Restless Souls: Emerson and Zhuang Zi on the Path to Self-Transcendence Through Silence and Stillness

Abstract

Why have thinkers like Ralph Waldo Emerson and Zhuang Zi, across different cultures, sought something beyond the self? Whether through God, nature, or abstract ideals, the longing for transcendence has been a recurring theme across philosophical and religious traditions. This impulse reflects what Aldous Huxley termed the “perennial philosophy”—the idea that all spiritual traditions share a common metaphysical core. Within this framework, Emerson and Zhuang Zi offer remarkably similar insights into the transformative power of silence and stillness. For Emerson, these quiet states connect the individual with the Over-Soul, a universal spirit that transcends the ego. For Zhuang Zi, they enable alignment with the Dao, the natural flow of the universe. In both philosophies, silence and stillness serve as transformative practices that dissolve the boundaries of the self and open it to a deeper, more unified reality. By comparing Emerson’s Over-Soul and Zhuang Zi’s Dao, this essay shows how both thinkers suggest that true peace arises not from striving but from surrendering to the quiet depths of being. Their shared emphasis on contemplative stillness reveals its enduring value as a spiritual practice across diverse philosophical landscapes.

1. Introduction

Although contemporary life is often characterized by noise, distraction, and constant activity, practices of silence and stillness continue to hold significance across a range of philosophical and religious traditions in both Eastern and Western contexts. Across cultures and centuries, these quiet states have been honored as gateways to deeper insight and spiritual transformation. While previous comparative studies have explored intersections between Emersonian and Daoist thought, the specific transformative role of silence and stillness remains underexamined. This article argues that both thinkers regard silence and stillness not as absences, but as dynamic forces for self-transcendence.

Recent scholarly works have explored intersections between Emerson’s Transcendentalism and Zhuang Zi’s Daoist philosophy, highlighting various thematic connections. Scholars agree that Emerson’s concept of beauty aligns closely with Zhuang Zi’s description of the Dao, emphasizing inherent vitality, spiritual transcendence, and multidimensional unity (Jia and Wu 2024). Shan Gao (2023) examines how both philosophers’ spirituality in nature shapes their sense of place, revealing that both consider wilderness and agricultural land significant despite their different cultural contexts. Matthew Crippen (2023) highlights strong connections between “Transcendentalist and Chinese philosophies,” noting similarities such as the adoption of wu wei, the Confucian stress on ritual, and a radical causal holism. Crippen calls for more global approaches to understanding these philosophical connections, suggesting that Transcendentalists both conserved the past and converted it into a form of radicalism.

Ercan Kaçmaz (2024) provides a comparative study of the worlds of Turkish Sufi poet Yunus Emre and Emerson. Despite living in different centuries, both figures adopted the motto of giving everything to love and being loved. The study highlights the similarities in their teachings and worldviews, illustrating their contributions to the cultural and intellectual development of humanity. Karyn Lai (2022) studies the notion of freedom in the Zhuangzi, contributing to debates on Zhuangzian freedom by suggesting multiple pathways to attain the freedom described in the text. She introduces the theme of love to work within but free from constraints in order to maximize personal abilities. She argues that self-reliant practice is essential to building the capacities that make such freedom possible.

“Silence is ubiquitous, from which the universe came and on which all existences rest” (Li 2019, p. 1). This often-overlooked dimension of experience holds deep philosophical significance in the works of Emerson and Zhuang Zi, as well as within the broader traditions of Daoism, mysticism, and transcendentalism. Emerson emphasizes personal intuition and the interconnectedness of all life. His works explore themes such as individuality, nature, and the connection between the natural world and one’s inner self beyond the physical. Emerson’s philosophy, much like Zhuang Zi’s, finds resonance in the silence of natural serenity. Similarly, Zhuang Zi often “speak[s] about love and life, status and death, knowledge and ethics, friendship and skill” (Vrubliauskaitė 2014, p. 76), using silence to convey a depth of understanding that sometimes transcends language. His famous parable of the butterfly metaphor is one that dissolves distinctions between self and others and reveals that freedom lies in embracing the fluidity of reality, a state best approached through quiet contemplation and inner stillness.

There are notable parallels between Emerson’s thought and Zhuang Zi’s teachings, particularly in their shared emphasis on the discovery of a unified whole. Emerson writes, “We live in succession, in division, in parts, in particles. Meantime within man is the soul of the whole; the wise silence; the universal beauty, to which every part and particle is equally related; the eternal ONE” (Emerson 1903, p. 269). His belief in the transformative power of inward reflection resonates with the Daoist insight articulated by Yu-Lan Fung: “That being so, there then came the dawn of illumination. Being illumined, he could then see the One; seeing the One, then past and present ceased to exist; past and present having ceased to exist he was then able to enter into eternity” (Fung 1947, p. 74). Both thinkers, though from distinct traditions, affirm that unity with the “One” transcends time, ego, and division.

