Blindly clinging to teachings does not lead to an understanding of the Dao.
Blind clinging to teachings does not lead to understanding the Dao
The Zhuangzi, chapter Waiwu 外物 (“Outer Things”), uses a simple yet philosophically very condensed metaphor, which reads:
筌者所以在鱼,得鱼而忘筌;蹄者所以在兔,得兔而忘蹄。言者所以在意,得意而忘言。(quan zhe suo yi zai yu, de yu er wang quan; ti zhe suo yi zai tu, de tu er wang ti. yan zhe suo yi zai yi, de yi er wang yan.)
This passage says: the net is for fish, the trap for rabbits, and words for meaning; once the aim has been reached, the tool should be forgotten. In this seemingly simple analogy lies one of the fundamental insights of early Daoism: the distinction between the means and reality.
On the first level, the metaphor emphasizes the instrumental nature of language and concepts. A net has no value in itself, but only as a means of catching a fish; similarly, traps and words exist only in the service of something else. Once the aim has been reached, insisting on the means becomes unnecessary, or even obstructive. The metaphor therefore warns: when you have caught the fish, forget the net; when you have caught the rabbit, forget the trap; when you have reached the meaning, forget the words; when you have reached insight, forget the teaching.
On a deeper level, however, the metaphor points to the limits of language and conceptual thought. A basic starting point of Daoist thought is that words can never encompass the fullness of the Dao (道), since they are always only partial, dependent, and temporary constructions. Language points to meaning, but it cannot fully contain it. Zhuangzi therefore warns that it is dangerous to mistake the tool for what the tool makes possible: the net for the fish, words for meaning, the concept for experience.
This opens onto a central Daoist intuition: reality is not exhausted by description. Every description already cuts into the flow of life, so we must be aware of its limits. The true aim is not the endless accumulation of explanations, but direct attunement to the natural flow of things, which Daoism calls wuwei (无为) – unforced action.
The metaphor thus also functions as a critique of the rigidity of knowledge. When a person clings to methods, theories, words, or teachings, they lose contact with the living movement of the world. Chapter 48 of the Daode jing 道德经 (Classic of the Way and Its Power) states: 为学日益,为道日损。损之又损,以至于无为。(wei xue ri yi, wei dao ri sun. sun zhi you sun, yi zhi yu wu wei.), which Maja Milčinski renders into Slovenian as: “Those devoted to knowledge gain day by day / Those devoted to the Dao lose day by day. / Losing and losing again, they arrive / slowly at action without intention.” Knowledge that once served as the net for catching the “fish” can become an obstacle if we do not know how to set it down once its task is complete.
Paradoxically, Zhuangzi’s metaphor expresses this message precisely through words. In this way, Zhuangzi does not deny language, but shows its function: it is a necessary but insufficient tool. Its role is to point, not to replace experience. Therefore, in the end, the text itself must also be “forgotten”, just like the net when we already hold the fish in our hand.
In this sense, the metaphor does not teach the rejection of knowledge or teachings, but their transcendence. It teaches movement through teachings, not dependence on them. The truth of the Dao is not in the net, but in the precondition for fishing.
Yuan Weiqi