《太上妙法本相经》

The Scripture on the Original Forms of the Wondrous Daoist Teaching of the Most High

The Scripture on the Original Forms of the Wondrous Daoist Teaching of the Most High, Volume One The mind can be made single and focused, yet there is no physical body to covet and no bones or form worth esteeming. It is neither strong nor weak, but acts in keeping with change. Put it into practice, and it can manifest; abandon it, and it has no way to manifest. Seek its source, and all is vast and indistinct—you cannot tell where to begin. Investigate its foundation, and you will find no firm basis. It is luminous, yet does not dazzle; still, yet not lifeless. Clarify it, and it does not appear clear; stir it, and it does not become turbid. Praise it, and it is not thereby glorified; slander it, and it is not thereby shamed. Honor it, and it does not thereby become exalted; abandon it, and it is not thereby diminished. Respect it, and it cannot be increased; neglect it, and it cannot be reduced. Neither loss nor gain: this is detachment and Wuwei (non-action).

The debater said, “Be tranquil and pure, remain true, and follow nature. Do not depend on anything or cling to anything. Slander does not disgrace you, and praise does not glorify you. Respect brings no increase, and neglect causes no loss. Since there is neither gain nor loss, neither disgrace nor shame, surely it is enough simply to practice Wuwei. Why teach a doctrine? Why honor it? Why cultivate it diligently? Would that not be a waste of effort? Better to live at ease and in stillness, attuned to the Qi of the four seasons, and let life unfold naturally. Human life is impermanent, coming and going without pause. Would it not be better to live calmly and freely?”

The disciple replied, “Cultivation can bring great blessings; abandon cultivation, and there will be nothing to rely on. Diligent practice can bring one to the state of an immortal; neglect cultivation, and one will fall into the Three Paths of evil destinies spoken of in Daoism. Uphold the righteous Way, and the spirits will protect you; treat it lightly, and misfortune will follow. How can the teaching of tranquility, purity, and Wuwei mean merely accepting impermanence and leaving all comings and goings to chance? Are these teachings truly fruitless, and are the methods of practice of no benefit?”

It is said: What is called “clarity and truth” is the Dao. When a person puts the Dao into practice, that person benefits; when a person diligently cultivates the Dao, the diligence is for that person’s own sake; when a person reveres and follows the Dao, it is still that person who gains. What benefit can these actions bring to “clarity and truth”? When people seek benefits for themselves, they do not thereby benefit clarity and truth; when they seek their own deliverance, they do not deliver clarity and truth; when they diligently cultivate, it is they who cultivate, not clarity and truth. When people seek the Dao, it is people who seek the Dao—the Dao does not come seeking them.

Thus, the perfected person—one who has succeeded in cultivating the Dao—first undergoes hardship and only afterward attains great joy; first reveres and follows the Dao and only afterward gains true honor. When people insult the Dao, they harm themselves; when they slight the perfected person, they slight themselves; when they abandon the Dao and destroy truth, what they ultimately destroy is themselves.

Why is this so? When people shout insults, the echo does not turn around and insult them. When they despise the truth, the truth does not despise them. When they slight the Dao, the Dao does not slight them. When they bring calamity upon themselves and reject or harm the Dao, it is not the Dao that brings calamity upon them or rejects or harms them. It is like shooting an arrow into the sky with a powerful crossbow: in the end, the arrow falls back toward the shooter. People shoot toward the sky; the sky does not shoot at them. Calamities do not arise on their own or without cause. They are all brought about by people’s bodily actions, words, and thoughts.

The human body is both the source of the three evils—evil deeds, evil words, and evil thoughts—and the foundation for becoming an immortal. The scripture also uses ten images to describe the body: it is a fertile field of blessings, a garden that nourishes life, a gate where seeds are born, a doorway to longevity, and a dwelling place of the Dao. It may also be a village of gathered pus and blood, a vessel for precious treasures, or a bowl holding rubble. It can be a chamber of wisdom or a place of darkness through a long night. Those who understand this principle may be called perfected persons.

Those whose merit is complete and whose virtue is accomplished will become the supreme and unsurpassed honored ones in the Three Realms. They will abide forever in a realm of boundless joy and become transcendent Supreme Immortals in a distant, pure land. They will possess ten thousand auspicious features, wisdom as vast as the sea, and extend throughout the great thousand worlds. Merit and virtue are no illusion: the Mysterious Capital, the Daoist celestial city, records people’s deeds according to their causes and conditions. After hearing these teachings, to awaken a resolve to do good and cultivate the Dao is exceedingly rare. Those who drift and scatter under the force of karma and fall away will find their destination among the Three Evil Paths: hell, hungry ghosts, and animals.

