PASSAGES FROM HERRLEE G. CREEL
Like a number of other scholars I believe that the Chuang
Tzu was written, in large part at least, not far from 300 BC and that it
contains our finest exposition of Taoist thinking. As the Chuang Tzu describes
the Tao it is not merely a substance and a thing. It is the only substance and
the only thing, for it is the totality of all things whatsoever. It includes,
as a persistent questioner was told to his embarrassment, ordure and urine.
While it always seems to be in flux, the balance of its forces is forever the
same, so that in a larger sense it is unchanging. And it is absolutely indivisible.
Since it is indivisible, it follows that it cannot be described in words or
even comprehended by thought. It also follows that apparent lesser objects,
like you and me, exist only as inseparable parts of the great whole, and we are
as old, and as young, as the heavens and the earth. There is no point, then, in
feverish attempts to move parts of the Tao from one place to another. The enlightened
man knows that all things are safe “in the one treasury”; he leaves his gold in
the fastness of the mountains, his pearls in the depths of the sea. Nor is
there any cause for concern as to one’s own fate. “In the universe,” the Chuang
Tzu tells us, “all things are one. For him who can but realize his indissoluble
unity with the whole, the parts of his body mean no more than so much dust and
dirt, and death and life, end and beginning, are no more to him than the
succession of day and night. They are powerless to disturb his tranquillity.”
Sanskrit scholars will have been reminded of the famous
statement of the Upanishads, “That art Thou.” Such resemblances were to play an
important role when Buddhism entered China, around the beginning of the Christian
Era.
In the Chuang Tzu, as for the Confucians, Tao denoted method
as well as entity. But a method of doing what? There is not, in this
philosophy, a basis for any very positive action. The Tao is unknowable, in its
essence, and the most enlightened sage is ignorant. Morally, Taoist philosophy
is completely indifferent. All things are relative. “Right” and “wrong” are
just words which may apply to the same thing, depending upon which partial
viewpoint we see it from. For each individual there is a different “true” and a
different “false”. From the transcendent viewpoint of the Tao all such things
are irrelevant. To advocate such Confucian virtues as benevolence and
righteousness is not merely foolish, but likely to do harm, for the advocate
betrays an unwarranted and dangerous assurance.
What, then, should one do? “Wu wei”, the Chuang Tzu says, “Do
nothing, and everything will be done.” And it is very near to really meaning
just that. “The small man sacrifices himself in the pursuit of gain, the
superior man devotes his whole existence to the struggle for fame. Their
reasons for relinquishing the normal feelings of men and warping their natures are
quite different, but in that they abandon the proper human course and give over
their whole lives to a strange and unnatural endeavour, they are exactly the
same. Therefore it is said, do not be a small man, thus to destroy the very
essence of your being. And do not try to be a superior man, either. Follow the
natural course. No matter whether crooked or straight, look at all things in
the light of the great power of nature that resides within you. Look around
you! Attune yourself to the rhythm of the seasons. What difference whether it
is called right or wrong. Hold fast to the unfettered wholeness that is yours,
carry out your own idea, bend only with the Tao.”
But what, one may ask, does this come to in practice? Very
little, it must be admitted. The Chuang Tzu says repeatedly that one should be
selfless. But a living being cannot be wholly selfless. At the least one must
eat, and this means competition. The Chuang Tzu itself tells us that some
critics said that only a dead man could be a good Taoist, in the sense we have
been discussing.
This is not the place to expatiate upon the merits of this
particular aspect of Taoism. It may be noted however, that while it is quite
lacking in any practical program, it has provided a haven of inner strength, a
refuge from vicissitude, for great numbers of Chinese from antiquity to the
present day. I propose calling this aspect of Taoism “contemplative Taoism”.
