Guo Xiang’s Metaphysics of Being and Action: On the Importance of Xing 性

Abstract

Guo Xiang 郭象 (d. 312) holds a unique place in the history of Chinese thought. The only Zhuangzi we have access to is the version heavily edited, likely changed, and perhaps even rewritten by Guo Xiang. However, his commentary on this Daoist classic is not simply an explanation of what the Zhuangzi says, and in many ways, it is not even a development of the thought found within this text—though at times it is indeed both. Reading Guo’s work reveals a complex philosophical system that critically reimagines some of the key terminologies in early Chinese thought, as well as core assumptions about what things are (being) and how they interact (action). This paper seeks to provide a sketch of Guo Xiang’s metaphysical appreciation of being and action by investigating his unique understanding of the relevant terms and their interrelation. Most scholars see ziran 自然 “self-so” as the conceptual glue that holds Guo’s complex system together. In this paper, I will argue that xing 性, which may be translated as “nature” or “natural dispositions” is more fundamental. In other words, without properly appreciating how Guo conceives of xing, interpretations of Guo’s philosophy can easily go awry.

1. Introduction

Guo Xiang 郭象 (d. 312) holds a unique place in the history of Chinese thought. The only Zhuangzi 莊子 (Book of Master Zhuang1) we have access to is the version heavily edited, likely changed, and perhaps even rewritten by Guo Xiang. However, his commentary on this Daoist classic is not simply an explanation of what the Zhuangzi says, and in many ways, it is not even a development of the thought found within this text—though at times it is indeed both.2 Reading Guo’s work reveals a complex philosophical system3 that critically reimagines some of the key terminologies in early Chinese thought, as well as core assumptions about what things are (being) and how they interact (action). In other words, Guo Xiang advances a metaphysical understanding of the world that departs significantly from that of many of his intellectual predecessors.

The goal is undoubtedly practical; Guo seeks to undermine the roots of social, political, and even existential troubles. For instance, he often references familiar sociopolitical ideals including “letting everyone do their own jobs” and the non-interference of rulers. Similar to the Zhuangzi itself, Guo also asks readers to appreciate the reach of contingency or luck and not try to steer or control too much of life. This helps to ease not only political and social anxieties, but even anxieties that spring up in the person as well. To this end, Guo also advocates recognizably Daoist thinking in asking people to “not act-for” in various aspects of life. However, we already find his particular perspective creeping in, for Guo calls this bu wei 不為 as opposed to the more common wuwei 無為.4 Even more provocatively, Guo completely reimagines concepts such as xing 性. Whereas many thinkers take xing as something humans have in common, akin to something similar to “human nature” or “natural dispositions”, Guo reconceives xing in a unique way: xing can indicate shared aspects, but simultaneously also points to each thing as its own completely distinct xing. Each thing is a xing which is interrelated with all other xing and constantly transforming. This view flies in the face of many earlier interpretations which focus on xing as that which ties instances of a particular category together and in doing so it delves much deeper, almost going underneath previous debates on xing. In constructing this complex system of thought, Guo further reorients other important notions, including the scope of an 安 (at ease; content) and the meaning of ming 冥 (dark; vanishing), which, alongside several other concepts, will be discussed below.

Taken together, these reimagined concepts serve to outline Guo Xiang’s metaphysical system, i.e., his view of reality. There is a particular concentration in this philosophy on what things are, or “being”, and how things interact with one another, or “action”. Both “being” and “action” are grounded in Guo’s notion of xing. This paper seeks to provide a sketch of Guo Xiang’s metaphysical appreciation of being and action by investigating his unique understanding of the relevant terms and their interrelation while noting the importance of xing throughout.5 In this paper we consider relevant scholarship on Guo Xiang, looking closely at the following concepts, and their relationships: xing 性 “nature, natural dispositions”; ming 冥 “merging, vanishing”; wuwei 無為 “not acting-for” and ji 跡 “traces”; wu yu 無欲 “no desires” and wu zhi 無知 “no knowledge”; as well as at the core metaphysical concepts wu 無 “nothing” and dao 道 “way”. Describing these key concepts provides a fairly broad grounding for investigating Guo’s philosophy.

Accordingly, this article seeks to make a contribution in three areas. First, there is comparatively little scholarship on Guo Xiang in English. In addition to maybe a dozen or more articles, there is only one monograph dedicated to exploring Guo’s philosophy:6 Brook Ziporyn’s The Penumbra Unbound: The Neo-Taoist Philosophy of Guo Xiang (Ziporyn 2003). Ziporyn’s work is excellent and draws heavily on the foremost contemporary scholar of Guo Xiang, Tang Yijie 湯一介 (d. 2014),7 whose father, Tang Yongtong 湯用彤 (d. 1964) along with Feng Youlan 馮友蘭 (d. 1990) revitalized Xuanxue 玄學 scholarship in modern China.8 However, more work can be conducted to explore different avenues of Guo’s thought, and from different perspectives. Just last year Richard John Lynn published the first complete English translation of Guo’s commentary to the Zhuangzi (Lynn 2022), which will hopefully draw more scholarly attention to Guo’s work.9 There does, however, need to be solid scholarship on the philosophical implications of various terms Guo uses, especially with regard to the importance of xing, and this paper hopes to contribute to this area. Admittedly some of the content of this paper can be found in other sources, mainly Chinese language sources, the main contribution in explaining these basic terms is to provide a concise English guide to key concepts in Guo’s thought. Second, most studies of Guo’s philosophy have concentrated on the practical and political aspects. It is true that for Guo this is exceedingly important, but in order to adequately grasp what he is doing, and to enrich one’s understanding of exactly how and why his philosophy is as it is, a metaphysical framework is extremely useful. Guo’s system can be quite opaque, and even seem, as Yang Lihua 楊立華 (b. 1971, Tang Yijie’s student) puts it, “to fly in the face of common sense” (Yang 2010, p. 9). Grasping Guo’s unique metaphysics allows scholars to approach Guo’s ideas with a ready-made structure. In this way, his thought is more accessible, which is important because the translation of his full commentary is over 700 pages and by no means an easy read. The main argument put forth in this paper is that xing is a key thread when appreciating Guo’s metaphysical system. Many scholars have focused on ziran 自然 “what is in accord with oneself” or simply “self-so”, and while this is certainly foundational in Guo’s thought, it is intimately tied to the unique way he conceives of xing, which critically transforms how “self-so” and all other concepts in Guo’s philosophy should be read. Third, there have been persistent misunderstandings, especially in English language scholarship, about the status of Guo Xiang’s work. Many refer to it as an “exegesis” and call Guo a “commentator”. At times these labels are accurate, but overall, they are grossly misleading.

