Chapter 1.3

Mounting the world as your chariot

This story is the third in a three-part sequence. The previous story is: We happy cicadas

South of Chu there are netherworld sprites who with five hundred years traverse their spring; with five hundred years, their autumn.
In remote antiquity there were great cedars who with eight thousand years traversed their spring; with eight thousand years, their autumn.
Nowadays, though, Grandfather Peng* is renowned for longevity.
Everyone vies to match him.
Pitiful, no?
Well, people whose knowledge suffices to carry out the duties of some office, whose conduct is looked up to in some village, whose character is agreeable to some ruler and put to use in some state—their self-regard is just like that, and Master Honourable Sung* heartily laughs at them.
Why, the whole world could praise him and it wouldn’t spur him on.
The whole world could fault him and it wouldn’t discourage him.
He draws a clear line between inner and outer,
disputes what counts as honour and disgrace.
But that’s as far as he goes.
His attitude toward mainstream success might not be fretful;
nevertheless, there’s still something in which he hasn’t put down roots.

Master Itemise takes the reins of the wind and off he goes, up and away. So graceful and fine! A full fifteen days before returning.
His attitude toward political reform might not be fretful,
but, and although he’s dispensed with walking, there’s still something on which he waits.

As for those who mount the isness of heaven-and-earth and take the reins of the disputing six energies, and thereby wander without constraint,
on what do they wait!

And so it is said:
A consummate person has no self.
A daemonic person has no merit.
A sage has no reputation.

*  *  *  *  *

Vying to match Grandfather Peng.

The people who proudly identify with their honourable social positions think that their advancement in the social hierarchy is a large thing, a big deal. But it is not, just as Grandfather Peng’s eight-hundred-years lifespan is not a large lifespan. This is especially easy for you and me to see. For you and me those fourth-century-BC folk are so small they don’t even exist! (Can you put a face to them?)

This is why travel is so beneficial. Something is bothering you at home, but then you take off for a while and before you know it your problem seems so small you have a difficult time even seeing it. Your problem has been dwarfed by the immensity of the world. Time travel works just as well, though it takes a bit longer. I’m fifty years old, and when I look back on the things that made me feel pride and resentment back in my teenage years, I have to laugh.

So, these proud citizens—Master Honourable Sung heartily laughs at their childish need for recognition, their childish pride in their social positions.

But Master Honourable Sung is himself caught up in his ego. He travels about preaching a philosophy of frugal, egalitarian living, and does so in such a way that it is said, ‘High and how, people are sick of the sight of him, but he persists in showing up.’ Unlike the social climbers, he couldn’t care less what others think of him. But he cares very much that others should adopt his values. His ego is bound up with his social agenda. He too mistakenly thinks that a small thing (his social agenda) is large (of utmost importance).

If you care about social reform, you might be feeling a bit uncomfortable at this point. Is Chuang Tzu really saying that social reform doesn’t matter?

No. In Chapter 4 Chuang Tzu explores how to productively participate in changing the world for the better. His criticism of Master Honourable Sung isn’t that he cares about social reform, but that he’s blind to what is truly large and that, consequently, his focus on things is narrow-minded and rigid. He has small knowing (he’s aware of things; specifically, social structures), but he doesn’t have large knowing (he’s not aware of awareness).

Master Itemise doesn’t even bother to laugh at Master Honourable Sung’s ego-obsession. Is he even aware of him? Flying about for fifteen days at a time, it’s as if he’s completely beyond worldly concerns altogether.

In presenting us with the image of Master Itemise soaring about in the sky, Chuang Tzu is parodying the commonly-held belief that advanced spiritual practitioners are capable of supernatural feats. Walking on water. Levitating. Zipping about through the air.

Let’s allow, for the sake of argument, that some people can do these supernatural things. (I don’t think anyone can. Chuang Tzu doesn’t either. But if you do, that’s fine.) Well, says Chuang Tzu, this too is just ego. These so-called spiritual folk who speak of flying about—how are they any different in kind to people who speak longingly of zipping about in private jets? Aren’t they just small-minded (thing-oriented) people seeking power over their material circumstances? Ho hum, says Chuang Tzu. There’s nothing large about flying about for fifteen days at a time, just as there’s nothing large about Grandfather Peng’s eight-hundred-years lifespan. Fifteen days? There are birds that remain airborne for months at a time. This concern with flying about is still just a case of small knowing, of knowing this and that thing, of being able to do this and that thing.

Master Itemise waits on (depends on) the wind. His freedom is constrained by whether or not the wind is blowing. Like the social climbers and Master Honourable Sung, Master Itemise depends on, is constrained by, things. Take away the wind and Master Itemise cannot fly. And who is he then? Take away the social reform and Master Honourable Sung must feel that the world is amiss. Take away the social position and the social climbers must feel that they are worthless.

All of these people are bound up in the world of things. They’re all mistaking small things for something large. None of them has awoken to what is truly large: (a) awareness (Of a Flock), (b) the world (the isness of heaven and earth).

Mounting the isness of heaven-and-earth and taking the reins of the disputing six energies, and thereby wandering without constraint.

The imagery is of mounting a chariot platform (the isness of heaven and earth) and taking the reins of a team of spirited horses (the disputing six energies).

The isness of heaven and earth is the here-and-now field of things laid out before you: sights, sounds, smells, tastes, sensations, urges, thoughts.

