Zhuangzi is, with Laozi, one of the two foundational figures of Daoist thought, but his voice is entirely his own: where the Tao Te Ching is terse and aphoristic, the book that bears Zhuangzi's name is a riot of parables, jokes, tall tales, and imagined dialogues that delight in overturning ordinary certainties. His central concern is the relativity and limitedness of all human perspectives and distinctions. His most famous story captures it: he dreams he is a butterfly, happy and unaware of being Zhuangzi, and on waking cannot tell whether he is a man who dreamed he was a butterfly, or a butterfly now dreaming it is a man. The point is not skepticism for its own sake but liberation: seeing through the fixed categories of useful and useless, great and small, life and death, one can move freely in accordance with the Dao, the spontaneous course of nature, unforced (wu wei) and untroubled. He meets even death with equanimity, famously singing and drumming on a pot at his wife's funeral because he sees her return to the great process of transformation. Playful, profound, and deeply anti-authoritarian, Zhuangzi gave Chinese and later East Asian thought, and Chan/Zen Buddhism in particular, one of its richest wells of imagery and its most eloquent argument for spontaneity over convention.