Zhuang Zi deepens this insight through parables that challenge conventional views of identity, power, and control. The Dao, for him, represents the ultimate reality, but one that unfolds through a natural, consistent Way. To follow this Way requires not force, but courage. As Zhuang Zi states, “Great courage is not violent” (Palmer et al. 2006, p. 74), suggesting that true strength lies in surrender, stillness, and harmony with the flow of life. Emerson echoes this view when he notes, “The silent heart encourages [people]” (Emerson 1903, p. 259), and reminds us that authentic living demands the “courage to be what we are” (Emerson 1904b, p. 278). In both traditions, the path to self-transcendence begins with silent strength and ends in unity.

The Daoist sage, as described by Yu-Lan Fung (1947), “will accompany everything and welcome everything, everything being in the course of being constructed and in the course of being destroyed. Hence, he cannot but obtain joy in freedom, and his joy is unconditioned” (p. 77). This is evidenced by the sage’s silent acceptance of the nature of existence in achieving unconditional joy. In fact, Daoist philosophy emphasizes the importance of silence in recognizing and embracing everything in nature. Joseph Urbas (2013) similarly emphasizes the silent flow of causation in Emerson’s thought, suggesting that one should “just go with the flow—that is, the ‘flowing law’ of causation” (p. 100) to find the certain path to coherence in Emerson’s philosophy. This idea captures the essence of both approaches, emphasizing the silent flow of existence and the ongoing quest for self-transcendence.

Building on this growing body of comparative scholarship, this paper turns specifically to the underexamined role of silence and stillness in Emerson’s and Zhuang Zi’s philosophies. The first section explores how these thinkers are restless, yet fundamentally peaceful souls seeking unity with a greater whole. Their restlessness is not a flaw but a spiritual impulse resolved through the cultivation of silence and stillness. The second section argues that silence is not merely the absence of speech, nor is stillness the idle waiting, but a return to the source. The third section situates Emerson and Zhuang Zi within broader mystical traditions, drawing on the theories of William James and Maslow to show how silence and stillness serve as shared mystical tools that facilitate unconditional joy and self-transcendence. The final section explores how these practices reshape perception and interpretation.

2. Self-Transcendence: Restless Souls (Emerson and Zhuang Zi)

Leigh Eric Schmidt (2012), a prominent historian of American religion, opens his book Restless Souls: The Making of American Spirituality with a chapter that lays the foundation for a transcendental understanding of mysticism. One of the most significant transcendental innovations he describes is the transformation of the solitude of hermits into a broader spiritual understanding. Schmidt’s book traces the evolution of American spirituality through various historical and cultural influences, emphasizing the quest for spiritual fulfillment and a deeper search for meaning. It also notes a growing belief that all world religions share a common spirituality at their core.

In this context, both Emerson and Zhuang Zi can be seen as “restless souls”—figures whose unique approaches to spirituality reflect a shared longing for something beyond the self. In Emerson’s philosophy, this restlessness takes the form of self-reliance. “Trust thyself: every heart vibrates to that iron string” (Emerson 1903, p. 47) affirms the centrality of intuition and inner truth. This ethos parallels Zhuang Zi’s call for spontaneity and detachment from social constraints. Emerson’s insistence that “nothing is at last sacred but the integrity of your own mind” (Emerson 1903, p. 50) mirrors Zhuang Zi’s embrace of inner peace through a carefree attitude toward life. Likewise, Emerson’s rejection of rigidity—“A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds” (Emerson 1903, p. 57)—resonates with Zhuang Zi’s emphasis on adaptability and fluid perception.

As Watson (2013) notes, Zhuang Zi outlines the path to spiritual refinement through expansive understanding: “to understand the Great Unity, to understand the Great Yin, to understand the Great Eye, to understand the Great Equality, to understand the Great Method, to understand the Great Trust, to understand the Great Serenity” (pp. 396–97). While Emerson affirms a strong, independent self as essential to moral and spiritual growth, Zhuang Zi questions the very boundaries of the self, suggesting that true freedom lies in letting go of fixed identities. Despite their divergent ontologies, both thinkers explore paths to liberation through a form of self-transcendence—though the self being transcended is defined quite differently in each case.

Emerson’s concept of the “Over-Soul”—a universal spirit that connects all individuals—is a key element of his Transcendentalist philosophy. Emerson writes, “The soul is the perceiver and revealer of truth. We know the truth when we see it, let skeptic and scoffer say what they choose” (Emerson 1903, p. 279). To cultivate such virtue and insight, one must develop a deep, experiential understanding of harmony and unity. This understanding is not merely intellectual but is achieved through silent contemplation and a profound connection with nature.

This connection between contemplation and nature is essential in both Daoist and Transcendentalist traditions. Silent contemplation, in isolation, may open awareness inward, but nature grounds that awareness in the greater whole. For Emerson, the soul awakens most deeply in the presence of natural beauty, which mirrors its own order. As he writes in “Nature”, “The lover of nature is he whose inward and outward senses are still truly adjusted to each other; who has retained the spirit of infancy even into the era of manhood” (Emerson 1904a, p. 9). He further observes, “Nature always wears the colors of the spirit” (Emerson 1904a, p. 11), suggesting that the external world reflects the state of the inner self. Zhuang Zi similarly sees nature not just as a backdrop but as a living teacher, where the Dao is most clearly observed. According to Zhuangzi, “Heaven and earth were born at the same time I was, and the ten thousand things are one with me.” (Watson 2013, p. 71). As Yu-Lan Fung (1947) explains, Zhuang Zi’s vision of unity is not reached through intellectual reasoning but through a kind of pure thought that “transcends shapes and features” (p. 63), allowing the sage to “go back and forth with the spirit of the Universe” and live in silent harmony with the Dao (p. 71).

