ZHUANGZI FOR CULTIVATORS
- Feb 16
- 6 min read
Freedom in the Mud
Issue 1
by Prof. Dr. Dan KJ Vercammen
This blog is intended to give you a preview of what you can expect when you study Zhuangzi’s philosophy with us at Taoist-Lifestyle.Com. We offer both context and advice on how to apply Zhuangzi’s insights to your Taoist lifestyle.
Whether you’re interested in Taoism, Chan/Zen Buddhism, or Oriental culture in general, there is one figure and text you can’t ignore: Zhuangzi, or Master Zhuang. In fact, much of what Westerners appreciate most about Chan is what Chan masters absorbed from studying the Zhuangzi.
As is customary in Taoist culture, very little is known about a Taoist figure like Master Zhuang. He may have lived in the 4th century BCE. He was a literate person who may have worked within a creative community of artisans. We can form an impression of his lifestyle and philosophy from his text, but we assume that the Master himself wrote only a limited part, and that much of the Zhuangzi was composed by others.
The text is a wonderful example of ancient Chinese literature, and it has inspired many great Chinese minds and spiritually inclined people. We can only stand in awe of the depth and vastness of Zhuangzi’s consciousness. Hence, we cannot but study it.
When I studied Sinology in the late 1970s, I had only a vague idea why I had taken up the study of Chinese philosophy—based on what I had read (a few superficial books on Chinese philosophy) and practiced (Southern Chinese martial arts and qigong). The first year of study did not meet my expectations.
Then, in the second year—while learning Classical Chinese—I encountered Zhuangzi. It was the short passage I present in this blog that turned my world upside down, or rather, that felt like a homecoming.
Several chords were struck as I read the story. Zhuangzi was someone who wanted to be free, and who was willing to go against rulers to remain that way. Free thought, non-conformism, and questioning authority clearly resonated with a young man searching for his own identity.
Even after more than forty-seven years, it still defines important guidelines in my life.1 After studying Zhuangzi for so many years, I can state that freedom is a core principle in Zhuangzi’s vision of life—and that it has no limits. But there is much more this ancient philosopher wants to share in his writings.
Here is my translation of a short excerpt of Zhuangzi’s words:
Zhuangzi was angling in the Pu River. The ruler of Chu sent two of his officials to convey his idea. They said: “He wishes to burden you with the internal affairs of the territory.” Zhuangzi held on to his angling rod, didn’t turn his head and said: “I have heard that there is a divine tortoise in Chu that has been dead for three thousand years. The rulers keep it in the upper part of a temple hall, wrapped in cloth and boxed. Would this tortoise prefer to be precious as remaining bones, being dead, or would it rather drag its tail through the mud, being alive?” The two officials said: “It would rather drag its tail through the mud, while being alive.” Zhuangzi said: “Go away. I’ll drag my tail through the mud.” Zhuangzi, chapter 17, Autumn Water
This is, of course, a passage that requires some explanation about the background of ancient China and Zhuangzi’s position in it and also about what Zhuangzi actually tries to make clear. China in Zhuangzi’s days was not a united country, but a conglomerate of rivaling cities and states under autocratic rulers, who were, however, also subjects of the ceremonial and religious “king” (王 wang in Chinese) of what we call the Zhou dynasty. Warfare characterized the period, as the various states vied for military and political supremacy. Yet there was also enough room for rich cultural development and for philosophers to come up with thoughts about and solutions for the problems of politics and society.
Most philosophers reached out to the ruling class and concerned themselves only with their world and the “mandarins” (officials), looking to obtain an advanced official position. Some took the lives of the common folk to heart (Zhuangzi, for instance). Rulers would listen to wise advisers and apply some of their principles, but could also decide in an instant about the fate of those advisers when they caused outcomes that were not to the ruler’s liking. Headless advisers might be the result. It is against this background that we should read the passage above.
What can we find out about Zhuangzi’s message and his vision? Well, it would seem he ate fish, which he caught himself. Unless you are against eating fish and want to condemn Zhuangzi for it, this sentence is simply painting a natural surrounding for the story to take place. Nature, and living in and with it, is a Taoist theme.
Chu was a large state in the middle-east of China, and being invited by its ruler to take care of its internal affairs was supposed to be a great honor. The other ancient great mind of China, Kongzi or Confucius, spent almost his whole life hoping and waiting for such a position.
You can imagine that officials coming down from the royal palace to the humble world of a commoner would expect to be welcomed in a different way than how they were treated by Zhuangzi, who doesn’t even deem them worthy of his full attention. Instead, he keeps angling and reminds them of the remains of a tortoise that is revered as a holy relic in Chu.
A tortoise is a symbol of longevity in China, and it can’t be a coincidence that Zhuangzi uses it as a metaphor. Leading a long and happy life is something every Taoist aspires to. What good is it to be revered if your life is in constant danger, or when you’re dead?
One mistake in an official function can mean the end of your life—and certainly the end of your freedom. In other passages, Zhuangzi refers to the honors that come with an official position (wealth, power, fame) as fleeting and unstable.
Isn’t it better to be able to take care of one’s life in freedom, even if this means that you live a poor existence—where no one prepares your food for you, nor holds you in high regard? The mud is a metaphor for these lowly circumstances of life. Yet these conditions are to be preferred over the luxury of an official’s life.
Zhuangzi can sit and wait as long as he wants, contemplating nature while waiting for the fish.
He is master of his own life.
From a Taoist alchemist’s point of view, many things resonate when reading these words. What we cultivate is all possibilities of life: health, longevity, no limits to what we can spiritually and physically achieve (I don’t mean that you have to be an acrobat or such), and the understanding of—and union with—nature and life by mastering creation and transformation (for which we need a long lifespan).
We are not interested in the important goals of life as many see them: becoming famous, wealthy, and powerful, or influential. A fulfilling, happy, and long life doesn’t need these, but it does require freedom: the freedom to make one’s own life, and not be determined by those who do pursue the things Zhuangzi and the alchemists consider superficial and not essential.
The choices we make are based on this. And as a side-effect of living one’s way, we may yet find position, wealth, and power. It is then that our life is tested the most. Can we resist the attraction of these? Can we live with losing them again?
The answer to these questions should be yes, but temptations and wavering are part of anyone’s life—even that of a Taoist alchemist.
Zhang Boduan, the “famous” alchemist of the Song dynasty, and my predecessor and great inspiration, transmitted the spirit of Zhuangzi in his writings and practices, and gave us the means to stabilize our lives—not by, for instance, accumulating wealth, but by becoming a stable person-mountain, the literal meaning of 仙 xian. This is usually translated as “immortal,” but it is the word for an accomplished alchemist.
Loss and gain shouldn’t influence our life’s foundations. Other things are much more important—such as reading Zhuangzi and incorporating his advice.”
I’m referring to being an ambassador of the Embassy of the Free Mind in Amsterdam (https://embassyofthefreemind.com/en/) and to belong to the core team of the Academy of the Free Mind (https://embassyofthefreemind.com/en/academy-en/about-the-academy).
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