Volume 4: The Revelation Unveiled Chapter 521: Seeking the Great Way
Is this a dream? No! How could consciousness in a dream be so clear?
Wukong suddenly remembered that his current state felt eerily familiar! Yes, he recalled it—the first time he entered the Water Curtain Cave to hear the teachings at birth, he had experienced this same wonderful feeling. Back then, there was Randalan guiding him with his voice, but now there was not a sound at all.
Just then, a voice suddenly rang out!
“The Way that can be spoken is not the eternal Way. The name that can be named is not the eternal name. Without name, there is the beginning of heaven and earth. With name, there is the mother of all things… Profound beyond profoundness— the gateway to all mysteries!”
What is this? It’s still the Tao Te Ching!
Hearing this voice, Wukong was both astonished and delighted. This voice… was not Randalan, nor that being from beyond the heavens—it was… himself! Indeed, it was his own voice, coming from some mysterious space, phrase by phrase, reaching his ears and penetrating his heart!
Wukong didn’t have time to ponder why this was happening. The words of this scripture surged upon him like a tide, filling his heart.
“He who knows others is wise; he who knows himself is enlightened. He who overcomes others is strong; he who overcomes himself is mighty. He who is content is rich. He who persists is determined. He who does not lose his place endures. He who dies but does not perish lives forever!”
He who dies but does not perish lives forever! What is death? It is the cessation of the physical body. What is perishing? It is the loss of the spirit! By this standard, even if Randalan’s body died, he actually did not perish. The essence of Randalan’s Buddhist teachings was still passed down through Maitreya and spread throughout the world. After hearing these words, Wukong felt greatly relieved.
Another voice of teaching came: “Reach the utmost emptiness and maintain profound stillness. As all things arise, I observe their return. All things return to their roots. Returning to the root means stillness; this is called returning to one’s true nature…” This sentence was very difficult to understand. After thinking for a while, Wukong grasped its general meaning: only when the stillness of the mind reaches its extreme and remains unchanging can all things thrive. All things return to their fundamental roots, which are nothing but boundless stillness. Stillness is not annihilation, but a return to the essence of life!
For some reason, after delivering this passage, the voice stopped speaking, as if deliberately giving Wukong time to reflect. Wukong thought of himself—wasn’t he in a state of stillness now? Stillness so profound that the six senses were absent, so profound that even the forces of creation could not be sensed, stillness such that he only knew of himself and knew nothing of the world around him.
Is this the ultimate state of stillness? Is this what chaos looks like?
Chaos! This word suddenly popped into his mind. Wukong realized he had heard before that beyond the realms of yin and yang lay the state of chaos. Chaos is the Ultimate Void—a state even more primordial and ultimate than the Taiji.
But chaos existed at the beginning of creation, boundless in both time and space. How long would this state of mine endure in silence? It’s absurd—how could I have reached such a realm in a daze, with no preparation at all? If I had known, I would have completed many important matters in the world first; that would be the proper path. Yet now, Wukong can move not a bit, as if his limbs no longer obey him, while only his consciousness remains, able to observe meticulously within his dantian.
At that moment, the voice spoke again: “Know the bright and uphold the dark, and you shall be like a stream in the world. Being like a stream, eternal virtue never leaves, and you return to innocence. Know the white and uphold the black, and you shall be like a model in the world. Being like a model, eternal virtue never strays, and you return to the Infinite… Know honor and uphold disgrace, and you shall be like a valley in the world. Being like a valley, eternal virtue is sufficient, and you return to simplicity.”
This passage is extremely difficult to understand. Wukong only grasped the phrase “Know the white and uphold the black.” Among the yin and yang fish, there is a distinction between black and white. In Laozi’s realm of good and evil, black represents evil and white represents good. But if taken literally, does it mean knowing good while upholding evil? What kind of logic is that?
No, the Tao Te Ching, with its over five thousand characters, contains profound truths—it can’t be that simple. Everything in the world has two sides, not just good and evil, but also truth and falsehood, beauty and ugliness, high and low, progress and retreat, light and dark…
The phrase “Know the white and uphold the black” likely means knowing where brightness lies in the world but still being able to stay in the darkness. Upon closer analysis, it seems to suggest that concepts of right and wrong, truth and falsehood, big and small, sharp and dull, are all relative. Or rather, different perspectives lead to vastly different judgments about things.
This brings us back to the idea of “not losing one’s true heart.” No matter how others view things, one should simply hold fast to their own heart. There’s no need to forcefully resist others’ opinions—this is what it means to “prevent people from losing their true heart.”
Thus, in the Taiji diagram, black exists within white, and white within black— isn’t this also a form of tolerance and restraint toward the world?
And the phrase “return to simplicity” further embodies Taoism’s values of tranquility, simplicity, naturalness, and return to the original state. The word “return” implies composure that comes from having experienced many things in the world. Ultimately, one must return to the pure innocence of being calm, inward-focused, and reserved.