Zhuang Zi’s writings encourage readers to explore the nature of reality and to live a carefree life free from personal attachments. The concept of “free and easy wandering” is central to his philosophy, advocating a life of spontaneity and freedom from rigid structures. This wandering is not only a physical journey but also a mental and spiritual one, urging individuals to embrace uncertainty and explore new perspectives.

Zhuang Zi’s philosophy includes various expressions of living freely. It speaks of embracing a natural and effortless state of rest known as “free and easy sleep” (Watson 2013, p. 59). It advocates acting without struggle or forced effort—“free and easy in the service of inaction” (p. 131). Shedding unnecessary burdens and living simply is described as “free and easy wastes” (p. 239). Adopting a relaxed, unpretentious attitude is called a “free and easy manner” (p. 313). Living with boundless freedom and moving effortlessly through life is expressed in the phrase, “I wander free and easy between heaven and earth” (p. 445). Finally, achieving mental peace and contentment with a free and easy approach to life is captured in the phrase, “my mind has found all that it could wish for” (p. 445). In essence, Zhuang Zi’s philosophy promotes living with spontaneity and freedom, embracing effortless action, mental tranquility, and limitless freedom.

Burton Watson (2013) emphasizes Zhuang Zi’s vision of harmony as a central tenet of Daoist philosophy. In the chapter “Mending the Inborn Nature,” Zhuang Zi states, “Virtue is harmony, the Way is order” (p. 254), emphasizing the idea of universal harmony. Furthermore, in the chapter “The Sign of Virtue Complete,” he declares, “Virtue is the establishment of perfect harmony” (p. 115), reinforcing the idea that true virtue arises from a state of balanced and effortless unity with the universe.

Both Emerson and Zhuang Zi, with their foundations in silence, demonstrate a path consistent with Aldous Huxley’s concept of the perennial philosophy, which refers to the universal truth shared across the world’s spiritual traditions. By embracing silence, individuals can transcend their immediate reality and reach universal truth, whether it be the Dao, the Over-Soul, or Absolute Unity. However, this journey requires courage. As Emerson declares, one must be willing to challenge traditions and confront religious prejudices, crying out, “I appeal from your customs. I must be myself” (Emerson 1903, p. 73). For him, the full capacity of the mind and soul can only be realized by rejecting conformity, imitation, and externally imposed values.

3. Self-Transcendence: Daoism, Mysticism, and Transcendentalism

Self-transcendence refers to the process of moving beyond the ego or personal self to connect with a higher reality—whether divine, natural, or metaphysical. While Transcendentalism and Daoism may not be classified as mysticism in the same sense as Sufism or Christian mysticism, they nevertheless share many mystical dimensions. Transcendentalism emphasizes the individual’s union with the Universal Mind—a higher spiritual reality—while Daoism teaches harmony with the Dao, the underlying cosmic principle. Rather than assessing these traditions by spiritual hierarchy, it is more fruitful to examine how each offers unique contributions to self-transcendence and spiritual understanding.

Mysticism aims to detach the heart from the world and unite it with God. It involves controlling the desires of the self through practices like worship, remembrance, contemplation, and ascetic discipline. In general, mysticism can be defined as a discipline detailing methods to cleanse the heart of vices, cultivate virtues, and progress through spiritual stages to reach the highest level—the “Perfect Human” (al-Insān al-Kāmil)—and ultimately comprehend the secrets of divine unity (tawḥīd) (Türer 2013, p. 23).

William James (1902) identifies four characteristics of mystical experiences in The Varieties of Religious Experience: ineffability, noetic quality, transiency, and passivity. These experiences are deeply personal and difficult to articulate but often bring profound insights and leave lasting impacts. They seem to occur passively, as if governed by a higher power. James emphasizes that personal religious experience, not institutional religion, lies at the heart of mysticism. He writes, “One may say truly, I think, that personal religious experience has its root and centre in mystical states of consciousness” (p. 379). He further observes a common drive in both mysticism and philosophy: “Philosophy, with its passion for unity, and mysticism with its mono-ideistic bent, both pass to the limit and identify the something with a unique God who is the all-inclusive soul of the world” (p. 525).

R. B. G. Benevides (2021) similarly describes mysticism as a “consciousness of illumination” (p. 460), a transformative state that can be interpreted as self-transcendence. In the poetry of Yunus Emre and other Muslim mystics, this illumination is often expressed as divine love. Emre captures this transformation with the lines: “Your love has taken me away from me; you’re the one I need, you’re the one I crave” (Gölpınarlı 2015, p. 198). Divine love dissolves the ego and draws the soul into union with the Divine. Emerson, too, sees ecstatic transformation as essential to both human nature and the cosmos, observing that “ecstasy is the law and cause of nature, therefore you cannot interpret it in too high and deep a sense. Nature represents the best meaning of the wisest man” (Emerson 1904a, p. 214).