2. Guo Xiang Scholarship Today

One of the major goals of this paper is to introduce a concise introduction to Guo Xiang’s philosophy in English. There are great resources for studying Guo’s thoughts in Chinese, but in other languages (aside from Japanese) momentum is just starting to build.10 Many of these studies already published, including the majority in Chinese, have focused on “self-so” as the key concept for understanding the grounding of Guo’s complex philosophical thought. This paper argues that xing 性 is another viable starting point for understanding Guo’s thoughts. Indeed, it might even prove to be a more foundational concept than “self-so”, as many who do identify this more familiar “Daoist” concept themselves already indicate. For example, Wang Deyou 王德有, who sees “self-so” as the major connecting thread between all Xuanxue thinkers (Wang 2010, p. 10), writes specifically of Guo:

What is self-so? Guo Xiang says, “Self-so means not to act deliberately, but to be thus and so of itself, spontaneously. […] But the self-so is merely the self-so, the spontaneous being such, of things themselves”. This means that self-so refers to having no intention to make or be or act [in any specific way]. Who is it that has no intention to do this? Things themselves have no intention to do this, things are spontaneously what they are. Thus, the subject of this predicate “self-so” is still things themselves; the cause of the creation of the traces of sages still lies in the sage himself, but the sage has no intention to make these traces; they are merely [part of] what he is spontaneously. It is obvious then that “that which leaves the traces” refers to the being-self-so of things themselves….

(Wang in Ziporyn 2003, p. 42; translation modified)

Although Wang is prioritizing self-so here in his discussion of Guo Xiang, the self-so that he speaks of is predicated on the “self” or “thing themselves”. What that “thing itself” is, is xing.

Ye Shuxun 葉樹勳 (b. 1983) argues that major concepts in Guo’s work, including “self-generating (zisheng 自生)”, lone-transformation, xing, and other key concepts, are all specific instances of self-so (Ye 2018, pp. 130–35). However, we might challenge, on the same ground of analysis offered by Wang Deyou, what is the “self” of the “self-so”, and in doing so again find that xing might turn out to be more fundamental for Guo’s thought. Indeed, Ye himself does admit that “Foundationally speaking, a thing’s ‘self-so’ still takes its inherent ‘xing limitations (xing fen 性分)’ as its basis” (Ye 2018, p. 137).11

Some scholars have suggested taking xing as foundational in approaching Guo’s philosophy. Wang Zhongjiang 王中江 (b. 1957) sees xing as foundational in approaching Guo’s philosophy (Wang 2015, p. 258). Wang too worries that studies of ziran have been influenced by modern interpretations with a relatively new concept of “nature” as ziranjie 自然界 or daziran 大自然. This, Wang thinks, misleads many scholars in accurately understanding the implications of ziran in early Chinese texts. Wang has been criticized for not recognizing that xing is just another facet of self-so (Ye 2018, p. 133).12

There is also much debate over what exactly xing means. Tang Yijie 湯一介 (d. 2014) is perhaps the most radical, claiming that in some sense xing does not change (Tang 2009, p. 200).13 Ziporyn translates xing as “determinacy” and says that it changes from moment to moment (Ziporyn 2003, p. 89).14 Dai Lianzhang 戴璉璋 (d. 2022), who also sees self-so as paramount in Guo, understands xing as what is naturally endowed to a thing, or what is ”self-so” (Dai 1995, p. 52). Feng Youlan takes xing to be a sort of inherent causal factors (or just “internal factors”, literally nei yin 內因) which causes the thing to be what it is (Feng 1986, p. 530). Wang Xiaoyi 王曉毅 (b. 1954) also sees xing as a “function” of self-so. In this way, he also takes self-so as primary (cf. Wang 2006, pp. 243–44). According to Liu Guomin 劉國民 (b. 1976), xing indicates the way things come together and come apart—this is not due to acting for (you wei 有為) or particular intentions or thoughts (you xin 有心) (Liu 2022, p. 230).

This paper takes a somewhat unique approach by recasting the sometimes dichotomous view of self-so and xing. Looking specifically at Guo’s thought in terms of his metaphysics of being and action, this paper hopes to demonstrate that self-so and xing are not that different from one another, and that if either is taken to be more foundational, then it must be xing. This argument will be made by providing a brief sketch of xing and then relating this to other core concepts in Guo Xiang’s philosophy. Before delving into this topic, a brief note on the status of Guo in the history of philosophy should be considered.

Similar to many Wei-Jin periods or Xuanxue scholars, Guo is often read as a mere commentator who sought to synthesize early Confucian and Daoist ideas—mainly through interweaving themes from the Lunyu 論語 (Analects of Confucius), Laozi 老子 (Book of Master Lao) and Zhuangzi. In some sense this type of understanding, shared also by many Chinese scholars (e.g., Tang Yongtong, Tang Yijie, Yu Dunkang 余敦康 (d. 2019) (2004), Shang Jianfei 尚建飛 (Shang 2013), to name a few), is accurate. However, we should differentiate between two types of “commentary” in Chinese. Guo wrote a zhu 注 to the Zhuangzi, which is often published alongside Cheng Xuanying’s 成玄英 (d. circa 690) shu 疏. In English, both zhu and shu are commonly translated as “commentary”15, however, the nature of Guo’s work, and zhus in general, and the nature of Cheng’s work, and shus in general, are distinct. In concise terms, zhu is short for zhujie 注解 indicating something similar to “explaining” or “filling in an explanation”. Shu is often a further “zhujie” of a particular zhu. The shu is sometimes connected to a specific zhu, and in any case, is generally characterized as being focused on specific figures or terms mentioned in the classic. This can of course lead to insightful philosophical reflections, but normally a shu is less philosophically creative than a zhu. The latter, as in the case of Wang Bi and Guo Xiang, can be a representative of a unique philosophy, and entire nuanced and complex philosophical system.16 Indeed, this is exactly how much of the philosophical tradition in China developed—it is through zhu that understandings changed. Accordingly, when scholars today working in English refer to zhu as “commentary”—because of the way this term is commonly understood—or “exegesis” (Gao 2022, p. 593), they severely misrepresent the accomplishments of thinkers such as Guo Xiang.17 Through emphasizing the way Guo reinterprets terms and reworks relationships between key concepts, which often blatantly disagrees with the Zhuangzi itself, this argument will be expressed throughout this article, albeit implicitly.

