Drumming on a Basin
When you lose someone close, can you grieve without being crushed by grief?
Original
莊子妻死，惠子弔之，莊子則方箕踞鼓盆而歌。惠子曰：「與人居，長子老身，死不哭亦足矣，又鼓盆而歌，不亦甚乎！」莊子曰：「不然。是其始死也，我獨何能無概然！察其始而本無生，非徒無生也而本無形，非徒無形也而本無氣。雜乎芒芴之間，變而有氣，氣變而有形，形變而有生，今又變而之死，是相與為春秋冬夏四時行也。人且偃然寢於巨室，而我噭噭然隨而哭之，自以為不通乎命，故止也。」
In plain words
When Zhuangzi's wife died, Huizi went to offer condolences and found Zhuangzi sitting with his legs sprawled out, drumming on a basin and singing. Huizi said, “You lived with her, she raised your children and grew old with you. Not weeping at her death would be bad enough. But drumming on a basin and singing: isn't that too much?” Zhuangzi said, “No. When she first died, how could I not have been grief-stricken? But then I looked back to her beginning. Originally she had no life. Not only no life, she had no form. Not only no form, she had no qi. Mixed in the hazy and indistinct, there was a change and there was qi; the qi changed and there was form; the form changed and there was life. Now there has been another change, and she has gone to death. It's like the four seasons, spring, summer, autumn, winter, following their round. She is lying peacefully asleep in the great chamber of heaven and earth. If I went on wailing beside her, I would be showing that I don't understand fate. So I stopped.”
Key words
- 鼓盆而歌gǔ pén ér gēDrumming on a clay basin and singing.
- 概然gài ránOvercome with grief.
- 巨室jù shìThe great chamber: heaven and earth.
Reading it step by step
This is probably the most misunderstood passage in Zhuangzi. Plenty of readers come away thinking he was heartless: his wife dies and he sings.
Read it slowly. Let's take it in three steps.
First: Zhuangzi grieved. “When she first died, how could I not have been grief-stricken?” He didn't skip the sorrow. It isn't that he felt no pain. It's that, after the pain, he thought about something.
Second: what he thought about was change. Go back to the very beginning: no qi, no form, no life. Then qi gathered into form, form took on life, and now that life has changed back again. Like spring turning to summer and autumn to winter; no season is a “mistake.” Remember the transformation of things on Day 7? The fish becoming the bird, Zhou becoming the butterfly, life becoming death: it's all one kind of change.
Like the four seasons turning
- 1no qi
- 2change → qi
- 3qi → form
- 4form → life
- 5life → death
Third: the picture of the great chamber. She hasn't vanished. She is “lying peacefully asleep in the great chamber of heaven and earth.” Wailing beside her would be like waking someone who's asleep. So he stops, and drums on a basin, and sings her on her way.
This isn't telling us not to cry. When we lose someone, sorrow is natural and right. What Zhuangzi offers is a path for after the sorrow: placing the person back into the turning of heaven, earth and the seasons, so that missing them can grow a little quieter.
If you're missing someone now, there's no need to let go in a hurry. Just try picturing them in a very large, very quiet room.
After grief, there is still a song to sing.
After grief, there is still a song to sing.
Today's question
If you're missing someone, write them a few lines. Not a goodbye; just tell them how you're doing now.
Quick check
Why did Zhuangzi stop weeping?
He grieved first; then he saw the change, and stopped.
III · Bend Outside, Steady Inside — Go with the world without losing yourself