Forgetting: Its Meaning in the Zhuangzi’s Philosophy of Self-Cultivation

Abstract

The significance of forgetting in the Zhuangzi and its methodological significance for living a good life in particular has long been recognized by Zhuangzian scholars. However, with regard to what is really meant by forgetting, scholars are still far from reaching some clear consensus. Thus, with the aim of clarifying what is meant by forgetting in the Zhuangzi, I propose a wholistic understanding of forgetting in terms of the Zhuangzian conception of human self-cultivation. On the one hand, it involves an analysis of how forgetting is used negatively in the Zhuangzi to characterize and explain human fallenness. On the other hand, it also entails a careful analysis of all positive uses of forgetting in the text to mean our elimination of chengxin, orientation to the Dao, and fitness with all things in harmony.

1. Introduction

The significance of forgetting in the Zhuangzi and its methodological significance for living a good life in particular has long been recognized by Zhuangzian scholars (see Mou 2003, p. 143; Zhang 2019, p. 81; Fraser 2014, p. 198).1 However, with regard to what is really meant by forgetting, scholars are still far from reaching some clear consensus. Thus, with the aim of clarifying what is meant by forgetting in the Zhuangzi, I propose a wholistic understanding of forgetting in terms of the Zhuangzian conception of human self-cultivation. On the one hand, it involves an analysis of how forgetting is used negatively in the Zhuangzi to characterize and explain human fallenness. On the other hand, it also entails a careful analysis of all positive uses of forgetting in the text to mean our elimination of chengxin, orientation to the Dao, and fitness with all things in harmony.

2. Forgetting (忘) and Human Fallenness

Forgetting (wang 忘) in the Zhuangzi is not always positive in meaning. It is also often used to indicate human fallenness. For the Zhuangzi, there was originally the world of ultimate Virtue (zhi de zhi shi 至德之世), yet the world in which we live is de facto fallen, and its fallenness comes from some kind of forgetting. A famous anecdote about Zhuangzi himself names such forgetting as “forgetting one’s true nature” (wang qi zhen 忘其真). It begins with Zhuangzi wandering in the countryside. Then, seeing a strange bird flying by, Zhuangzi pursues and follows it into a grove of chestnut trees. As he is about to take down the bird with his crossbow, Zhuangzi discovers how the cicada, mantis, and magpie have all fallen into danger unknowingly:

睹一蟬方得美蔭而忘其身；螳蜋執翳而搏之，見得而忘其形；異鵲從而利之，見利而忘其真。莊周怵然曰：「噫！物固相累，二類相召也。」

He noticed a cicada which had just settled down into a nice patch of shade and there had forgotten itself. A praying mantis, hiding behind some cover, stretched forth its claws to grab the cicada. Intent upon this prospect of gain, it forgot its own body (which was now exposed to danger). In turn, the strange magpie sees the mantis in terms of gain, and intent upon gain, forgot its own true (nature). Alarmed, Zhuang Zhou exclaimed, “Eeee, creatures inevitably draw each other into trouble, one calling down another!”.

(Zhuangzi 20/63-64; Ivanhoe 1991, p. 23).

Zhuangzi quickly flees from the grove, barely escaping the keeper who chases after him, cursing him roundly. Zhuangzi stays home, deeply distressed, for three days. When asked for an explanation, Zhuangzi answers:

「吾守形而忘身，觀於濁水而迷於清淵。且吾聞諸夫子曰：『入其俗，從其俗。』今吾遊於雕陵而忘吾身，異鵲感吾顙，遊於栗林而忘真，栗林虞人以吾為戮，吾所以不庭也。」

In preserving my physical form, I have forgotten my own body. Staring at muddy water, I have mistaken it for a clear pool. Moreover, I have heard my master say, “When among common people, follow common ways.” But now, as I was wandering near Eagle Hill, I forgot my own body. A strange magpie brushed against my forehead, and (pursuing it) I wandered into a chestnut grove, forgetting my true (nature). (In this way), I was brought to disgrace by the keeper of the chestnut grove. That is why I am distressed

(Zhuangzi 20/66-68; Ivanhoe 1991, p. 24).

It was clear to Zhuangzi that the reason why he falls into a dangerous state of life is that he has forgotten his true nature. Luckily, however, he comes to realize it and determines to convert from it before it is too late. Thus, several scholars have interpreted this story as telling Zhuangzi’s conversion experience (see Maspero 1981; Ivanhoe 1991). I take this conversion experience of Zhuangzi as a conversion from his fallenness, in which he realizes that so many people in the world are also suffering.2

2.1. Fallenness in the Form of Yingxin (攖心)

To examine the fallenness of Zhuangzi in his conversion story, it is worth examining how Zhuangzi comes to forget his true nature. To start with, as Zhuangzi’s conversion story goes, it is in the pursuit of something considered necessary and good that the cicada, mantis, magpie, and Zhuangzi himself forget their true nature and thus fall into danger. Specifically, the cicada falls into danger in its pursuit of the shade that is necessary for having some pleasant rest. Similarly, the mantis, magpie, and Zhuangzi fall into danger in their pursuit of delicious food. However, it is not right to conclude that Zhuangzi explains their fallenness simply by their pursuit of rest and food. First, as rest and food are necessary and good for life, Zhuangzi, who finds it necessary to nurture life (yang sheng 養生), cannot be against our pursuit of rest and food. Moreover, the Zhuangzi is not even against the pursuit of “pleasant” rest and “delicious” food. People in the age of Perfect Virtue, the Zhuangzi claims, would “take delight in their food and clothes and enjoy their own customs and dwellings” (Zhuangzi 10/31-32; see Z/87).

