Chapter 6 The Daoist Perspective: Heaven-One Begets Water and the Yielding Dwells Below

1. "The Softest Thing Under Heaven Gallops Through the Hardest Thing Under Heaven"

We have already treated at length, in Chapter Four, Laozi's teaching that "the highest good is like water." This chapter goes further, delving into the Daoist metaphysical reflection on the "softness" of water, and linking it to the inner spirit of the Yushui solar term.

Chapter Forty-Three of the Laozi declares: "The softest thing under Heaven gallops through the hardest thing under Heaven. That which has no substance enters where there is no gap. Through this I know the benefit of non-action."

The softest, weakest thing under Heaven (water) is able to gallop freely through the hardest thing under Heaven. What is formless (such as water's power of penetration) is able to enter where there is no gap at all. Through this, I come to know the benefit of "non-action" (wuwei).

This chapter elevates water's "softness" to a new height. Water's softness not only "overcomes" hardness and strength (Chapter Seventy-Eight), but is able to "gallop" freely through what is hard and strong—penetrating the finest crevice in rock, soaking the hardest soil, and silently dissolving even the most stubborn fortress. This ability to "enter where there is no gap, having no substance" is something no hard and strong thing could ever achieve. One stone cannot enter another stone, yet water can seep into the very interior of stone. This is the triumph of the formless over the formed, the transcendence of the utmost softness over the utmost hardness.

To apprehend this insight through the lens of the Yushui solar term is especially fitting. The water of spring rain nourishes all things precisely through this manner of "entering where there is no gap, having no substance." It does not strike the earth with violence, but gently seeps into the soil—"following the wind, it steals in by night, moistening all things softly and silently" (as the poet Du Fu would later write). It silently soaks into every seed, every rootlet, delivering vitality to the most hidden and subtle corners. This manner of nourishment—stealthy, silent—is precisely the most beautiful gloss on Laozi's teaching that "the utmost softness gallops through the utmost hardness" and "that which has no substance enters where there is no gap." Spring rain nourishes all things not through force but through penetration, not through display but through gentleness—this is precisely the ultimate embodiment of that power of "softness and weakness" which Daoism exalts.

2. The Daoist Interpretation of "Heaven-One Begets Water"

We have already introduced, in Chapter One, the notion of "Heaven-One begets water." Within Daoist cosmogony, this notion occupies a particularly profound place.

Why is water begotten by "Heaven-One," the very beginning of the generation of all things$6 The Daoist answer points toward the essential kinship between water and the "Way" itself. When Laozi describes the natural state of the Way, he says: "As a thing, the Way is shadowy and indistinct. Indistinct and shadowy, yet within it there is an image; shadowy and indistinct, yet within it there is a substance" (Chapter Twenty-One). The Way is indistinct and undetermined, formless and shapeless. And among all things between Heaven and Earth, the thing that most closely resembles this state of "shadowy formlessness" is water. Water has no constant shape, taking the shape of whatever it meets; water has no fixed form, forming itself according to whatever it encounters. Nothing better symbolizes that primordial state—not yet congealed into the concrete ten thousand things, chaotic yet brimming with vitality.

Thus the deeper meaning of "Heaven-One begets water" is this: in the process by which Heaven and Earth are generated, water is the first element to differentiate itself out of that chaotic "Way," the element closest to the very nature of the "Way." It is the first shadow the "Way" casts into the material world, the first link in the transition from the formless Way to the formed ten thousand things. Precisely because water is so close to the Way, Laozi says that "the highest good is like water... it comes close to the Way"—water is almost the very embodiment of the Way.

The Yushui solar term, as the moment within the yearly sequence when "the water begotten by Heaven-One" becomes active once more and nourishes all things, thus carries a symbolic significance rooted in cosmogony. Each year's Yushui solar term seems like a miniature reenactment of the process by which Heaven and Earth were generated: after the chaotic stillness of winter (approaching the shadowy, indistinct state of the "Way"), water (the thing begotten by Heaven-One) is the first to awaken, the first to flow, and only afterward do plants and trees begin to sprout, and the ten thousand things begin to germinate. Yushui is Heaven and Earth's annual overture of "creation"—and the leading role in this overture is played precisely by water, "begotten by Heaven-One," closest of all things to the Way.

3. Master Zhuang's "Joy of the Fish" and the "Debate on the Hao Bridge"

Daoist apprehension of water offers one further, exceedingly famous and vivid moment: Master Zhuang's "Debate on the Hao Bridge" with Master Hui.