3. Xing 性

Xing 性 is sometimes translated as “nature” or “natural dispositions”, and it can connote “innate tendencies” or “inborn characteristics” as well. In many texts, there is a sense that xing describes which things of a certain type or kind share with one another. Philosophically, one of the most significant discussions of xing is related to ren xing 人性, which is often rendered “human nature”. The Lunyu 17.2, for example, records “[Human] xing are close to one another, [human] practices can be far apart”. Famously, Mengzi 孟子 (d. 289 BCE) argued that human nature tends toward what is good (ren xing shan 人行善) while Xunzi 荀子 (d. circa 238 BCE) thought that human nature is likely to tend toward what is not good (ren xing e 人性惡). Both Mengzi and Xunzi agree that education, cultivation, and a good deal of conscious effort are required to make the shared basic tendencies (xing) bloom into a morally mature person. Xing is also incredibly important for Guo Xiang’s philosophy, but with him, it becomes something wildly different.18 No longer does xing primarily stand for what is shared by various members of a particular type alone, for example, what is shared by all humans, or “human nature”.19 Rather, it also becomes a marker for that which is hyper-individualized.20

Guo uses different binomial formations including the word xing to express its individualized nature, for example, “limitations and allotment of xing (xing fen 性分)” and “self-xing (zi xing 自性)”. Broadly speaking, Tang Yijie’s work often focuses on the former term, while Yang Lihua and others emphasize the latter, although many have pointed out that while we might be able to distinguish between these terms, they are largely similar.21 The two formations are indeed philosophically similar. Both are meant to narrow focus on that which makes a specific thing what it is; Meng Peiyuan 蒙培元 (b. 1938) summarizes:

The relevant content of the theory of self-xing is that each thing makes itself itself. The so-called “lone-transformation” is just “self-contented”, “self-spontaneous”, “self-itself”, and “self-so” there is no external cause or basis “causing something to be as it is”. This thing is just “this thing”, there is nothing else to it. Each thing is its own self-xing, every person is their own personal self-xing, there is not general/universal or absolute xing. [As Guo Xiang himself writes] “each thing is its own xing, each xing has its own limitations.22

(Meng 2021, p. 1237)

Emphasizing the notion of “self” Meng makes it clear that Guo’s idea of xing is centered on the individual thing in question. Understanding xing accordingly, it becomes clear that “lone-transformation” and “self-so”, two issues often regarded as representing the heart of Guo’s thoughts, are based on xing. Cao Runqing 曹潤青 argues that xing is foundational in Guo’s philosophy, and “on a basic level there are two extremes that compose the notion of xing, one is the allotment of xing (xing fen 性分) and the other is self-so” (Cao 2016, p. 37).23 Accordingly, any accurate appreciation of either lone-transformation or self-so can only be made after first understanding xing.

This xing, although indicating something completely individual, while also not denying shared elements, is also constantly transforming. Lone-transformation is the term Guo uses to describe how each xing is constantly changing. A xing morphs according to how it, itself, is, which is completely unique in each xing.24 Although these transformations are “lone” or described as “self-generating (zisheng 自生)”, they actually happen as each thing interacts with the other also completely unique xings that surround it. In other words, each thing is constantly transforming in its own (self-so) way, based on how it reacts (again self-so) to its surroundings. A simple example is temperature. Each thing transforms according to the temperature around it. However, each thing transforms in its own unique way; the human body and a table do not react to temperature the same, nor do two bodies or even two tables. In this sense, all things transform by themselves, while only ever in complete interconnection with all other things.

Guo describes these concepts and their interrelation in a relatively succinct passage:

The Dao itself has no capability [neng]. To say here that they achieved [de] it from the Dao is just a way of elucidating that they achieved it spontaneously [zide]. They just achieved it spontaneously, and that is all there was to it. The Dao can’t make one achieve anything, and what I myself am not up to achieving I can’t make myself achieve either. That being so, whatever can be achieved [de], externally does not depend on the Dao and internally does not depend on the self [ji]. Vacuously one but achieves it spontaneously [zide] and in so doing undergoes lone-transformation [duhua]. As difficult as it is to have existence [sheng], nevertheless through lone-transformation such existence is spontaneously realized [zide]. Once one has achieved existence, why should one any longer worry that it is impossible for such existence to be had through selfconscious effort [wei]! Therefore, making selfconscious effort to exist, as one might expect, is an ineffective way to keep one’s existence whole and safe because existence is not the result of self effort [jiwei], and if one works selfconsciously at it, this will harm one’s genuine existence.

(Lynn 2022, p. 139; translation modified)

Here, Guo references dao to make his point as obvious and strong as possible. While some thinkers might associate dao with a more primordial “being” or as a source or ideal of human action, Guo vehemently rejects this—an issue we will come to again below. He places the focus fully on a thing itself, or a xing, as the source of what it is and how it acts. Xing is the metaphysical anchor for all being and actions. Thus, Guo adds more nuance to readings of earlier texts such as the Laozi and Zhuangzi which say the goal is to become “self-so” by incorporating the idea of xing. On Guo’s account simply giving free reign and resting in one’s own xing is enough to constitute self-so.

In Guo’s philosophy, the terms ren 任 (give free rein to allow) and an 安25 (rest in, be content with) become hugely significant. They are based on his unique metaphysical account of xing as the grounding of both being and action, but these terms are very much targeted at the practical and political spheres as well. Both terms are used in conjunction with xing to denote the type of attitude, way of being, or action that Guo speaks most highly of; throughout his work, Guo lavishes praise on various versions of ren xing 任性 (giving free rein to one’s natural dispositions) and an xing 安性 (being content with one’s natural dispositions).

Ren xing speaks to allowing one’s own xing to operate without interfering with how it is. The opening lines of his commentary to the first chapter of the Zhuangzi argue for letting things go in their own environment, saying “each can then ren their xing, things will be referred to by their ability, and everything will fulfill their capacity” (Guo 1997, p. 32). (Here “capacity” or fen 分 is a stand-in for xing.) Guo says that this is what being “free and easy” or xiaoyao 逍遙 means. It is also what it means to be wuwei and self-so for Guo. In fact, Guo often vacillates between the coupling of these terms, also associating ren and an with self-so and wuwei.26 They are all similar in being juxtaposed to the following traces and are also linked, as we will explore below, with “no desire” and “no knowledge”. As Guo says, not following traces and simply being what one certainly does not mean nothing is conducted, but that that which is conducted is carried out without trying to model, copy, or imitate anything else—that is, without taking on traces. Xing being allowed to be what it is, and do what it does, is what Guo thinks is best.

Guo repeatedly says that knowing is limited and that one can really only be aware of their own limitations. Once they are, they should just go with these limitations and not try to influence them. He writes: “Being aware (zhi 知) of one’s xing and one’s allotment/limitations (fen 分), do not [try to] shorten or lengthen them, but go along (ren 任) with them. Then there is nothing to worry about, and worries disappear by themselves” (Guo 1997, p. 325).27 In order to let xing be what it is and do what it does one has to be okay with knowing that they cannot know what it is, and also not control it. Moreover, at best one is only aware of some dimensions of xing, and they have to be okay with that. This is why Guo thinks it is so important for one to be content or at ease (an) with their xing. If one can take on this type of attitude, which again is intricately related to no knowledge, no desire, wuwei, and self-so, then one will be able to ren their xing—or simply let their xing ren. In this way, ren xing and an xing are interwoven with one another, and both speak to not getting in the way of one’s xing.28 The major obstacle to one’s xing operating well is one trying to steer it or manipulate it by focusing on desires or knowledge, and through imitating traces.

