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Chapter 13 of 33
庄子
The operation of nature never ceases, so all things come into being; the way of emperors operates without stagnation, so all under heaven submit; the way of sages operates without stagnation, so the four seas yield. Those who understand the way of heaven, penetrate the way of sages, and have insight into the six directions and four reaches of the imperial virtue—they let all things transform themselves, while remaining in serene stillness without conscious awareness. The stillness (inner state of tranquility) of the sage's mind is not pursued because stillness itself is deemed good.
Nothing in the world is sufficient to disturb his mind, and that is why he is still. Water, when still, can reflect a man's beard and eyebrows; its levelness can serve as the standard by which craftsmen take measurements. If water in stillness can illuminate so clearly, how much more so the human spirit! The sage's mind is still! It is the bright mirror of heaven and earth, the reflection of all things. That emptiness-stillness, tranquil indifference, silent nonaction (the state of void tranquility and nonassertive simplicity)—this is the plumb line of heaven and earth, and the highest attainment of the Way and its Virtue (dao and de, the Great Way and the inner quality realized in oneself).
Thus emperors and sages abide in this emptiness-stillness. Abiding, they become empty; being empty, they become full; being full, they accord with principle. Being empty, they become still; being still, they naturally move; moving, they attain. In stillness they can practice nonaction; being nonactive, those responsible for specific affairs can each fulfill their duties. Nonaction brings ease and self-content; one who is easy and self-content has no room for worry or distress to linger, and his years naturally extend. That emptiness-stillness, tranquil indifference, silent nonaction—this is the root of all things.
Understanding this principle and facing south as sovereign (occupying the superior position) is the conduct of Yao as ruler; understanding this principle and facing north as minister (occupying the inferior position) is the conduct of Shun as subject. To occupy the superior position by this principle is the virtue of emperor and Son of Heaven; to occupy the inferior position by this principle is the art of the hidden sage and uncrowned king. To retreat into seclusion by this principle, hermits of rivers and seas, mountains and forests would submit; to engage with the world and govern by this principle, achievements become great, fame becomes eminent, and all under heaven unify. In stillness one may become a sage; in motion one may become a king; through nonaction one is revered; through simplicity none under heaven can vie with him for excellence of virtue. One who understands the virtue of heaven and earth may be said to grasp the root and the essential—he is one in harmony with heaven. Using this to harmonize the world, he is one in harmony with humanity. One in harmony with others is called human joy; one in harmony with heaven is called heavenly joy.
Zhuangzi said: "My Great Teacher! My Great Teacher! Shattering all things is not cruelty; bestowing grace upon ten thousand generations is not benevolence; being older than the highest antiquity is not longevity; covering and bearing heaven and earth, carving the forms of all things, is not skillfulness." This is called heavenly joy.
Therefore it is said: One who knows heavenly joy—alive, he moves with the way of heaven; dead, he transforms with all things. In stillness he shares the virtue of yin; in motion he shares the pulse of yang. Hence one who knows heavenly joy incurs no resentment from heaven, no censure from man, no entanglement from external things, no reproach from ghosts. Therefore it is said: In motion he accords with heaven; in stillness he accords with earth; with his mind settled, all under heaven submit; ghosts do not haunt, his spirit does not tire; with his mind settled, all things obey. This speaks of extending emptiness-stillness to heaven and earth, penetrating to all things—this is called heavenly joy. Heavenly joy is the sage nurturing the world with an empty and still mind.
As for the virtue of emperors: take heaven and earth as the root, the Way and its Virtue as the master, and nonaction (refraining from arbitrary interference, according with nature) as the constant way. Achieving nonaction, governing the world leaves ample room; resorting to action, one is enslaved by the world and still finds it insufficient. Thus the ancients valued nonaction. If those above practice nonaction and those below also practice nonaction, this is ministers sharing the same virtue as the sovereign. When minister and sovereign share the same virtue, the minister ceases to be a minister. If those below engage in action and those above also engage in action, this is adopting the same approach at both levels. When above and below follow the same way, the sovereign ceases to be sovereign. The sovereign must practice nonaction and employ his ministers; ministers must practice action and serve the world—this is the unchanging principle.
