MEDITATIONS: ZHUANGZI, CHAPTER EIGHT
Webbed Toes
Chapter Eight brings us from the core, inner chapters to the outer chapters, notable for the sudden shift in style, subtlety, and focus of subject matter. It is very possible, and in fact seems likely, that this section, as well as the rest of the collection, are authored by entirely different contributors than Zhuangzi himself. Regardless, we shall continue onward with our Meditations as prior.
It matters not from where an idea comes, but what one does with it once one has caught it—at least, I feel this notion to be in accord with the Will to Life and to Truth, and with the Tao.
And today, we catch a slippery carp whose evanescence calls into question the utility of all hooks and nets, whose gaping maw is so endless that it threatens to swallow our very conceptions of good and bad. Today, we learn that what we consider vital, core, or self-evident we be in fact something extraneous:
A “dangling wart or swollen tumor”—yes, they do indeed emerge from one’s own body, but they are still extraneous to the body’s inborn nature. And those who have excessive sidegrowths in their humankindness and sense of responsibility and then put these into action, yes, they can even be correlated to the five internal organs! But this is not the true and unskewed condition of the Course and its intrinsic powers. (Zhuangzi 77)
Good can be born from that which is bad, and bad from that which is good. Likewise, there are times when, taken too far, virtues suddenly reverse into vices, and vice verse, vices become virtues. Why is this? A Greek philosopher, say a student of Aristotle, might speak to the golden mean. The average person on the street might repeat the cliché, “everything in moderation.” But what Zhuangzi argues is something more reminiscent of a Nietzschean argument, that the “imbalance” we’re witness to is an imbalance particular to the intrinsic nature of the individual. In Jungian terms, one has identified too strongly with a persona and thereby deviated too far from the archetype of his potential self.
Think of it this way: there is no such thing as an imbalance of healthy cells, perhaps because what constitutes “health” already assumes the proper proportions of altruism and egoism within the individual. However, there is such a thing as an imbalance of growth. We call this either degeneration or cancer—a kind of under or over attending to one’s biological flourishing. But what about one’s moral flourishing?
Just as with the body, one’s spirit requires the proper proportions for it to be life-affirming (i.e. in accord with the Tao). Too much altruism is self-destructive, suicidal, a turning away from life. Too much selfishness is gluttony and avarice, corruption, and an attempt to shunt away all that is uncomfortable or unliked. Too much freedom is unconstructive chaos, and too much discipline is stultifying, adaptive order.
And do not forget, as I mentioned, that this is all particular to the individual. The master (to the degree he is master of himself and his skill) requires a relative abundance of freedom; while the slave, the servant, the apprentice, and the student all require relatively firm boundaries and structure. The sympathetic soul needs to give in relatively great amounts, and the warrior needs to lead and to dominate relatively high in his competitive hierarchy. To think otherwise is like trying to alter an animals fundamental nature:
The duck’s neck may be short, but lengthening it would surely pain him; the swan’s neck may be long, but cutting it short would surely grieve him. . . . Whether something is added or something is taken away, the sorrow is the same. These days the “humane men” gaze wide-eyed into the distance worrying about all the world’s troubles, while the inhumane men mutilate themselves on wealth and rank. Thus do I surmise that humankindness and responsible conduct are not the uncontrived condition of man! . . .
So to subordinate your inborn nature to humankindness and responsible conduct, even if you succeed like Zeng Shen and Shi Yu, is not what I call good. . . . What I call good is not humankindness and responsible conduct, but just being good at what is done by your own intrinsic virtuosities.” (Zhuangzi 78, 80)
Who you are and who you could become are, in a sense, already inside you. What is good and what is bad, your correct moral formula, is likewise within you, however difficult it is to see. It is something shaped like how your body is shaped—partly inherited by nature and partly inherited by environment—and lastly, partly influenced by what emerges when those two things come together and interface with the world.
This is all just to say that while balance is important, you ought to remember than what constitutes balance depends on your individual center of gravity.
Zhuangzi. Zhuangzi; The Complete Writings, translated by Brook Ziporyn, Hackett Publishing Company Inc., 2020