This ecstatic realization, in both traditions, emerges not through rational discourse but through silence and stillness. In Emerson’s “The Over-Soul”, silence is not a lifeless absence but the generative ground of insight. The soul’s communion with the Over-Soul results in an apprehension of truth, as Emerson explains: “And because all knowledge is assimilation to the object of knowledge, as the power or genius of nature is ecstatic, so must its science or the description of it be” (Emerson 1904a, p. 213). Similarly, Zhuang Zi portrays union with the Dao as a liberation from the limits of language, logic, and self-conception—a state of ecstatic freedom that transcends duality. As Xiangnong Hu (2024) summarizes, quoting Benjamin Schwartz, what is “present in and even central to the visions of the [Laozi] and the sections of the [Zhuangzi] book which belong to the ‘historic’ [Zhuangzi]” is “some kind of mystic union with the ultimate ground of reality,” characterized by an “aesthetic” and “value-free” attitude toward the natural world (Hu 2024, p. 4). Emerson deepens this understanding of the soul, writing, “The soul in man is not an organ, but animates and exercises all the organs; is not a function, like the power of memory, of calculation, of comparison—but uses these as hands and feet; is not a faculty, but a light; is not the intellect or the will, but the master of the intellect and the will” (Emerson 1903, p. 270). Just as Zhuang Zi’s sage becomes one with the spirit of the universe through stillness, Emerson’s soul, in silent ecstasy, rises above the faculties and becomes pure light.

Piers Worth and Matthew D. Smith (2021) explore modes of self-transcendence, such as “being human,” “meaning,” “self-actualization,” and “flow.” Among these, self-actualization, which Maslow places at the top of his hierarchy of needs, bridges inner growth and transcendence. Maslow later expanded this to include self-transcendence, describing it as the highest and most holistic level of human development. He writes: “Transcendence refers to the very highest and most inclusive or holistic levels of human consciousness, behaving and relating… to the cosmos” (Maslow 1971, p. 269). According to Maslow, individuals at this stage experience unity with “the Great Whole,” a concept Yu-Lan Fung (1947) describes as living for the universe rather than for society. This whole may be called the Dao, the Over-Soul, the Divine, or the Universal Mind. Attaining this level of being is rare, as ordinary attachments often obscure the path. Each tradition identifies those who have reached this state: the sage in Daoism, the enlightened master in mysticism, and the self-reliant individual in Transcendentalism. Such attainment often requires moral courage and, at times, guidance from a teacher.

Emerson and Zhuang Zi diverge in their understanding of the master-student dynamic. Emerson encourages direct communion with truth through intuition, often rejecting reliance on a teacher. Zhuang Zi, by contrast, acknowledges teachers as valuable guides rather than authorities. Yu-Lan Fung affirms this: “I have learned the Tao from a teacher” (Fung 1947, p. 73). In Daoist parables, teaching is often indirect, and the student learns through personal experience.

In various mystical traditions, the master–student relationship is fundamental. In Islamic Sufism, for example, the master (murshid) guides the disciple (murid) on the spiritual journey, a relationship founded on trust and love. In Kabbalah, a teacher is essential to share mystical knowledge. In Christian mysticism, spiritual directors guide their followers to deepen their relationship with God. These relationships are crucial for preserving and transmitting the wisdom, spirituality, and practices of each tradition.

Shan Gao (2023), in her study on spirituality and place, suggests that spirituality reflects a deep human desire for self-transcendence. She argues that we often follow a false self, driven by external goals like fame and wealth, and neglect our true self. Realizing the authentic self requires moral resolve. Emerson and Zhuang Zi agree: both distinguish between a superficial, worldly self and a deeper, true self. Emerson warns against clinging to appearances, while Zhuang Zi critiques our obsession with success and advocates for harmony with the Dao.

To avoid neglecting this true self, one might undertake a deliberate retreat from worldly affairs. Many spiritual figures have found solitude and reflection crucial for their spiritual journeys. Buddha (Siddhartha Gautama) meditated under the Bodhi tree for 49 days. Confucius and Mencius sought retreat from worldly affairs to engage in philosophical and spiritual practices. Hoca Ahmet Yesevi and Rumi each spent time withdrawn from the world. Swami Vivekananda engaged in intense meditation and spiritual retreats. Henry David Thoreau lived in relative solitude at Walden Pond. In the spirit of Emerson and Zhuang Zi, one could retreat into nature or silence for a time (whether 5 days, 10 days, or even 40 days), living simply and quietly. Alone with themselves in a small room, a quiet cabin, or a natural setting, an individual can devote time to silence and natural serenity.

In The Over-Soul, Emerson critiques inherited doctrines: “The philosophy of six thousand years has not searched the chambers and magazines of the soul” (Emerson 1903, p. 267). Zhuang Zi similarly resists conceptual knowledge. As Merton (1969) notes, he is “not concerned with words and formulas about reality, but with the direct existential grasp of reality in itself” (p. 11). For both, spiritual insight arises through inward experience rather than language or tradition. Emerson writes, “All right action is submission. The insight proceeds from obedience, and the obedience proceeds from a joyful perception” (Emerson 1903, pp. 268, 281). Zhuang Zi similarly affirms: “From stillness, action. From action, attainment … their stillness comes their non-action, which is also action” (Merton 1969, p. 80). Here, non-action reflects a profound attunement to the Dao, just as Emerson’s joyful obedience reflects surrender to truth.

