MEDITATIONS: ZHUANGZI, CHAPTER SIX

The Great Source as Teacher

We approach a rather difficult chapter, “The Great Source as Teacher.” Even after reading this chapter multiple times over multiple sessions, I am still filled with uncertainty. Perhaps this is appropriate, given the subject matter up for discussion. After all, the Great Source for which this chapter is titled is the Source of the Tao, which is itself the path which emulates the transcendent, indeterminate chaotic potential that we’ve established to be the metaphysical object reality—at least, insofar as I’ve managed to adaptively interpret the Zhuangzi.

Let’s use that as our inroad: we are to think of “The Great Clump”, as Zhuang Zhou is wont to call “The Great Source,” as a teacher whom through the Tao we might learn—or unlearn—to emulate. I say “unlearn,” because conscious understanding is precisely what Zhuangzi, and Lao Tzu for that matter, identify as inhibiting factors to following The Course. For what is a course or path or empty river but a vacant space through which something else might flow? That is what is meant by being an empty vessel. To be such is to empty one’s cup so that spontaneous self transformation has room to occur:

For that Course has its realness and reliability, but without any deliberate deeds and without any definite form, actual and true but only through non-doing and formlessness. (Zhuangzi 56)

To learn from The Great Source requires following The Course, and following The Course means a fasting-of-the-mind, an emptying of presumptive thought as to allow room for new ideas to simultaneously enter from outside and spontaneously generate outward from with—all the while retaining of oneself despite the incorporation of the unknown and foreign. It is to become like,

The Genuine-Humans of old…taking part in all things, they were solitary but never rigid. Spreading out everywhere, they were empty but never insubstantial. (Zhuangzi 54-55)

To help us understand, we must know what is meant by “Genuine” and “Human.” That which is Genuine is that which is of the domain of Heaven. For example,

Life and Death are fated, and that hey come with the regularity of day and night is of Heaven—that which humans can do nothing about, simply the way things are. (Zhuangzi 55)

Whereas, that which is Human is, “what your understanding understands” (Zhuangzi 53), referring here to the conscious understanding and will which determines our attention, attitudes, and decisions.

Considering these definitions together, we discover what is perhaps a useful conscious understanding of the concept of Wuwei—of no-mind and no-action. But why do I mention “useful?” Here, I depart into some of my own personal thoughts.

My experience of other people’s interpretations of much eastern philosophy is either shallow or nihilistic. Whether it be Buddhism, Taoism, or Hinduism, I have seen and continue to see the wisdom therein reduced to sloganeering or worse, to an excuse to join into the Mephistophelian death-cult that is the will-to-unbeing and denial of life. While I can appreciate that life is suffering, and while I acknowledge the stoic truth in regard to the limitations Nature imposes upon our wills, I reject on its face any philosophical interpretation which is incapable of affirming the conditions of life. This is my warning to myself and anyone who has ears to listen, “Be wary of all philosophy which makes you weak.” Weakness is not a virtue, but a vice through which vicious suffering spawns like demons out from the maw of Hell.

It is for the above reason I favor this interpretation of Wuwei, an interpretation which requires both the dissolving and retaining of the self. The goal, as far as I can tell, is not the elimination of suffering through the succumbing of conscious desire to the oneness of the universe. Instead, the suffering self is retained, but allowed to change and transform while still retaining some essential essence of itself. Perhaps this appeals to my interest in Jungian psychology and the idea of a Self-archetype. If so, then maybe this is the correct interpretation only for me and that others are better off thinking about Wuwei differently. Such a lack of dogmatism does seems in accord with the Tao: that Course in a constant state of change to which we adapt ourselves.

And that, I believe, returns us to our discussion about The Great Source specifically as a teacher, as a thing to learn from and emulate. Now, that begs the question, “What kind of teach is this Great Clump?” To answer this, I leave you with the following conversation:

Master Thinkyou went to see Xu You. Xu You asked him, “How did Yao instruct you?”

Thinkyou said, “he told me to devote myself wholeheartedly to humankindness and responsible conduct, and to speak clearly of right and wrong.”

Xu You said, “then what on earth did you come her for? Yao has already tattooed your face with humankindness and responsible conduct, and de-nosed you with right and wrong. How can you ever roam in the far-flung and unconstrained paths of wild unbound twirling and tumbling?”

Thinkyousaid, “Nontheless, I’d like to roam at least around its outskirts.”

Xu You said, “Not possible. The blind have no way to take part in the fineness of a lovely face, and the sightless have no way to take part in the marvel of vividly embroidered garments.”

Thinkyou said, “But Wuzhuang lost his beauty, Juliang lost his strength, the Yellow Emperor lost his wisdom, all from being knocked about in the great smelting and hammering. How do you know the Creator of Things will not wipe away my tattoo and restore my nose, making me intact to follow you?”

Xu You said, “Ah! It is indeed unknowable. I will speak to you of the broad outlines then: My teacher! My teacher! He destroys all things, but he is not being just. His bounty reaches all things, but he is not being kind. He is an elder to the remotest antiquity, but without being old. He covers and supports heaven and earth and carves out all forms, but without being skillful. It is all the play of his wandering, nothing more.” (Zhuangzi 61-62)

Zhuangzi. Zhuangzi; The Complete Writings, translated by Brook Ziporyn, Hackett Publishing Company Inc., 2020