Cook Ding Carves an Ox
Could the work in your hands ever feel like a dance?
Original
庖丁為文惠君解牛，手之所觸，肩之所倚，足之所履，膝之所踦，砉然嚮然，奏刀騞然，莫不中音。文惠君曰：「譆，善哉！技蓋至此乎？」庖丁釋刀對曰：「臣之所好者道也，進乎技矣。始臣之解牛之時，所見無非牛者。三年之後，未嘗見全牛也。方今之時，臣以神遇而不以目視，官知止而神欲行。依乎天理，批大郤，導大窾，因其固然。……良庖歲更刀，割也；族庖月更刀，折也。今臣之刀十九年矣，所解數千牛矣，而刀刃若新發於硎。彼節者有閒，而刀刃者無厚；以無厚入有閒，恢恢乎其於遊刃必有餘地矣。」
In plain words
Cook Ding was carving an ox for Lord Wenhui. Wherever his hand touched, his shoulder leaned, his foot stepped or his knee pressed, there was a swish and a whoosh; the knife slid in with a zing, and every sound was in tune. Lord Wenhui said, “Ah, wonderful! Can skill really reach this far?” Cook Ding laid down his knife and replied, “What I care about is the Dao, which goes beyond skill. When I first began carving oxen, all I could see was the whole ox. After three years, I never saw the whole ox any more. Now I meet it with my spirit and don't look with my eyes. My senses stop, and my spirit moves as it wants. I follow the natural pattern, strike the big gaps, guide the blade through the big hollows, going by how the thing actually is. … A good cook changes his knife once a year, because he cuts. An ordinary cook changes it once a month, because he hacks. I've had this knife for nineteen years and carved thousands of oxen, and the blade is as sharp as if it had just come off the whetstone. There are spaces between the joints, and the edge of the blade has no thickness. Put what has no thickness into what has space, and there's more than enough room for the blade to play.”
Key words
- 进乎技jìn hū jìGoing beyond skill, into the Dao.
- 依乎天理yī hū tiān lǐFollowing the natural grain and structure.
- 游刃有余yóu rèn yǒu yúThe blade moves through the gaps with room to spare.
Reading it step by step
Today we enter our last theme: from truth to beauty. On Day 10 we read the opening of “Nourishing the Lord of Life,” “my life has a limit,” and I promised we'd later meet a cook whose knife was still sharp after nineteen years. Here he is.
Let's take it in three steps.
First: work can be beautiful. Butchering an ox is heavy, messy work. Yet Cook Ding's hands, shoulders, feet and knees move with the sound of the blade like a dance, like a musical performance: “every sound was in tune.” Zhuangzi's point is that beauty isn't only in paintings and poems. It's also in an ordinary job done to perfection.
Second: three stages. The ox; no whole ox; meeting it with the spirit. At first there's a whole ox in front of you and you have no idea where to begin. After three years, you see structure: where the joints are, where the gaps are. Finally, not your eyes but your spirit senses it, and the hands know where to go. Learning anything works this way: driving, a language, a craft. You pass through all three stages.
three stages
three knives
Third: why does the knife last nineteen years? A good cook changes knives yearly, because he cuts. An ordinary cook changes monthly, because he hacks. Cook Ding doesn't fight the bone. He “follows the natural pattern” and goes through the gaps. The knife is our life; the bones are the world's difficulties. Force your way and the knife soon dulls. Follow the grain and there's “room for the blade to play.” That is nourishing life.
Think back to “follow the middle line” on Day 10. Cook Ding's knife travels exactly that line.
As you do your work today, look for its grain. Where is there already a gap, so you don't have to hack?
Follow the grain, and the knife stays sharp.
Follow the grain, and the knife stays sharp.
Today's question
Something you're learning now (work, a language, a craft): which of the three stages are you in? What next step would follow its grain more closely?
Quick check
Why has Cook Ding's knife stayed sharp for nineteen years?
What has no thickness enters what has space, with room to play. That is nourishing life.
IV · From Truth to Beauty — From skill to Dao; the beauty of everything