Zhuangzi portrays ordinary human knowledge as profoundly limited, bound to particular standpoints and shaped by shifting contexts. What is taken as certain truth is, for him, largely perspectival, and any claim to final, absolute knowledge is therefore suspect. Conventional distinctions such as right and wrong, useful and useless, noble and base are revealed as human conventions rather than ultimate realities. Because these distinctions are carved out by language and thought, they tend to divide and harden what is in fact fluid and continuous. In this light, discursive cleverness and argumentative skill do not amount to genuine wisdom, but rather to a narrow, anxious attempt to fix what cannot be fixed.

Against this background, Zhuangzi points toward a different kind of “not‑knowing” that is paradoxically closer to true understanding. This is not mere stupidity or lack of information, but a great, spacious ignorance that recognizes the limits of conceptual grasping. Such not‑knowing loosens the grip of rigid certainty, allowing openness, receptivity, and the capacity to move among perspectives without being trapped by any single one. When the mind is “fasted” of its habitual judgments and categories, it becomes possible to sense the larger pattern within which all distinctions arise and dissolve. This is less an achievement of the intellect than a relaxation of its compulsive need to define and control.

From this perspective, the highest form of knowing appears as embodied, intuitive alignment rather than abstract theory. Zhuangzi’s parables of skill, such as the craftsman whose effortless action follows the natural grain of things, illustrate a kind of wisdom that does not rely on explicit rules. Here, action flows spontaneously and without strain, in harmony with the inherent structure of situations. Such mastery depends on letting go of self-conscious calculation, so that responsiveness can arise directly from attunement to the unfolding moment. In this way, knowledge ceases to be a tool of domination and becomes a quiet participation in the larger way of things.

Recognizing the relativity of knowledge and the value of great ignorance also transforms the sense of self. The fixed “knowing self” that seeks security in firm doctrines softens, making room for ongoing transformation and for a more playful, relaxed engagement with change. Fear of loss, failure, or even death is eased when it is seen that no standpoint can claim final authority. Out of this insight grows a gentle, non-contentious way of living: there is no need to straighten the world by force of opinion, nor to cling to being right. Freedom, for Zhuangzi, lies precisely in this lightness—living simply and spontaneously within acknowledged limits, attuned to a reality that always exceeds what can be said or known.