For the Zhuangzi, human fallenness lies in the confusion of the heart–mind that grows from our inordinate pursuits of things necessary and good for life. Put differently, our fallenness is formally traceable to the confused heart–mind (yingxin 攖心) (see Zhuangzi 11/24-25; W/77). Specifically, the Zhuangzi categorizes two kinds of inordinate pursuits that render the heart–mind confused, i.e., the inordinate pursuits of material goods and the inordinate pursuits of achievements. On the one hand, for the Zhuangzi, the pursuit of material goods can easily become inordinate and degrade into pursuits of immediate gain (li 利). The Zhuangzi argues that, because material goods become less when divided among people, they easily trigger harmful pursuits and competitions among people, even to the point of death (Zhuangzi 9/18; W/69). Going back to his conversion experience, for instance, it is in their inordinate desire for immediate gains that the cicada, mantis, magpie, and Zhuangzi himself “draw each other into trouble, one calling down another.” On the other hand, the pursuit of achievements may also turn out to be inordinate and become the pursuit of fame (ming 名). For the Zhuangzi, the pursuit of achievements has to be measured by our being content to rest in our inborn nature (anqi xingming zhiqing 安其性命之情). If not, such pursuits “will begin to grow warped and crooked, jumbled and deranged, and will bring confusion to the world” (Zhuangzi 11/10-12; W/75).

Aside from tracing the fallenness of the world to the confused pursuit of immediate gain (li 利) and fame (ming 名), the Zhuangzi further clarifies that the confused pursuits could be venial ones or grave ones. If the venial ones alter our “sense of direction,” the grave ones blight our “inborn nature” (Zhuangzi 8/18; W/62). Moreover, according to the Zhuangzi’s diagnosis, “From the Three Dynasties on down, all in the world have altered their inborn nature because of some [external] thing,” such that “there are no men who do not strive for fame and seek immediate gain” (see Zhuangzi 8/19-20, 29/76-77; W/62, 263). As a consequence, the world turns out to be filled with “upside-down people” (dao zhi zhi min 倒置之民) who “forsake themselves to things and lose their inborn nature to convention,” “finding success of others without finding their own success, taking comfort in the comfort of others but not in their own comfort” (Zhuangzi 16/21, 8/31-32; see W/125, Z/80). In short, all have confused their heart–minds in their inordinate attention to things that are only good in an imperfect way.

2.2. Fallenness in the Form of Chengxin (成心)

To properly explain human fallenness, the Zhuangzi digs deeper and zooms in on the human capacity for self-determination. I contend that this is the case when the Zhuangzi, in the “Webbed Toes” chapter, criticizes members of other philosophical schools who have “subordinated” (shu 属) their inborn nature in their different pursuits. As the Zhuangzi sees it, members of the Confucian school have subordinated their inborn nature to the pursuit of the virtues summarized in the virtues of benevolence and righteousness (ren-yi 仁义); whereas, people of many other schools have subordinated their inborn nature to the pursuit of the different skills of managing flavors, colors, or musical tones, probably in accordance with the likes or dislikes of the Yangists and Mohists (see Zhuangzi 8/26-28; W/63). Thus, for the Zhuangzi, it is in the subordination of their nature to the various pursuits of imperfect goods that the people have forgotten and blighted their true nature.

It should be noted carefully, however, that for the Zhuangzi, the cause of our fallenness is not the capacity for self-determination itself but the inordinate enthronement of self-determination. The Zhuangzi characterizes such enthronement of self-determination as chengxin 成心, or the completed heart–mind (Ziporyn 2003, p. 43). Such a heart–mind is described by the Zhuangzi as the heart–mind that regards itself to be the sole teacher and master, or the heart–mind that makes the self have no other concern but its own values and goods to pursue (see Zhuangzi 2/21-22; W/9). Put differently, the inordinate enthronement of self-determination is in fact the heart–mind that determines itself for self-enclosure and self-aggrandizement. As a remedy, the Zhuangzi emphasizes that our subjective self-determination should not be the only thing that matters. Rather, our true human excellence consists in the self-determination that “follows the true form of our inborn nature” (Zhuangzi 8/30; W/63). In the last analysis, therefore, to say that the fallenness of the world is traceable to our chengxin or the self-aggrandizing enthronement of our self-determination is to say that we are thereby made persons who “hide from Heaven and turn away from what is real, forgetting what we have received [as our nature]” (Zhuangzi 3/17; see W/21).

