearing them apart. He masters the timing of their hunger and fullness, and guides and calms their anger. Tigers are not of the same kind as humans, yet they fawn on those who feed them—this is because they are followed in their nature. Therefore, the reason they kill is because they are crossed in their nature.

As for the one who loves horses, he uses a bamboo basket to catch their dung and a large clam shell to catch their urine. If a mosquito or gadfly happens to bite the horse, and the lover slaps at it at the wrong time, the horse will break its bit, smash its halter, and tear its chest strap. The intention was love, yet it lost what was loved—can one not be cautious?"

A carpenter named Shi went to the state of Qi. When he reached Quyuan, he saw a sacred oak tree that was the altar of the local god. This tree was large enough to shelter several thousand oxen, and its trunk measured a hundred spans around. It rose more than eighty feet above the mountain peak before putting out branches, and among its side branches, more than a dozen could be used to make boats. The crowd of onlookers was like a market, but the master carpenter did not even glance at it and walked on without stopping.

His apprentice looked his fill, then ran after Carpenter Shi and said, "Since I took up my axe and followed you, Master, I have never seen such fine timber. Yet you would not even glance at it and kept walking—why is that?"

Carpenter Shi said, "Enough! Say no more! That is a useless, scattered tree. Use it for a boat and it will sink; use it for a coffin and it will rot quickly; use it for a vessel and it will soon break; use it for a door or window and it will ooze resin; use it for a pillar and it will be worm-eaten. This is a tree of no talent, good for nothing—that is why it has lived to such a great age."

When Carpenter Shi returned home, the sacred oak tree appeared to him in a dream and said, "With what are you comparing me? Are you comparing me to useful, patterned trees? Take the hawthorn, pear, orange, and pomelo—fruit-bearing trees. When their fruit ripens, they are plucked, and in the plucking they are pulled and torn; large branches are broken, small branches are yanked off. This is how their talent makes their lives suffer, so they cannot fulfill their natural lifespan but die halfway, bringing worldly blows upon themselves. Everything is like this. Moreover, I have long sought the state of uselessness; I was almost cut down several times, and now I have attained this uselessness—to me, this is great usefulness. If I were truly useful, could I have grown to this size? Besides, you and I are both things—why judge each other like this? You, a dying and useless man, how can you understand a useless tree?"

When Carpenter Shi woke up, he pondered the dream carefully. His apprentice said, "It sought uselessness—then why did it become a sacred tree?"

Carpenter Shi said, "Silence! Say no more! It merely lodged itself in the sacred tree as a refuge, and for that it was reviled and blamed by those who did not understand it. If it had not become a sacred tree, would it have been cut down? Moreover, its way of preserving itself is different from the ordinary, yet you try to understand it by ordinary principles—is that not far off?"

Nanbo Ziqiu was wandering in the area of Shangqiu when he saw a large tree, very remarkable. It could shade a thousand four-horse chariots. Ziqiu said, "What kind of tree is this? It must have extraordinary timber!" He looked up at its small branches—they were so crooked they could not be used for beams. He looked down at its large roots—the heartwood was split and could not be used for coffins. He licked one of its leaves—his mouth festered and was injured. He smelled its odor—it made him wildly drunk, and for three days he could not sober up.

Ziqiu said, "This is indeed a tree of no talent, so it can grow to this size. Ah! The spirit-like man is also like this, preserving himself by being without talent!"

In the state of Song there was a place called Jingshi, suitable for growing catalpa, cypress, and mulberry trees. When the trunks grew to one or two spans in girth, they were cut down by people seeking posts to tether monkeys; when they grew to three or four armfuls, they were cut down by those seeking tall roof beams; when they grew to seven or eight armfuls, they were cut down by wealthy families seeking whole coffin planks. Thus these trees could not fulfill their natural lifespan but were cut down by axes midway—this is the calamity of being useful. Therefore, in ancient sacrifices, oxen with white foreheads, pigs with upturned snouts, and people with hemorrhoids were not used to offer to the River God. All the shamans knew this, considering them inauspicious. But this is exactly what the spiritual person considers most auspicious.

There was a man named Zhilishu, whose chin was hidden beneath his navel, shoulders higher than his head, the topknot of his hair pointing upward, the five viscera' acupoints all facing upward, and his two thighs pressed against his ribs. He mended clothes and washed things for others, enough to feed himself; he winnowed grain and pounded rice, enough to support ten people. When the state conscripted soldiers, Zhilishu walked among the conscription lines, waving his arms; when the state levied forced labor, Zhilishu, being permanently disabled, was not assigned to tasks; when the state distributed relief grain to the disabled, he could receive three zhong of grain and ten bundles of firewood. One whose form was thus crippled could still support himself and live out his natural years—how much more so for those whose virtue is crippled?

Confucius arrived in Chu, and the madman of Chu, Jieyu, wandered before Confucius' gate, singing: "Phoenix, oh phoenix, how your virtue has declined! The future world cannot be awaited, the past world cannot be pursued. When the world has the Way, the sage can achieve deeds; when the world is without the Way, the sage can only preserve his life. In this present age, it is enough to merely escape punishment. Fortune is lighter than a feather, yet one does not know how to bear it; calamity is heavier than the earth, yet one does not know how to avoid it. Enough, enough—do not flaunt your virtue before others! Dangerous, dangerous—do not draw circles on the ground to walk! Creeping briar, creeping briar—do not wound my steps! The road I walk is crooked and winding—do not wound my feet!"

The trees on the mountain invite their own felling; the grease invites its own boiling. The cinnamon tree is edible, so it is cut down; the lacquer tree is useful, so it is tapped. Everyone knows the use of being useful, but no one knows the use of being useless.