Hi,
I am currently reading the Zhuangzi, a work of ancient Chinese Daoist writings. Frankly, the collection is something of a mess, hit and miss, probably written by multiple authors of varying perspectives, in a grab bag ranging from the profound to the silly, the timeless to the simply incomprehensible.
However, putting aside any questions of rebirth and where one "goes" upon death (and how to think of "Creator" or a "Creative Force" to the universe), one story on fate and acceptance in the face of aging and poor health is truly stunning ...
Gassho, J
SatToday
* (The scholar who translated the passage adds this comment on the use of "Creator": [The Four Friends] invoke the image of the “Creator” (more literally, “the maker of transformations,” as reflected in the initial reference: “Creator of Change”). The self-defining nature of the name of this “deity” and the playful language of the passage probably signal that this Creator is a literary rather than a religious object – we certainly know of no religious worship of such a deity. ... Rather, this creator is more like a manufacturer, a personified force that reshapes the raw material of physical existence into new forms, the materials it molds being given by a pre-existing and uncreated cosmos, as the image of the smith in this passage suggests: in this sense, the phrase “creator of change” may be more informative than the term “creator of things.” ... Given the central role of humor, irony, and poetic imagery in the Zhuangzi, a more conservative interpretation here is that the Creator is not a systematic philosophical concept, but a literary device. It tells us that the notion of a master deity in charge of the form and destiny of all things in the world was an intelligible to readers of the time, but should probably not be taken as informative of contemporary religious practices. )
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6.4 The Four Friends
Zisi, Ziyu, Zili, and Zilai were talking together. “Who can look upon Nothing as his head, upon life as his back, upon death as his rump? Whoever knows that life and death, existence and annihilation are all a single body, I will be his friend.”
The four men looked at each other and smiled. There was no disagreement in their hearts, and the four of them became friends.
Soon, Ziyu fell ill. Zisi went to see how he was. “How remarkable!” said Ziyu. “The Creator of things is making me into this hooked shape. A hump has thrust up from my back, my five viscera are top-wards, my cheeks are in the shadow of my belly, my shoulders rise above my head, and my pigtail is pointing at the sky! It must be some dislocation of my yin and yang qi.” Yet he was calm at heart and unconcerned. Crawling to the well, he looked in at his reflection. “Oh, my! The Creator’s made me even more crooked!”
“Do you resent it?” asked Zisi.
“Why, no! What is there to resent? If this goes on perhaps he’ll turn my left arm into a rooster and I’ll keep watch over the night. Or perhaps in time he’ll transform my right arm into a crossbow pellet and I’ll shoot down an owl to roast. Or perhaps he’ll turn my buttocks into cartwheels and I’ll ascend into the sky with my spirit as my horse! Why would I ever want a new carriage again?
“I received life because the season had come. I will lose it in the flow of time. Content with the seasons and dwelling in the flow of time, neither sorrow nor joy can get within me. In ancient times this was called ‘untying the bonds.’ There are those who cannot free themselves because they are bound by things. Besides, no thing can ever prevail over Heaven – that’s the way it has always been. What would I have to resent?”
Then suddenly, Zilai grew ill and lay gasping at the point of death. His wife and children had gathered round in a circle wailing when Zili came to call. “Shoo!” he shouted. “Stand back! Don’t disturb the process of change!”
Then he leaned against the doorway and spoke to Zilai. “How marvelous is the Creator of change! What is he going to make out of you next? Where will he send you? Will he make you into a rat’s liver? Will he make you into a bug’s arm?”
Zilai said, “A child obeys his father and mother and goes wherever he’s told, east or west, north or south. And the yin and yang – they are no less to a person than father and mother! Now that they have brought me to the verge of death, if I should refuse to obey them, how perverse I would be! What fault is it of theirs?
“The Great Clod burdens me with form, labors me with life, eases me in old age, rests me in death. So if I think well of my life, for the same reason I must think well of my death. Were a skilled smith casting metal, if the metal should leap up and say, ‘I insist on becoming a Moye-type sword!’ the smith would regard it as most inauspicious metal indeed. Now having had the audacity to have once taken on human form, I should now say, ‘I won’t be anything but a man! Nothing but a man!’ the Creator would surely regard me as a most inauspicious person.
“So now I think of heaven and earth as a great furnace and the Creator as a great smith. Where could he send me that would not be acceptable? My life complete, I will fall asleep, and then suddenly, I will wake up.”
