Chapter 6 · The Daoist Perspective: Knowing Contentment Brings No Disgrace, Knowing When to Stop Brings No Danger

I. The Most High (Laozi) on "Fullness": One Who Preserves This Dao Does Not Desire to Be Full

If the Confucian school elucidates "guarding against fullness" from the standpoint of "the virtue of modesty," the Daoist school pushes the wisdom of "guarding against fullness" toward a yet more transcendent realm, from the standpoint of "contentment" and "preserving emptiness."

Chapter 15 of the Laozi states: "One who preserves this Dao does not desire to be full. It is precisely because of not being full that one can discard the old and continually achieve renewal" (保此道者，不欲盈。夫唯不盈，故能蔽而新成).

One who holds fast to this "Dao" does not pursue fullness. Precisely because of not being full, one is able to shed the old and constantly bring about new achievement.

"Does not desire to be full" (不欲盈)—these three characters are the Daoist school's fundamental attitude toward "fullness." Note that the Most High does not say "cannot be full," but rather "does not desire to be full"—it is not that fullness is unattainable, but that one proactively and consciously refrains from pursuing it. This is a state of the highest order—one who could well be "full," yet chooses "not-fullness"; one who could well attain "great fullness," yet is at peace with "small fullness."

"It is precisely because of not being full that one can discard the old and continually achieve renewal"—precisely because of not being full, one is able to maintain a state of "the worn" (蔽, the old, the empty, the incomplete), and thereby gain the capacity for "continual achievement" (constant renewal, constant accomplishment). This is the very same principle as the earlier passage, "great accomplishment seems flawed, yet its function never fails"—retaining a touch of incompleteness, in fact, grants one the vitality of perpetual renewal.

"Xiaoman" is precisely the cosmic practice of "not desiring to be full." The qi of Heaven and Earth could well fill to "great fullness," yet it "does not desire to be full," and remains at peace with "small fullness"—precisely because of this, all things are able to "discard the old and achieve renewal," able to continue, after Xiaoman, toward Mangzhong, toward harvest, toward the next round of sowing, in ceaseless renewal. Were the qi of Heaven and Earth truly to fill to "great fullness," it would have reached its end, with no more room left for "renewal."

II. "Knowing Contentment Brings No Disgrace, Knowing When to Stop Brings No Danger, and Thus One May Long Endure"

Chapter 44 of the Laozi is the most concentrated expression of the Daoist thought of "knowing contentment, knowing when to stop":

"Which is closer to oneself—reputation or one's own body$1 Which is more valuable—one's own body or material goods$2 Which is more harmful—gain or loss$3 Therefore, excessive attachment inevitably brings great expenditure, and excessive hoarding inevitably brings heavy loss. Knowing contentment brings no disgrace; knowing when to stop brings no danger. Thus one may long endure" (名与身孰亲？身与货孰多？得与亡孰病？是故甚爱必大费，多藏必厚亡。知足不辱，知止不殆，可以长久).

Which is dearer, reputation or one's own life$4 Which is more precious, one's own life or material wealth$5 Which is more harmful, gaining or losing$6 Therefore, excessive fondness inevitably brings great cost, and excessive hoarding inevitably brings grievous loss. To know contentment is to avoid disgrace; to know when to stop is to avoid danger—and only thus can one endure long.

"Knowing contentment brings no disgrace, knowing when to stop brings no danger" (知足不辱，知止不殆)—these eight characters are the Daoist school's highest endorsement of the philosophy of "Xiaoman."

"Knowing contentment" (知足)—being content with "small fullness," not coveting "great fullness." "Knowing when to stop" (知止)—stopping where one ought to stop, pausing at "small fullness," advancing no further toward "great fullness." A person (or a cosmos) who "knows contentment and knows when to stop" will be content with the state of "a small attainment of fullness," rather than greedily pursuing that perilous "great fullness."

Why does "knowing when to stop" bring "no danger"$7 Because failing to know when to stop, and pressing relentlessly forward, would carry one past the stable state of "small fullness" and hurl one against the perilous cliff of "great fullness"—"fullness brings overturning," and this is precisely "danger" (殆). Only by "knowing when to stop" at "small fullness" can one achieve "no danger," can one "long endure."

The phrase "excessive hoarding inevitably brings heavy loss" strikes especially close to the flaw of "great fullness." "Great fullness" is precisely "excessive hoarding"—amassing everything to its very limit. And "excessive hoarding inevitably brings heavy loss"—the more one accumulates, the more grievous the loss when it comes. That our ancestors did not let all things reach "great fullness" (excessive hoarding) was precisely to spare them from "heavy loss." Pausing at "small fullness" (moderation) allows one to "long endure."