A deeper subtlety, however, is still to be pointed out in the Zhuangzi’s analysis of the cause of our fallenness. For the Zhuangzi, we have fallen not simply because we, due to chengxin, have abandoned our inborn nature, but more because we have abandoned the Dao. To explicate this diagnosis, the Zhuangzi characterizes chengxin as the inordinate enthronement of self-determination that is not only harmful in a self-regarding way but also in one’s relationships with others. The Zhuangzi explains that, taken in its social significance, chengxin would make us so contentious with others that we always ambitiously strive “to go beyond the multitude and become the solely prominent” (Zhuangzi 11/58; Z/95). Accordingly, we, by our chengxin, lose our original sense of harmony as companions with each other and begin to see each other as rivalling competitors, “pleased when others agree with us and displeased when others differ with us” (Zhuangzi 11/57-58; Z/95). Such a state, for the Zhuangzi, ultimately points to the fact that we have fallen into dissociation with the Dao, no longer able “to see all things wholistically in the light of Dao” (以道觀之) but constrained to “see the world only horizontally in terms of things” (以物觀之), with the result that we perversely tend “to prize ourselves by way of despising others” (自貴而相賤) (see Zhuangzi 12/37-41, 17/29; M/108-09, W/129). This explains why, once after recounting the genealogy of the fall of the world, the Zhuangzi concludes that “the world has abandoned the Dao and Dao has abandoned the world” (Zhuangzi 16/11; see W/123).

According to the Zhuangzi’s diagnosis, therefore, human fallenness consists in chengxin or the inordinate power of self-determination that we form in us when we forget the Dao. It spells a subjective subordination of our nature in pursuit of what we ourselves determine to pursue out of self-aggrandizement and even at the expense of each other. As a remedy, the Zhuangzi proposes another state of forgetting, wherein we eliminate our perverse tendency to see the world horizontally from the perspective of things and grow excellent in seeing the world wholistically in the light of the Dao. This positive meaning of forgetting is what will be discussed below.

3. Forgetting and Human Self-Cultivation: A Wholistic Picture

The most famous passage in which the Zhuangzi speaks of forgetting in terms of human self-cultivation is found in a dialogue between YAN Hui and Confucius in “The Great and Venerable Teacher” chapter. This passage is worth quoting at length because many discussions of Zhuangzian forgetting are closely related to it, and my proposal of a wholistic interpretation of forgetting is also centered on it:

顏回曰：「回益矣。」仲尼曰：「何謂也？」曰：「回忘仁義矣。」曰：「可矣，猶未也。」他日復見，曰：「回益矣。」曰：「何謂也？」曰：「回忘禮樂矣。」曰：「可矣，猶未也。」他日復見，曰：「回益矣。」曰：「何謂也？」曰：「回坐忘矣。」仲尼蹴然曰：「何謂坐忘？」顏回曰：「墮肢體，黜聰明，離形去知，同於大通，此謂坐忘。」仲尼曰：「同則無好也，化則無常也。而果其賢乎！丘也請從而後也。」

YAN Hui said, “I’m improving!”

Confucius said, “What do you mean by that?”

“I’ve forgotten benevolence and righteousness!”

“That’s good. But you still haven’t got it.”

Another day, the two met again, and YAN Hui said, “I’m improving!”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I’ve forgotten rites and music!”

“That’s good. But you still haven’t got it.”

Another day, the two met again, and YAN Hui said, “I’m improving!”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I can sit down and forget everything!”

Confucius looked very startled and said, “What do you mean, sit down and forget everything?”

YAN Hui said, “I smash up my limbs and body, drive out perception and intellect, cast off form, do away with understanding, and make myself one with the Great Thoroughfare. This is what I mean by sitting down and forgetting everything.”

Confucius said, “If you’re one with it, you would be free from preferences! If you’ve been transformed, you would be free from constancy! So you really are a worthy man after all! With your permission, I’d like to become your follower”

(Zhuangzi 6/89-93; W/52-53).

Taking this practice as spelling Zhuangzian self-cultivation, many scholars have focused on discussing the order of forgetting, i.e., whether “ren-yi” is indeed the first to forget or “li-yue” is in fact the first to forget (see Lam 2022, pp. 184–91). In this regard, I think Yong Huang holds a more reasonable opinion: “it is hard to imagine that the practice of forgetting, tested with series of experiments by the Zhuangzi, is proved to be something achievable only by following a fixed sequence of forgetting. In my opinion, therefore, the reason why the Zhuangzi picks up first ‘ren-yi’ (or ‘li-yue’) to forget is simply a matter of rhetoric or out of argumentative expediency” (Huang 2023, p. 22). To properly understand the practice of forgetting, therefore, Huang rightly suggests focusing on the meaning of “forgetting,” which is “relatively more important” (ibid., p. 22).

