Effort said to Destiny: “How can your achievements compare with mine?” Destiny said: “What have you achieved in the world of things that you would compare yourself with me?” Effort said: “Long life and early death, failure and success, high and low rank, poverty and wealth—these are all within my power.” Destiny said: “Pengzu's wisdom was no greater than that of Yao and Shun, yet he lived eight hundred years. Yan Yuan's talent was no less than that of ordinary men, yet he lived only eighteen years. Zhongni's virtue was no less than that of the feudal lords, yet he was reduced to straits between Chen and Cai. Zhou of Yin's conduct was no better than that of the Three Men of Benevolence, yet he sat on the throne. Jizha held no rank in Wu, while Tian Heng seized sole control of the state of Qi. Boyi and Shuqi starved on Mount Shouyang, while the Ji family grew richer than Zhan Qin. If all this is within your power, why do you give long life to the one and early death to the other, bring the sage to failure and the rebel to success, make the worthy lowly and the fool noble, the good poor and the wicked rich?” Effort said: “If it is as you say, then I certainly have no achievements in the world of things. But that things are as they are—is this then under your control?” Destiny said: “Since it is called destiny, how can anything control it? I push what is straight and let the crooked go its way. Things live long of themselves and die early of themselves, fail of themselves and succeed of themselves, are noble of themselves and lowly of themselves, rich of themselves and poor of themselves. How could I know about it? How could I know about it?”
Beigongzi said to Ximenzi: “You and I belong to the same generation, yet people make you succeed; we are of the same clan, yet people respect you; we are alike in looks, yet people love you; we are alike in speech, yet people heed you; we are alike in conduct, yet people trust you; we are alike in holding office, yet people honor you; we are alike in farming, yet people make you rich; we are alike in trade, yet people make you profit. I wear coarse short clothes of hemp, I eat millet and unpolished grain, I live in a thatched hut, and I go about on foot. You wear embroidered brocade, you eat fine grain and meat, you live in a house with rows of beams, and you go out in a carriage of four horses. At home you are cheerful and have no thought of me; at court you are outspoken and show a look of contempt for me. We have not paid visits to each other or gone about together for years now. Do you think your virtue surpasses mine?” Ximenzi said: “I have no way of knowing the truth of it. You undertake things and fail; I undertake things and succeed. Is this not proof of who is richly endowed and who poorly? Yet you say you are equal to me in everything—you have a thick skin indeed.” Beigongzi had no reply, and went home dejected. On the way he met Master Dongguo. The master said: “Where have you been, that you are coming back walking alone and hunched, with a look of deep shame?” Beigongzi told him what had happened. Master Dongguo said: “I will rid you of your shame. Let us go back to Ximen's house together and question him.” He said to Ximenzi: “Why did you insult Beigongzi so deeply? Tell me about it.” Ximenzi said: “Beigongzi said that in generation and clan, age and looks, speech and conduct, he was equal to me, yet in rank and wealth he was different from me. I told him: ‘I have no way of knowing the truth of it. You undertake things and fail; I undertake things and succeed. Is this not proof of who is richly endowed and who poorly? Yet you say you are equal to me in everything—you have a thick skin indeed.’” Master Dongguo said: “When you speak of rich and poor endowment, you mean no more than a difference in talent and virtue. When I speak of rich and poor endowment, I mean something different. Beigongzi is rich in virtue and poor in destiny; you are rich in destiny and poor in virtue. Your success was not gained by wisdom; Beigongzi's failure was not lost by folly. Both are the work of heaven, not of man. Yet you pride yourself on being rich in destiny, and Beigongzi is ashamed of being rich in virtue. Neither of you understands the principle of how things inherently are.” Ximenzi said: “Master, say no more! I will not dare to speak like that again.” When Beigongzi returned home, he wore his coarse hemp clothes and felt the warmth of fox and badger furs; he ate his beans and felt the taste of rice and fine millet; he sheltered in his thatched hut as though under the shade of a great mansion; he rode in his wicker cart as though it were an ornamented carriage. For the rest of his life he was content, not knowing whether honor and disgrace lay with the other man or with himself. Master Dongguo heard of this and said: “Beigongzi had been asleep for a long time, yet a single word could wake him. How easily he was awakened!”