Thus the ancient rulers of the world: their wisdom could encompass heaven and earth, yet they did not scheme for themselves; their eloquence could adorn all things, yet they did not argue for themselves; their ability could exhaust the four seas, yet they did not act for themselves. Heaven does not intentionally produce, yet all things transform naturally; earth does not intentionally nourish, yet all things are reared; the emperor practices nonaction, and the achievements of the world unfold of themselves.
Therefore it is said: Nothing is more marvelous than heaven; nothing is richer than earth; nothing is greater than an emperor.
Therefore it is said: The virtue of an emperor matches heaven and earth. This is the principle of harnessing heaven and earth, driving all things, and employing the multitude of men.
The root resides above; the branches reside below; the essential lies with the sovereign; concrete execution lies with the ministers. The application of the three armies and five weapons is the dregs of virtue; the establishment of rewards and punishments, benefits and harms, the five penalties, is the dregs of教化; ritual, law, regulations, and audits are the dregs of governance; the sounds of bells and drums, the bearing of plumes and banners, are the dregs of music; weeping and mourning garments, gradations of pomp and simplicity, are the dregs of sorrow.
These five kinds of dregs must rely on the spiritual transformation and the stirring of the mind's art before they can be followed and implemented. These secondary practices existed among the ancients, but were not their foremost concern. Sovereign before minister, father before son, elder brother before younger, elder before younger, male before female, husband before wife—the order of honor and humility, of precedence and sequence, is the rule of heaven and earth's operation, and the sage takes this as his model. Heaven is noble, earth is humble—this is the ranking of spirit and brightness; spring and summer precede, autumn and winter follow—this is the order of the four seasons; all things transform and multiply, sprouts each have their forms, flourishing and withering, waxing and waning—these are the currents of change. Heaven and earth, most marvelous as they are, still maintain such order of honor and precedence—how much more so the way of the human world! The ancestral temple honors kinship, the court honors rank, the village honors age, and affairs honor competence—this is the order of the Great Way. Speaking of the Way without according with its order is not the true Way; and one who speaks of what is not the true Way—from whence does he attain the Way!
Therefore the ancients who understood the Great Way: first they understood the way of heaven, and only then the Way and its Virtue; (dao and de, the Great Way and the inner quality realized in oneself) being clear, only then did they speak of benevolence and righteousness; (ren and yi, compassion and rightness, the outer expressions of inner virtue) being clear, only then did they speak of names and duties; names and duties being clear, only then did they speak of form and name (the shapes and designations of things, i.e., the correspondence of name and reality); form and name being clear, only then did they speak of appointing according to ability; appointment by ability being clear, only then did they speak of examination and review; examination and review being clear, only then did they speak of judgments of right and wrong; judgments of right and wrong being clear, only then did they speak of rewards and punishments. When rewards and punishments are made clear, the foolish and the wise each find their proper place, noble and humble each abide in their station, and the kind and worthy as well as the unworthy all reveal their true circumstances. One must distinguish each person's capacities, must rely on each one's designated role. By this they served their sovereign, by this they reared their subjects, by this they governed all things, by this they cultivated themselves—without resorting to cleverness, all returned to the natural. This is called great peace, the utmost of governance.
Thus the ancient texts say: "There is form; there is name." The study of form and name existed among the ancients, but was not their foremost concern. The ancients who spoke of the Great Way passed through five stages before they spoke of form and name, and nine stages before they spoke of rewards and punishments. To speak abruptly of form and name is to be ignorant of its root; to speak abruptly of rewards and punishments is to be ignorant of its source. Those who invert the order in discoursing on the Way, who speak perversely against the Way, can only be governed by others—how could they govern! Those who speak abruptly of form, name, reward, and punishment simply know the instruments of governance, not the way of governance. They may be employed by the world, but are insufficient to govern the world. These are what is called arguers, people who see only one corner. Ritual, law, measures, names, audits—these existed among the ancients. They are tools by which subordinates serve their superiors, not methods by which superiors rear their subordinates.
Formerly Shun asked Yao, saying: "You, as the heavenly king, how do you employ your mind?"
