Chuang Tsu is a primary articulator of early Taoist philosophy. This is my first exposure to his writings. Initially, and for now, I am drawn more to Lao Tsu’s aphoristic style, insights and emphasis.
Some of this writing I like a lot. The interconnectedness of things, the power relationships between them and the balance point in those relationships, are conveyed in passages such as this: “When there is no more separation between ‘this’ and ‘that,’ it is called the still-point of Tao. At the still-point in the center of the circle one can see the infinite in all things.” The ebb and flow of energy comes through with this: “When there is separation, there is coming together. When there is coming together, there is dissolution.” Merging into the background, and going with the flow rather than standing out, is a prudent survival strategy, as conveyed by this: “I have been trying for a long time to be useless,” and this: “When I say he has no desire,” Chuang Tsu says, “I mean that he does not disturb his inner well-being with likes and dislikes. He accepts things as they are and does not try to improve upon them.” Chuang Tsu writes of the true man: “Carefree he went. Carefree he came. That was all.” That man accepts “what he was given with delight, and when it was gone, he gave it no more thought. This is called not using the mind against Tao and not using man to help heaven.”
As the introduction suggests (these writings are an anticipation of Zen Buddhism and a “laying of the foundation for a state of emptiness or ego transcendence”), the “Inner Chapters” also seem to transition into something other than what is seen in Tao Te Ching. For example, speaking of a Tao sage who, having transcended “the physical world,” and “all material existence,” and, having seen the One, he began to transcend the distinction of past and present…to enter the land where there is no life or death, where killing does not take away life and giving birth does not add to it.” In another passage, Yen Hui, a Taoist seeker, says: “‘I am not attached to the body and I give up any idea of knowing. By freeing myself from the body and mind, I become one with the infinite. This is what I mean by sitting and forgetting.”’ Right or wrong, in this first reading I sensed a tension in the “Inner Chapters” between a Tao as an impersonal energy stream that one learns to adjust to and work with in a cosmos where there is nothing beyond death, and a Tao as an eternal reality that one can merge with and, thereby, and in that way, live forever.