3.1. Forgetting as “To Fit With” (shi 適)

Traditionally, there have been two ways of understanding “to forget”: one takes it to mean “to fit” with (shi 適) something, the other “to remove, to get rid of, or to eliminate” (wang 亡 or wai 外) something (see Lam 2022, pp. 191–95). For instance, representing those who go for the former, CHEN Guying finds support for reading “to forget” as “to fit” in the following passage in the “Mastering Life” chapter and suggests interpreting the “Great and Venerable Teacher” passage in light of it:

工倕旋而蓋規矩，指與物化，而不以心稽，故其靈臺一而不桎。忘足，履之適也；忘要，帶之適也；知忘是非，心之適也；不內變，不外從，事會之適也。始乎適而未嘗不適者，忘適之適也。

The artisan Chui made things round (and square) more exactly than if he had used the circle and square. The operation of his fingers on (the forms of) things was like the transformations of them (in nature), and required no application of his mind; and so his Spirit Tower remained unified and completely unshackled. The forgetting of the foot means the shoe fits comfortably. The forgetting of the waist means the belt fits comfortably. And when the understanding forgets right and wrong, the mind fits comfortably. When the encounter with each thing fits comfortably, the internal is not altered and the external is not made master. When everything fits, from beginning to end, even this fitting is forgotten, and that is the perfect fit

(Zhuangzi 19/62-64; see Z/155).

Interpreting this passage, CHEN Guying contends that the three instances of forgetting in this passage should form a parallelism and equally refer to some contentment and comfort (Chen 2016, p. 503). Thus, just like the forgetting of the foot and back does not mean “dropping off” but tells that the foot or back is in a state of fitness, contentment, and comfort, so the forgetting of right and wrong should be taken as referring to “the content and comfortable state of the heart–mind” (anshi xinjing 安适心境) (Chen 2000, p. 10). Moreover, as it is obvious from the context that the fitting state of the foot and back is mentioned immediately after the skills of artisan Chui who makes things perfectly and has his heart–mind unified and completely unshackled (or comfortably free), Chen finds it quite right to claim that “‘to forget li-yue’ is but to perform li and yue until one becomes perfectly content and comfortable with them; similarly, ‘to forget ren-yi’ is but to perform ren and yi until one feel perfectly content and comfortable with them” (ibid.).3 In short, to forget something is to fit comfortably with it.

3.2. Forgetting as “To Eliminate” (wang 亡)

WANG Bo, however, represents those who interpret “to forget” to mean “to remove, to get rid of, or to eliminate.” He suggests reading YAN Hui and Confucius’ dialogue in connection with another passage in the “Great and Venerable Teacher” chapter, i.e., the passage on “beholding the singular” (jiandu 見獨), in which the Woman Crookback tells how Buliang Yi manages to become a sage under her instruction:

夫卜梁倚有聖人之才，而無聖人之道，我有聖人之道，而無聖人之才，吾欲以教之，庶幾其果為聖人乎！不然，以聖人之道告聖人之才，亦易矣。吾猶守而告之，參日而後能外天下；已外天下矣，吾又守之，七日而後能外物；已外物矣，吾又守之，九日而後能外生；已外生矣，而後能朝徹；朝徹，而後能見獨；見獨，而後能無古今；無古今，而後能入於不死不生。

Now Buliang Yi was someone who had the innate capacities of a sage, but he lacked the Dao of a sage. I had the Dao of a sage, but no student with the innate capacities of a sage. So I decided to teach him, thinking he would immediately become a sage. That’s not exactly what happened, though telling the Dao of the sage to one who already has the innate capacities of a sage was indeed quite easy. Still, I had to keep at him, and after three days of expounding it to him, he was able to expel from his mind all under heaven, the entire known world. After I kept at him for another seven days, he was able to expel from his mind the definite things. After I kept at him for nine days more, he was able to expel all coming to be born and all life, including his own. With his own life fully cast out, he was able to see dawn breaking through everywhere. With dawn breaking through, he was able to behold the singular. With the singular, he could do away with past and present. With past and present done away with, he was able to enter where there is no life and no death

(Zhuangzi 6/37-41; see Z/56-58).

With this passage in mind, Wang opines that “to forget has the same meaning as ‘to expel, to cast out’” (wai 外); it means “to intentionally get rid of something, to remove something from the heart–mind” (Wang 2020, pp. 204, 81). Thus, to forget ren-yi and li-yue is to expel and cast them out of one’s heart–mind and life. For Wang, the last thing to cast out is the self that has deformed into the self of chengxin. In Wang’s interpretation, chengxin is the heart–mind that binds itself as a slave to the physical contingencies of the world (see ibid., p. 196). Thus, with the self forgotten and uprooted, “all fences and restrictive barriers would disappear,” and one reaches “the state of no-self” which is a state of “being one with the world, identical with the Great Thoroughfare” (和世界为一，同于大通) (ibid., pp. 119, 204).

3.3. Forgetting as to Eliminate Chengxin as Well as to Fit with Moral Actions

Huang, however, contends that the either/or take on “forgetting” (i.e., as represented by Chen and Wang) is problematic, as neither can account for the complexity of the meaning of “forgetting”. To determine the proper meaning of forgetting in its varied uses, Huang suggests a standard of distinction, i.e., “to see whether those objects of forgetting, after being forgotten, still exist or not” (Huang 2023, p. 23). Huang contends that some objects of forgetting do not cease to exist after they are forgotten, while other objects do cease to exist. To specify the meaning of forgetting in reference to this standard, Huang suggests interpreting the “sit and forget” passage with the mind-fasting passage, wherein Confucius tells YAN Hui:

若一志，无聽之以耳而聽之以心，无聽之以心而聽之以氣。聽止於耳，心止於符。氣也者，虛而待物者也。唯道集虛。虛者，心齋也。

Make your will one! Don’t listen with your ears, listen with your mind. No, don’t listen with your mind, but listen with your spirit. Listening stops with the ears, the mind stops with recognition, but spirit is empty and waits for all things. The Way gathers in emptiness alone. Emptiness is the fasting of the mind

(Zhuangzi 4/26-28; W/25; see Huang 2015, p. 108).

