great ancestral teacher, The

American Poetry Review, The, May/Jun 1998 by Tzu, Chuang

Chuang Tzu is the grandfather of philosophical Taoism. Little is known of his personal life in the third century BCE, but his anecdotal teachings and teaching style have been a major influence in Zen as well as in trans-Asian culture in general. The Essential Teachings of Chuang Tzu, translated by Sam Hamill and J. P. Seaton, from which this piece is excerpted, is forthcoming from Shambhala Publications. Sam Hamill's recent books include The Spring of My Life, translated from the Japanese of Kobayashi Issa, and Destination Zero: Poems 1970-1995. Carnegie-Mellon University Press recently published his essays, A Poet's Work: The Other Side of Poetry. His new poems, Gratitude, will be published by BOA Editions this summer.

J. P. Seaton is translator of I Don't Bow to Buddhas: Selected Poems of Yuan Mei and Love & Time: Poems of Ou-yang Hsiu, and co-editor of A Drifting Boat: Chinese Zen Poetry. He teaches Chinese at the University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill.

Those who know heaven and know humankind are there. Those who know heaven know heaven gives one life. Whoever knows humankind uses knowing to nurture what cannot be known. They will run out the string of their years and not find it cut off in the middle. This is the fullest knowledge. And yet, though this is so, there is a problem: knowledge waits on certainty, but certainty is never quite certain. How can I know that what I call "heaven" is not really "humankind," or that what I call "humankind" is not really "heaven"? Only when there is one who is truly human can there be True Knowledge.

What is a true human? The true ones of antiquity didn't reject being solitary, didn't crow about accomplishments, and didn't lay plans. Just so! When they failed, they felt no regret. When they succeeded, they didn't grow self-satisfied. Just so! They climbed high without fear. They went into the water without sinking. They went into fire without feeling the heat. This is how close their knowledge had risen toward the Way.

The True Ones of antiquity slept without dreams and awakened without anxiety. They did not need to sweeten what they ate. They breathed deep. The True One breathes from the heels; ordinary people breathe from their throats.

The crooked retch up their words like vomit. In those whose lusts are deep, the motion of heaven is shallow. The True Ones of antiquity didn't know to take joy from life, didn't know to despise death. Coming forth, they didn't rejoice; going back, they did not resist. Gone suddenly on the wing or coming on the wing, that's all. Never forgetting the womb we spring from, they face the winter wherein their strings will end. Receiving and enjoying, forgetting and beginning again, this is what is called "not letting the heart and mind devour the Way, not letting humankind help' heaven." This is what I mean when I say, "True Human."

Because one is so, his heart and mind let go, his face is quiet, his brow calm. He is cool as autumn, warm as spring. Knowing joy and anger like the circling seasons, he knows the potency of all things. There is no knowing his limits. Thus, when the sage of old raised armies, he might lose his land, but never the hearts and minds of his people. He anointed ten thousand generations with his bounty, but not merely for the affection of the people.

Those who delighted in bringing success to things were not sages. Those who felt affection were not truly benevolent. Those who acted at the appointed times were not worthy. Those who could not reconcile damage and advantage were not princes. Those who lost their bodies in the search for fame were not knights. And those who lost their bodies without regard for the True? They weren't even fit to be lackeys. Famous men like Hu Pu-hsieh, Wu Kuang, Po Yi, Shu Ch'i, Chi Tzu, Hsu Yu, Chi T'o and Shen-t'u Ti were the lackeys of lackeys. They strove to achieve others' ends, never achieving their own.

The True One of antiquity was a lonely peak standing apart from the crumbling range, a solitary figure who didn't need to form a "party." Seeming always to lack, the True One accepted nothing, standing four-square without being rigid, being plain rather than flashy, smiling as if happy, but quick to do what he had no choice but to do. What gathered within the True One put a glow on the face. What he gave did not go beyond the power of his virtue. He could be harsh as any in his world, arrogant and uncontrollable, a hard man, heart gone elsewhere, words forgotten. He took punishment to be the body, ritual to be the wings. He took knowledge as timeliness, and the Power of Virtue as his only force. Taking punishment as the body, he was kind when he had to kill. Taking ritual as wings, he moved freely in his world. Taking knowledge as timeliness, he saw that there were times when he had no choice but to act. Seeing the Power of Virtue as his only power, he was one whose own two feet were sufficient to get to the top of any hill. Yet people persisted in thinking he worked hard to get there.

What he loves is One. What he doesn't love is One. What he takes as One is One. What he doesn't take as One is One. What is at one is the companion of heaven. What is not at one is the companion of humanity. When neither heaven nor humankind is victor or vanquished, we find what is meant by the True Human.