Truth, for both, transcends language. Emerson insists, “The soul answers never by words, but by the thing itself that is inquired after” (Emerson 1903, p. 282). Zhuang Zi echoes: “Tao is beyond words and beyond things… Where there is no longer word or silence, Tao is apprehended” (Merton 1969, p. 152). Each philosopher affirms silence and stillness as the ground of truth.

Furthermore, both Emerson and Zhuang Zi highlight the vitality and transcendent quality of beauty in nature. This perspective aligns with self-transcendence, where individuals move beyond ordinary experience to connect with a higher spiritual reality (Jia and Wu 2024). Worth and Smith (2021) note that “self-transcendence may involve a profound sense of absorption, a sense of loss in time, giving up the past and the future, and a narrowing of consciousness into present time and work” (p. 2). This description emphasizes how deeply engaging with the present moment can cause one’s usual false self to fade, facilitating a connection with the true self. Both also celebrate nature’s role in self-transcendence. In this light, Emerson’s transparent eyeball and Zhuang Zi’s carefree wanderer are not just metaphors—they are models of self-transcendence. Ultimately, both figures suggest that the path to transcendence is not through striving, but through surrender—through silence, stillness, and the courage to let go.

4. Self-Transcendence: The Dao, the Over-Soul, and the Power of Silence and Stillness

The metaphysical foundation of silence and stillness diverges subtly between Emerson and Zhuang Zi. For Emerson, silence opens the soul to the Over-Soul. For Zhuang Zi, stillness enables alignment with the Dao. While one implies a theistic transcendence and the other suggests non-theistic immanence, both frame silence and stillness as gateways to a higher metaphysical reality. These quiet modes are seen as dissolving ego boundaries and enabling alignment with a higher universal order in both Emersonian and Daoist frameworks. Silence and stillness are not passive voids but dynamic processes that enable self-transcendence. They prepare the individual for a deeper mode of perception, one no longer clouded by ego, desire, or external noise. Through stillness, the Daoist sage becomes attuned to the Way; through silence, the Emersonian individual awakens to the Over-Soul. These practices create an inner clearing—a sacred space—where the self begins to dissolve and the eternal presence of the Whole is revealed.

Nature and life may initially appear to consist of independent objects and events. However, the perception that the world is made up of disconnected, unrelated forces is an illusion. In reality, the world and life form a unified whole composed of forces and factors in constant interaction. Events occur within a broad network of relationships. This interconnected order is the foundation of the universe’s functioning (Cüceloğlu 2001). Therefore, every event and object in nature should be understood as part of a larger whole. By striving to perceive this network of relationships, one can gain a deeper understanding of the true nature of life. Stillness, in this context, is not mere inactivity but a receptive state of awareness—an attunement that allows one to perceive the subtle harmony of the whole. Emerson’s philosophy centers on the concept of a universal mind. He suggests:

There is one mind common to all individual men. Every man is an inlet to the same and to all of the same. Who hath access to this universal mind is a party to all that is or can be done, for this is the only and sovereign agent.

(Emerson 1903, p. 3)

Emerson stresses the importance of uniting with a greater, harmonious order—what he calls the Universal Mind—to achieve a sense of true value and fulfillment. Such alignment is often cultivated through silence, which enables individuals to connect deeply with the universal order. As Emerson notes, “Good as is discourse, silence is better, and shames it” (p. 11). This resonates with the saying, “Speech is silver, but silence is golden,” encouraging people to speak less and listen more, a practice that will take us to universal order, and this can be achieved through silence. Emerson further articulates the experience of merging with the universal being:

I become a transparent eyeball; I am nothing; I see all; the currents of the Universal Being circulate through me; I am part or particle of God…. In the wilderness, I find something more dear and connate than in the streets or villages. In the tranquil landscape, and especially in the distant line of the horizon, man beholds somewhat as beautiful as his own nature. The greatest delight which the fields and woods minister, is the suggestion of an occult relation between man and the vegetable.

(Emerson 1904a, p. 10)

Emerson’s description of becoming a “transparent eyeball” and experiencing the currents of the Universal Being circulating through him epitomizes deep silent contemplation. In the wilderness, away from the noise and distractions of streets or villages, one finds a profound connection with the Universal Being. The “tranquil landscape” and the “distant line of horizon” suggest a sense of peace and serenity. Within this silence, Emerson locates the conditions for deeper contemplation and the revelation of a harmonious relationship with nature.

At the core of Zhuang Zi’s philosophy is the concept of the Dao, which signifies “a road, a path, the way it is, the way of nature, the Way of Ultimate Reality, the Rules/Laws of Nature” (Lee et al. 2019, p. 3).1 The Dao embodies the natural order of the universe—a fluid and dynamic process that “teaches people to follow the law of nature” (Lee et al. 2019, p. 4). Specifically, “the Dao means harmony with the natural world or the universe. De means harmony with oneself and other human beings” (Lee et al. 2019, p. 4). This perspective reflects the idea of a connected whole, where personal well-being and ethical behavior arise from living in harmony with nature and maintaining good relationships with others.