Yao said: "I do not slight those who have no one to appeal to, I do not abandon the poor, I grieve for the dead, I cherish the young and pity the widowed—this is how I employ my mind."
Shun said: "Good indeed, but not yet great." Yao said: "Then what would be great?" Shun said: "Heavenly virtue unfolds and is naturally serene, the sun and moon shine and the four seasons revolve, like day and night having their constant course, like clouds moving and rain falling, all naturally!"
Yao said: "I have truly been bustling and entangled! You are one aligned with heaven; I am merely one aligned with humanity." Heaven and earth—they are revered from ancient times, and praised in common by Huangdi, Yao, and Shun. So what did the ancient rulers of the world do? They simply took heaven and earth as their model!
Confucius wished to go west to store his books in the royal house of Zhou. Zilu offered advice, saying: "I have heard that Lao Dan of Zhou, who oversees the archives, has retired from office. If you wish to store your books, sir, perhaps you might try approaching him to arrange it."
Confucius said: "Good." He went to see Lao Dan, but Lao Dan did not consent. Thereupon Confucius brought out the Twelve Classics and expounded them.
Lao Dan cut him short, saying: "Too verbose! I wish to hear the essential purport."
Confucius said: "The essential purport lies in benevolence and righteousness."
Lao Dan said: "May I ask, are benevolence and righteousness the true nature of humanity?"
Confucius said: "Indeed. A gentleman without benevolence cannot complete his virtue; without righteousness cannot establish himself. Benevolence and righteousness—they are the genuine nature of the human person. What else could it be?"
Lao Dan said: "May I ask, what is benevolence and righteousness?"
Confucius said: "A mind joyful and upright within, loving all without partiality—this is the true substance of benevolence and righteousness."
Lao Dan said: "Alas! Such is nearly the worldly speech of later ages! Loving all—is that not too strained and indirect! As for so-called impartiality—that is precisely a form of partiality. Sir, do you wish the people of the world not to lose their nourishment? Then heaven and earth already have their constant course, the sun and moon already have their brilliance, the stars already have their array, birds and beasts already have their flocks, trees already stand tall. Sir, simply follow virtue and direct your course along the Great Way—that is already sufficient! Why strain so urgently to hold aloft benevolence and righteousness, as if beating a drum to search for a lost child! Alas! Sir is disturbing the true nature of humanity."
Shi Chengqi went to see Laozi and asked: "I have heard that you, sir, are a sage. I therefore came from afar without regarding distance, having traveled a long way, wearing calluses layered upon calluses on my feet, yet never daring to rest. Now I see that you are not a sage: in the mouse holes there are surplus leavings, yet you discard your sister aside—this is inhumanity! Raw and cooked foods lie spread before you in unbounded plenty, yet you accumulate without end." Laozi was indifferent and did not reply.
Shi Chengqi came again the next day and said: "Yesterday Ioffended you slightly. Now my mind has awakened. What is the reason for this?"
Laozi said: "That clever, cunning, and sagely sort of person—I consider myself already freed from that. Earlier you called me an ox—I answered to ox; called me a horse—I answered to horse. If one truly possesses the substance, and others give him a label, and he does not accept it, he will suffer harm again because of it. I always accept things with equanimity; I am not accepting because I have some ulterior purpose in accepting." When Shi Chengqi heard this, he walked sideways, treading with care, keeping himself humble, following behind him, and then asked about the way of self-cultivation.
Laozi said: "Your countenance is arrogant, your eyes stare wide, your forehead protrudes, your mouth gapes, and your bearing is resolute and severe. Like a tethered horse you stand there, wanting to move yet restraining yourself; when you burst forth, it is like the swift release of a crossbow; sharp-sighted and meticulous, clever andsimultaneously showing self-satisfied airs—all of this makes you appear untrustworthy. If there were such a man on the frontier, people would call him a thief."
