the making, a continuous  stream that flows and carries along
even our blunted consciousness  in its wake.  Furthermore  as
things  are  normally  perceived   in  chunks,  they  quickly
sediment  into passive  entities  and become  fodder  for the
manipulating  mind.  In this  way, the moving  phenomenon  of
reality are lost, or take a backseat,and hopelessly hang on.
　　 This  fragmentary  perception  is precisely  the movement
expressed  in the  yin-yang(b) where  the  yin and  the  yang
alternate  and seem to exhibit themselves  independently.  In
actuality, there  is  no  separation  between  the  two  into
clearly defined roles or realms. Both require each other
for.their respective so-called substance (ti(c)) and function
(yung)(d). Yet to describe the phenomena of yin-yang movement
into  substance  and function, as done  by Wang  Pi and other
later  Taoists, is  a blatant  travesty  of  the  reality  of
things,  a  deviation  which  merely  serves  our  insatiable
epistemic desires.  This last statement is not to be taken as
an outright rejection of epistemology  as such but a critique
of the wrongly or falsely contrived epistemic  elements which
go into  the ruminating  mill  without  due regard  for (heir
originating natures.  Clearly then aspects of neither the yin
nor the yang  are epistemic  elements, but are rather  moving
shades of the reality  of things in inviolable  mutuality.  A
shadow, afterall, does not wait  for the body to move, though
its prominence is only accentuated  by the latter's movement.
The whole second chapter  of the Chuang-tzu  (Ch'i-wu-lun(e),
"On the Equality  of Things") is an exercise  in the grasp of
the  moving  reality, and  perhaps  the  most  important  but
puzzling chapter in the entire work.  It ends with the famous
enigmatic dream of a butterfly  by Chuang Tzu himself.  There
is clearly  an epistemic  distinction  between dreamer, dream
and  dream-content.  But  no solution  is forthcoming  to the
episode  (i.e., whether  it was  Chuang  Tzu dreaming  of the
butterfly  or the butterfly  dreaming  of Chuang  Tzu) if the
analysis is limited to epistemic distinctions. Scholars are
quite correct in rejecting the

P.55

distinction  between  subject and object, between reality and
unreality.(8) These  scholars, however, do not go far  enough
in  examining  the  final  statement:  "This  is  called  the
transformation  of things (tu hua)(f)"(9) The statement taxes
our imagination, to be sure, but it is quite consistent  with
the whole message of Chuang-tzu, i.e., that reality  can only
be  grasped  in  the  swift  changes  ("galloping  horse") of
things.  In both Chuang Tzu dreaming of the butterfly and the
butterfly dreaming of Chuang Tzu himself, the distinction  of
both phenomena  pales into indistinction  as one realizes the
non-epistemic  content  of reality  on the move.  This is the
transformation, the  non-epistemic  process, that  inexorably
goes on regardless of the dream or dreamless state we are in.
The  transformation  is  beckoning  us to realize  "something
universal, "   "final, "   "suprarelative, "   an   "infinite
expansion," a "new vista of existence," etc., but we are, for
the most part, dulled into believing that we are awake are at
all times  not dreaming, not knowing  that  we wallow  in the
quicksands  of epistemology.(10) And so Chuang Tzu is able to
say  cryptically: "After  ten  thousand  generations, a great
sage  may appear  who will  know  their  meaning, and it will
still be as though he appeared with astonishing speed."(11)
　　 On the Zen or Buddhist side, a different  analysis on the
glimpse  of reality is found.  Since Zen practice  is usually
characterized  by minimal scriptural  reliance, it gives rise
to a false impression  that scriptures  are secondary or even
unnecessary  in the pursuit  of enlightenment  (as noted, for
example, in the Zen master's  seemingly  idolatrous  cries of
"Burn the Sutras! Kill the Buddha!"). But these cries must be