MEDITATIONS: ZHUANGZI, CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Knowinghood Journeys North
And so we come to the end of the outer chapters, a foray into various arrays of Taoist interpretation: from the Rousseauian utopian return to nature, to a fusion of Confucian and traditional Taoist ideas, to this final chapter—a profound harkening back to the beginning, to the inner chapters.
Knowinghood journeyed north beyond the Darkwater, ascending the Hills of Hidden Jutting, where he met Nodoing Nosaying. Knowinghood said, “I want to ask you something. What should I think of, what should I consider, in order to know the Course? Where should I settle, what should I serve, in order to rest securely in the Course? What should I follow, what course should I take as my guide, in order to get the Course?” He asked three questions, but Nodoing Nosaying did not answer. It wasn’t that he was unwilling to answer; he did not now to answer, he did not know how to answer, he did not know any answer. (Zhuangzi 174)
Just as we did with Kun, Peng, and the journey between Northern and Southern Oblivions, we must order-abstract if we are to comprehend the depths of meaning latent within the story.
Our inquisitive wanderer, Knowinghood, is he who wishes to and believes he can consciously understand. He is conscious understanding itself personified. His adventure beyond northern the Darkwater is an expedition into the depths of the unknown and the unconscious. For the Northern Oblivion is where the cosmogonic egg first hatched, where Kun became Peng before beginning his great ascent of consciousness. That is why there are the Hills of Hidden Jutting. Knowinghood must himself ascend as to become aware of his own hidden, unconscious depths. That is also why he encounters the sage Nodoing Nosaying at this very precipice. He is the personification of Wuwei, uncontrived-action or action-without-conscious-intent. He does without seeming or trying to do, without really being capable of explaining himself.
The three questions Knowinghood asks are the conscious-understanding’s attempt to conceive or contain the elusive ineffable Way—or, more accurately said: the Tao that cannot be named, or the source of the Tao way of life.
Of course, Knowinghood, having received no answer, is unsatisfied:
Having received no response, Knowinghood traveled back to the south of Clearwater, ascending the Hills of Doubt Silenced, and met Wild and Twisty there. He asked him the same questions. Wild and Twisty said, “Ah! This I know! Let me tell you!” But just as he was about to speak, he forgot what he was going to say. (174)
South of Clearwater—read: beyond what seems obvious, clear, and/or certain—on the Hills of Doubt Silenced, where our doubts die when we believe we understand, when we believe we have already obtained the Truth, awaits the man named Wild and Twisty. What is he? Perhaps he’s the unaccounted variable, the snake hidden in the grass, the deviation from one’s map that demonstrates the limitations of each particular way—each particular course, as opposed to the Great Course. Like the sage before him, he cannot answer either, though he thinks he can. He is much like a natural Confucian scholar who, though he can tell you all about cultivation of character and humankindness, and though that has brought him in accord with the Way, cannot actually tell you about your course or about the Great Course itself. He seems to know; he even embodies the Way, but is one step obscured by the clarity of his conscious-understanding.
But Knowinghood doesn’t have anyone to tell him this, not until he visits the Yellow Emperor:
Still having obtained no answer, Knowinghood returned to the Imperial Palace, where he asked the same questions of the Yellow Emperor.
“Only when you think of nothing and consider nothing,” said the Yellow Emperor, “will you know the Course. Only when you settle nowhere and serve nothing will you rest securely in the Course. Only when you follow nothing and take no course as your guide will you get the Course.”
“Now you and I know this,” said Knowinghood, “while the other two do not. Who is right?”
“Only Nodoing Nosaying is truly right,” said the Yellow Emperor. “Wild and Twisty only seems to be right. “As for you and me, we are nowhere near.” . . .
When Wild and Twisty heard about this conversation, he concluded that the Yellow Emperor was a man who truly knew all about words. (Zhuangzi 174-5)
Not for the first time are we, the readers and scholars of the text, reminded that our endeavor is ironically the least fruitful. We, like the Yellow Emperor, are learning all about words which describe mere descriptions of the Way. Truly, we find ourselves as students of mere shadows-on the wall. This is because we seek to know, to obtain conscious-understanding. We are contriving. when we ought to be applying, doing without trying to predetermine our intentions. We are clinging to our individual, particular ways without realizing that by letting them go, we bring ourselves into greater accord with the Way.
Truly, in all our study, we learn nothing not worth unlearning in the end. As the Yellow Emperor says:
“You and I are nowhere near it, because we know it.” (175)
Zhuangzi. Zhuangzi; The Complete Writings, translated by Brook Ziporyn, Hackett Publishing Company Inc., 2020