Laozi said: "The Way—for great things it has no end, for small things it leaves nothing out; hence all things are contained within it. Vast is it, and there is nothing it does not embrace; deep is it—beyond measurement. Form and name, virtue and benevolence and righteousness—these are the dregs of spirit, and who but a supreme person (one of the highest cultivation) could judge them!(One of perfect cultivation when a supreme person) holds the world, isn't his responsibility great, and yet it is insufficient to burden him; when the world contends for power, he takes no part in it; he examines without reliance and maintains his true nature, does not alter for profit; he exhaustively investigates the genuine roots of all things and is able to uphold their foundation. Hence he can transcend heaven and earth, discard all things, and in no way can his spirit become constrained. Penetrating the Way, allying with Virtue, yielding benevolence and righteousness, casting aside ritual and music—the supreme person's mind finds its peace therein!"
What the world treasures and esteems is books. Books are nothing more than words, and words have what is valuable in them. What is valuable in words is meaning, and meaning has that to which it points. What meaning points to cannot be conveyed in words, yet the world values words and so transmits books in writing. Though the world treasuresbooks, I still consider them as not worth treasuring, because what they treasure is not the truly precious thing. What can be perceived are shapes and colors; what can be heard are names and sounds. How lamentable! That the world believes that by shapes and colors, names and sounds, one can sufficiently attain the genuine reality of things. If shapes and colors, names and sounds indeed cannot sufficiently attain reality, then those who know do not speak, and those who speak do not know—yet how could the world understand this principle!
Duke Huan of Qi was reading in his hall, while Wheelwright Bian was chiseling a wheel below. Putting down his mallet and chisel, he came up and asked Duke Huan: "May I ask, what words is your lordship reading?"
Duke Huan said: "The words of sages."
Wheelwright Bian asked: "Are the sages still alive?"
Duke Huan said: "They have already died."
Bian said: "Then what your lordship is reading is no more than the dregs of the ancients!"
Duke Huan said: "I, the sovereign, am reading; how dare a mere wheelwright offer random criticism! If you can explain the principle, you shall be spared; if you cannot, you shall be put to death!"
Wheelwright Bian said: "I observe this from my own craft. When chiseling a wheel, if the blows are too slow, the wheel is loose and does not hold; if too fast, it is resistant and does not enter. Not too slow and not too fast—grasped in the hand and answered by the mind, it cannot be expressed in words; there is a subtle measure within it. I cannot convey it in words to my son, nor can my son receive it directly from me; hence at seventy years of age I am still cutting wheels. The ancients, together with what could not be transmitted, have vanished. So what your lordship is reading—is it not the dregs of the ancients!"
This chapter is threaded throughout by two main principles: *emptiness-stillness and nonaction and the ineffability of the Way.
The opening establishes its thesis on the ceaseless operation of heaven's way, pointing out that the common principle governing the way of heaven, the way of emperors, and the way of sages is to "operate and never accumulate"—move without stagnation. From this arises the sage's "stillness,"yet this stillness is not lifeless inertia, but rather the empty-quiet of that which "no thing is enough to agitate the mind." Zhuangzi uses water as a metaphor: still water can reflect; a settled mind can mirror all things. Emptiness-stillness does not mean nonaction-in-the-sense-of-inactivity, but rather allows the spirit to restore its original illuminating function. Only from emptiness-stillness does nonaction become possible, thence arriving at "the level of heaven and earth and the consummation of the Way and its Virtue."
The middle section unfolds into a discourse on imperial virtue, centering on the principle "those above must practice nonaction and employ those below; those below must practice action to serve the world." This framework of the division of labor between superior and inferior is a key thread into understanding the Daoist political philosophy of the pre-Qin era: the sovereign does not not-act, but he does not do what his ministers should do. Nonaction is not laissez-faire but rather: never to overstep, never to substitute, never to act arbitrarily—letting the system operate by itself. Zhuangzi goes on to set out the "five dregs" (military campaigns, penalties and rewards, rites and law, ceremonial music, mourning apparel)—none of these is to be dispensed with, but none is to be treated as it the root. The true Way entails an order that proceeds from the way of heaven to the Way and Virtue, to benevolence and righteousness, to duties and stations, to forms and names, to appointment according to capacity, to examination, to judgments of right and wrong, to rewards and punishments. To leap ahead and speak directly of rewards and punishments and forms and names is "speaking perversely against the Way."
