Category: Shàn

shàn (善)

Chapter 8 famously describes higher-level traditional virtue or good, as other Dào translators prefer to call it. Modern definitions of today’s featured character also include virtuous, charitable, and kind. Because of those nuances, and because its pictogram shows us a ritualized and verbal behavior, I prefer a subtly different translation of traditional virtue which I discussed when it first appeared in Chapter 2:

traditional virtue—offering up a goat while back and forth speaking words that are like slaves or criminals, branded by a chisel, emerging from a mouth…

Chapter 2’s introduction to this kind of virtue was in the context of public opinion: when public opinion says one particular thing is traditionally virtuous, then that lops off the opposite before it’s even born.

But here, Chapter 8 talks specifically about a higher level, shàng (上) form of this virtue. Shàng was the name of the dynasty preceding Lâozî’s time, and in Western Zhou script was drawn as one line above another:

This is the first time this character appears in the Dào. In its various contexts throughout the book, it does make sense when seen as a word that calls to mind the ruling class or a ruler, and since that’s also the historical context, I’ve included it in my translation:

higher, ruling level

~

Remember our hero’s mentor/friend/midwife, “someone?” And remember from the end of the last chapter that our hero’s now headed out into the world with a dual role that chops of the wings of Not-Being… unwholesomely personally concerned… meaning therefore… capable of completing personal concerns? Well now, out in that world, our someone’s making a helpful observation. Here’s my short version (you can read the whole thing here):

Higher, ruling level traditional virtue is like water flowing exactly in the center of the Han River, spraying up on both sides. Water-flowing-right-in-its-channel in terms of traditional virtue means benefiting all beings; and yet, now bearded, you’re not really competing (like when two hands are fighting over a ploughshare). In dwelling, that person’s place is disdained as ugly.

This is usually translated to mean the flowing water benefits all creatures while not-competing and dwelling in low places.

But this interpretation causes problems if I stick with my consistent translation of ér as and yet now, bearded, you... Why does this character even appear here if all it means is “while?” Why not just say “not really competing?” There could be many reasons, of course. It could be for poetic reasons like rhythm. Or it could be to emphasize that even exactly at the same time as being beneficial, the water is not really competing. It seems likely that every translator before me is correct since they understand the syntax and contextual implications of the language, and I don’t. Yet… in the course of seeking my own personal experience of these characters and my determination to use the same translation for each character everywhere it appears, I am curious to see what happens if I keep the definition of ér that I constructed carefully and objectively.

And so it sounds to me like someone is saying: “bearded, you are not really competing.” You aren’t really playing this game that the water does of benefiting all people; and that person’s place, in terms of dwelling, is disdained as ugly.

I will just continue my line of exploration to see what happens. (We already know what happens with the traditional interpretation.) The next line continues:

Anciently, this shows that

this here

is quite near

to The Way.

I take that to mean “you not competing in the traditional virtue game but living in this disdained place is quite near to The Way.”

And then what follows is a list of different parts of life and, presumably, what they mean in terms of traditional virtue. It’s remarkable how many ways we can interpret this list’s simple sequencing of words. Here’s the first entry:

abiding, dwelling where birthed…

traditional virtue…

Earth, this soil vagina

Most people translate this as “the virtuous form of living is close to the earth.” And they see this whole list as being the detailed version of the previous line, so in other words: “this virtuous form of living close to the earth is very near to The Way.”

But there are other possible interpretations. It could be saying that “your non-competing and disdained way of abiding has been very near to The Way, but traditional virtue calls it earth (this soil vagina).

Here’s an objective version of the whole list:

• abiding in terms of traditional virtue = Earth (this soil vagina).
  • The character used here for abiding means “dwelling where birthed” and shows a person sitting or squatting over ten mouths. Does that mean dwelling where you birthed all those mouths or where you were birthed?
• heart-core in terms of traditional virtue = the deep water
  • We saw this same character for deep water, yuān 淵, in Chapter 4 when we learned that The Way is pouring water from the center while doing useful work like a water bucket and not overflowing:

• supporting in terms of traditional virtue = personable
  • Supporting is shown by offering to carry another on one’s shoulders
• speaking in terms of traditional virtue = truth-telling
• straight upright in terms of traditional virtue = governing by harnessing the river named Happy or speaking of turning oneself.
  • We learned about this, the sage’s way of governing, in Chapter 3.
• one’s personal role in terms of traditional virtue = capable and powerful as that legendary bear with deer legs
  • The character for this kind of “capable” is néng, 能, and it’s one of my favorite images in the book… even though/especially because it does raise questions about reality! It’s the same adjective used in the last line of Chapter 7, just as our hero set out to live this new dual role.
• laboring in terms of traditional virtue = seasonally timely
  • “Laboring” is shown as moving heavy bags with great strength.
  • “Appropriate seasonal timeliness” is shown as when the sun is between your footprint and the position on your arm where you measure your pulse. Good timing.

Then here’s the conclusion to Chapter 8:

That is to say, this particular grown man with a hairpin and public courtesy name…

essentially and only—like the heart of the ‘short-tailed bird’—

“the husk of the initial protective bud casing—the sepal—but not really the true inner flower of

competing—two hands clawing over a ploughshare,”

therefore—anciently, for ten generations, this lightly hits and leaves this mark of reason:

Nothing—no one dancing with long tails flowing from their wrists—nope never, no way, nowhere, nohow Not-Being

in particular—made lame by resentment.

~

The final word, yóu (尤) is a another puzzle to me. Etymologists say the character is a drawing of a man with bent legs plus that slash over top, which is a punctuation mark. The bent man alone traditionally meant lame and then came to mean anger or resentment. But combined with the punctuation mark, its modern meaning is strictly especially or particularly. The old Western Zhou script drew the character like this:

That does not look like a man (大) with bent legs to me. The Western Zhou version of a man looked like this:

Rather, that old version of yóu looks maybe more like some variation of the old symbol for a hand. Remember the symbol for competing— two hands on a plow:

Yet virtually all translators of the Dao translate that last line as “he’s not competing, and therefore not blamed.”

Of course, with my view of Not-Being as a character with its own life—perhaps as the secret, private, shamanic feminine self that Lâozî keeps hidden at home—I look at this a little differently. I think Chapter 8 is just a continuation of Chapter 7. There, we left off knowing that Heaven-Earth being now long-lasting and “capable of lengthy birthing” means that 1. the sage’s pregnant self, now bearded, is surviving and 2. the wings are broken off of Not-Being’s disastrous personal concerns, and therefore Not-Being’s capable of completing personal concerns [non-disastrous ones, I presume].

Now Chapter 8 follows up with this description of those personal concerns. When our hero isn’t fully playing the competitive traditional virtue game but is instead dwelling in a lowly disdained place, very close to The Way, those personal concerns look a certain way to traditional virtue. And that whole list is to say, “this particular man who’s essentially and only not competing is therefore, by logic, Not-Being in particular.” And possibly he is Not-Being, when Not-Being is crippled by resentment. It does summarize the situation when regular culture acts with blame and resentment toward Not-Beings.

It’s a rather un-satisfying way to live, I think. And while it’s close to The Way, it isn’t exactly The Way. But that’s possibly better than being far from The Way!

In the next chapter, we’ll learn more about what engagement in a more typical life would involve for our hero. Until then, thank you for reading, and please send me a note using the contact form. I know this is radically different, so tell me what you think. And, see you next time!