Chaung Tzu’s Taoist
philosophy extends the offer of a rich, rewarding
existence through a concentration on one’s inner life. Whereas most philosophies immediately set forth a dry, static
definition, Taoism does not. This refusal to define embodies an important tenet of the Taoist philosophy-
everything is constantly in transformation. Therefore, all attempts at labeling or
systematization according to the dictates of man are futile. Immediately, a contrast is drawn between the philosophy of Chaung Tzu and the philosophy of the great Chinese thinker,
Confucius. Indeed, Chuang Tzu’s insistence that "the Tao that shines through is not Tao" stands in direct opposition to Confucius’ call to "rectify the names". As a philosophy, Taoism contradicts
Confucianism and uses it as an example of all that is wrong with the world. In this paper I will give a brief outline of the main points of Taoism in order to delineate the gap between the philosophy of Chuang Tzu and that of Confucius.
"Master Sung Jung Tzu would burst out laughing. The whole world could prize him and he
would work no harder; the whole world could call him wrong, and yet he would persist. He knows what is
Inner and what is Outer; he knows the difference between true honor and disgrace. It’s as simple as that.
In this world, few can equal him when it comes to instinctively knowing and doing what is right. But despite
his proximity to perfection, he has not yet attained the perfection of a tree."
(The Essential Chuang Tzu)
This paragraph serves as an adequate starting point for a discussion of Taoism. Here, Chuang Tzu calls attention to the importance of the inner, spiritual life. First, however, an important distinction is drawn between the Inner and Outer Worlds. The Outer World revolves around a materialistic basis of tangible, man made things with specific functions and uses. According to Taoism, this world of distractions is what enables people to forget or overlook what is truly important in life. Indeed, in this story the Outer World is associated with disgrace. Solutions to these distasteful problems of man are sought after through intense immersion in the Inner World. It is there, in what Chuang Tzu refers to as Heaven, that Truth can be found. However, Master Sung has not yet made it all the way. For him to be fully in touch with the Tao he must achieve the perfection of a tree.
In order to understand what this means it is necessary to explore the problems that Chuang Tzu observes in the Outer World of human society. Taoists maintain that humans are too wrapped up in the "usefulness" of the world and are thereby prevented from fully experiencing life. These material distractions allow man to change his true nature.
"From the time of the Three Dynasties on down, everyone has let things change their nature. Mean men risk their bodies for profit.Knights risk those for fame. Great ministers risk their bodies for the sake of their families, the sage for All-under-heaven. All these may differ in what they do and in the fame
or infamy they gain, but in wounding their nature by risking their bodies, they are one."
As man changes their own nature and move further from the Tao they, in turn, prevent other things from following their natural course through life. There is no need to interrupt what will continue at its own pace.
"In All-under-heaven, all things pass into being, none knowing why they live and grow.
Likewise all things attain what they attain, and there is no knowing how or whence they get it. In this, the ancient past and the present are not two. Nothing’s been broken off. Nothing is missing."
The only way to achieve this sort of inner peace is by shedding the hindrances placed on our nature by society. Chuang Tzu uses the story of Chef Ting to poetically illustrate this point. Ting, the master chef, has used only one blade in preparing meat for nineteen years. This has only been possible by the extreme care he takes in cutting away what is unnecessary and avoiding all central arteries and tendons. However, he does inevitably hit a rough spot. When this happens he slows, pauses to reflect, then proceeds slowly until satisfied. With this story, Chuang Tzu uses a beautiful metaphor to describe the patience necessary to complete the process. Only when this is accomplished can the Taoist partake of the fasting of heart and mind.
"Don’t listen with your ear; listen with your heart and mind. Then stop listening with your heart
and mind and listen with your ch’i, the very energy of your being. Hearing stops with the ear. Heart
and mind stop with words and symbols. The ch’i is empty. Being so, it is able to attend upon all phenomena. Tao comes to roost in emptiness. This emptiness is the fasting of the mind."
When the Taoist is able to master himself and has concentrated his focus on the emptiness of the ch’i he has achieved the state of the tree. One who is in touch with the Tao has, in essence, lost himself and learned the use of uselessness. What is useless to society, the Outer World, is useful in the sense that it is following the course set forth by nature. This is the perfection that the tree attains so effortlessly.
"Now you have this huge tree. You think it’s terrible that no one can cut it for use.
Why not let it be a tree?- in the Village of No-Thing, where the wilds spread out in every direction toward No-Place. Sit beneath it and master the art of nondoing. Wander freely, easily into dreams beneath it.
Forget the ax- nothing can harm it. Nothing can possibly be of use. Where’s the problem?"
Confucianism, to Chuang Tzu, embodies all that is opposite of the Tao. Throughout his writings he uses a character called Confucius to warn people away from the dangers of the Outer World. Chuang Tzu puts Confucius on trial for attempting to form the minds of men without properly knowing himself.
"Oh, be done! Be done with drawing people on by the power of your virtue! It’s
dangerous, very dangerous to mark the Way in the dust so as to set people running. False light!
There is no injury in my way of going. My tracks run crooked, but they don’t hurt my feet. The mountain
is self-plundering, the fat fuels its own fire. Cinnamon is edible, so they cut it down. The lacquer
tree is useful, so they hack at it. Everyone knows the use of usefulness; nobody understands the
usefulness of the useless."
The Madman of Ch’u warns Confucius of the dangerous road he is traveling, but this does not make a difference in the stubborn man’s path. Indeed, since Confucius does not know himself his teaching is invalid. According to the Taoist, any definite claim of knowledge is a sure sign of one who has been led astray.
"The one who doesn’t know is right," the Yellow Emperor replied. "The one who forgot is pretty close. You and I aren’t even close
because we know."
Chuang Tzu’s final attack on Confucius comes through the story of the Old Fisherman. In several long passages he accuses Confucius of creating false mechanisms and principles to help people when he cannot even help himself. (156) The focus on ritual found in Confucius’ teachings is an empty devotion to customs created by contemporaries. As we all know, truth cannot be found in the Outer World. The noble value of truth lies inside; it comes from Heaven. This blistering attack causes the doctrines of Confucianism to crumble. However, Chuang Tzu’s best criticism of Confucius comes in the form of a quiet, somber parable.
"There once was a man who feared his own shadow and who hated his footprints
and tried to escape from them. The more he lifted his feet, the more tracks he made. As fast as he
could go, his shadow remained with him. Thinking he was still going too slow, he streaked like
an arrow until all his strength was spent, and he died. He didn’t realize that sitting in the shade of a
tree would do away with his shadow, and living quietly would leave his traces to fade away. Stupid.
Extremely stupid."
This final refutation of Confucius returns the student of Taoism to the tree. Here is where the simple strength and beauty of Chuang Tzu’s teachings lie. It is not in the passionate preaching of Confucius that truth is found, but in the calm quiet created when one is in tune with his surroundings and nature is allowed to flow around him. If only we were able to extract ourselves from the uselessness of the useful much good could be accomplished.