Guan Yiwu and Bao Shuya were very close friends and both lived in Qi. Guan Yiwu served Prince Jiu, and Bao Shuya served Prince Xiaobai. The ducal house of Qi had many favorites, and the sons of the principal wife and of the concubines were treated alike, so that the people of the state feared disorder. Guan Zhong and Shao Hu escorted Prince Jiu in flight to Lu, and Bao Shu escorted Prince Xiaobai in flight to Ju. Soon afterward Gongsun Wuzhi rebelled, and Qi was left without a ruler. The two princes raced to enter Qi. Guan Yiwu fought against Xiaobai near Ju, and on the road he shot Xiaobai, hitting the hook of his belt. When Xiaobai had become ruler, he forced Lu to kill Prince Jiu; Shao Hu died with him, and Guan Yiwu was imprisoned. Bao Shuya said to Duke Huan: “Guan Yiwu is capable; he can govern the state.” Duke Huan said: “He is my enemy; I want him killed.” Bao Shuya said: “I have heard that a worthy ruler has no private grudges. Moreover, a man who can serve his master well will surely be able to serve another ruler well. If you wish to be overlord and king, you cannot do it without Yiwu. My lord, you must spare him!” So Guan Zhong was summoned. Lu sent him back, and Bao Shuya of Qi went out to the outskirts to meet him and freed him from his bonds. Duke Huan treated him with courtesy and placed him above the Gao and Guo families, and Bao Shuya put himself below him. He was entrusted with the government of the state and given the title of Uncle Zhong. Duke Huan then became overlord. Guan Zhong once sighed and said: “When I was young and poor, I went into trade with Bao Shu, and when we divided the profits I took more for myself, but Bao Shu did not think me greedy, for he knew I was poor. I once made plans for Bao Shu that left him in great straits, but Bao Shu did not think me foolish, for he knew that times may be favorable or unfavorable. I held office three times and was dismissed by my lord three times, but Bao Shu did not think me unworthy, for he knew I had not met the right time. I went into battle three times and fled three times, but Bao Shu did not think me a coward, for he knew I had an old mother. When Prince Jiu was defeated, Shao Hu died for him, while I was imprisoned and suffered disgrace, but Bao Shu did not think me shameless, for he knew that I was not ashamed of small points of honor but ashamed that my name was not known throughout the world. Those who gave me life were my father and mother; the one who understood me was Bao Shu!” This is why the world praises Guan and Bao for their friendship and Xiaobai for his skill in employing the able. Yet in truth there was no skill in friendship and no skill in employing the able. To say that there was in truth no skill in friendship and no skill in employing the able is not to say that there was some other, better friendship or some better employment of the able. Shao Hu was not able to die; he could not help dying. Bao Shu was not able to recommend the worthy; he could not help recommending him. Xiaobai was not able to employ his enemy; he could not help employing him. When Guan Yiwu fell ill, Xiaobai asked him: “Uncle Zhong, your illness is grave; I need not avoid speaking of it. If it should come to the worst, to whom can I entrust the state?” Yiwu said: “Whom do you want, my lord?” Xiaobai said: “Bao Shuya will do.” He said: “He will not do. As a man he is pure, honest, and good, but he will not associate with those who are not his equals, and once he hears of someone's fault he never forgets it for the rest of his life. If you let him govern the state, above he will pull against his lord, and below he will go against the people. It will not be long before he offends his lord.” Xiaobai said: “Then who will do?” He replied: “If I must name someone, Xi Peng will do. As a man, he forgets his superiors and his inferiors do not rebel against him; he is ashamed that he is not as good as the Yellow Emperor and pities those who are not as good as himself. One who shares his virtue with others is called a sage; one who shares his wealth with others is called a worthy. No one who lords his worthiness over others has ever won them over; no one who uses his worthiness to humble himself before others has ever failed to win them over. In the affairs of the state there are things he does not hear; in the affairs of families there are things he does not see. If I must name someone, Xi Peng will do.” So it was not that Guan Yiwu slighted Bao Shu; he could not help slighting him. It was not that he favored Xi Peng; he could not help favoring him. One favored at first may be slighted in the end; one slighted in the end may have been favored at first. The coming and going of favor and slight do not depend on us.
Deng Xi held that both sides of a question could be argued and devised endless arguments. When Zichan was in charge of the government, Deng Xi wrote the Bamboo Penal Code. The state of Zheng adopted it, and he repeatedly challenged Zichan's administration. Zichan was driven into a corner by him. Then Zichan seized him and humiliated him, and shortly afterward put him to death. Thus it was not that Zichan was able to adopt the Bamboo Penal Code; he could not help adopting it. It was not that Deng Xi was able to corner Zichan; he could not help cornering him. It was not that Zichan was able to execute Deng Xi; he could not help executing him.
