As many of you know, I love the stories from Zhuang Zi (Chuang Tzu). He was a sage that stood apart from others in Chinese history. He was a unique presence, who was well known for his deep understanding of the Dao (Tao) and sense of humor. A great mind that lived twenty-four hundred years ago, during the warring states period in China.
Zhuang Zi loved to teach through stories. The tales he created drew his students in, captured their imagination, and conveyed the Dao in unforgettable ways.
This is another one of my favorites, wonderfully translated by Derek Lin in his book, The Tao of Happiness:
The Death of Zhuang Zi’s Friend
One day, Zhuang Zi was attending a funeral when he passed by the grave of his old friend Hui Tzu. He turned to his followers and said: “Once there was a carpenter in the Kingdom of Yin who routinely demonstrated an incredible skill. He would dab a bit of lime on his nose, as thin as the wing on a fly. Then, he would ask a stonemason to remove it.
Onlookers assumed he meant for the stonemason to wipe it off, so they were all startled when the stonemason brought out a large ax. He would waive it around with practice swings, and everyone could feel the force of ax like the wind. They could see it was a powerful weapon.
Then, with the carpenter standing still, perfectly relaxed, the stonemason would swing the ax right in front of him. To the onlookers, it seemed as if the stonemason had chopped his nose off. In reality, the carpenter would be completely unharmed – and the bit of lime on his nose would be gone.
When the king song heard of this remarkable feat, he had to see it for himself. He summoned the stonemason to his presence and commanded: ‘You are the one possessing the special skill, correct? Demonstrated for me.’
The stonemason replied: ‘Yes, your majesty. I have the ability to remove a coating of lime from a man’s nose without harming him, but I regret to say I cannot demonstrated for you. The demonstration will only work if I perform with my partner.’
The king said, ‘Why did you not say so? We shall simply bring him here.’
There was a note of infinite sadness in the stonemason’s reply to King: ‘That is not possible, Your Majesty. My partner has passed away. I’m afraid our special skill…. Is lost forever.’
Zhuang Zi paused to reflect on the past. After a moment, he said: ‘Ever since Hui Tzu’s death, I’ve had no opponent for my philosophical debates, and no one to speak with for my discussions. For me, there is also something special that is lost forever.’
Derek Lin’s Commentary
Zhuang Zi was in his twilight years when he told his story. Many of the people he knew had passed away. Even though he regarded their passings as natural occurrences, their departures still left a void in his heart. He could not help but miss them.
The large ax that Zhuang Zi described was a metaphor for communication. Specifically, it was about the words we use when we communicate with each other.
Just as the act has sharp edges, our words have the potential to cause damage. When we engage each other in conversation, it is if we are swinging axes around. One wrong move, and we wound someone’s pride, offend people without meaning to, or criticize someone in inadvertently.
Most of the time, we keep our axes covered up for safety. We use politeness and manners to wrap around the sharp edges. This works well in social situations, but sometimes the protective cover gets in the way when we wish to communicate directly and candidly.
The story refers to the performance by the carpenter and the stonemason as a special skill. This is because personal communication is imprecise, so it can be very difficult to get it right. Words mean different things to different people, and the meaning can be further changed by tonality, gestures, and facial expressions. When we think about the many ways misunderstanding can occur, it seems like a miracle that communication works at all. Thus, when we are actually able to understand one another perfectly, it is indeed very special.
You experienced this specialness when you spend time with friends and loved ones. In their presence, you can relax and be yourself. You can speak your mind and rest, and knowing that you’ll be completely understood. Soul-to-soul connection is made, and the kind of magic happens. They know what you are thinking, and you know their thoughts. They know what you were going to say, and you can complete their sentences. It’s almost telepathic, but there is nothing supernatural about it. It’s a plane, simple, every day miracle.
This kind of miracle has three essential components:
1. Affinity
This is a rare and precious thing that does not arise automatically when you meet someone. For most of us, finding others who are perfectly in tune with us is the exception rather than the rule. When the carpenter passed away, the stonemason could not find anyone to replace him. In the same way, those who possess a natural affinity with us have a unique role. They are indispensable to us..
2. Time
It takes time to really know someone. The stonemason and the carpenter practiced their special skill over many years. In the same way, we need to nurture a relationship over the long haul, with shared experiences and quality times spent together. Natural affinity is a good foundation – but it won’t do much good unless we build on it.
3. Trust
The third ingredient is trust. Complete, absolute trust is what the special skill is all about. The carpenter knew the stonemason would swing the ax with unfailing accuracy, and the stonemason trusted the carpenter not to make sudden moves to ruin the performance. Both sides must come together.
For us, trust is also the most important ingredient in personal communication. If trust is not present, you can choose every word carefully and still failed to convey your meaning – everything you say is suspect and open to the most negative interpretation, and any attempts to explain or clarify yourself may make the situation even worse.
When trust is present, it trumps everything else. Even when you can’t think of the right words or you stutter badly, it doesn’t matter. They’ll tell you it’s OK, because they know what you mean. They know what you are trying to say. Trust makes all the difference in the world.
It is not easy to have all three ingredients come together. Think of someone you know. Do you feel in affinity with him or her? Have you known this person for years? Is there a strong, mutual trust between the two of you? If you can answer “yes” to all these questions for even a few people in your life, then you are truly blessed.
The blessing cannot be taken for granted. As time goes on, your affinity with those special people may fade. You may spend less than less time with them. Something may happen to break the trust between you. Or, as was the case with. Zhuang Zi and Hui Tzu, you may lose someone to the passage of time. When the rare and precious miracle is lost, it leaves an emptiness in the heart. We may realize, too late, how wonderful it was when someone filled that void.
This is the ultimate message of the story: do not wait until it is too late. Consider your good fortune to have these people in your life. Acknowledge your connection with them as the rare and precious gift it is, and cherish the time you spend with them while they are still around. Treasure your performance of the special skill with them and thank them for partnering with you all these years.
They may have no idea what you are talking about, but that’s OK. They will sense what you mean and understand what you are trying to say. This simple understanding will demonstrate, yet again, the three ingredients of the miracle – our most incredible miracle of all.
The Tao of Happiness‘ has 18 stories from Zhuang Zi with commentary. Derek Lin does an excellent job! Highly recommended!