Seemingly paradoxically, Guo also recognizes that everything and anything one does is always an expression of xing. There is no way one cannot be acting in accord with their xing on some basic level. There are, however, better and more efficacious ways of acting, which are not so much “being in accord” with one’s xing as simply letting one’s xing be what it is and do as it does. On a personal level, we can recognize, for instance, that some people we know generally do things and think about things in a particular way.29 That is an expression of their xing. While they can change (and always do) or can act in a way different than normal, it is always still in accord with their xing. More fundamentally, people are always being “human” and there is no way to escape that, this is also an expression of xing, though not Guo’s main focus. A human cannot mate with a dog, breathe underwater, or fly on their own. This is also what Guo is referencing when he talks about xing. However, the former sense, which is concentrated on the individual, is where Guo focuses his attention, and he is interested in “xing as human” only insofar as this contributes to the more individualistic understanding of “xing as this particular thing (at this particular moment)”.

Different from other uses of xing denoting that which is shared by members of a particular type, the xing Guo is interested in also does not demand conscious cultivation and cannot be taken to have a good or bad orientation. However, on an even more foundational level, Guo argues that one’s xing is completely unique; the shared aspects are all but irrelevant to his philosophy. Every individual thing is a matchless xing. The sharedness that the term xing connoted for earlier thinkers, and which was actually the grounds for its importance in the debate between Mengzi and Xunzi and the reason other thinkers developed it,30 is replaced in Guo’s thought with a juxtaposed notion—unequivocal individuality. This notion is also metaphysical, speaking not just to the physical characteristics of a thing but all the unseen orientations, properties, and anything else that makes a thing what it is.

4. Xing 性, Self-So, and ming 冥 “Vanishing”

As mentioned above, xing is intimately related to self-so, wuwei, and all of Guo’s philosophy. While many have taken self-so to be the core, there is good reason to reconsider this position. Indeed, the “self” of “self-so” is that by which self-so itself operates. The “so” or “going by” that the ran 然 in ziran 自然 (self-so) indicates, must be predicated on some “self”. That “self” is nothing other than xing. Cao Ruqing notes:

In fact, the allotment of xing indicates a bottom-up path from phenomena themselves to dao, “self-so” indicates a top-down path, it is the way dao becomes realized in the world. According to Guo Xiang’s view, self-so demonstrates the essential characteristics of a particular xing, since each xing is ceaselessly expanding, a process of realizing its potential as provided by contingencies (ming 命), and since each thing encounters different things, ultimately, the realization of possibilities is presented as the realization of different possibilities, and the phenomenal manifestation of the realization of possibilities is that all things have their own absolute limits of xing, which are expressed as different, unsearchable “traces”.31

(Cao 2016, p. 37)

Going along with Cao’s interpretation, we can understand Guo as focused on the bottom-up path, and texts such as the Laozi and Zhuangzi as thinking of a top-down pathway. While we may allow room for different appreciations based on distinct goals, Guo himself is constantly speaking of xing, and although he does reference the self-so top-down path, his philosophy is best understood from the ground-up. Xing allows readers to better grasp Guo’s system. As we will see below, lacking a consistent and concrete notion of dao means that the top-down approach is difficult to attribute to Guo.

Xing is also the reason wuwei and self-so are so effective. It is best to let things just be on their own (i.e., ren xing and an xing). However, Guo clarifies this is not an anti-civilization, primitivist, or simply “letting be” position. Chapter 9 of the Zhuangzi opens with a description of how horses are trained, and Guo takes this opportunity to outline the contours of xing to display its social nature:

He who is good at riding horses does so by letting them completely realize [jin 盡] their capability, and such complete realization of potential consists in letting [ren 任] them act to suit themselves [zi 自]. However, if when horses would walk they are forced to gallop fast, this tries to exceed the use for which they are capable, which is why it happens that, unable to bear it, many of them die. But, if horses, whether nag or great steed, were allowed to employ [ren 任] their strengths accordingly and suit their allotted capacities for speed, although their hoof prints might stretch out to beyond the eight ends of the earth, the natural disposition [xing 性] of each and every horse would surely be kept whole and safe. Nevertheless, the deluded, when they hear about horses being allowed to suit their own natures [ren xing 任性], take this to mean that they should be freed and no longer ridden. When they hear talk of wuwei, they are wont to say that this means it is better to lie down and rest than to get up and act. And how they do go on and on without ever turning back! But this is surely to miss completely what Master Zhuang means by far!

(Lynn 2022, pp. 191–92; translation modified)

Just as wuwei does not mean “not acting” or just lying down and letting the world pass one by, giving free rein to xing or allowing something to go by its own natural dispositions does not mean that no saddles can be used and no training can be carried out. Rather, the saddles used and training conducted must be in accord with each individual xing; a universal training plan is not tenable. Likewise, one can have goals, produce steps to take toward those goals, and even learn from others, but this has to be compatible with one’s xing.32 This involves a shift in focus—rather than having the xing accord to a general principle, the principle is just something kept in mind while the xing does what it does.

The xing is not only what everything is but is also constantly transforming through interactions with all other xing around it. Even simply letting it be, or ren xing or an xing does not mean there is much stability or consistency. Even as one breathes or drinks water they change. The temperature of a room, the emotions associated with a situation, and every ceaseless interaction with everything else all mark changes. Guo uses the term ming 冥 to describe this continuous transformation. Ming originally meant something dark, but in Guo’s usage it means “merging” or “joining with”. Following Ziporyn, we can understand it as “vanishing” in a dual sense. As each xing changes according to all other xing, the initial xing vanishes—it is no longer what it was. For example, going outside a warm body becomes cold, hearing the news emotions erupt, brain chemistry suddenly morphs, or a scent makes one disgusted or causes a flood of memories. This “vanishing” of what something was a moment ago is also vanishing into (or merging or joining) with what is around it. One becomes cold similar to the environment, or the news makes one angry similar to others. However, the transformations or vanishings are also in accordance with the initial xing. This smell causes a flood of memories for one xing and has little effect on another xing (which changes in a different way), or this xing is upset by the news while the other xing is elated because of it.

This metaphysical framework is utilized by Guo for practical and political effects. Xing and ming steer people away from traces and dispel obsessive fixations on desires and knowledge. Guo writes:

When one draws lines on the ground and makes others follow them, these are traces that cannot be hidden again. If one possesses a self (you ji 有己) and faces objects [with it], one cannot vanish (into) things. Thus the great man does not brighten (ming 明) himself so as to shed light on others; rather, he lets the other’s own light illuminate themselves. He does not confront others [displaying] his own virtues, but gives it over to them to attain their own virtues. Thus he can thread one unity through the ten thousand things and obliquely unify (xuantong 玄同) other and self, obliteratingly (minran 泯然) becoming one with all under heaven and joining inner and outer into one felicity.