I am currently reading the Zhuangzi, a work of ancient Chinese Daoist writings. Frankly, the collection is something of a mess, hit and miss, probably written by multiple authors of varying perspectives, in a grab bag ranging from the profound to the silly, the timeless to the simply incomprehensible.
However, putting aside any questions of rebirth and where one "goes" upon death (and how to think of "Creator" or a "Creative Force" to the universe), one story on fate and acceptance in the face of aging and poor health is truly stunning ...
Gassho, J
SatToday
* (The scholar who translated the passage adds this comment on the use of "Creator": [The Four Friends] invoke the image of the “Creator” (more literally, “the maker of transformations,” as reflected in the initial reference: “Creator of Change”). The self-defining nature of the name of this “deity” and the playful language of the passage probably signal that this Creator is a literary rather than a religious object – we certainly know of no religious worship of such a deity. ... Rather, this creator is more like a manufacturer, a personified force that reshapes the raw material of physical existence into new forms, the materials it molds being given by a pre-existing and uncreated cosmos, as the image of the smith in this passage suggests: in this sense, the phrase “creator of change” may be more informative than the term “creator of things.” ... Given the central role of humor, irony, and poetic imagery in the Zhuangzi, a more conservative interpretation here is that the Creator is not a systematic philosophical concept, but a literary device. It tells us that the notion of a master deity in charge of the form and destiny of all things in the world was an intelligible to readers of the time, but should probably not be taken as informative of contemporary religious practices. )
---------------------
6.4 The Four Friends
Zisi, Ziyu, Zili, and Zilai were talking together. “Who can look upon Nothing as his head, upon life as his back, upon death as his rump? Whoever knows that life and death, existence and annihilation are all a single body, I will be his friend.”
The four men looked at each other and smiled. There was no disagreement in their hearts, and the four of them became friends.
Soon, Ziyu fell ill. Zisi went to see how he was. “How remarkable!” said Ziyu. “The Creator of things is making me into this hooked shape. A hump has thrust up from my back, my five viscera are top-wards, my cheeks are in the shadow of my belly, my shoulders rise above my head, and my pigtail is pointing at the sky! It must be some dislocation of my yin and yang qi.” Yet he was calm at heart and unconcerned. Crawling to the well, he looked in at his reflection. “Oh, my! The Creator’s made me even more crooked!”
“Do you resent it?” asked Zisi.
“Why, no! What is there to resent? If this goes on perhaps he’ll turn my left arm into a rooster and I’ll keep watch over the night. Or perhaps in time he’ll transform my right arm into a crossbow pellet and I’ll shoot down an owl to roast. Or perhaps he’ll turn my buttocks into cartwheels and I’ll ascend into the sky with my spirit as my horse! Why would I ever want a new carriage again?
“I received life because the season had come. I will lose it in the flow of time. Content with the seasons and dwelling in the flow of time, neither sorrow nor joy can get within me. In ancient times this was called ‘untying the bonds.’ There are those who cannot free themselves because they are bound by things. Besides, no thing can ever prevail over Heaven – that’s the way it has always been. What would I have to resent?”
Then suddenly, Zilai grew ill and lay gasping at the point of death. His wife and children had gathered round in a circle wailing when Zili came to call. “Shoo!” he shouted. “Stand back! Don’t disturb the process of change!”
Then he leaned against the doorway and spoke to Zilai. “How marvelous is the Creator of change! What is he going to make out of you next? Where will he send you? Will he make you into a rat’s liver? Will he make you into a bug’s arm?”
Zilai said, “A child obeys his father and mother and goes wherever he’s told, east or west, north or south. And the yin and yang – they are no less to a person than father and mother! Now that they have brought me to the verge of death, if I should refuse to obey them, how perverse I would be! What fault is it of theirs?
“The Great Clod burdens me with form, labors me with life, eases me in old age, rests me in death. So if I think well of my life, for the same reason I must think well of my death. Were a skilled smith casting metal, if the metal should leap up and say, ‘I insist on becoming a Moye-type sword!’ the smith would regard it as most inauspicious metal indeed. Now having had the audacity to have once taken on human form, I should now say, ‘I won’t be anything but a man! Nothing but a man!’ the Creator would surely regard me as a most inauspicious person.
“So now I think of heaven and earth as a great furnace and the Creator as a great smith. Where could he send me that would not be acceptable? My life complete, I will fall asleep, and then suddenly, I will wake up.”
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