Huang contends that “the purpose of mind-fasting is to empty the mind of all prejudices, opinions, and pre-conceived ideas, the contents of the chengxin” (Huang 2015, p. 108; 2023, p. 21). For, “as soon as one’s mind becomes [empty and] unoccupied, one returns to the mind of the newborn baby,” or the original form of one’s heart–mind (ibid.). Essentially, it is a mirror-like mind, “which can reflect other beings as they are without imposing anything subjective upon them” (ibid.)

With this interpretation of the “mind-fasting” passage, Huang goes back to clarify the meaning of forgetting. According to Huang’s analysis (see Huang 2023, pp. 23–24), “to sit and forget” in the text is further explained as “to smash up the limbs and body, drive out perception and intellect, cast off form, and do away with understanding.” It is obvious to Huang that “to smash up the limbs and body” means the same as “to cast off form,” and “to drive out perception and intellect” is the same as “to do away with understanding.” However, Huang continues, “to do away with understanding” can indeed be literally equated with the practice of mind fasting, i.e., to empty the opinionated heart–mind (chengxin 成心) or to empty the heart–mind of all “its mechanics, tricks, deceptive pre-conceptions” (心机，机巧，伪诈). Yet, “to cast off form” cannot be literally understood as to render non-existent one’s physical body. Rather, relying on both XU Fuguan and CHEN Guying, Huang contends that it should be understood as to remove but “the bodily desires” (身体的欲望) or “human greediness” (tanyu 贪欲). 4. Moreover, Huang further contends that both the mechanics of the heart–mind and human greediness “are in fact non-existent, they exist because they are artificially created by humans, thus when forgotten—removed from the heart–mind—they would cease to exist” (ibid., p. 24). Thus, in combination with his interpretation of the “forget foot” passage, Huang clarifies two meanings of forgetting, i.e., “to forget something” would mean either “to cease to feel or notice its existence” because of some content and comfortable fitness, or “to make that something cease to exist” (ibid., pp. 23, 25).

With these twofold meanings of forgetting, Huang evaluates both CHEN Guying’s and WANG Bo’s understanding of forgetting. In short, Huang criticizes both Chen and Wang as somehow mistaken, and Chen is more so than Wang. In Huang’s critique, Wang is right in understanding forgetting as “to remove something from the heart–mind,” yet he fails to distinguish that some of the things (e.g., one’s foot or waist) would still exist when they are forgotten or removed from the heart–mind, while other things (e.g., ren-yi, li-yue, shi-fei, etc.) would cease to exist (see Huang 2023, p. 26). Chen, however, not only fails to distinguish “the forgetting of foot and waist” from “the forgetting of shi-fei,” but also wrongly associates “the forgetting of ren-yi and li-yue” with “the forgetting of foot and back.” Huang argues, in contrast, that the forgetting of ren-yi and li-yue should be associated with the forgetting of shi-fei, and that forgetting in both instances means the same, i.e., “to make things cease to exist”. This is because “in the Zhuangzi, ren-yi and shi-fei are regarded as the same kind of things” (ibid., p. 24). In effect, through forgetting, both human greediness and the opinionated heart–mind ceases to be, and what is left is the heart–mind in its purity, “like a clear mirror, which can reflect other beings as they are without imposing anything subjective upon them,” or like [the clean] water that not only reflects things without prejudices but also “always yields to them” (ibid., pp. 21, 22; see also Huang 2015, pp. 108, 109).

With such an understanding of forgetting in view, one may wonder how to explain the positive significance of forgetting with regard to the Zhuangzian actions that are properly moral. Huang seems to have explained it by contrasting Zhuangzian moral actions to Ruist or Mencian moral actions as “actions in terms of dao-de” (由道德行) as opposed to “actions in terms of ren-yi” (由仁義行). In Huang’s analysis, the former is different from the latter in two significant ways. On the one hand, the former “does not apply certain pre-established and universal standard of right and wrong in dealing with all its patients, but deals differently with its patients according to their respective unique differences” (Huang 2023, p. 20). As such, the uniqueness of Zhuangzian ethics is often characterized by Huang as “patient relativism” or an ethics of respect for differences (Huang 2010, 2018). On the other hand, Huang emphasizes that Zhuangzian actions of respect for differences “not only [negatively] does not interfere those others’ ways of life that are different from one’s own, but also [positively] ensures that they are enabled to live according to their unique ways of life, and even [positively] requires one to help them to regain their ability to live according to their unique ways of life when they are unable to do so (like when fish is forced to live on land when the river dries out)” (ibid., pp. 20–21). For Huang, just like the fish in the sea have no need to moisten each other by spitting on each other, so the Zhuangzian actions of respect completely cancel out the Ruist or Mencian “actions in terms of ren-yi.” Moreover, Huang continues, the positiveness of the Zhuangzian actions of respect is further established in the manner of their practices, i.e., they are practiced with such ease and naturalness that both their performer and those unto whom they are performed cease to feel that such actions are being performed (see ibid., p. 21). In the last analysis, therefore, the positive significance of Zhuangzian forgetting for Huang lies in the ease and naturalness of one’s actions that respect the uniqueness of others in their different ways of life, because such ease and naturalness make both the actors and recipients of the Zhuangzian actions of respect cease to feel the very performance of such actions.

