Chapter 14: Examination of "The Actor Acts What He Cannot Act" (Xíng Zhě, Xíng Qí Suǒ Bù Néng Xíng Yě)

Section 1: What is "Acting What One Cannot Act"$2

"The actor acts what he cannot act." The structure is identical to the previous statement. "Acting what one cannot act" is a transcendent form of action.

Secular action pertains to what one can act—obeying rites, fulfilling duties, completing tasks—all actions within the scope of human capability. However, truly profound action—action aligned with the Heavenly Dao, action of non-action that achieves everything—is "cannot be acted," because it transcends the scope of human power.

How does it transcend human power$3 Because true "action" (Xíng) is not artificial "doing," but the natural operation of the Heavenly Dao expressed through the person. Like a river flowing—the water does not intentionally "act" to flow, but the topography compels it. Similarly, the action of the true cultivator is not intentional action, but the Heavenly Dao naturally operating through him.

Section 2: Action Through "Non-Action" (Wú Wéi)

"Acting what one cannot act" is essentially "acting through non-action."

Zhuangzi, Tian Dao, states:

"The virtue of the emperor is to take Heaven and Earth as his model, the Dao and Virtue as his basis, and non-action as his constant practice. By non-action, one uses the world and still has surplus; by action, one is used by the world and still lacks. If one makes it a constant practice to be non-active, one is honored."

"To make non-action a constant practice" (Yǐ Wú Wéi Wéi Cháng)—to use non-action as the daily mode of operation. This "non-action" is not inaction but acting without human intent. Action occurs, but it is not "I" acting; it is the Heavenly Dao acting through "me." This is "acting what one cannot act"—what "I" cannot act (because it exceeds my ability) the Heavenly Dao can act through "me."

The story of Cook Ding carving an ox in Zhuangzi, Yang Sheng Zhu, is a vivid demonstration of this meaning:

"Cook Ding was carving an ox for Lord Wenhui. The places his hand touched, the parts his shoulder leaned on, the places his feet trod, the parts his knee pressed—all made resonant sounds, like the chanting of music from the Mulberry Forest, or the convergence of the classical melodies."

Cook Ding’s skill in carving reached perfection. Every movement of his hand, shoulder, foot, and knee was flawless, perfectly in rhythm like music. Lord Wenhui admired his skill. Cook Ding replied:

"What I love is the Dao, which goes beyond mere technique. When I first began carving oxen, I saw only the whole ox. After three years, I no longer saw a whole ox. Nowadays, I encounter them with my spirit rather than my eyes; my senses halt, and my spirit roams at will. I follow the natural grain, piercing the great cavities, guiding the blade along the great interstices, relying on what is already so. I avoid the tendons and sinews, let alone the large joints!"

"What I love is the Dao, which goes beyond mere technique"—he seeks the Dao, which surpasses mere skill. "I encounter them with my spirit rather than my eyes; my senses halt, and my spirit roams at will. I follow the natural grain..."

This is the specific manifestation of "acting what one cannot act." Cook Ding’s carving is no longer performed by Cook Ding's "I"—the "I" (senses, intellect) has ceased its work. It is the "Spirit" (Shén) that acts—the spirit directly senses the natural grain and acts. This action of the "Spirit" is the "action that cannot be acted"—an action beyond the scope of Cook Ding’s personal ability, yet perfectly realized through him.

Section 3: Comparison of "Action" Theories in Pre-Qin Philosophy

"Action" in Confucianism:

Analects, Li Ren states:

"The Master said, 'The superior person desires to be slow in speech but swift in action.'"

Confucius emphasizes the importance of action—speech should be cautious, action swift. This "action" is conscious and purposeful—acting benevolence, righteousness, propriety, and filial piety.

Analects, Gongye Chang states:

"The Master said, 'Listen to their words and observe their actions.'"

Action is the standard for testing a person. This "action" remains within the framework of intellect and morality.

"Action" in Mohism:

Mozi, Gui Yi states:

"Among all affairs, nothing is more worthy than Righteousness (Yì)."

Mohist "action" is guided by "Righteousness" as the highest standard—public justice and rectitude. All actions should adhere to righteousness. This "action" also remains within the framework of human-defined morality.

The Transcendence of Zhuangzi’s "Action":

Zhuangzi’s "acting what one cannot act" transcends the framework of Confucian and Mohist "action." It is not acting benevolence, righteousness, or justice—these are things one can act, with clear content and standards. "Acting what one cannot act" is acting the Heavenly Dao—the Dao is formless and nameless, indefinable, thus "unactable." Yet, the cultivator’s body, speech, and actions, if they become the flowing of the Heavenly Dao, constitute "acting what one cannot act."

Zhuangzi, Tian Yun (The Movement of Heaven), asks:

"Does Heaven move$4 Does Earth remain still$5 Do the sun and moon compete for their courses$6 Who presides over this$7 Who sustains this$8 Who sits idly and causes this to occur$9 Is it that some mechanism compels it$10 Or is it that once moving, it cannot stop itself$11"

Heaven’s movement, Earth’s stillness, the alternation of the sun and moon—who presides over these$12 Who sustains them$13 Is it some mechanism that forces it$14 Or is it that once set in motion, it cannot stop$15

Zhuangzi raises these questions but offers no definitive answer—because the answer is "unknowable." However, the movement of Heaven and Earth, sun and moon, is indeed happening—this is the supreme example of "acting what one cannot act." Heaven does not know why it moves, yet it moves; Earth does not know why it is still, yet it is still. This "not knowing" yet "acting" is "acting what one cannot act."

The cultivator emulates Heaven and Earth, and should also "act without knowing"—acting naturally without conscious intention. At this point, the action transcends the scope of "I" and becomes the flow of the Heavenly Dao.

Section 4: Ethical Implications of "Acting What One Cannot Act"

Does "acting what one cannot act" imply one can do whatever one pleases$16 Does it mean moral standards are unnecessary$17

This is a crucial question. The answer is no. "Acting what one cannot act" is not doing whatever one wishes, but "doing what one cannot do"—allowing the Heavenly Dao to act through oneself. The action of the Heavenly Dao follows its own law—"The Way of Heaven benefits without harming" (Tiān Zhī Dào, Lì Ér Bù Hài) (Laozi 81). The action of the Dao is always beneficial and harmless to all things. Therefore, acting according to the Dao’s law is necessarily good, right, and beneficial to all things.

However, this "good," "right," and "beneficial" is not defined by human convention but by the Dao itself. These may coincide with, or they may transcend, human definitions. For example, secular "good" might be "rescuing the poor," while the Dao’s "good" might be "allowing all things to fulfill their nature." The latter may include the former, or it may transcend it.

Zhuangzi, Da Zong Shi, states:

"When springs dry up, fish huddle together on the ground, blowing moisture on each other and moistening each other with their slime. This is less satisfying than forgetting each other in the rivers and lakes."

"Moistening each other with slime" (Xiāng Rú Yǐ Mò) is the secular good—fish struggling to survive in a dried spring. "Forgetting each other in the rivers and lakes" (Xiāng Wàng Yú Jiāng Hú) is the Dao’s good—fish swimming freely in abundant waters, not needing mutual aid. From the perspective of the Dao, "forgetting each other in the rivers and lakes" is far better than "moistening each other with slime"—because it allows every fish to live out its full life, rather than merely surviving a predicament.

The ethical implication of "acting what one cannot act" is striving for the good of "forgetting each other in the rivers and lakes"—allowing all things to fulfill their nature and find their place. This good transcends secular goodness (slime-moistening) but is deeper and more fundamental.