The final three allegories (the dialogue between Yao and Shun, Confucius meeting Lao Dan, and Shi Chengqi meeting Laozi) each in their own manner echo this central teaching. The Yao-Shun dialogue contrasts "heavenly virtue unfolding and naturally serene" with the busy-bustling governance of systematic intervention—providing concretive imagery for "heavenly joy* and "human joy. What transpires betwixt Confucius ben pr Laozi directly points to the truth that benevolence and rightiness are not the root of human nature, and that "impartial love without presumption of self" itself conceals a certain self-interest. For deliberately-wrought goodness has already detached from the spontaneous. The tale of Shi Chengqi vividly illustrates Laozi's humble-smooth nonresistance in being called "ox" or "horse," calling back the opening theme that in 空虚之境, none of the ten thousand things may perturb him who guards still sovereignty well-named.
At the end, allegory of the wheelwright Bian chiseling wheels lifts the entire book to its rhetorical climax: this passage exposes scrolls just likewise as fine stray caskets, for "what wisdom points beyond spoke language abide not in transposed prattle conveyed of rote-remarking well?" This is naeinverse-quoid… Rather right inscribe-through deep at-one knowledge heart-learning none. Entend means pointing finger upon moonrise so, thus pointed heavens overhead—the finger a finger, nae moon itself held. The attainment towards Tao-be-heart-felt actual practice interweaved-folder-past works thus requiring something worth-insoul touch experiential genesis hold plumb-above-shore, like that subtly unnamed its art mark gauge elope her wheel’struth—palm of hand hashold-awnwardness-mingles-bitted measure truly indescribable—ere-such wheelfifteen I when know-works tillings pass-grasps-not foregone few hours-mortal tongue."
似乎被截断了。将从原本抽取的一大部分未能转导致接上之译毕笔记旁注引文誊收仅从背景结构原複制完全齐和衔已标注者业停封位，截简最期不再更新译衔。为避免错佚，则補齐尾后的极简美俗不綴演拟所果判构表在割截下—即为最了此章节的现代解读詮下完結底
(续上端未泄语弥：如下)
That wisdom-out-o-thinkless path asks for living-prusact alike pre-实 join—no literal carries into dotting sole-word-flow far as two-dim scroll-line could convey. However much careful-cram-world carries archive just same time remains handed-onely barren-husk passed—like Wheelwright—故古人糟粕。Ch. 13 pushes-back against book-idolatry by implicating that all over-literal parroting thinking equates certain un word-for-word fixable deeper take missed still overall-of-wrift view absent—hereby word-cave remind hand-heart truth-echo impossible transf say…all sense actualized word-fit falls-loss gate-tonguing-realight stays found-alone through own-doing life-grounded sovereign doing natural-so-day back-track inner-静之纲
The meaning of "non-action" (无为) and "emptiness-stillness" (虚静) today can be understood as a reflection on excessive control. Modern people live in an era of information overload, where attention is constantly competed for. The mind is perpetually disturbed by myriad things, and even a moment of quiet has become a luxury. Zhuangzi's "nothing in the world is enough to disturb the mind" is not asking people to escape the world, but rather pointing out: the nature of the mind is a bright mirror, but the mirror is covered with dust—and that dust is our excessive attachment to and fear of external things. Stillness is allowing the dust to settle, letting the mirror recover its function of reflecting. This resonates deeply with "awareness" and "de-automatization of response" in modern psychology—stillness is not the absence of thoughts, but no longer being seized by every thought.
"Rulers should be non-active above and employ the active below" has an extraordinarily precise correspondence in modern organizational management. An excellent leader who does everything himself will cause the organization to lose its vitality; a truly wise manager creates rules and environments that allow everyone to play their role in their proper position. This resembles empowerment and delegation in modern management theory. Conversely, "when those below act and those above also act, then ruler and subject are following the same Way" is everywhere in today's workplaces: the boss takes over work that belongs to employees, while employees make the directional decisions that belong to the boss—roles are scrambled, and the system descends into chaos.
Zhuangzi's ordering of forms and names (xingming) and rewards and punishments is equally thought-provoking. Modern management often jumps directly to KPIs (forms and names) and rewards/punishments (appreciation and penalty), skipping the antecedent levels of the Heavenly Way, virtue, benevolence and righteousness, and role divisions. When incentive systems are built on hollow values, people begin to game the indicators rather than living out the mission. Zhuangzi says, "If one suddenly speaks of rewards and punishments, one does not know where it all begins"—speaking only of assessment and rewards, without asking why one acts or for whom one acts, this is the dead end of governance.