(Ziporyn 2003, p. 67)

Here, we find that the notion of ming neatly ties together Guo’s major metaphysical concerns and has important practical repercussions as well. He may well be overly optimistic in his assessment of xing and ming—which borders on mysticism—and he may also generally hold this metaphysical framework in too high regard, but, this is a topic that can only be elucidated with a firm understanding of the key concepts in Guo’s metaphysics, which this paper intends to outline.

5. Wuwei 無為 “Not Acting-For” and Ji 跡 “Traces”

Wu 無 is often understood as “nothing”, “nothingness”, “lacking”, or “non-presence” and is a key term in early Daoist philosophical texts. Its significance is reflected in practical issues, political thought, descriptions of the sage, and metaphysical discussions. In the Laozi, a key theme concerns the interplay between wu and you 有—understood as the opposite of wu as “something”, “things”, “having”, or “presence”. In terms of how things operate or interact, the Laozi consistently notes the importance and efficacy of wu. Chapter 11 for example, notes how it is the non-space, or wu, in a wheel, in a vessel, or in a room that allows them to function. The hub of the wheel, where nothing is and all spokes unite, is what gives the wheel its function. Similarly, in a vessel or a room, the function comes from the empty places, which are what they are because of the “something” that surrounds them. The “something” parts are beneficial as well, especially as they allow the wu to become functional. Chapter 11 ends: “therefore you is taken as benefiting, wu is taken as the function (故有之以爲利，無之以爲用)”.33

Applying this type of thinking to human action, the Laozi praises wuwei 無為, or “not acting-for”, as the best attitude to take when acting. Reflecting on the wu–you discussion, we might understand wuwei “not acting-for” in relation to you “acting-for” actions. We often interpret the actions of others (including non-humans and the environment) as having a specific purpose, and indeed this can be helpful for making sense of the world. Wuwei can then be understood as the empty attitude one takes in relation to (what seems to be) the purposeful or intentional actions of others. Our own attitudes being non-intentional or “not acting-for” allow for more efficacious meshing with others. Rather than pitting our intentions against others, the situation, or even ourselves, wuwei encourages less attachment to our wants and goals. This is what it means to “not act-for”. In this way, we can appreciate how wuwei is surrounded by youwei 有為 or “acting-for” in the same manner a wheel, vessel, or room has the wu area surrounded by you. Being wuwei can occur in a sea of youwei, not unlike the empty wheel hub surrounded by multiple “full” spokes, or a vessel that is empty in the middle but only because it is surrounded by fullness. However, unlike the empty space in a wheel or vessel, wuwei might itself be considered youwei by others. Since others see our actions but not our attitude, they can understand our behaviors as purposeful or intentional, but that does not mean that a mentality of wuwei is not at the root. (Similarly, we might interpret others as having intention when they do not.) In this way, we can appreciate how wuwei is most functional, although youwei appears to be beneficial in some regards. Below we will turn to more specific concepts, such as desires and knowledge, to further clarify the point.

Guo’s response to the dynamic relationship between wuwei and youwei breaks down these distinctions. Similar to most who align their thinking with the Laozi or Zhuangzi, Guo speaks positively about wuwei, but he adds further dimensions by incorporating metaphysical dimensions seldom emphasized in earlier texts. One such dimension involves the relationship between names and actualities.34 In a comment towards the end of chapter 25 Guo writes, “names stop at actualities, this is called wuwei; each thing has its own ‘self-way’ (zi wei 自為) and so nothing is not done” (Guo 1997, p. 581).35 Guo’s major issue with names is that they easily become “traces” or “footprints” that people “act for”. To understand what Guo means when talking about wuwei and how it comes from not letting names invade the being and action of particular xing, i.e., having them stop at actualities, we can look at “traces” or ji 跡/迹.

Ji is a term found already in the Lunyu, Laozi, and Zhuangzi, and while other scholars, including Wang Bi 王弼 (d. 249), used this basic idea to frame their philosophical understandings, especially with regards to virtues and morality in general, it is not until Guo Xiang that ji becomes a major philosophical concept that is clearly described. Looking at some previous uses of ji provides a foundation for understanding Guo’s interpretation. In Lunyu 11.20, for instance, we find Confucius being asked about the way of a good person (善人之道). Confucius replies that this type of person does not “tread on the footprints [of others], and also does not enter the chamber [i.e., is not a full sage]”. In a similar vein, Confucius says (Lunyu 15.29) “humans can broaden the way, it is not the case that the way broadens humans”. Furthermore (Lunyu 18.8), “there is nothing that must be done and nothing that must not be done”. In all these passages the general idea is the same: being a good person involves figuring out what to do based on reflecting on past models, examples, and proven patterns—that is, thinking with them, not imitating them. Simply following others, pre-set principles, certain calculations, or copying what someone else did, are all to be avoided. The Laozi takes a different angle. In chapter 27, we find that “one who is skilled at moving does not leave footprints”. This is an obvious metaphor. As Lin Xiyi 林希逸 (d. 1271) explains, it is about a person who is self-so and follows dao, which means they do not exert influence or leave traces (Lin 2015, p. 112).

We can summarize the way Guo thinks of “traces” as well as their connection to naming and actualities by analyzing a key passage from his commentary.

“Yao” and “Shun”, the names of the emperors, are merely their traces; the self lodges in these traces, but the traces are not the self. Thus the terror [of the world] comes from the world itself, [not from the sages]; the more terrified the world is, the coarser [the sages’] traces will be. The coarseness or excellence [of the traces merely depends on how flat or steep the road is; how could it be that the traveler has changed his feet? Thus the sage is one, but there is the difference between Yao, Shun, Tang, and Wu. [We must] understand that this difference is merely in the names given by changing times; these are not sufficient to name the actuality of the sage. Thus how could Yao and Shun have been merely “Yao” and “Shun”? Hence, although they may have the appearance of care and worry, and the traces of humaneness and duty, still that which leaves the traces is ever whole.

(Ziporyn 1993, p. 514; translation modified)

What names pick up on, which as we saw above stops at actualities, is only that which has been left over by actualities. Unfortunately, this is all that humans can cognize, traces of the self-so and wuwei activities of specific xing. The conditions in which the specific xing operated in, and that xing itself, are always distinct from later cognitions of it. If one tries to imitate others, even exemplars such as Yao or Shun, they only end up imitating their traces, which moves them away from what Yao and Shun were actually like, which is being self-so or wuwei.

In emphasizing that people should be wuwei, or bu wei 不為, and self-so, Guo chooses to focus on what they should not do. Following traces or footprints is a major danger. The recordings of what someone did at one time can be very attractive. Someone may have accomplished something amazing; they may have accomplished something beautifully, excellently, or extremely effectively. However, whatever is recorded is what fit at one time, and it does not necessarily fit at another time. Tang Yijie elaborates:

Human cognition can only cognize the traces of things, that is, cognize the traces left behind by the activity of other things; they cannot cognize the self-xing (自性) of other things which leaves these traces. If we don’t distinguish between the two [and the limits of names in regard to actualities], we would have to hold that we can cognize the self-xing of other things, and that other things [i.e., other xing] were the real objects of our cognition. But Guo Xiang believes that each thing is an absolute and independent existence, which cannot be the object of cognition.