In Daoism, going with the natural flow of the universe is essential. In this alignment, silence becomes crucial, reflecting the profound tranquility that comes from embracing the Dao. As Zhuang Zi states, “The essence of the perfect Tao is hidden in darkness, lost in silence. Nothing seen; nothing heard. Embrace the spirit in quietness, the body with its own rightness” (Palmer et al. 2006, pp. 183–84). This profound silence is not emptiness in a barren sense but the condition in which true harmony is found.

Closely related to silence is the Daoist concept of “stillness,” a term often misunderstood. Stillness in Daoism does not suggest lifelessness or passivity but rather a vibrant receptivity and equilibrium. As Eva Wong (1992) affirms, “Those who cultivate the Tao regard purity and stillness as supreme” (p. 29). She further explains, “The spirit tends toward purity and stillness” (p. 36), suggesting that stillness arises not through force but from the spirit’s natural inclination. “In purity and stillness your spirit will be revealed” (p. 37), she adds, indicating that it is in the quiet clarity of such a state that one comes to know the true self. Cultivated through meditative discipline and breath harmony, stillness becomes a condition of transformation. Emphasizing its spiritual significance, Wong writes, “Abide in stillness and you will gradually enter the true way. When you enter the true way, this is called receiving the Tao” (p. 83). She adds, “If you want to return to the Origin, every day you must maintain stillness and not let the spirit be distracted” (p. 120), underscoring the importance of daily discipline. In this sense, stillness is not withdrawal but the threshold through which the practitioner becomes fully receptive to the Dao—where distraction fades, desire dissolves, and inner clarity emerges.

Thomas Merton (1969) describes this state of emptiness and silence as the very essence of the Dao, where wise individuals find peace and rest. The sage’s calmness, likened to still water, serves as a mirror to the world. The principle of wu wei emphasizes that the sage’s tranquility and inaction are natural and unforced (Merton 1969, p. 80). Importantly, wu wei in Daoism is not literal inactivity but rather a silent, perfect action. It means spontaneous action free from force, struggle, or personal desire. This unconditional approach to action sets Zhuang Zi apart from philosophers who build systems on deliberate, conditioned activities (Merton 1969).2 Wu wei should not be mistaken for passivity; in Zhuang Zi’s teachings, it is action that flows naturally from being in harmony with the Dao. As Zhuang Zi notes, “Calm, detachment, silence, quiet, emptiness, and actionless action, these are what maintain Heaven and Earth, the Tao and Virtue” (Palmer et al. 2006, p. 258).3 In this way, by embracing wu wei, one achieves a state of effortless action in which movements are guided by the natural rhythms of the Dao.

In The Encounter of Chinese and Western Philosophies: A Critique (2023), Benoît Vermander suggests that through the practice of rituals and the interpretation of deeper textual meanings, individuals can move beyond surface appearances. Whether in stillness or in motion, those who follow the Way are drawn toward its core—the formless origin from which all forms and patterns emerge. Building on this, Liu Xiaogan, as cited in Vermander (2023), describes Zhuangzi’s transcendence as “an opening to unlimited, unconditional freedom,” emphasizing that the Dao itself represents a transcendental horizon—“the unfathomable Origin” from which this freedom emerges (pp. 52–53).

As Emerson observed, “Silence is a solvent that destroys personality, and gives us leave to be great and universal” (Emerson 1903, p. 343), which will then lead us to unity. This transformation is so profound that one can become “the transparent eyeball” or “the Dao.” Zhuang Zi further illustrates this journey, urging us to “travel alone with the Tao which leads to the Country of Great Silence” (Palmer et al. 2006, p. 321). In this journey, the highest form of debate is achieved, as Zhuang Zi states, “No words, no silence, this is the highest form of debate” (Palmer et al. 2006, p. 429). This state—beyond words, silence, and self—is indescribable. Only in such a state can true self-transcendence and unity emerge.

Building on the theme of unity, Yu-Lan Fung—one of the most influential modern interpreters of classical Chinese philosophy—offers a metaphysical framework that resonates strongly with the philosophies of Emerson and Zhuang Zi. In his seminal work The Spirit of Chinese Philosophy (1947), Fung outlines four spheres of human life: “the unselfconscious natural sphere, the utilitarian sphere, the moral sphere, and the transcendent sphere.” The natural sphere involves acting on instinct without self-awareness, while the utilitarian sphere focuses on personal gain and reputation. The moral sphere emerges when individuals recognize society as a whole and act for the common good, fulfilling their social duties. The transcendent sphere is achieved when individuals understand the universe as the “Great Whole” and act for its sake, attaining a higher state of self-consciousness and knowledge. The first two spheres are natural, while the latter two arise from cultivation and philosophical understanding; philosophy enables individuals to attain deeper self-awareness and moral insight (Fung 1947, pp. xiii–xiv). Fung’s concept of the “Great Whole”—an understanding of the universe as an interconnected, unified entity—aligns with the Daoist principle of the Dao emphasized by Zhuang Zi.

