"The Butterfly Dream"
Zhuangzi Dreaming of a Butterfly, by 18th-century Japanese painter Ike no Taiga
The most famous of all Zhuangzi stories appears at the end of the second chapter, "On the Equality of Things", and consists of a dream being briefly recalled.
昔者莊周夢為胡蝶，栩栩然胡蝶也，自喻適志與。不知周也。
Once, Zhuang Zhou dreamed he was a butterfly, a butterfly flitting and fluttering about, happy with himself and doing as he pleased. He didn't know that he was Zhuang Zhou.
俄然覺，則蘧蘧然周也。不知周之夢為胡蝶與，胡蝶之夢為周與。周與胡蝶，則必有分矣。此之謂物化。
Suddenly he woke up and there he was, solid and unmistakable Zhuang Zhou. But he didn't know if he was Zhuang Zhou who had dreamt he was a butterfly, or a butterfly dreaming that he was Zhuang Zhou. Between Zhuang Zhou and the butterfly there must be some distinction! This is called the Transformation of Things.
— Zhuangzi, chapter 2 (Watson translation)
The image of Zhuang Zhou wondering if he was a man who dreamed of being a butterfly or a butterfly dreaming of being a man became so well known that whole dramas have been written on its theme. In the passage, Zhuang Zhou "[plays] with the theme of transformation", illustrating that "the distinction between waking and dreaming is another false dichotomy. If [one] distinguishes them, how can [one] tell if [one] is now dreaming or awake?"
Zhuangzi Dreaming of a Butterfly, by Japanese painter Shibata Zeshin (1888)
"The Death of Wonton"
Another well-known passage dubbed "The Death of Wonton" illustrates the dangers Zhuang Zhou saw in going against the innate nature of things.
南海之帝為儵，北海之帝為忽，中央之帝為渾沌。儵與忽時相與遇於渾沌之地，渾沌待之甚善。儵與忽謀報渾沌之德，曰：人皆有七竅，以視聽食息，此獨無有，嘗試鑿之。日鑿一竅，七日而渾沌死。
The emperor of the Southern Seas was Lickety, the emperor of the Northern Sea was Split, and the emperor of the Center was Wonton. Lickety and Split often met each other in the land of Wonton, and Wonton treated them very well. Wanting to repay Wonton's kindness, Lickety and Split said, "All people have seven holes for seeing, hearing, eating, and breathing. Wonton alone lacks them. Let's try boring some holes for him." So every day they bored one hole [in him], and on the seventh day Wonton died.
— Zhuangzi, chapter 7 (Mair translation)
Zhuang Zhou believed that the greatest of all human happiness could be achieved through a higher understanding of the nature of things, and that in order to develop oneself fully one needed to express one's innate ability.
"The Debate on the Joy of Fish"
Chapter 17 contains a well-known exchange between Zhuang Zhou and Huizi, featuring a heavy use of wordplay; it has been compared to a Socratic dialogue.
莊子與惠子遊於濠梁之上。莊子曰：儵魚出遊從容，是魚樂也。
Zhuangzi and Huizi were enjoying themselves on the bridge over the Hao River. Zhuangzi said, "The minnows are darting about free and easy! This is how fish are happy."
惠子曰：子非魚，安知魚之樂。莊子曰：子非我，安知我不知魚之樂。
Huizi replied, "You are not a fish. How[a] do you know that the fish are happy?" Zhuangzi said, "You are not I. How do you know that I do not know that the fish are happy?"
惠子曰：我非子，固不知子矣；子固非魚也，子之不知魚之樂全矣。
Huizi said, "I am not you, to be sure, so of course I don't know about you. But you obviously are not a fish; so the case is complete that you do not know that the fish are happy."
莊子曰：請循其本。子曰汝安知魚樂云者，既已知吾知之而問我，我知之濠上也。
Zhuangzi said, "Let's go back to the beginning of this. You said, How do you know that the fish are happy; but in asking me this, you already knew that I know it. I know it right here above the Hao."
