《Caigentan (菜根譚) - Original Text, Former Collection, #22》 [022] 好動者，雲電風燈；嗜寂者，死灰槁

《Cai Gen Tan (菜根譚) - Original Text, Collection 1, #22》 [022]

📜  Original Text

好動者，雲電風燈；嗜寂者，死灰槁木。須定雲止水中，有魚躍鳶飛氣象，纔是有道的心體。

📚  Translation

Those who love movement are like lightning in the clouds or a lamp flickering in the wind;
those who indulge in stillness are like burnt-out ashes or withered wood.

Only when there is the vibrant spirit of leaping fish and soaring kites, even within still clouds and calm waters, can one truly possess the mind's essence that embodies the 'Tao'.

✍️ Hanja Breakdown

好 (hǎo): To like, to enjoy.
動 (dòng): To move, to be active.
好動者 (hǎo dòng zhě): A person who loves to move, an active person.
者 (zhě): A person who..., that which... (a demonstrative pronoun referring to the preceding content).
雲 (yún): Cloud.
電 (diàn): Lightning.
雲電 (yún diàn): Clouds and lightning (a metaphor for a state that is fast, ever-changing, and unpredictable).
風 (fēng): Wind.
燈 (dēng): Lamp, light.
風燈 (fēng dēng): A lamp in the wind (a metaphor for a precarious and unstable state).
雲電風燈 (yún diàn fēng dēng): yún diàn fēng dēng): Clouds and lightning, a lamp in the wind. (A comprehensive metaphor for an unstable, restless, impulsive, and unsettled state).
嗜 (shì): To indulge in, to crave, to be very fond of. (Here, it means to excessively seek or intensely pursue, often to a fault).
寂 (jì): Quiet, silent, desolate.
嗜寂者 (shì jì zhě): A person who only likes stillness, one who indulges in quietude, or who excessively seeks stillness.
死 (sǐ): To die, dead.
灰 (huī): Ash.
死灰 (sǐ huī): Dead ashes, cold ashes (a metaphor for a state utterly devoid of vitality and vigor).
槁 (gǎo): Withered wood, dead tree (a metaphor for a state completely lacking life force and sensation).
木 (mù): Wood, tree.
槁木 (gǎo mù): Withered wood, dead tree (a metaphor for a state lacking life force and sensation).
死灰槁木 (sǐ huī gǎo mù): Dead ashes and withered wood (a comprehensive metaphor for a state lacking vitality and vigor, and being numb).
須 (xū): Must, ought to.
定 (dìng): To settle, to stabilize, to be still.
雲 (yún): Cloud.
定雲 (dìng yún): Still clouds, calm clouds (a metaphor for a stable and peaceful state).
止 (zhǐ): To stop, to cease, to be still.
水 (shuǐ): Water.
止水 (zhǐ shuǐ): Still water, calm water (a metaphor for a peaceful and motionless state).
定雲止水 (dìng yún zhǐ shuǐ): Still clouds and calm water (a metaphor for an extremely quiet and stable inner state).
有 (yǒu): To have, to possess.
魚 (yú): Fish.
躍 (yuè): To leap, to jump.
魚躍 (yú yuè): Fish leaping (dynamic vitality within stillness).
鳶 (yuān): Kite (bird of prey).
飛 (fēi): To fly.
鳶飛 (yuān fēi): Kite soaring (a depiction of free activity in a vast space).
魚躍鳶飛 (yú yuè yuān fēi): Fish leaping and kites soaring (a scene where vibrant life force and free spirit over-flow even in a quiet environment).
氣 (qì): Spirit, aura, demeanor.
象 (xiàng): Elephant; form, appearance.
氣象 (qì xiàng): Vigor, spirit, demeanor, lively appearance. (Here, it means 'vibrant life force and free spirit').
纔 (cái): Only then, just then.
是 (shì): To be.
有 (yǒu): To have, to possess.
道 (dào): Path, principle, truth, Tao.
有道 yǒu dào): Possessing the Tao, embodying the Tao.
的 (de / dí): 's, -ed (a grammatical particle used when the preceding phrase modifies the following noun. In classical Chinese, '之 (zhī)' was more common, but '的' was also used, especially in modern Chinese to indicate a 'modifying relationship'. In '有道的心體', '有道' modifies '心體').
心 (xīn): Mind, heart.
體 (tǐ): Body, essence, fundamental nature.
心體 (xīn tǐ): The essence of the mind, the fundamental state of the mind.
有道的心體 (yǒu dào de xīn tǐ): The mind's essence that embodies the Tao, the true mind of the Tao.

🔍 Commentary: True Vitality Blossoming from Inner Serenity

This passage warns against two extreme attitudes towards life that lose their inner balance, stating that a mind truly embodying the Tao lies beyond these extremes, in a 'serene core from which vitality blossoms'.

The author presents the ideal state of mind not as outward movement or stillness, but as the vigor and spirit that arise from a well-ordered serenity deep within the heart.

The first sentence, "好動者，雲電風燈" (Those who love movement are like clouds and lightning, or a lamp in the wind), symbolizes the precarious state of those who are overly fond of movement.

These individuals move move unpredictably and hastily amid instability, like lightning darting through aimless, ever-shifting clouds, and are easily swayed by external stimuli, like a lamp in the wind.

This signifies a life that goes beyond mere physical activity, implying impulsive actions and wandering aimlessly when one's inner self is chaotic and disorganized.

Such a person expends much energy but lacks direction and a center, ultimately finding it difficult to build anything substantial.

The second sentence, "嗜寂者，死灰槁木" (Those who crave stillness are like dead ashes and withered wood), Conversely, this speaks of another extreme into which 'those who indulge in stillness' can easily fall.
These individuals are akin to burnt-out ashes or withered wood, a state where inner vitality and sensation are utterly vanished. Though outwardly they may appear peaceful, their inner state is one of lethargy and numbness, as if they are alive yet not truly living. In other words, remaining in a stagnant life without vitality, remaining inert under the guise of cultivating the Tao, is also an attitude to be wary of.

The final sentence, "須定雲止水中，有魚躍鳶飛氣象，纔是有道的心體" (Only when there is the vitality of leaping fish and soaring kites within still clouds and calm waters, can one possess the mind-body that embodies the Tao), clearly presents what constitutes the true 'mind of the Tao (有道的心體)'.
It means that the mind must be as serene and stable as still clouds and calm waters (定雲止水), and simultaneously, from within that tranquil core, a vibrant spirit (氣象) of leaping fish and soaring kites (魚躍鳶飛) must naturally emerge. The 'movement' here does not arise from inner turmoil, but is a living vitality that blossoms from deep, settled stillness. It is dynamic vitality within serenity—a state of 'motion within stillness' (靜中動).

In conclusion, this passage warns against both a life that moves chaotically with an unstable inner self, and a life that remains lethargic, having lost all vitality. Instead, it states that the true essence of a living mind, one that embodies the 'Tao', is a state where the mind is deeply and serenely ordered, and within that state, natural vigor and a free spirit breathe. This goes beyond mere cultivation or meditation, "conveying the profound philosophy of Caigentan, which embraces both balance and vitality in daily life, and harmony between serenity and dynamism.

《Caigentan》 does not turn its back on the world. The Tao is within life. Cultivating a mind that remains unshaken amidst the mundane world, without abandoning it—that is the true cultivation taught by 《Cai Gen Tan》. 🌿