The "Autumn Floods" chapter of the Zhuangzi records: "Master Zhuang and Master Hui were strolling on the bridge over the Hao River. Master Zhuang said, 'The minnows swim out and about so freely—this is the joy of fish.' Master Hui said, 'You are not a fish—how do you know the joy of fish$7' Master Zhuang said, 'You are not I—how do you know that I do not know the joy of fish$8'... Master Zhuang said, 'Let us return to the origin of the question. When you said, "How do you know the joy of fish$9"—you already knew that I knew it, and yet you asked me. I knew it by standing here on the Hao.'"

Master Zhuang and Master Hui were strolling on the bridge over the Hao River. Master Zhuang said: "How freely those minnows swim—this is the joy of fish." Master Hui objected: "You are not a fish—how could you know the joy of fish$10" And so began a famous debate on "whether one can know the joy of another."

This debate takes place "on the Hao Bridge"—by the water, watching fish swim within it. Why was Master Zhuang able to apprehend "the joy of fish" from the minnows' free and easy swimming$11 Because, within the Daoist realm of attainment, there is no absolute boundary between humans and the ten thousand things—"Heaven and Earth are born together with me, and the ten thousand things and I are one" ("Discourse on Making All Things Equal"). When Master Zhuang watched the fish swimming freely in the water, he was not "observing" the fish as a detached onlooker, but, as one member among the ten thousand things of Heaven and Earth, sharing with the fish that same joy of life. The fish's freedom in the water was his own inner freedom; the joy of the fish was his own joy.

Linking this debate to the Yushui solar term reveals a particular charm. The Yushui season is precisely the moment when the ice melts and the waters warm, when fish revive and swim "freely and easily"—and this is exactly the phenological background against which "the otter lays out fish" comes to occur. During the Yushui season, when we see fish swimming once more in the spring waters, having shed the confinement of winter's ice, moving about freely and at ease—if we can, like Master Zhuang, apprehend "the joy of fish," then we have truly entered the Daoist realm in which "the ten thousand things and I are one." The water of Yushui not only nourishes the fish, but, through the fish's "joy of freedom," transmits to us the joy of Heaven and Earth's revival.

4. The Wisdom for Living Found in "Water Excels in Benefiting the Ten Thousand Things Without Contending"

Laozi's philosophy of water ultimately resolves into a profound wisdom for living. This wisdom can be summarized in the latter half of Chapter Eight of the Laozi: "In dwelling, excel through location; in mind, excel through depth; in giving, excel through benevolence; in speech, excel through trustworthiness; in governing, excel through order; in affairs, excel through capability; in action, excel through timeliness. It is only because one does not contend that one is without fault."

These are seven principles for living that Laozi learned from water. Let us examine each in light of the character of water:

"In dwelling, excel through location"—to settle in a good position means being content to dwell in a low place, as water dwells below. "In mind, excel through depth"—one's state of mind should be as calm and profound as a deep abyss, as water forms deep pools. "In giving, excel through benevolence"—one should give with a benevolent heart, as water nourishes all things. "In speech, excel through trustworthiness"—one's words should be trustworthy, as water keeps constant faith without deceit. "In governing, excel through order"—governance should be clear and just, as water is level and even. "In affairs, excel through capability"—one's conduct should accord with the nature of things, as water takes the shape of whatever it meets. "In action, excel through timeliness"—one's actions should accord with the right moment, as water flows when it should flow and stops when it should stop.

Pay particular attention to the last of these: "in action, excel through timeliness." This is the most direct point of convergence between the philosophy of water and the wisdom of the solar terms. Water understands "timing"—it knows when it should flow and when it should remain still; when it should rise (evaporating into cloud) and when it should descend (falling as rain). The Yushui solar term is the finest demonstration of water's "excelling through timeliness": in winter, water knows to remain still, to store itself away (congealing into snow and ice); once the Yushui season arrives and the climate warms, water knows to flow once more, beginning to nourish all things anew. Water never goes against the timing of Heaven—it stores itself away when it should, and moves when it should, perfectly according with the rhythm of the seasons.

This is precisely the highest wisdom Daoism learns from water: "excelling through timeliness." A person who has truly attained the Way should, like water, understand "timing"—advancing when advance is called for, withdrawing and storing when withdrawal is called for; giving when giving is called for, gathering in when gathering is called for. And "it is only because one does not contend that one is without fault"—precisely because water never forces things, never contends against the timing of Heaven, it is forever without fault, forever without cause for anxiety. This is the most profound life-lesson the Yushui solar term offers us: accord with the timing of Heaven, dwell in yielding lowliness, excel in benefiting all things without contending—only thus may one be "without fault," and endure together with Heaven and Earth.