(Tang in Ziporyn 2003, p. 38; translation modified)

Being self-so or wuwei involves responding uniquely to different situations based on what one is (xing 性), and how one fits well with everything else (all other xing). As discussed below, this is a matter of allowing one’s xing to merge, or “vanish” (ming) into the situation and all other things. Attempts to cognize traces become in the way of “vanishing” and of being self-so or wuwei. Traces are examples of situations that differ from the present situation in countless ways, and from actors that differ from anyone else. No two situations are the same, and neither are any two people. Additionally, the ways situations and people mesh are incredibly complex, so even when a person finds themselves in a similar situation, and with a somewhat similar disposition as someone else, that does not mean they can follow footprints. Interactions can vary hugely based on minute factors. Moreover, any attempt to model someone else necessarily gets in the way of one’s own self-so or wuwei merging with the situation. Ziporyn writes:

[T]races are not simply ineffectual for producing spontaneity [self-so and wuwei] and hence superfluous; they are positively dangerous, for they cause beings to neglect their own inner necessity in favor of something attractive outside themselves…. By cognizing attractive external traces of another being’s spontaneity, these beings lose their own spontaneity.

(Ziporyn 2003, p. 52)

Thus, being self-so or wuwei is largely a matter of not following traces. Once one forgets about models and does not try to imitate the way others have performed things, they are already open to operating more spontaneously. Not cognizing how one should or should not do things, especially in an overly abstract or principle-based manner, gets one in a place of operating in line with one’s own dispositions (xing), which allows them to match effectively and harmoniously with the dispositions of all other things comprising a situation. Guo connects this to a purity of virtue, which may just be another way of referencing being clear about one’s own xing. He writes “To be unclear about self-so leads to ‘acting for,’ ‘acting for’ one’s virtue is no longer pure” (Guo 1997, p. 101).36 This view is built upon a metaphysical understanding of a world comprised of various ever-transforming and constantly vanishing xing. Exactly what this means for knowledge, or cognizing, and desires and other human intentions (or “acting for”) will be explored in the next section.

6. Wu Yu 無欲 “No Desires” and Wu Zhi 無知 “No Knowledge”

The Laozi and Zhuangzi extend their discussion of wu to other important aspects of human life, including desires and knowledge (yu 欲 and zhi 知, respectively), and speak of taking a wu attitude towards such things. While often misunderstood as meaning the cessation of desires or minimization of knowing, the wu attitude does not mean being “without” desires or knowledge, but rather not being attached to such things. In keeping with the you–wu dynamic discussed above, we can recognize that much you, the having of actual desires, surrounds the attitude of wu. Having desires is beneficial and even essential for humans (as it is for any other living thing) and to somehow refrain from all desires is not something the Laozi or Zhuangzi ever imagines. However, a wu approach to desires still allows humans to function best. The desire to eat is a simple and telling example. Food is necessary for humans, and this desire should be present (giving people an appetite) and then satiated. However, if one becomes overly focused on food and enlarges this desire by becoming too attached to it, numerous problems occur—being overweight or fixating on certain foods or amounts of food.

Problems that arise from being too entangled by one’s desires are not limited to physical health or personal obsessions; the political and moral ramifications are immense. In both the Laozi and Zhuangzi, not being overly attached to desires (wu yu 無欲) is what allows one to remain similar to an uncarved block (su pu 素樸; Zhuangzi 9.2) or help others (especially a rulers’ subjects) to remain simple (pu 樸; Laozi 57). In the Laozi and Zhuangzi, remaining simple or similar to an uncarved block means one is closer to dao. Being more “simple” means being more natural or spontaneous, which is associated with being self-so and wuwei. In other words, this is what the Laozi and Zhuangzi praise. This leads Fu Peirong 傅佩荣 to state, “Daoists actually take a position close to ‘human nature is good’”.37 (Fu 2006, p. 312) That is, when humans are not overly concerned with certain aspects of themselves or others, and remain satisfied with their own “selves”, things are likely to go well (other dimensions of this idea will be discussed below).

Fu Peirong’s claim about the Laozi and Zhuangzi believing in “human nature” as basically “good” is based on what seems implied in those texts. In Guo’s philosophy, this claim is more overt and is given a metaphysical grounding. Guo argues that people should “not go beyond the satisfaction of their original natures (xing 性)” and in this way can stay “free of inordinate desires” (Lynn 2022, p. 193). Having desires, and operating according to them, is what leads people away from their otherwise “good” natural dispositions, or natural way of being. Desires are likened to purposes or intentions that are held by a person before they encounter a situation. Guo sharply criticizes “having a model (li 理) and purpose (zhi 志) before even moving” (Guo 1997, p. 318). It is far better to “go with what one encounters” (Guo 1997, p. 318). This is Guo’s wu-based alternative.

When the Zhuangzi 9.2 observes, echoing the Laozi, “[People] equally free from desires (wu yu 無欲) is called [being in a state of] simplicity, similar to an uncarved block (su pu 素樸)”, it is praising an attitude towards desires that allows people to not become too caught up in their desires. In this way, as Laozi 57 and other places in the Laozi and Zhuangzi note, people will be free of anxieties and interact well. Guo elaborates: “When people have desires, they estrange themselves from their original natures (xing 性) by trying to embellish themselves” (Lynn 2022, p. 193). Concentrating on desires moves people away from what they are, their xing, and distracts people from being wuwei and self-so. Expressing these points, as well as the idea that humans are basically “fine”, which was mentioned in connection with Fu Peirong above, Guo writes:

Human life is inherently simple and straightforward [zhi 直], so if nothing tries to lead it astray, one won’t attempt to exceed one’s natural endowment [xingming 性命], and natural desires and aversions won’t be distorted. If those in authority don’t practice wuwei, actions taken by them will result in everyone conforming to them. This is why having been seduced into liking and desiring things people are wont to exceed the limits of their natural endowment [xing 性]. Therefore, what is valued in the sage king is not his ability to put things in order but the fact that by practicing wuwei, he allows people [ren wu 任物] to behave spontaneously [ziwei 自為].

(Lynn 2022, p. 208; translation modified)

Here Guo is suggesting that humans are naturally (or “human nature”) just fine—what Fu Peirong means by “good”—in the sense that things will be okay, or orderly and go well-enough, as long as xing is not interfered with. As long as people can self-so and wuwei, which requires others around them to be similar to this (or do similar to this) also, then the limitations of their own xing will not be pushed. Enhancing “likings” and “desires” is one of the ways to mess up the inherent simple and straightforwardness of human xing. Knowledge is another.

