Chapter 13: Examination of "The Scholar Learns What He Cannot Learn" (Xué Zhě, Xué Qí Suǒ Bù Néng Xué Yě)

Section 1: What is "Learning What One Cannot Learn"$51

"The scholar learns what he cannot learn." On the surface, this seems contradictory: If it "cannot be learned," how can one "learn" it$52 Isn't this self-contradictory$53

However, it is precisely in this seeming contradiction that Zhuangzi reveals a profound truth.

Secular learning pertains to what one can learn—skills, knowledge, rituals, texts—things that can be acquired through instruction. However, the truly important things—the essence of the Dao, the true appearance of all things, the meaning of life—these are things that "cannot be learned" because they transcend the realm of intellect and cannot be acquired through the transmission of knowledge.

Yet, precisely because they "cannot be learned," they require "learning" all the more—this "learning" is no longer secular learning (accumulation of knowledge) but a transcendent "learning"—the process where the Dao naturally manifests through emptiness, stillness, forgetting the self, and letting go.

This perfectly aligns with Laozi Chapter 48: "In the pursuit of learning, there is daily increase. In the pursuit of the Dao, there is daily decrease." Secular "learning" is "daily increase"—constantly adding knowledge. Daoist "learning" is "daily decrease"—constantly reducing intellectual attachments. When learning reaches its end, even the act of "learning" itself disappears—at this point, the Heavenly Dao naturally manifests.

Section 2: Survey of "Learning" Theories in Pre-Qin Philosophy

To deeply understand Zhuangzi's "learning what one cannot learn," we must first survey the theories of "learning" (Xué) in the various pre-Qin schools.

"Learning" in the Analects:

Analects, Xue Er states:

"The Master said, 'To learn and, when timely, to practice it—is this not a pleasure$54'"

Confucius's "learning" emphasizes "timely practice" (Shí Xí)—frequently practicing what is learned. The content of this "learning" is primarily the Six Arts (rites, music, archery, charioteering, calligraphy, mathematics) and the Way of benevolence and righteousness.

Analects, Wei Zheng states:

"If one studies but does not think, one is lost. If one thinks but does not study, one is in peril."

Learning and thinking must be balanced. This "learning" remains within the domain of intellect—acquiring knowledge and virtue through study and reflection.

"Learning" in Xunzi:

Xunzi, Quan Xue (Exhortation to Learning) states:

"The superior person says: Learning cannot cease. Indigo is taken from the madder plant, yet it is bluer than indigo; ice is made from water, yet it is colder than water."

Xunzi’s "learning" emphasizes uninterrupted accumulation—"learning cannot cease." Its direction is gradual advancement from the shallow to the deep, from the low to the high—"indigo emerges from the madder plant and surpasses it." This "learning" also operates within the intellectual framework.

And further:

"Without accumulating steps, one cannot travel a thousand li; without accumulating small streams, one cannot form a great river."

This emphasizes the importance of accumulation. Step by step, one reaches a thousand li.

"Learning" in Mozi:

Mozi, Xiu Shen (Cultivating the Self) states:

"Even if a scholar possesses learning, action is its root."

The "learning" of the Mohists takes "action" (Xíng) as its root. What is learned must be put into practice; otherwise, learning is meaningless.

Common Characteristics of "Learning" in These Schools:

First, Finitude—the content of learning is finite and definable. Second, Accumulation—learning is a process of continuous accumulation. Third, Intellectualism—learning is conducted through intellect (rational thought, memory, judgment).

The Subversive Nature of Zhuangzi’s "Learning":

Zhuangzi’s "learning what one cannot learn" subverts these three characteristics:

First, Infinity—the content of learning is infinite and indefinable ("what one cannot learn"). Second, Reduction—learning is not accumulation but reduction ("daily decrease in the pursuit of the Dao"). Third, Transcendence of Intellect—learning is not conducted through intellect but transcends it.

This subversion is not a denial of "learning" but an elevation of it. Secular learning has its value, but stopping there leads to peril, as in Zhuangzi, Yang Sheng Zhu: "To pursue the boundless with what is bounded is perilous." Only by transcending secular learning and entering the realm of "learning what one cannot learn" can one truly comprehend the Heavenly Dao.

Section 3: The Concrete Content of "Learning What One Cannot Learn"

What exactly is the thing that "cannot be learned"$55

First, The Dao.