The disputing six energies? Energy is the basic stuff that constitutes things, that pervades the cosmos and animates things. It can be described as hot/cold, hard/soft, light/heavy, and so on, and the mix of these qualities is forever changing in a sort of dynamic tug-o-war between opposite pairs. In regard to the six energies—I don’t think Chuang Tzu has six specific qualities in mind; he’s just conjuring the image of energy being like a team of feisty horses. (Incidentally, it’s natural for we Westerners to picture these horses yoked in pairs in a column. Chuang Tzu would have had a different image in mind: In ancient China horses were yoked side-by-side in a single line across the front of the chariot.) ‘Disputing’ describes the tussling between the horses, the dynamic tug-o-war of the ever-changing mix of qualities that constitute things, like a never-ending argument between ever-shifting points of view. Our ever-changing circumstances, thoughts, and moods—these are the ceaseless altercations of the disputing six energies. To take the reins of these disputing energies is to be in harmony with your ever-changing circumstances, thoughts, and moods.

Only the king’s chariot is drawn by six horses. We who mount the isness of heaven-and-earth and take the reins of the disputing six energies are kings. We are the highest rank of nobility.

When you’re aware of awareness the here-and-now world is your chariot. Just as the equanimity of a mirror doesn’t depend on this and that image being present in the glass, awareness doesn’t depend on, isn’t constrained by, this and that thing being present in the world. Whatever is present, awareness is on board.

This chariot ride is a leisurely one. It doesn’t require any effort. The chariot presents itself and the horses do the work.

This is Chuang Tzu’s vision of freedom. It is the freedom of freely going along with what is. Of wandering, amiable and aloof to worldly cares.

~

If the image of Of a Flock is the grandest image in Chuang Tzu’s philosophy, this image of charioting on the world is a close second. Master Itemise flies about with the wind as his team of horses. The Greek god Apollo mounts a golden chariot and drags the sun across the heavens. Minor-league players. We who are awake to awareness, we who are present with the here-and-now isness of our presenting circumstances—our chariot is the entirety of heaven and earth, our team of horses the very energies that generate the seasons of change!

When you identify with awareness and chariot on the world, you may or may not occupy an important position in society. You may or may not be bringing about social change. You may or may not be able to fly about on the wind (or pay for a private jet) or walk on water (or walk at all). What is the case is that you are not striving for these things. You are not waiting for these things so as to be free. Your freedom is not constrained by their presence or absence. You see that none of these things ultimately matters. It’s not that they don’t matter. You do enjoy being in the world, and participating in change, and moving about from here to there. It’s that you have a larger view. You are awake to awareness and to the wonder of this this that is blossoming here before you. In the words of Jesus, you see that the kingdom has already arrived; it is all around you. In the words of the Stoic philosopher Epictetus, you see that the banquet hall of the gods is not elsewhere; it is here, and you are one of the honoured guests. In the words of Chuang Tzu, you see that Of a Flock is in flight. The miracle has happened. Is happening. The World Chariot is present and you are its noble charioteer. There is nothing else to wait for. Nothing constrains you. You have arrived.

~

Note the genius of these metaphors, how they simultaneously achieve two contradictory goals. They satisfy the ego’s need to feel special and powerful. (You are a kingly charioteer, your chariot the entirety of heaven and earth, your team of horses the very energies that generate the seasons of change. You are Of a Flock, the grandest of mythical beings ever imagined in the entirety of world literature.) And they cause us to transcend the ego: to awake to awareness and be present with the here-and-now isness of things.

A consummate person has no self. A daemonic person has no merit. A sage has no reputation.

These statements arrest our attention because they invert the social norm. In common society, to call someone a consummate person is to praise them for having developed a perfectly realised persona. We admire daemonic people for their exquisite, hard-earned skills. And we reverently bow our heads when speaking of this and that great sage. But here is Chuang Tzu saying that a consummate person doesn’t have a self. A daemonic person doesn’t have merit. A sage is a nobody.

~

A consummate person has no self.

When you identify with awareness and chariot on the world, you have no self. Instead of identifying with this and that thing as being me or mine, you just see things as being this and that. For example, instead of labelling your body as being ‘me’ or ‘my body’, you just see it as being ‘this’ body. So when your body changes, you do not lament, ‘O, my body is broken! I am broken!’ Rather, you simply observe, ‘Ah, here is this new body.’ Instead of labelling your car as being ‘my car’, you just see it as being ‘this’ car. So when someone steals your car, you do not lament, ‘O, I have lost my car! Now I am diminished!’ Rather, you simply observe, ‘Hmm, where there was once a car, now there is a road. And look here. Here’s a couple of legs. That’s fortunate.’

~

A daemonic person has no merit.

Daemonic (spirit-like), not to be confused with demonic (devil-like). Your daemonic nature is your vitality, your felt sense of aliveness, your felt inclinations, urges, promptings.

A daemonic person is someone who is unselfconsciously aligned with the dynamic energies of life. For example, we might describe a masterful artisan at work, or an elite athlete at play, as being daemonic.

When you’re in touch with your daemonic nature—when you identify with awareness and chariot on the world—you have no merit, you deserve no credit for your actions. You see that it is not I, not me who does things, but that it is the world, the disputing six energies that is doing things.

When a daemonic basketball player dodges the opposition and lands the ball in the hoop, she does not take credit for this achievement. She simply heads onto the court and the rest happens without her knowing how. When I walk to the kitchen I do not take credit for this achievement. (And it is an achievement. Very few things in the cosmos can walk to the kitchen.) I simply head for the kitchen and my legs do their magic without my knowing how.

~

A sage has no reputation.

When you identify with awareness and chariot on the world, you have no reputation, you are not known as a sage. You are in harmony with the world and with others, so you simply don’t stand out as being anything especially special. You’re just good company. A good friend. A mere one among others.

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