3.4. Forgetting as Life Orientation to the Dao and the Harmonious Outlook of All Things

In my judgment, Huang’s interpretation better accommodates the rich connotation of forgetting in the Zhuangzi. To bring out my contribution with regard to a wholistic understanding of forgetting, I will mainly engage with Huang’s view in this subsection. In general, I contend that, just like human fallenness formally consists in our abandonment of the Dao, Zhuangzi’s proposal of forgetting in its entirety speaks of the authentic life as re-oriented to the Dao or, in Jung Lee’s words, as “attuned to Dao” (see Lee 2014).

To begin with, the whole clause with which YAN Hui explains “to sit and forget” goes thus: “I smash up my limbs and body, drive out perception and intellect, cast off form, do away with understanding, and make myself one with the Great Thoroughfare.” In his analysis of YAN Hui’s explanation, Huang does not mention the last phrase of the clause: “[I] make myself one with the Great Thoroughfare.” I think this last phrase is fundamental to a wholistic understanding of forgetting. Commenting on this phrase, XU Fuguan notes: “‘the Great Thoroughfare’ means Dao; ‘to make oneself one with the Great Thoroughfare’ is to make oneself one with Dao” (Xu 2013, p. 365). I agree with Xu’s comment and opinion, for such an opinion not only has a long and lasting tradition, but also finds its clear confirmation in many places where the Zhuangzi talks about forgetting.5 For instance, the Zhuangzi, in the “Great and Venerable Teacher” chapter, remarks that, just as “fishes are created to nourish each other from water, and humans are created to support each other from Dao” (鱼相造乎水，人相造乎道), so the best state of being for fishes is “to forget each other in water” (鱼相忘乎江湖), and for humans is “to forget each other in the care of Dao” (人相忘乎道術) (see Zhuangzi 6/72-73; see W/50). Less figuratively, the Zhuangzi further speaks of the Authentic Person as one who “does not forget the ultimate origin (which is Dao, as obvious from the context) where he or she starts” (古之真人……不忘其所始) (Zhuangzi 6/8; see W/43). Moreover, the Zhuangzi describes that the best state of human life is achieved by those who “arrive at Dao and forget their own heart–mind” (致道者忘心) (Zhuangzi 28/51; see W/246). In effect, I allege that the Dao is the overarching and background notion that internally structures the Zhuangzi’s understanding and use of forgetting. Differently put, all positive uses of forgetting in the Zhuangzi speak of an underlying orientation to the Dao, such that to forget something is to orient it to the Dao.

To continue, I agree with Huang that Zhuangzian forgetting, in its elimination of the chengxin, does not destroy the heart–mind but returns it to its original form. Moreover, I further agree with Huang that our original heart–mind is not simply a pure dynamism without any determination. Rather, it is something with some determined propensities. As Huang rightly notes, the Zhuangzian heart–mind is born with a propensity to reflect things (like a mirror) and to yield to things (like water). However, Huang does not emphasize two things about our inborn propensities. First, Huang does not emphasize enough that for the Zhuangzi, our original heart–mind is primarily oriented to the Dao, the Creator of things. This is clear when the Zhuangzi correlates the being of fish and the being of humans, and remarks that “[if] fishes are created to nourish each other from water, humans are created to support each other from Dao” (鱼相造乎水，人相造乎道) (Zhuangzi 6/72-73; see W/50). Moreover, comparing the Perfect Person’s (zhiren 至人) heart–mind as water, the Zhuangzi remarks: “he who is a Perfect Man lets his quiet-essential spirit return to the Beginningless, to lie down in pleasant slumber in the Village of Not-Anything-at-All; like water he flows unto the Formless and trickles forth from the Great Purity” (彼至人者，歸精神乎無始，而甘冥乎無何有之鄉。水流乎無形，發泄乎太清) (Zhuangzi 32/21-22; see W/282). It is evident that, for the Zhuangzi, human beings come from the Dao, and our heart–mind is internally compelled to return to the Dao and to act as oriented to the Dao. In fact, the same idea is also explicitly expressed in the “mind-fasting” passage. In that passage, when YAN Hui is instructed not to listen with his ears but with his heart–mind, he is not asked to abandon (ignore or deny) the hearing functions of his ears, but to align them with the heart–mind. Similarly, when YAN Hui is in turn instructed not to listen with his heart–mind but with his spirit, he is not asked to abandon (ignore or deny) the various functions of the heart–mind, but to align them with his spirit. Moreover, though the text continues to explain that “spirit is empty,” the empty spirit is immediately characterized as where “Dao gathers alone.” In effect, YAN Hui is guided in the “mind-fasting” process so as to see that his heart–mind is originally oriented to the Dao by nature, and he is suggested to “wait for all things” and respond to them with his heart–mind re-oriented to the Dao, or as the Zhuangzi expresses it, to live a life that “accords with Dao” (循于道) (Zhuangzi 12/9; see W/85).