Zhuangzi, Zhi Bei You, states:

"The Dao cannot be heard, for hearing is not it; the Dao cannot be seen, for seeing is not it; the Dao cannot be spoken, for speech is not it. How can the shape of form be known if it is without form$56 The Dao does not submit to names."

The Dao cannot be heard, seen, or spoken. Whatever can be learned through hearing, observation, or speech is not the Dao itself. The Dao is "unlearnable"—it transcends all intellectual means. Nevertheless, the cultivator must still "learn" it—this "learning" is not hearing, observing, or speaking, but "Fasting of the Mind," "Forgetting the Self," "My Self Fades Away"—allowing the Dao to manifest naturally through an empty and still mind.

Second, The State of the True Person.

The state of the True Person described in Zhuangzi, Da Zong Shi—"knows not the joy of living, nor the aversion to death," "dreams not in sleep, worries not in waking," "breathes deeply to the heels"—these states cannot be achieved through learning (intellectual accumulation). They appear naturally after cultivation reaches its peak. Yet, the cultivator still strives toward this direction in "learning"—not by learning how to breathe to the heels (which would become artificial action), but by emptying the mind to the utmost degree, allowing breathing to naturally reach the heels.

Third, The Sound of Heaven (Tiān Lài).

Zhuangzi, Qi Wu Lun, states:

"You have heard the sounds of men (Rén Lài), but have not heard the sounds of Earth (Dì Lài). You have heard the sounds of Earth, but have not heard the sounds of Heaven (Tiān Lài)!"

The sounds of men (artificial sounds) can be learned—music, singing. The sounds of Earth (natural sounds) can be listened to—wind, water. But the Sound of Heaven cannot be "learned"—it is not a sound perceptible by the ear, nor can it be understood by knowledge. It is the voiceless sound resulting from the natural operation of all things. What the cultivator must "learn" is this unlearnable Sound of Heaven.

Fourth, The Principle of Equalizing All Things (Qí Wù).

Zhuangzi, Qi Wu Lun, states:

"Heaven and Earth were born together with me, and the ten thousand things are one with me. Since they are already one, can I still speak of it$57 Since I have already spoken of 'one,' can I still refrain from speaking$58 One and speech make two; two and one make three. From here onward, even clever calculators cannot arrive, let alone the common people!"

"Heaven and Earth were born together with me, and the ten thousand things are one with me"—this state cannot be "learned" through knowledge. One can intellectually grasp "all things are one," but this understanding itself creates a distinction—the "I" who knows "all things are one" becomes separate from the "all things are one." The true "all things are one" is a state where even the thought of "knowing all things are one" does not exist. This state transcends intellect and is "unlearnable." Yet the cultivator strives toward it—this "striving" is the "learning what one cannot learn."

Section 4: The Relationship between "Learning What One Cannot Learn" and "Knowing What One Cannot Know"

"Learning what one cannot learn" points to a more fundamental epistemological issue in pre-Qin philosophy: Can one know what one cannot know$59

Zhuangzi, Qi Wu Lun, states:

"Suppose you and I argue, and you defeat me, and I do not defeat you. Is it that you are truly right and I am truly wrong$60 Suppose I defeat you, and you do not defeat me. Am I truly right and you truly wrong$61 Are some of us right, and some of us wrong$62 Are all of us right, or are all of us wrong$63 If you and I cannot know each other, we rely on a third party to judge. If we seek one who agrees with you to judge, since they agree with you, how can they judge$64 If we seek one who agrees with me to judge, since they agree with me, how can they judge$65 If we seek one who is different from both you and me to judge$66 Since they are different from both you and me, how can they judge$67 If we seek one who agrees with both you and me to judge$68 Since they agree with both you and me, how can they judge$69 Thus, you, I, and others cannot know each other, so must we wait for someone else$1 ... Thus, you, I, and others cannot truly know each other."

This passage discusses the impossibility of establishing right and wrong through argumentation. Whether you win or lose the debate, it does not determine what is truly right or wrong. The conclusion is: "You, I, and others cannot truly know each other."

This "inability to know each other" is the epistemological basis for "cannot learn." If even the distinction between right and wrong cannot be established, then all knowledge built upon that distinction becomes unreliable. However, only by acknowledging this "inability to know" can one transcend the limits of intellect and enter the illumination of "Heavenly Light." This is the epistemological significance of "learning what one cannot learn."