To live when one may live is a blessing from heaven; to die when one may die is a blessing from heaven. Not to live when one may live is a punishment from heaven; not to die when one may die is a punishment from heaven. That some may live and may die, and do live and do die, is so; that some may not live and may not die, and yet die or live, is also so. Yet living and dying are neither up to things nor up to us; all is destiny, and wisdom can do nothing about it. Therefore it is said: deep and dark, without boundary, the Way of Heaven comes together of itself; vast and still, without divisions, the Way of Heaven moves of itself. Heaven and earth cannot violate it, sages and the wise cannot interfere with it, ghosts and goblins cannot deceive it. What is so of itself silently completes things, levels them and settles them, sends them off and welcomes them.
Yang Zhu had a friend named Ji Liang. Ji Liang fell ill, and within seven days he was near death. His sons gathered round him weeping and asked to call a doctor. Ji Liang said to Yang Zhu: “My sons are so very unworthy; why don't you sing a song for me to make them understand?” Yang Zhu sang: “If heaven does not know it, how can man perceive it? Blessings do not come from heaven, nor calamities from man. You and I—do we not know? Doctors and shamans—do they know?” His sons did not understand, and in the end they called in three doctors: the first named Jiao, the second named Yu, the third named Lu, to diagnose his illness. Dr. Jiao said to Ji Liang: “Your cold and warmth are out of balance, your depletion and repletion have lost their measure; the illness comes from hunger, overeating, and sexual desire. Your essence and thoughts are troubled and scattered. It comes neither from heaven nor from ghosts. Though it is advanced, it can be treated.” Ji Liang said: “A common doctor. Send him away at once!” Dr. Yu said: “In the beginning your prenatal qi was insufficient and your mother's milk was too plentiful. This illness did not come about in a single morning or evening; it has been developing gradually, and it cannot be cured.” Ji Liang said: “A good doctor. Give him something to eat!” Dr. Lu said: “Your illness does not come from heaven, nor from man, nor from ghosts. When you received life and were given form, there was already something controlling it and something that knew it. What can medicines and needles do for you?” Ji Liang said: “A divine doctor. Send him off with rich gifts!” Shortly afterward Ji Liang's illness cured itself.
Life is not something that prizing it can preserve; the body is not something that cherishing it can enrich. Nor is life something that despising it can cut short; nor is the body something that making light of it can impoverish. So one who prizes life may not live, and one who despises it may not die; one who cherishes the body may not enrich it, and one who makes light of it may not impoverish it. This seems contrary, but it is not contrary; they live of themselves and die of themselves, are enriched of themselves and impoverished of themselves. Some prize life and live; some despise it and die; some cherish the body and enrich it; some make light of it and impoverish it. This seems consistent, but it is not consistent; they too live of themselves and die of themselves, are enriched of themselves and impoverished of themselves. Yu Xiong said to King Wen: “What is long of itself cannot be lengthened; what is short of itself cannot be shortened. What use is calculation?” Lao Dan said to Guanyin, the Keeper of the Pass: “What heaven hates—who knows the reason?” That is to say, rather than trying to anticipate heaven's will and weigh benefit and harm, it is better to let it be.
Yang Bu asked: “Here are two men who are like brothers in age, like brothers in speech, like brothers in talent, and like brothers in looks, yet as different as father and son in length of life, as different as father and son in rank, as different as father and son in reputation, as different as father and son in the love and hatred they receive. I am puzzled by this.” Master Yang said: “The ancients had a saying which I once learned; let me tell it to you. What is so without our knowing why it is so is destiny. Now, all is dim and dark, confused and tangled; we follow what we do and what we do not do. The days go and the days come; who can know the reason? It is all destiny. One who trusts in destiny has no long life or early death; one who trusts in principle has no right or wrong; one who trusts in the heart has no going against or going along; one who trusts in his nature has no safety or danger. Then he may be said to have nothing he trusts and nothing he does not trust. He is genuine and sincere; what should he leave, what should he go to? What should he grieve over, what should he rejoice in? What should he do, what should he not do? The Book of the Yellow Emperor says: ‘The Ultimate Man at rest is like one dead; in motion he is like a machine.’ He does not know why he rests, nor why he does not rest; he does not know why he moves, nor why he does not move. He does not change his feelings or looks because the crowd is watching, nor does he say that because the crowd is not watching he will not change his feelings or looks. He goes alone and comes alone, goes out alone and comes in alone; who can obstruct him?”
