Zhuang Tzu's wife died, and Hui Tzu came to mourn her. Chuang Tzu squatted and sang songs while hitting the pelvis. Hui Tzu said:
“Not mourning the deceased who lived with you until old age and raised your children is too much.” But singing songs while hitting the pelvis is simply no good!
“You are wrong,” replied Chuang Tzu. “When she died, could I not be sad at first?” Grieving, I began to think about what she was like in the beginning, when she was not yet born. And not only was she not born, but she had not yet formed a body. And not only did she not beat with her body, but she didn’t even breathe with her breath. I realized that she was scattered in the emptiness of boundless chaos. Chaos turned - and she became breathing. The breath turned and she became the body. The body transformed and she was born. Now a new transformation has come - and she died.
All this changed each other, just as the four seasons alternate. Man is buried in an abyss of transformations, as if in the chambers of a huge house. To cry and lament over him means not to understand fate. That's why I stopped crying.
Translated from Russian · original on wisdomlib.ru