Beyond their metaphysical and spiritual significance, silence and stillness also possess a deep aesthetic dimension. The transparent eyeball, previously introduced, also illustrates Emerson’s view that aesthetic beauty arises in moments of silent spiritual clarity. Similarly, Zhuang Zi’s wandering sage glides effortlessly through nature, perceiving the elegance of the world’s unfolding without judgment or interference. These aesthetic moments arise not from analysis but from direct, contemplative presence—an openness cultivated in silence and stillness.

Emerson emphasizes silence as a mode of active contemplation and inner clarity, while Zhuang Zi sees stillness as the path to merging with the Dao—because “only what is still can still the stillness of other things” (Watson 2013, pp. 108–9). Zhuang Zi teaches through parables, focusing on living in harmony without over-analyzing. He emphasizes walking the path, living authentically, and experiencing the natural understanding. In contrast, Emerson encourages deliberate introspection and self-reliance, providing intellectual guidance on how to think and live. As Emerson writes in Illusions, “For we transcend the circumstance continually and taste the real quality of existence… We see God face to face every hour, and know the savor of nature” (Emerson 1904b, pp. 323–24).

This vision of transcendence—where the individual overcomes external conditions to perceive divine reality—is grounded in a deliberate withdrawal not only from social distractions but also from habitual settings. As he insists elsewhere, “To go into solitude, a man needs to retire as much from his chamber as from society. I am not solitary whilst I read and write, though nobody is with me” (Emerson 1904a, p. 7). Solitude, for Emerson, is not a passive state but a cultivated discipline: “Set your habits to a life of solitude; then will the faculties rise fair and full within” (Emerson 1904a, p. 174).

This ideal of retreat as a path to alignment also appears in Taoist thought. As Yu-Lan Fung (1947) explains, the early Taoists “originally sought only to keep life whole and so to avoid injury to life. But one must get to the highest sphere of living: only then is it possible to make injury not injurious” (p. 77). Their transcendence is rooted in the realization that “the unnameable transcends shapes and features” (p. 71), and thus they “abandoned the world and lived independently of it” (p. 80)—not in rejection, but in harmony with the ineffable Dao. Both thinkers emphasize that self-transcendence is not a withdrawal from the world but a profound alignment with it. Together, their reflections offer complementary pathways toward dissolving the ego and attaining a deeper harmony with the cosmos.

5. Self-Transcendence: Interpretation and Perception

Interpretation is not merely a means of understanding texts but an important process by which meaning is constructed, internalized, and brought to life again. Interpretation is a fundamental part of engaging with any profound text—it is as natural as the construction of the work itself. Forming a conceptual understanding of a literary piece is as essential as writing it. However, readers may not always share a common interpretation, thus often approach texts from a variety of perspectives shaped by their own experiences and cultural contexts. This diversity can make it more complicated to uncover the author’s intended meaning. Emerson’s essay “Self-Reliance” opens with a sentiment that speaks to this challenge:

I read the other day some verses written by an eminent painter which were original and not conventional. The soul always hears an admonition in such lines, let the subject be what it may. The sentiment they instill is of more value than any thought they may contain.

(Emerson 1903, p. 45)

This suggests that, from the reader’s perspective, there is neither a single “right” nor “wrong” interpretation of a work of art; more important are the feelings and insights the work brings. Margaret Fuller’s reflections on Emerson further stress his belief in the multifaceted nature of reality. She observes, “He really seemed to believe there were two sides to every subject, and even to intimate higher ground, from which each might be seen to have an infinite number of sides or bearings, an impertinence not to be endured!” (Fuller 1844). This insight serves to confirm Emerson’s belief in the plurality of perspectives and interpretations gained by reading great texts. Similarly, a part of the Zhuangzi says, “…there is a course that opens them into one another, connecting them to form a oneness” (Ziporyn 2020, p. 15). In other words, all perspectives can be connected as part of a greater whole. Such a perspective allows readers to move beyond rigid dichotomies and embrace a more holistic understanding of reality. This opens them up to more flexible and deeper ways of thinking, while also making them more open to understanding different perspectives. The poet Rumi interprets the understanding of this transcendent approach. He wrote:

Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing, there is a field. I’ll meet you there. When the soul lies down in that grass, the world is too full to talk about. Ideas, language, even the phrase ‘each other’ doesn’t make any sense.

(Barks 1997, p. 36)

Rumi suggests that the notions of right and wrong are limiting; true understanding lies beyond these dualities, in a realm of unity and openness. In the “field” he describes, people meet free from the constraints of judgment, united by a shared humanity. Rumi’s invitation—“I’ll meet you there”—implies that meaningful connection and love can flourish only when we transcend rigid moral frameworks and find a deeper common ground. This perspective resonates with the notion of moving beyond conventional distinctions in pursuit of spiritual truth or true self.

While any literary text can inspire many interpretations, the text’s intended meaning—the “weight” given by its author—still underlies those interpretations. A reader can grasp this underlying coherence by following the interconnected pathways of meaning throughout the work, rather than drawing isolated or fragmented inferences. The same chapter in the Zhuangzi concludes with a challenging line: “For you can use the act of indication as an illustration of the unindicated that belongs to all indication, but that is no match for using the unindicated itself as an illustration of the unindicated that belongs to all indication” (Ziporyn 2020, p. 15). Though this statement is not explicitly about literary interpretation, it serves as a fitting metaphor for it—suggesting that indirect or intuitive understanding can sometimes convey meaning more effectively than explicit explanation. Just as silence can speak louder than words, stillness can reveal layers of meaning hidden beneath the surface.