— Zhuangzi, chapter 17 (Watson translation)
The precise point Zhuang Zhou intends to make in the debate is not entirely clear. The text appears to stress that "knowing" a thing is simply a state of mind: moreover, that it is not possible to determine whether "knowing" has any objective meaning. This sequence has been cited as an example of Zhuang Zhou's mastery of language, with reason subtly employed in order to make an anti-rationalist point.[32]
"Drumming On a Tub and Singing"
A passage in chapter 18 describes Zhuang Zhou's reaction following the death of his wife, expressing a view of death as something not to be feared.
莊子妻死，惠子弔之，莊子則方箕踞鼓盆而歌。惠子曰：與人居長子，老身死，不哭亦足矣，又鼓盆而歌，不亦甚乎。
Zhuangzi's wife died. When Huizi went to convey his condolences, he found Zhuangzi sitting with his legs sprawled out, pounding on a tub and singing. "You lived with her, she brought up your children and grew old," said Huizi. "It should be enough simply not to weep at her death. But pounding on a tub and singing—this is going too far, isn't it?"
莊子曰：不然。是其始死也，我獨何能無概然。察其始而本無生，非徒無生也，而本無形，非徒無形也，而本無氣。雜乎芒芴之間，變而有氣，氣變而有形，形變而有生，今又變而之死，是相與為春秋冬夏四時行也。
Zhuangzi said, "You're wrong. When she first died, do you think I didn't grieve like anyone else? But I looked back to her beginning and the time before she was born. Not only the time before she was born, but the time before she had a body. Not only the time before she had a body, but the time before she had a spirit. In the midst of the jumble of wonder and mystery a change took place and she had a spirit. Another change and she had a body. Another change and she was born. Now there's been another change and she's dead. It's just like the progression of the four seasons, spring, summer, fall, winter."
人且偃然寢於巨室，而我噭噭然隨而哭之，自以為不通乎命，故止也。
"Now she's going to lie down peacefully in a vast room. If I were to follow after her bawling and sobbing, it would show that I don't understand anything about fate. So I stopped."
— Zhuangzi, chapter 18 (Watson translation)
Zhuang Zhou seems to have viewed death as a natural process of transformation to be wholly accepted, where a person gives up one form of existence and assumes another. In the second chapter, Zhuang Zhou makes the point that, for all humans know, death may in fact be better than life: "How do I know that loving life is not a delusion? How do I know that in hating death I am not like a man who, having left home in his youth, has forgotten the way back? His writings teach that "the wise man or woman accepts death with equanimity and thereby achieves absolute happiness." huang Zhou's death
Zhuang Zhou's own death is depicted in chapter 32, pointing to the body of lore that grew up around him in the decades following his death.[13] It serves to embody and reaffirm the ideas attributed to Zhuang Zhou throughout the previous chapters.
莊子將死，弟子欲厚葬之。莊子曰：吾以天地為棺槨，以日月為連璧，星辰為珠璣，萬物為齎送。吾葬具豈不備邪。何以加此。
When Master Zhuang was about to die, his disciples wanted to give him a lavish funeral. Master Zhuang said: "I take heaven and earth as my inner and outer coffins, the sun and moon as my pair of jade disks, the stars and constellations as my pearls and beads, the ten thousand things as my funerary gifts. With my burial complete, how is there anything left unprepared? What shall be added to it?"
弟子曰：吾恐烏鳶之食夫子也。莊子曰：在上為烏鳶食，在下為螻蟻食，奪彼與此，何其偏也。
The disciples said: "We are afraid that the crows and kites will eat you, Master!" Master Zhuang said: "Above ground I'd be eaten by crows and kites, below ground I'd be eaten by mole crickets and ants. You rob the one and give to the other—how skewed would that be?"
— Zhuangzi, chapter 32 (Kern translation)
**TAO TEI KING** (Tao Te Ching)
The principle is simple, humble, kind, luminous, formless, without attributes, unique, unchanging, omnipresent, undefined, immutable, and empty. It acts completely selflessly. If we imitate it, all things succeed for us. The knowledge humans have of the principle depends on their state of mind. When the mind is free from passions, it knows its mysterious essence; when it is passionate, it only perceives its effects (the world of phenomena). Everyone understands beauty, and through it, the notion of ugliness; goodness, and through it, the notion of evil. Thus, being and non-being, difficult and easy, high and low, long and short, hot and cold, dark and light, heavy and light are correlative notions, one revealing the other.