In addition, I also agree with Huang that the Zhuangzian “actions in terms of dao-de” presuppose the forgetting or elimination of chengxin. However, I do not think the Zhuangzian moral actions would eliminate all distinctions of shi-fei and deny the Ruist general claim that there are universal values and that we can make sound moral distinctions of shi-fei. In fact, the Zhuangzi not only clearly remarks that the moral distinction of shi-fei can be definitively ascertained by wuwei (see Zhuangzi 18/12; W/140), but also strongly affirms two action-guiding values, i.e., filial love for parents and reverence due to others (political leaders in particular).6 Actually, the Zhuangzi names them as “two great constraints” (dajie 大戒). For the Zhuangzi, whether these two constraints are valued by anyone or not, the former is like “destiny” (ming 命) that “cannot be offloaded from the heart–mind” (不可解于心), and the latter is “duty” (yi 义), something “not to be exempted anywhere between heaven and earth” (无所逃于天地之间) (Zhuangzi 4/39-40). In other words, these two constraints are universal—they hold for every human being. Thus, I contend that, to be more exact in understanding the concrete meaning of forgetting, it is necessary to make two distinctions, i.e., the distinction between the imposing attitude one may have and the universality of moral values, as well as the distinction between moral values and the concrete manner of practicing them. Huang is right to insist that the Zhuangzi denies as chengxin our tendency to impose on others what we ourselves may value, be it our moral judgments, moral values, or our own manner of practicing them; and Huang is also right to insist that the Zhuangzi denies universality to the concrete manner of moral practices, and thereby neither commits to nor universally propagates any concrete manner of practicing ren-yi, li-yue, or other values. However, Huang seems not careful enough to note that, for the Zhuangzi, we still can recognize some moral values as truly binding for everyone and thereby make definitive moral judgments.

Indeed, though Huang’s reading of Zhuangzian forgetting is quite rich and subtle, it could go further in the recognition of universal values and definitive moral judgments. As Huang notes, “viewed superficially, [the Zhuangzian] actions in terms of dao-de and [the Ruist] actions in terms of ren-yi share similar end results” (表面上看，由道德行与仁义行有类似的结果) (Huang 2023, p. 20). However, Huang does not pursue their similarities much further. I would argue that the Zhuangzian moral actions, devoid of the imposing character of the Ruist ethics, can achieve in a higher way what the Ruist “actions in terms ren-yi” ultimately aim at: to love (ai 愛), to render with due care (duanzheng 端正), to benefit (ze 澤), to care for (li 齏), and so on. Analogically put, what the fish’s action of spitting on each other ultimately aims to achieve in the dry river—namely, to moisten each other—is better achieved when the river is re-filled with water. In other words, Zhuangzian moral actions promise the best fulfillment of what holds common for all human beings (or what the Ruist “actions in terms of ren-yi” also tries to fulfil but fails). This can be illustrated by a funeral story told about the Daoist masters (see Zhuangzi 6/62-65; W/49). In that story, Zigong (a disciple of Confucius) went to assist with a funeral ceremony that he assumed would take place in a certain way. Yet, much to his surprise, the Confucian ceremony was not being conducted, and a rather different one was occurring, wherein the Daoist masters respected each other’s different ways of mourning their common friend Sanghu; whether it be with the weaving frames for silkworms or strumming a lute, they managed to join in a harmonious mourning signified by their singing together. When Zigong boldly questioned the Daoist masters “whether it is in accord with the rites to sing in the presence of the corpse” and thereby tried to impose on them his Confucian standard of funeral ceremony, the Daoist masters easily ignored his question and, while laughing off his impositions, they looked at each other and continued in their harmonious morning that better achieved the meaning of funeral ceremonies (liyi 禮意).

Later, in an explanation given to Zigong by Confucius (a Zhuangzian spoke person), however, the Daoist masters are described as having forgotten each other in the Dao, just like fish forget one another in water (see Zhuangzi 6/65; W/49). I take this to suggest that they best achieved the meaning of funeral ceremonies by orienting all their different ways of mourning into the Dao and thereby into a harmonious whole. This is also what I think Zhuangzi refers to when he talks about the perfect benevolence (zhiren 至仁). Once asked by Tang, the prime minister of Shang, to explain perfect benevolence, Zhuangzi answered: “Perfect benevolence knows no affection (wuqin 无親).” Puzzled, the prime minister said, “I have heard that where affection is lacking, there will be no love, and if there is no love, there will be no filial piety. Can you possibly say that perfect benevolence is unfilial?” Of course, Zhuangzi’s notion of perfect benevolence does not do away with or deny filial piety, but perfects it instead. Thus, Zhuangzi replies: “no, no,” and continues to explain:

夫至仁尚矣，孝固不足以言之。此非過孝之言也，不及孝之言也。夫南行者至於郢，北面而不見冥山，是何也？則去之遠也。故曰：以敬孝易，以愛孝難；以愛孝易，以忘親難；忘親易，使親忘我難；使親忘我易，兼忘天下難；兼忘天下易，使天下兼忘我難。夫德遺堯、舜而不為也，利澤施於萬世，天下莫知也，豈直太息而言仁孝乎哉！夫孝悌仁義，忠信貞廉，此皆自勉以役其德者也，不足多也。故曰：至貴，國爵并焉；至富，國財并焉；至願，名譽并焉。是以道不渝。

Perfect benevolence is a lofty thing—words like filial piety would never do to describe it. And what you are talking about is not something that surpasses filial piety but something that doesn’t even come up to it…. Thus it is said, to be filial out of respect is easy; to be filial out of love is hard. To be filial out of love is easy; to forget parents is hard. To forget parents is easy; to make parents forget you is hard. To make parents forget you is easy; to forget the whole world is hard. To forget the whole world is easy; to make the whole world forget you is hard. Virtue goes beyond Yao and Shun and rests in inaction. Its bounty enriches ten thousand ages, and yet no one in the world knows this. Why all these deep sighs, this talk of benevolence and filial piety? Filial piety, brotherliness, benevolence, righteousness, loyalty, trust, honor, integrity—these are all things that, if for which you constrain yourself, would enslave your own Virtue. They merit no special esteem. So it is said, Highest eminence scorns the titles of the kingdom; greatest wealth rejects the riches of the kingdom; loftiest desire ignores fame and reputation. It is thus that Dao admits of no substitute

(Zhuangzi 14/8-13; W/109).

Clearly, Zhuangzian perfect benevolence does not do away with affection, reverence, or love, etc., but perfects and fulfills all these by forgetting (or orienting to the Dao) both the so-called values or virtues and their practitioners as well as beneficiaries. In other words, the highest state of life is a state wherein everything is oriented to the Dao and thereby possessed, or had, in the best sense. I take this to be what MOU Zongsan means when he notes that Zhuangzian forgetting of the Confucian virtues or values entails not simply their “functional conservation” (功能性的保存) but all the more their “functional consummation” (功能性的成全) (Mou 2003, p. 274). In fact, it can be said, on the one hand, that they are so much consummated and perfected that their existence is no longer felt; on the other hand, their practitioners and beneficiaries fit into such harmony that they no longer feel each other’s existence either. Mutatis mutandis can be said not only of virtues; the same can be said of all other limited goods we pursue, such as riches (material goods), titles, fame, reputation, etc. For the Zhuangzi, therefore, a life of forgetting is to orient everything to the Dao. Such a life does not ontologically deny anything; instead, it has everything functionally conserved, nay, functionally consummated.

Indeed, for the Zhuangzi, all things we pursue in the world are to be similarly forgotten, and those who live “with nothing unforgotten” (無不忘) are characterized by the Zhuangzi as those who emulate “the Dao of heaven and earth” (天地之道) and achieve “the virtue of the sage” (聖人之德), “having nothing not possessed” (無不有) or possessing all things in perfect harmony (Zhuangzi 15/7-8; see W/120). In the last analysis, according to the Zhuangzian outlook, the world seen in the light of the Dao is in perfect harmony: “Heaven and earth have their great beauties but do not speak of them; the four seasons have their clear-marked regularity but do not discuss it; the ten thousand things have their principles of growth but do not expound them” (天地有大美而不言，四時有明法而不議，萬物有成理而不說) (Zhuangzi 22/16-18; W/178).

4. Conclusions

In conclusion, I contend that a wholistic understanding of the Zhuangzi’s forgetting includes an interpretation of the Zhuangzi’s negative uses of forgetting as well as its positive ones. As has been analyzed in this study, on the one hand, the Zhuangzi’s negative uses of forgetting spell the Zhuangzi’s diagnosis of human fallenness. In a nutshell, this consists of chengxin, or the inordinate power of self-determination that we form in us when we refuse to see the world in the light of the Dao. It spells a subjective subordination of our nature in pursuit of what we ourselves determine to pursue out of self-aggrandizement, even at the expense of each other. On the other hand, the Zhuangzi’s positive uses of forgetting can be summarized as two functions of forgetting in the process of our self-cultivation. First, this functions to eliminate our chengxin, which is characterized not simply as the tendency to universalize one’s own standard of right and wrong and impose it on others, but more fundamentally as a perverse self-aggrandizement that makes oneself the sole standard of right and wrong and dominates and hegemonizes the world with that standard. Second, the Zhuangzi’s forgetting functions to orient everything in life to the Dao and thereby consummate all human pursuits in such a way that everyone “possesses” (you 有) everything perfectly in harmony, and no one feels the existence of anything, including his or her own existence. This, I contend, is what the Zhuangzi intends to express when it praises the state wherein we forget each other in the Dao, just like fish forget each other in water. Indeed, according to the Zhuangzian outlook, the world could be possessed by each and everything (or everyone), not in a self-centered way for self-aggrandizement, but according to the perfect harmony of things that can be discovered in the light of the Dao.