Having understood this truth, Wukong suddenly sensed a slight movement in the black-and-white Creation Ball, as if there were signs of separation. The movement was extremely subtle, but to Wukong, it felt like the beginning of creation—because he could see clearly that the black and white threads had now become completely separate, with no trace of contact left. Yet the black and white threads still intertwined, appearing chaotic from the outside.
As Wukong pondered how to separate them, the voice spoke again. This time, it wasn’t the Tao Te Ching, but a passage he was well familiar with: “…There is a bird called the Peng, whose back is like Mount Tai, and whose wings are like clouds hanging from the sky. It soars upward through the whirlwinds and mountain peaks for ninety thousand li, breaking through the clouds and carrying the blue sky above it, before heading south toward the Southern Ocean…” This passage was, of course, from The Free and Easy Wandering. Wukong was extremely familiar with this magnificent text, filled with the ideals and sentiments of freedom.
If Wukong were to evaluate this unparalleled masterpiece, he would say in just three sentences: The Free and Easy Wandering is a journey to seek the Dao, a journey to understand the Dao, and a journey toward freedom!
If it’s about seeking and understanding the Dao, why is it related to freedom? Ultimately, what exactly is the Dao?
It is said: “The Dao has emotion and faith, yet is formless and actionless; it can be passed on but not received, can be attained but not seen. It exists from the very beginning, prior to heaven and earth, and has always been there. Gods and demons, all things in existence, were born from it. It precedes the Taiji yet is not highest, lies beneath the six extremes yet is not deepest. It existed before heaven and earth yet is not eternal, and has endured since ancient times yet is not old.”
Simply put, the Dao is an omnipresent world that exists from the beginning, like an antelope’s horn—impossible to trace. It is breathtakingly beautiful, indescribably wonderful, and full of endless joy…
It sounds utterly illusory, like an ideal state just out of reach. But Wukong knew that in his original modern world, all of this was illusion. Yet now he was in the World of Journey to the West, where flying on clouds and moving mountains became reality—so what was understanding the Dao compared to that?
Since someone had guided him with The Free and Easy Wandering, why not follow this path?
Freedom! Freedom! Freedom!
Freedom is human nature; neither immortals nor demons can escape it.
Like the couple Hu Yu and Hu Zhi, the little foxes, who were willing to fight to death to escape oppression from the heavens; like the Nine-Headed Worm and other immortals in the three realms, who racked their brains to flee from those confined realms; like the demons of Flower Fruit Mountain and Guanjiangkou, the Mei Mountain brothers, the Nine Spirits Sage, the Great Peng, and even the qilin and phoenix—none of them fought except for freedom. Even Buddha and the Kunpeng actually sought only to be unrestrained and free from shackles!
Freedom is, in fact, freedom to roam! To wander among heaven and earth at one’s own will.
In “The Wandering Journey,” when the Kun emerges from the Northern Abyss, it is to break free from spatial constraints. As the saying goes, “The sea is wide enough for fish to leap, and the sky is high enough for birds to fly.” To ordinary people, the Northern Abyss sea seems boundless and almost infinite, but in the eyes of the Kunpeng, it remains limited. With its enormous size, how can the Kunpeng move freely in the Northern Abyss?
Thus, the Kun must transform! Into a Peng!
This “transformation” is about change, abandonment, and transcendence. Only through transformation can one shed the past, break free from bonds, and soar into the sky. To fly is to be free!
The moment of transformation is truly magnificent!
How much suffering must the Kunpeng endure in this world? It too was born from chaos, and it should cherish its creation. Though this world is vast, it does not allow it to change at will. Hence, though the Kunpeng appears to be extremely free in this world, it actually suffers the most inwardly. Only at the beginning of each cycle does the Kunpeng have the chance to spread its wings and soar, and at that moment of clarity, it must be happy, right?
After that, it disappears silently, hiding away fearfully of disturbing all living things in the world. At this point, Wukong increasingly understands the Kunpeng’s feelings. No wonder the Kunpeng must leave heaven—it seeks nothing more than “freedom”!
And what about Buddha? Shouldn’t he also deserve more tolerance, just like the Kunpeng?
Thinking of Buddha, Wukong feels somewhat puzzled. He once harbored much hatred toward Buddha, but as he learned more about him, that hatred gradually faded. Buddha certainly made mistakes, but was it right to imprison him in this world? Though this world is vast, it is insufficient for either the Kunpeng or Buddha.
Buddha is a being from beyond the heavens; he has his own world in his heart, just like Wukong does. No matter how long he stays here or how successful he becomes, that longing and concern for his homeland can never be forgotten.
Alas, such thoughts are futile. This word “transformation” sounds simple, but how exactly can one achieve it?
Putting himself in others’ shoes, Wukong naturally thought of himself. Now, he clearly understood where the “Way” lay and had more or less found a way to comprehend it. But how could he put it into practice? He didn’t seek to transform from a kun into a peng; he only wanted to divide this creation sphere into two halves, one black and one white, to form a complete Taiji diagram. He increasingly felt that only by doing this could he escape his current situation. Wukong was convinced that what he was doing was absolutely correct!