Disregarding skill would result in no one pushing themselves anymore. Valuing rare objects would cause theft to cease. The sage's politics involve emptying people’s minds and filling their bellies. Everything is resolved through the practice of non-action. No extreme can endure for long. Every peak is inevitably followed by decline. Excess calls for deficiency. Renounce all knowledge, and you will be free of worries. What is the difference between good and evil, beautiful and ugly? Being and non-being? All of this hampers the mind's freedom, which must remain unbound to unite with the Principle.
The sage is simple and natural, with few personal interests and desires. They adhere to unity. They serve without acting, teach without speaking; they allow beings to grow without interference, live without claiming them, act without exploiting them. They do not claim the outcomes of their actions, and thus, their outcomes endure. The sage gives, for the more they give, the more they have. The more they act for others, the more they can. They imitate heaven, benefiting all without opposing anyone. By clinging to nothing and letting all flow, nothing escapes their grasp.
Seeking purity and peace by withdrawing from the world is an exaggeration. These can be achieved amidst the world's turmoil through inner calm, as long as one does not grieve over the world’s impurities and follows the universal movement without desiring its cessation. Being aware of one's masculinity while remaining in the feminine’s lower state shows the preservation of primal virtue within. Knowing oneself as enlightened yet appearing ignorant demonstrates unity with the Principle. Knowing oneself worthy of glory yet staying in obscurity proves the retention of original selflessness and natural simplicity.
It is from the intangible, the void, that efficacy and results arise. One who has attained maximum emptiness is firmly rooted in the restfulness of non-being. Countless beings emerge from non-being, and I see them return, then be reborn again, and die anew. This is the alternation of life and death. Knowing others is wisdom; knowing oneself is superior wisdom. Enforcing one's will on others is strength; self-mastery is superior strength. Being content with one's destiny is true wealth; self-discipline is true character. Remaining in one’s place ensures longevity. After death, continuing to exist is true immortality, a result of conforming to nature and destiny. Conforming to the Principle means diminishing oneself daily to return to primal simplicity.
The one who speaks does not know the Principle. The one who knows the Principle does not speak. They close their mouth, control their breath, blunt their activity, release all complications; temper their light, and blend with the common. They are indifferent to gain and loss, exaltation and humiliation. In being thus, nothing in the world surpasses them. Knowing everything and believing one knows nothing—that is true wisdom. Knowing nothing and believing one knows everything—that is the common folly of mankind. The sage lets all beings follow their diverse natures: the agile and slow, the apathetic and ardent, the strong and weak, the persistent and unstable. They simply curb excesses harmful to the collective, such as power, wealth, and ambition, remembering the unnamed nature—primal simplicity.
In this primal state, without desires, all is at peace; the state governs itself. When governance is simple, the people abound in virtue. When governance is political, the people lack virtue. To cooperate with heaven in governing humanity, moderation is essential. This moderation ensures perfect efficacy, succeeding in all, even in ruling an empire. If a great state humbles itself like a basin where waters converge, everyone will come to it. It will be like the universal feminine. In its apparent passivity and inferiority, the feminine is superior to the masculine. By humbling itself, the great state wins over smaller states, which, humbling themselves, seek its protection. But great states must deign to lower themselves to the small.
In ancient times, those who conformed to the Principle did not seek to make the people intelligent but aimed to keep them simple. When people are hard to govern, it is because they know too much. Those who seek a nation's good through spreading knowledge are mistaken and ruin the country. Keeping the people in ignorance is the salvation of the country. This is the formula of mysterious action—deep, far-reaching. It is not popular, but through it, all comes peacefully to good. Everywhere and always, the soft overcomes the hard.
Non-being penetrates even where there is no crack. Thus, I conclude the efficacy of non-action. In this world, nothing is softer or weaker than water; yet no being, however strong, withstands its action for long. Ocean waves overcome the hardest cliffs; yet no one can live without water. Likewise, a newborn is soft and weak. When one becomes strong, solid, rigid, death takes hold. Strength and power signify death; weakness and flexibility signify life. Is it not clear enough that weakness surpasses strength and flexibility outdoes rigidity?
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