In his essay “The Over-Soul,” Emerson articulates a profound vision of human unity and spiritual depth. He describes a transcendent presence—“The Over-Soul”—as a “wise silence” that dwells within each individual, a space where “every part and particle is equally related.” This silent center is not merely absence but a powerful presence: a “common heart” that binds all people together, dissolving the illusion of separateness. For Emerson, true wisdom, virtue, and beauty arise not from external performance but from alignment with this inner reality, which compels each person to live authentically, to “speak from his character, and not from his tongue.” In a world fragmented by division and succession, Emerson’s “The Over-Soul” offers a vision of wholeness—an eternal unity that underlies and connects all things (Emerson 1903, p. 269).

As Daoist wisdom reminds us—“He who knows does not speak, he who speaks does not know” (Merton 1969, p. 120), and “In stillness you will see the mystery within” (Wong 1992, p. 13)—true insight arises not from words or analysis but from silence and stillness. Zhuang Zi, in particular, teaches that genuine insight arises only “in contact with the mysterious Dao which is beyond all existent things, which cannot be conveyed either by words or by silence,” but in a state where both dissolve, and life is lived from the depth of being, not the surface of thought (Merton 1969, p. 21).

While Emerson calls for alignment with a universal spirit through self-trust, Zhuang Zhuang Zi attempts to show that one can achieve harmony by letting go of the self and moving in accordance with the Dao. Both so-called restless souls speak about self-transcendence and the process of rising beyond the physical sense of self, and they examine how this process impacts one’s values, sense of power and control over body and spirit, and attachment to worldly and otherworldly concerns. In doing so, they delve into questions of value, power, and the nature of self-transcendence. Self-transcendence, in this context, involves overcoming self-deception. To attain something as delicate yet complex as transcendence is to enhance inner peace. Being genuinely connected—to oneself, to others, and to nature—is what makes life meaningful, coherent, and purposeful.

Building this kind of connection starts with being honest with yourself and reducing inner conflict. As self-deception fades, it becomes easier to see things clearly—what Zhuang Zi calls the “illumination of the obvious” (Ziporyn 2020, p. 14). This clear seeing helps us understand life better and apply that understanding to ourselves. In many ways, this is what wisdom is all about—understanding deeply, feeling at peace inside, and seeing the world as it truly is. As Emerson profoundly observed, “Every secret is told, every crime is punished, every virtue rewarded, every wrong redressed, in silence and certainty” (Emerson 1903, p. 102). His words, like Zhuang Zi’s, reflect the profound belief that truth and justice arise not through noise or force, but through the quiet power of silence and stillness.

6. Conclusions

This study has explored the philosophical convergence between Emerson and Zhuang Zi, focusing on the transformative roles of silence and stillness in their shared visions of self-transcendence. Through Emerson’s concept of the Over-Soul and Zhuang Zi’s articulation of the Dao, both thinkers present silence not as mere absence but as a dynamic mode of attunement that dissolves the ego and reveals a deeper unity with the cosmos.

By bridging American Transcendentalism and Daoist thought, this comparative analysis contributes to the growing field of cross-cultural philosophy and dialogue. It highlights how distinct traditions can arrive at parallel insights regarding the dissolution of self, the cultivation of inner harmony, and the pursuit of spiritual growth. Drawing on broader mystical and philosophical frameworks—including William James’s characterization of mystical experience as ineffable, noetic, and transformative, and Fung Yu-Lan’s vision of the ‘Great Whole’ as the culmination of moral and metaphysical realization—this study situates Emerson and Zhuang Zi within a broader, perennial quest for meaning, wholeness, and transcendence.

Although understandings of transcendence vary widely across cultural and philosophical traditions, practices such as meditation, contemplation, detachment, and inner observation often involve elements of silence and stillness. These qualities, while interpreted differently across contexts, are also emphasized in the writings of Emerson and Zhuang Zi as central to spiritual insight and self-transcendence. These practices correspond to what Fung Yu-Lan describes as the ‘transcendent sphere,’ in which one’s actions serve not society but the universe itself, reflecting a life lived in alignment with the Great Whole.

Our choice to focus on silence and stillness stems from both methodological and cultural motivations. Philosophically, these concepts serve as a lens through which to explore the metaphysical intersections between Emerson and Zhuang Zi. Culturally, traditions across East and West—whether Daoist, Sufi, Christian, or Transcendentalist—regard silence and stillness as universal spiritual tools. Drawing on our background in both Eastern mysticism and Western philosophy, we see these quiet states as essential to understanding the conditions of self-transcendence. They are not peripheral but central to the human experience of truth.

In a world increasingly dominated by noise, distraction, and disconnection, the teachings of Emerson and Zhuang Zi offer not irrelevance, but remedy—a return to silence, stillness, and the depth of being. Their emphasis on silence and stillness invites us to pause, reflect, and realign with a greater order—whether it be the Dao, the Over-Soul, or the Divine. These practices are not merely intellectual exercises but lived experiences that foster clarity, resilience, and peace.