Chapter 9 · The Second Pentad: The Mi Grass Dies—The Principle of Waxing and Waning Behind "Yin Beings Dying When They Sense Yang"

I. "The Mi Grass Dies": The Phenological Reality of the Second Pentad

The second pentad of Xiaoman is "the mi grass dies" (靡草死).

Commentators have long disagreed on the meaning of "mi grass" (靡草). A relatively common interpretation (elaborated by Zheng Xuan and Kong Yingda in their commentaries on "the mi grass dies" in the "Monthly Ordinances" of the Book of Rites) holds that "mi grass" refers to plants such as pepperwort and shepherd's purse—grasses with soft, slender, delicate stems and leaves. Such grasses grow during winter and spring, yet, by early summer, when yang qi becomes greatly abundant, they wither and die instead.

"The mi grass dies" means that, by Xiaoman, these soft and delicate "mi grasses" wither and die, one after another.

Here we encounter an extraordinarily anomalous, and extraordinarily profound, phenological phenomenon: at the very Xiaoman season when all things are growing vigorously, everywhere attaining "a small fullness," there is, of all things, a category of grass that is "dying"! While other plants strive with all their might to grow, the mi grass alone moves in the opposite direction, heading toward death at the very moment when vitality is at its most abundant. Why should this be so$16

II. "Yin Beings Dying When They Sense Yang": A Profound Demonstration of the Waxing and Waning of Fullness and Emptiness

Our ancestors' explanation of "the mi grass dies" touches upon the most central law of the waning and waxing of yin and yang.

Zheng Xuan's commentary on the "Monthly Ordinances" of the Book of Rites, together with the common interpretation of successive generations of scholars of the monthly ordinances, holds that the mi grass belongs to "yin"—its stems and leaves being soft, slender, and delicate, of a yin and yielding nature, growing during winter and spring, when yin qi still remains. By Xiaoman, however, yang qi becomes greatly abundant and yin qi greatly diminished—and these "mi grasses," which were born endowed with yin qi, cannot survive amid such vigorous yang qi, and so, sensing the flourishing of yang qi, they die. What is called "the mi grass dies" is, in essence, "a yin being sensing the flourishing of yang and dying."

What a profound phenological philosophy this is! It demonstrates for us the irresistible force of "the waxing and waning of fullness and emptiness"—when yang qi becomes "full" (flourishing) to the degree found at Xiaoman, yin qi becomes "empty" (diminished) to the degree at which the mi grass can no longer survive. The death of the mi grass is not due to any fault of its own, but because the great trend of the qi of Heaven and Earth has already shifted—yang flourishing, yin declining; and whatever is born endowed with yin perishes along with the decline of yin qi.

This leads us to an insight that deeply resonates with the theme of "Xiaoman": the waxing and waning of fullness and emptiness is merciless and absolute. The "fullness" of yang qi is inevitably accompanied by the "emptiness" of yin qi; the "fullness" of one side is inevitably accompanied by the "deficiency" of the other. This is precisely a living demonstration of the Book of Changes, hexagram Feng: "the fullness and emptiness of Heaven and Earth wax and wane with the times." The mi grass is a silent footnote within this great cosmic drama of "the waxing and waning of fullness"—through its own death, it marks the degree to which yang qi has become full and flourishing.

III. Why Must Death Appear at the Point of Fullness at Its Extreme$17—Another Layer of Warning About "Fullness"

"The mi grass dies" also deepens, from another angle, the warning behind "small fullness with no great fullness."

Consider this carefully: why, at Xiaoman, a time when yang qi is so "full" and all things so flourishing, should a phenological sign of "death" (the mi grass dying) be arranged, of all things$18 Does this not spoil the mood$19

Quite the opposite—this is precisely our ancestors' great wisdom. At the very moment when all things are attaining "a small fullness," a scene of universal flourishing, our ancestors chose, of all things, "the mi grass dies" to remind the human world: within fullness, the seeds of death already lie hidden; beneath flourishing, decline is already present. The more abundant the yang qi, the more yin beings wither; the more vigorous the vitality, the more inevitable the death of certain things.

This is yet another profound warning about "fullness." It tells us: there is no such thing as pure, shadow-free "fullness." Every fullness comes at the cost of some other party's loss; within the depths of every flourishing, the seeds of decline are already germinating. Once we understand this, we ought to maintain, all the more, a sober-minded restraint when facing "fullness"—not to be deceived by surface flourishing, not to covet that seemingly flawless "great fullness," because behind "great fullness" often lies an even greater "death" (decline) drawing near.

"The mi grass dies" and "the arrogant dragon has cause for regret" are two expressions of one and the same truth. "The arrogant dragon has cause for regret" says that when yang qi reaches fullness at its extreme (great fullness), misfortune follows; "the mi grass dies" says that when yang qi becomes full and flourishing, yin beings die—both reveal the Dao of Heaven's principle that "when fullness reaches its extreme, there must be some loss; when fullness reaches its utmost, there must be some deprivation." Our ancestors' letting all things pause at "small fullness" was precisely to prevent that killing force lurking within "fullness at its extreme" (such as the arrogant dragon's regret, such as the mi grass's death) from developing to the point of consuming all things.

IV. What "The Mi Grass Dies" Reveals About Our Ancestors' Attitude Toward Death

This phenological sign of "the mi grass dies" also reflects a broad-minded and profound attitude toward "death" held by our ancestors.

In the cosmology of our ancestors, death was not an absolute end, but a single link within the cycle of "the waxing and waning of fullness and emptiness." The mi grass dies at Xiaoman, but its death clears space for the flourishing of other life forms in the summer and autumn to come; it dies this year, but next year, when yin qi rises again, grasses of its own kind will grow once more. Death and new life, within the great cycle of "waxing and waning with the times," transform into one another, ceaselessly generating and regenerating.

The "Perfect Enjoyment" (Zhi Le) chapter of the Zhuangzi records that when Master Zhuang's wife died, Huizi came to offer condolences, only to find Master Zhuang "sitting with legs sprawled, drumming on a basin and singing." Huizi rebuked him for this, and Master Zhuang replied: "Examining her beginning, I see that originally she had no life; not only no life, but originally no form; not only no form, but originally no qi. Mingled together in the vague and indistinct, it changed and there was qi; the qi changed and there was form; the form changed and there was life; and now, changing once more, there is death. This is like the progression of the four seasons—spring, autumn, winter, and summer" (察其始而本无生，非徒无生也而本无形，非徒无形也而本无气。杂乎芒芴之间，变而有气，气变而有形，形变而有生，今又变而之死，是相与为春秋冬夏四时行也)—human life and death, he says, are as natural as the progression of the four seasons, spring, summer, autumn, and winter.

Master Zhuang's broad-minded view that "life and death are like the four seasons" illuminates precisely the deeper meaning of "the mi grass dies." That the mi grass dies at Xiaoman is simply one link in its own "progression along with the four seasons"—as natural as winter giving way to spring, or summer's flourishing giving way to autumn's decline. Our ancestors placed "the mi grass dies" among the pentads of Xiaoman not to dwell mournfully on death, but to reveal the ceaseless Dao of Heaven's cycle of life, death, fullness, and emptiness—at the very moment when all things are full, reminding people not to forget decline; and in witnessing death, at the same time revealing the hope of cyclical renewal. This broad-minded recognition of the cycle of life, death, fullness, and emptiness is one of the most profound wisdoms of Chinese civilization.