The Taciturn, the Blunt, the Easygoing, and the Hasty went about in the world together, each following his own inclination. To the end of their years they did not understand one another's feelings, each thinking his own wisdom profound. The Glib, the Simple-Minded, the Obstinate, and the Obsequious went about in the world together, each following his own inclination. To the end of their years they did not tell one another their methods, each thinking his own skill subtle. The Crafty, the Candid, the Stammerer, and the Scold went about in the world together, each following his own inclination. To the end of their years they did not enlighten one another, each thinking he had the true talent. The Deceitful, the Shirker, the Brave, and the Timid went about in the world together, each following his own inclination. To the end of their years they did not find fault with one another, each thinking his own conduct beyond reproach. The Gregarious, the Self-Willed, the Power-Seeker, and the Loner went about in the world together, each following his own inclination. To the end of their years they did not look at one another, each thinking he suited the times. These are the many dispositions of men. Their appearances are not the same, yet all of them go the same way, to where destiny leads.
What is nearly complete seems complete but was never complete from the start; what is nearly ruined seems ruined but was never ruined from the start. So confusion arises from seeming, and at the point of seeming all is dim. One who is not dimmed by seeming is not alarmed at misfortune from without, nor gladdened by good fortune within; he moves with the times and stops with the times, and wisdom cannot know it. One who trusts in destiny has no divided mind between others and himself. One whose mind is divided between others and himself would do better to cover his eyes and stop his ears, turn his back on the slope and face the ditch—then at least he would not fall. Therefore it is said: death and life come from destiny; poverty and hardship come from the times. One who resents dying young does not know destiny; one who resents poverty does not know the times. To face death without fear and to be in hardship without grief is to know destiny and be at peace with the times. When a person of great intelligence weighs benefit and harm, assesses the empty and the solid, and gauges human feelings, he is right half the time and wrong half the time. When a person of little intelligence does not weigh benefit and harm, does not assess the empty and the solid, and does not gauge human feelings, he too is right half the time and wrong half the time. Weighing or not weighing, assessing or not assessing, gauging or not gauging—what difference does it make? Only one who has nothing he weighs and nothing he does not weigh is whole and suffers no loss. Yet he does not know that he is whole, nor does he know that he suffers loss. He is whole of himself, perishes of himself, and loses of himself.
Duke Jing of Qi was traveling on Mount Niu. Looking north toward the capital of his state, he wept and said: “How beautiful is my state! Lush and green—how can I bear to leave this state drop by drop and die? If from ancient times there had been no death, where would I go when I leave here?” Shi Kong and Liangqiu Ju both wept with him and said: “Thanks to your lordship's bounty, we can eat coarse rice and poor meat and ride worn-out horses and rough carts, and still we do not wish to die—how much less our lord!” Yanzi alone laughed at their side. The duke wiped away his tears, turned to Yanzi, and said: “My outing today is a sad one, and Kong and Ju both weep with me. Why do you alone laugh?” Yanzi replied: “If the worthy could hold on to it forever, then Taigong and Duke Huan would still be holding on to it; if the brave could hold on to it forever, then Duke Zhuang and Duke Ling would still be holding on to it. If these several lords were holding on to it, my lord would now be standing in the fields in a straw cape and bamboo hat, concerned only with his work; would you have time to think of death? And then how would my lord have come to occupy this position? It is because they occupied it in turn and left it in turn that it has come to you. To weep over it alone is not benevolent. I have seen an unbenevolent lord and I have seen flattering ministers. Seeing these two things is why I alone laughed to myself.” Duke Jing was ashamed. He raised his cup and fined himself a drink, and fined each of the two ministers two cups.
There was a man of Wei named Dongmen Wu whose son died, and he did not grieve. His steward said: “Your love for your son was unlike anyone's in the world. Now your son has died and you do not grieve; why is that?” Dongmen Wu said: “I used to have no son, and when I had no son I did not grieve. Now that my son has died, it is the same as when I had no son before. Why should I grieve?”
Farmers hurry to meet the seasons, merchants chase profit, craftsmen pursue skill, officials go after power; circumstances make them so. Yet farmers have floods and droughts, merchants have gains and losses, craftsmen have successes and failures, officials meet with good fortune or bad; destiny makes them so.