In this same section of the Zhuangzi (9.2) mentioned above, knowledge is reflected upon. Again, the idea, which is found in the Laozi as well, is focused on wu—both texts promote the idea, state, or attitude of wu zhi 無知, or “non-knowledge”. Just above the line “[People] equally free from desires…” we have “[People] equally free from knowledge, they do not leave their virtue (de 德)” (Zhuangzi 9.2). Guo comments on this, writing, “[With] knowledge [people] then leave dao through relying on [ideas of what is] good” (Guo 1997, p. 337). Similar to desires, knowledge can make people work against their own dispositions,38 or, to use Guo’s own vocabulary, not “rest” (an 安) or “give free reign” (ren 任) to dispositions. Trying to act in certain ways, which knowledge often contributes to, is the opposite of being self-so and wuwei. There is little difference, in Guo’s philosophy, between a focus on knowledge and operating according to traces or footprints.39 Both are problematic and should be avoided. Expounding on the implications of these dangers, Guo writes:

Even though [the legendary sage-ruler] Yao let the world freely be, the footprints he left behind came to mean “order”. Although the order of [Yao] and the disorder of [the legendary tyrant Jie] certainly differed, it is just that the two were the same, in that they both inflicted loss of happiness on later ages and in the way they both denied self-realization to people, who either competed to esteem the one or were filled with fear and revulsion for the other. Therefore, instead of praising Yao and condemning Jie, it would be better just to forget about both of them.

(Lynn 2022, p. 208)

In some texts, learning about the legendary sage-ruler Yao is promoted as a way of influencing people to become better. Here, knowledge is good because it gives people a model of excellence. According to Guo, however, this knowledge conflicts with people’s “self-realization” (zide 自得).40 So while it is fine to learn about Yao, or the negative example of Jie, they should be forgotten when one formulates one’s own actions. Rather, one should approach knowledge, the footprints of others, and their own desires with an attitude of you 宥 (a different character from you 有 in the wu–you pair), which Richard John Lynn understands as “letting things be”. Guo writes:

Letting it be [you 宥] allows it to exist freely on its own [zizai 自在], which results in order, but if one tries to put it in order, disorder [luan 亂] results. […] With non-rule [wuzhi 無治], people neither exceed nor stray [from their xing].

(Lynn 2022, p. 207; translation modified)

Accordingly, Guo summarizes the best type of person as “not bothered by knowledge or desires” (不煩乎知欲也; Guo 1997, p. 337), and he often says that tyrants are those who become caught up in desire41 and that excessive focus on knowledge can lead one astray.42 As highlighted above, Guo is not advocating the cessation of all knowledge or desires. He is speaking very plainly of the attitude one takes towards them. Knowledge and desires are part of the human experience, and there is no attempt to eliminate them or even significantly downsize them in Guo. As long as people do not become too attached to them, and do not let them bother them, then they can continue to be self-so and wuwei or “rest in” (an 安) and “give free reign to” (ren 任) to their xing. We thus once again see major ideas in Guo as founded upon xing. Next, we will consider wu 無 and dao 道.

7. Wu 無 “Nothing” and Dao 道 “Way”

Much of the way wu enters the human realm can be generalized as an attempt to allow humans to be more in line with dao. Dao is understood as having “no name” (wu ming 無名). It has no definite properties, so calling it any specific name would misrepresent its lack of properties. To borrow from He Yan, if it were called “black” it could not be “white”; if it were “round” it could not be “square”. Dao is not a definite thing, if it were anything in particular, then it could not participate in other things, so it must be “no-thing”.43 Since dao is that from which all things are generated, it cannot have any (singular) name either. This has been interpreted, mainly after Wang Bi, to mean that dao is more or less equivalent to wu, and as such wu itself is the origin of all things. All existing things (you 有) with their definite properties (also you 有) are ultimately rooted in non-existence (wu) with no properties (also wu). For Wang, the implications are vast, and he uses this idea, often summarized by his phrase “taking wu as the root (以無為本)” to reinterpret ideas from the Laozi, Zhuangzi, and Lunyu, including the meaning of moral virtues.

It should be noted that the Laozi itself is not clear on this issue.44 In chapter 2, we have: “you and wu are mutually generated (or, cogenerated; 有無相生)”. However, in chapter 40 we have a quite contradictory statement: “All the things in the world are generated from you, you is generated from wu (天下萬物生於有，有生於無)”. Wang Bi prioritizes chapter 40, and many readers have followed his reading. However, it is not clear within the Laozi itself which, if either of these chapters, should be prioritized. It is also entirely possible that neither is more representative of the “core” thought of the Laozi. Additionally, while some suggest that chapter 2 is making more of an ontic statement and chapter 40 an ontological one, there is no clear evidence in the Laozi itself that both are not ontic statements.

According to the majority of scholars45 Guo Xiang completely rejects Wang Bi’s “taking wu as the root (以無為本)” and instead champions you.46 The implications of this are vast. Just as wu is reflected in nearly every aspect of Wang Bi’s thought, you reverberates throughout Guo’s entire system. However, as we have seen above, rather than constantly referring to you, Guo relies on xing as his foundational concept and speaks about transformation hua 化 to account for constant change. In what follows we can appreciate how Guo relies on xing, transformation, and other key concepts to do the functional work of wu in Wang Bi and related readings of the Laozi. Wu is thereby reinterpreted by Guo in a non-metaphysical manner.47 It is no longer an ontological concept and does not indicate a “nothingness” or provide the functionality to existing things or “being” in general. Wu is simply nothing and has no bearing on being or function whatsoever. This is what Feng Youlan calls wuwulun 無無論 or “theory of no wu”.

In chapter 22 of the Zhuangzi, there is a fictional tale of Confucius being asked about what things were similar to before the existence of heaven and earth. Confucius replies that if they did not exist at some point, they would not exist now either—they would “lack beginning and lack ending” (Guo 1997, p. 762). Here, Guo writes:

It is not only that wu (nothing) cannot transform and become you (something), but also you (something) cannot transform and become wu (nothing). Accordingly, even though you (something) can become things and affairs, and although it changes and transforms in thousands of ways, not even once will it become wu (nothing). Not even once becoming wu (nothing), thus, from long ago there has never been a time without you (something), it has constantly existed.

(Guo 1997, p. 763)

Confucius goes on to say that we cannot, for example, speak of a time before there were sons and grandsons. Seen in relation to Wang Bi, the rejection of wu is perhaps the most radical aspect of Guo’s work.48 Guo is not necessarily criticizing a more ontic understanding of wu in Laozi 11, but he is overtly rejecting any Wang Bi–inspired thinking of wu as the root of all things and yet an ontological nothing.