III. "To Hold a Vessel and Fill It to the Brim Is Not as Good as Stopping in Time": Further Reflections on the Most High's Admonition Against Fullness

We have already cited, earlier, Chapter 9 of the Laozi: "to hold a vessel and fill it to the brim is not as good as stopping in time." This deserves further elaboration here, for this line reads as though it were written expressly for "Xiaoman."

"To hold a vessel and fill it to the brim" (持而盈之)—holding a vessel, and still wishing to add more to it, to make it fuller and fuller still. This is a posture of greed, an obsession with "fullness." "Is not as good as stopping in time" (不如其已)—it is better to stop right there.

This line forms a remarkable resonance with the "vessel for admonishing those who sit in honor" that Confucius observed. Confucianism and Daoism—one using the "tilting vessel" (fullness brings overturning), the other using "holding to fullness" (fullness brings overflow)—arrive, from different angles, at the very same truth: fullness at its limit must lead to overturning or overflowing, and so the wise course is "filled to the middle, it stands upright" (Confucianism), or "not as good as stopping in time" (Daoism)—both advocate pausing "before fullness," pausing at "small fullness."

The Daoist school carries this wisdom to an even more thoroughgoing conclusion. In the Daoist view, the operation of the entire cosmos is a cycle of "emptiness—fullness—emptiness," and the "Dao" stands forever on the side of "emptiness." Chapter 4 of the Laozi states: "The Dao is empty, yet in use it is never filled" (道冲，而用之或不盈). The Dao is empty and void, yet its function is never exhausted by fullness. Chapter 5 states: "Empty, yet it never collapses; the more it moves, the more it yields" (虚而不屈，动而愈出). The space between Heaven and Earth is empty, yet never exhausted; the more it is set in motion, the more it produces. The Dao is "ceaselessly generative" precisely because it is "empty" and "not full"—it forever preserves the space to produce yet more.

"Xiaoman" is precisely the state that accords with the "Dao"—it is "not full," and so its "function is never exhausted"; it is "empty" (relative to great fullness), and so "the more it moves, the more it yields." "Great fullness," by contrast, runs counter to the "Dao"—it is "full," and so its "function" is on the verge of "exhaustion"; it is "solid," and so its "motion" is on the verge of running "dry." Our ancestors' choice of "small fullness" was, at its root, a choice of that state which accords with the "Dao," ceaselessly generative and never exhausted.

IV. Master Zhuang on "The Empty Chamber Gives Birth to Brightness" and "The Usefulness of the Useless"

Master Zhuang (Zhuangzi) carried the Daoist wisdom of "preserving emptiness, guarding against fullness" to a yet more ethereal realm.

The "In the World of Men" (Renjian Shi) chapter of the Zhuangzi states: "Behold that vacant space—the empty chamber gives birth to brightness, and good fortune comes to rest in stillness" (瞻彼阕者，虚室生白，吉祥止止). Behold that vacant place—within the empty chamber, brightness is born instead, and good fortune comes to rest in this place of emptiness and stillness.

"The empty chamber gives birth to brightness" (虚室生白)—an empty room, instead, becomes filled with light. This is an image of great beauty and great depth. A room piled full of clutter (great fullness) is dark, cramped, and utterly devoid of vitality; only an empty room (emptiness, smallness) can let light stream in, can "give birth to brightness."

The human heart is the same. A heart filled to the brim with desires, preconceptions, and self-satisfaction (great fullness) cannot possibly receive new wisdom, cannot possibly "give birth to brightness"; only by preserving emptiness (small fullness, seeming hollowness) can one let the brightness of the Dao stream in.

Viewed in this light, the "small" of "Xiaoman" appears all the more wise. "Xiaoman" is the "empty chamber"—it preserves space, and so can "give birth to brightness," can receive, can renew itself. "Great fullness," by contrast, is the "filled chamber"—it has been filled up, and so is dark, cramped, and unable to "give birth to brightness."

Master Zhuang also discourses on "the usefulness of the useless." In the "In the World of Men" chapter of the Zhuangzi, the sacred oak tree at the village shrine, deemed "useless" by the craftsman, is precisely because of its "uselessness" that it manages to preserve its natural span of years and grow into a towering tree. Master Zhuang draws out the point: "All people know the usefulness of the useful, but none know the usefulness of the useless" (人皆知有用之用，而莫知无用之用也). Everyone knows the use of what is "useful," yet no one knows the use of what is "useless."

This wisdom of "the usefulness of the useless" likewise corroborates the principle of "Xiaoman." "Great fullness" pushes everything to the very limit of "use" (the utmost of usefulness), with the result that it is swiftly exhausted and declines toward ruin; "small fullness" retains a portion "unused," "not spent to the end" (a margin approaching "uselessness"), and is thereby able to endure long. To retain a measure of incompleteness, a measure left unspent, may seem "useless," yet it is in truth the greatest "usefulness" of all—it is the fundamental guarantee that "its function never fails."