This strikes me as a very sane outlook on living. Not really a philosophy,
but a way of living that is natural, human, and flexible. Somewhat similar in spirit
to Rudyard Kipling’s “If” And this comparison isn’t vapid even when knowing about
the diffusive prehistorical East-West contacts, because
Chuang Tzu and Kipling are separated by 2400 years, racial
and civilizational distance (assuming that something isn’t completely
lost in translation). There is the attitude of separateness, individualism
as bequeathed by nature, not people. That people have lives in nature
as well as social lives, but finally in the beginning, the end, and
in every direction, it’s nature and more nature. For Chuang Tzu,
nature, good sense, maybe intelligence “wins”. And why should these
things win? Because it is just that the Tao or universe is okay. Heaven
and hell add up. Positive infinity plus negative infinity add up
to indeterminate. Is there a problem here?
The True Man
What is meant by a “true man”?
The true men of old were not afraid
when they stood alone in their views.
No great exploits. No plans.
If they failed, no sorrow.
No self-congratulation in success.
They scaled cliffs, never dizzy.
Plunged in water, never wet,
Walked through fire and were not burnt.
Thus their knowledge reached all the way to the Tao.
The true men old
Slept without dreams.
Woke without worries.
Their food was plain.
They breathed deep.
Others breathe with their gullets, half-strangled.
In dispute they heave up arguments like vomit.
Where the fountains of passion lie deep
The heavenly springs
Are soon dry.
The true men of old knew no lust for life,
No dread of death.
Their entrance was without gladness,
Their exit, yonder, Without resistance.
Easy come, easy go.
They did not forget where from,
Nor ask where to,
Nor drive grimly forward fighting their way through life.
They took life as it came, gladly;
Took death as it came, without care; And went away, yonder, Yonder!
They had no mind to fight Tao.
They did not try, by their own contriving, To help Tao along.
These are the ones we call true men.
Minds free, thoughts gone
Brows clear, faces serene.
Were they cool? Only cool as autumn.
Were they hot? No hotter than spring. All that came out of them
came quiet, like the four seasons.