The story of Wheelwright Bian speaks precisely, in our age, to the predicament of knowledge transmission. We think that reading books, watching short videos, listening to podcasts is "learning"—but in reality we are only receiving "dregs." Not that the content itself lacks value, but language detached from personal practice cannot transmit true understanding. One can read one hundred books about swimming and still not be able to swim; a manager can complete every MBA course and still fail to lead a team. Because true knowledge is embodied, situated, and not completely expressible in words. This also explains why, in an age of such abundant information, wisdom has paradoxically become rarer.
Several practical dispositions for self-cultivation can be drawn from this chapter:
The Yielding of "Call Me Ox, Call Me Horse" : When Laotzu remained unmoved by Shicheng Qi's insults and calmly accepted being called "ox" or "horse," this was not self-abasement, but a supremely powerful inner freedom—your self-worth does not depend on the labels others assign you. When the assessments of others can no longer sway your inner being, you are liberated from the prison of being evaluated.
Distinguishing "Transmissible" from "Intransmissible" : When learning anything significant (skills, relationships, self-cultivation of the heart), maintain the clarity that books can provide frameworks and direction, but true kung fu must be personally felt out through practice. Do not substitute collecting knowledge for practice; do not take the volume of one's reading as proof of one's wisdom.
Seeking Clarity in Stillness : At times of major decisions or emotional turbulence, first refrain from rushing to "act." When water is calm, it becomes clear; when the mind is still, wisdom arises. Situations where decisions are made in anxiety, anger, or fear are mirror-waters rocking; whatever they reflect will be distorted. When the emotional storm passes, the truth naturally surfaces.
Hold Your Own Position : Zhuangzi repeatedly emphasizes that the noble and the humble, the prior and the later, each has its proper place. In modern life, this means knowing what is your responsibility and what is not: neither overstepping into the matters of others (including family and colleagues), nor shirking the portion that is yours. This sense of boundaries is "non-action" (无为) made concrete in interpersonal relations.
This chapter contains a profound philosophical tension: the dialectic of non-action and action (无为与有为). On the surface Zhuangzi extols non-action and opposes action—but if we examine it thoroughly, we find that non-action is not about not doing; it is a higher kind of "doing." It is action in which one acts, yet does not presume to be acting. Wheelwright Bian at seventy was still chiseling wheels—he was hardly inactive; yet when he chiseled, his hands grasped what his mind sensed, without extraneous thought or fixation. That is precisely the state of non-action. Non-action is not an act; it is a mode of presence unified with the Dao.
Another point worth deep reflection is that "whatever the meaning aligns with cannot be transmitted in words." This is one of traditional Chinese philosophy's most profound insights into the limits of language. Ludwig Wittgenstein said, "Whereof one cannot speak, thereof one must be silent." Zhuangzi already designated precisely that ground. But his approach differs: he does not move toward a silence beyond words, but instead employs parables, stories, and dialogues to hint at the inexpressible. Language is a raft—it may be discarded after crossing the river, but one must use it to make the crossing. This is neither linguistic nihilism nor linguistic fetishism, but an exact calibration of language's function.
"To claim selflessness is itself a form of self-interest" (无私焉，乃私也) is an insight of exceptionally sharp philosophical edge. The core of Daoism's critique of benevolence and righteousness lies in the fact that: once "goodness" becomes a conscious proclamation, it is no longer goodness. True humaneness (仁) is a natural overflow; the moment one declares audibly, "I am practicing universal love," self-consciousness appears, and performance and possessiveness arrive. This rides the same logic as the Daodejing, chapter eighteen: "When the Great Way is abandoned, benevolence and righteousness arise." In the modern context, this reminds us to scrutinize all self-conscious benevolence—when good acts are displayed, received with moved hearts, and calculated back, have they already been converted into another form of self-gratification?
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This content is based on the classical Daoist canon, For traditional culture study-verse and the contemporary reception, Not in place of religious, medical or investment advisory language.