Earlier in this same chapter, we are told that the actions of a great person (da ren 大人) are wu shi 無始, which can literally be translated as “no/lacking beginning”. Despite his admonishment of Wang’s position, the gist of these discussions in Guo’s work is not necessarily a metaphysical claim about the beginning or start of the cosmos. While it can certainly be read as a purely metaphysical description, and his disagreement with Wang can be framed along these grounds, Guo is clearly more concerned with how this type of thinking will influence people’s own self-understanding and their understanding of others and things, in a broad and practical manner. Guo does not describe what exactly the metaphysical or ontological origin of the cosmos might be;49 his comments are mainly aimed at rejecting Wang Bi and then redirecting attention to how things function and how they should operate according to wuwei and self-so. In other words, Guo wants to bring this all back to wuwei, but more importantly to self-so, which is always practical. A few lines later Guo writes:

What could possibly exist prior to things! I might have it that yin and yang were prior to them, but yin and yang themselves are just what we may call things. So what was there even prior to yin and yang? I might have it that self-so was prior to them,50 but self-so means just things functioning spontaneously on their own. I might have it that the perfect Dao was there prior to it, but the perfect Dao consists of just perfect emptiness [zhiwu]. As such, it has no existence, so what could have been more prior to that? This being so, what then could have possibly existed prior to things! However, since things still come into existence without ever ending, it is clear that they just happen self-so and not because something makes them happen [非有使然也].

(Lynn 2022, p. 398; translation modified)

Here we move from the rejection of the ontological wu that is nothingness as having any relation to the world to an even more radical rejection of dao. Readers of the Laozi and Zhuangzi well know that dao is a major concept. Guo undermines the concept, or, as we will see later, perhaps repurposes it:

The Dao has no power. When the text says, “They attained it from the Dao”, this is merely to show that they spontaneously attained it. It is simply spontaneously auto-attained; the Dao cannot make them attain it. What I have not attained, I cannot make myself attain. Thus whatever is attained [i.e., whatever qualities one has] externally does not depend on the Dao, internally does not come from my self; it is simply abruptly auto-attained and self-right (zide 自得) and lone-transformation (duhua 独化).

(Ziporyn 2003, p. 41)

Ziporyn reiterates by saying that in Guo we find “insistence that Dao is and does exactly nothing, that there is no Dao outside of things in their multiplicity” (Ziporyn 2003, p. 45). In fact, dao has no place in Guo’s thoughts. It is at best a marker or way of saying things were just self-so, self-right, self-attained, and the like. Rather than actually being something, or asking people to align themselves with it, or having any influence on the world, dao helps us realize that there is nothing that has this role, and things are what they are in and of themselves, and that is best.

As mentioned above, this is an issue that scholars are currently debating. However, if we just look at what Guo himself writes, we might find a new way to resolve the tension between those who argue that Guo rejects dao, and those who say he appreciates it in a different manner. We might, for instance, use the idea of traces to understand how Guo thinks about dao, and how this differs from earlier thinkers. Expounding on dao and all the amazing things that it does or ways that people can be when operating in accordance with it is not unlike the praise of virtues, which also posits that when people are virtuous they are to be admired. Saying that things operate well because they model dao, such as in chapter 25 of the Laozi, or that the sage can embody dao and this is something to be idealized, an idea found in the Laozi and Zhuangzi, can be misunderstood as thinking there really is a dao, and that people should follow it. It is rather when things operate according to themselves (self-so), or with a wuwei attitude, that we obtain efficacious and praiseworthy examples. However, “dao” is not something with particular content that these things model. Rather, dao is a way of getting things to stop modeling others, to not think about being similar something else, and to simply go along with what they already are in and of themselves.51 As Guo writes of dao in chapter 25, “constantly doing nothing but spontaneous (zi er 自爾), it is neither in speaking nor in not speaking” (Guo 1997, p. 919).

8. Conclusions

As pointed out by Yang Lihua, Guo’s philosophy often flies in the face of common sense. Much of what he says is difficult to digest. Part of the reason he has often been misunderstood, or described as a mere commentator and not taken seriously in his own right, is that appreciating Guo’s philosophy requires learning his complex system. This paper hopes to provide a useful inroad for those who are unfamiliar with Guo’s work. As demonstrated above, his metaphysics is significantly distinct from those before him. He not only redefines key concepts but intricately interweaves them into a rich and complex system. Understanding this system helps illuminate Guo’s practical and political arguments and draws them closer to certain dimensions of common sense—or at least assures that they do not differ too radically.

The sketch in this paper could be further filled in to further delineate Guo’s thought and critically assess its validity or appreciate what we might learn from it. Further steps can be taken, for example, in looking at how Guo sees much of these metaphysical concepts as being incorporated into real life (luoshi 落實). At times Guo seems overly optimistic about the efficacy of his key notions, such as wuwei, self-so, or vanishing. In one instance, he writes:

Therefore, arcanely [mingran] take whatever one encounters as fated yet never engage in it with one’s mind [xin 心]—one is thus so perfectly identified with it [minran] that he becomes one with what is perfectly appropriate [zhidang] and stays free from joy or sorrow while this happens. Therefore, although one might serve some ordinary fellow, he shall always act with perfect appropriateness whatever he sets out to do—so how much more likely will he succeed when it comes to ruler or parents!

(Lynn 2022, p. 87)

There might be more to the picture here; Guo might have other ideas that contribute to this statement. Otherwise, what he writes here seems potentially overly expectant. Describing this and other sections, Ziporyn writes,

The same applies to the ideal man and the things he encounters; he follows them, lets them be what they are, but does not imitate or esteem any particular ones, nor does he attempt to make any of them other than they are, forcing one to be like another or himself to be like any one of them, or any of them like him. For in Guo’s ideal, there is no particular “him” for them to be like. The mind of the sage is nonexistent, like the Dao, and this is the great virtue of both. The perfect self-rightness of all things lies in this peculiar type of nonaction [wuwei] and silence, which is at the same time, by virtue of its very inaction and silence, the action and cacophony of all it encounters. By thoroughly merging [ming] with this cacophony, by becoming it, one fits it, vanishing (into) it [ming], and thereby forgets it.

(Ziporyn 2003, p. 83)

This is not only difficult to swallow, but hard to imagine. What exactly does it look similar to “thoroughly merge” or “vanish” into the “cacophony” of all things, and will that really lead to perfect appropriateness?

Similarly, Guo frequently references the “joy” associated with being (his version of) an ideal person:

With character perfectly realized and natural endowment completely fulfilled, Heaven and Earth are suffused with joy. Since nothing happens to impede such joy, this means he is utterly disengaged.

(Lynn 2022, p. 245)

When one complies with the joy of Heaven, ample shall be his joy.

(Lynn 2022, p. 258)

Once no mindfulness of joy exists, joy becomes completely ample.

(Lynn 2022, p. 258)

Again, what Guo writes here “flies in the face of common sense” and deserves further exploration. The work in this paper provides a starting point to further explore such claims.