The disputant said, “As the Celestial Worthy has said, people must seek the Dao themselves; the Dao does not actively come seeking them. People must seek their own deliverance; the Dao does not actively deliver them. That is why teachings are established, scriptures preserved, and people guided by prohibitions and precepts. If the Dao does not actively deliver people, then there should be no need to establish laws and ordinances or to teach and move the people. Since people must seek their own deliverance and the Dao does not actively deliver them, what should people do if the Dao does not rely on them to be transmitted and put into practice? From this we can see that the Dao cares for the people and values closeness with them.”

The Dao says: The Dao—the fundamental pattern and source of the universe—makes no distinction between those who are near and those who are distant. Its teaching extends to all. Only when people themselves draw close to the Dao and respond in harmony with it do they receive the corresponding results. Prohibitions and instructions are not established for any one person alone; they are meant for everyone. Each person must seek out these prohibitions and use them to discipline body and mind, speech, and conduct.

From whom does the way of the sages seek anything? Those who set their hearts on the Dao need only resolve to pursue it. People can make the Dao flourish; the Dao does not depend on people to flourish and become manifest. The Great Dao acts through Wuwei (non-action), and its spirit is quiet and detached. What could it seek from people? People can only make the Dao flourish through their own efforts; the Dao itself has no need for anyone to promote it. The Dao’s nature nourishes all things, not just one kind of life. Why, then, insist that it flourishes only through human beings?

In the vast, boundless worlds of the ten directions, there are countless forms and kinds of beings, and the Dao’s activity extends throughout them all. In the end, it would not entrust its teaching to just one kind of life. Since all forms and kinds are nurtured by the Dao, how can one say that only human beings make it flourish?

How do we know this? The Dao brings Heaven and Earth into being, establishes Yin-Yang, arranges the sun, moon, and stars, and sets the three hundred and sixty-five degrees of the celestial sphere in motion. It makes the sun and moon wax and wane and the seasons turn, without the slightest error. Only then do people and the myriad kinds of beings appear; every form and kind is brought forth through the Dao’s transformation. The Dao fashions the myriad things—how could it flourish only through human beings? Thus, the Dao does not flourish only through human beings. All people with resolve should seek the Dao for themselves and seek deliverance through it. Why? It is like crossing a river: one must find a way across and enter the water oneself. The river does not carry a person across of its own accord; the person crosses it. In the same way, the Dao does not deliver people on its own; people must seek the Dao for themselves. The Dao does not covet the people, yet the people willingly draw near to it. If we said that the Dao coveted the people, it would distinguish between those near and far. If we said it coveted the task of delivering people, it would choose whom to advance or turn away. The nature of the Dao is detached: it makes no distinctions between near and far, or between one and another. With compassion, it nurtures all and treats living beings equally.

This is like parents who have ten children. While the children are still infants, their parents love them all and are unwilling to abandon any of them. If even one child feels unwell, the parents hasten to consult a diviner and learn whether the signs are auspicious or ominous. Hearing of an ill omen, they are heartbroken and distressed; hearing of an auspicious one, they rejoice. They nurse their children without distinction, caring for them with love and hoping they will grow to adulthood.

When the children grow up, some look after only themselves and show their parents disrespect. They ignore their parents’ commands, take no heed of their instructions, behave without warmth, and answer back. Their ill repute spreads far and wide, and their neighbors look on them differently. Afraid of the consequences of their wrongdoing, they pursue sensual pleasures without restraint, stopping only when they die. Though they are dead, their reputation lives on, and their ill name endures. If one or two of the children obey their parents, behave well, and live uprightly, their good name travels far. They become examples for the community, and people pass their praise along wherever they go.

The ten brothers earn different reputations for good and evil. The Dao loves living beings just as parents love their children, extending its kindness equally to all. Once children grow up, whether they honor their parents is each one’s own choice. Parents should therefore understand that whether their children are filial depends on the children themselves. Likewise, the Dao should understand that whether the people are kind and respectful depends on the people themselves. The Dao loves living beings as a mother loves her children, without distinction or desire for anything in return. The Dao’s compassion is like a mother’s love.

Bian Fu says: The Dao is upright, and it understands that compassion and reverence must be made manifest through the people. Therefore the Dao loves all beings as a mother loves her children, without distinction between near and far, and without seeking anything in return. The Dao's love is like a mother's love, and this is the reason why.

Bian Fu says: I have received your kindness and would like to ask about further explanations. According to the Heavenly Venerable (Tianzun), the Dao loves all beings as a mother loves her child, pities everything universally, and abandons no one. Yet privately I observe people in the world who fall into suffering and misfortune. They cannot advance to a path of life, yet they will not retreat to death. Their grief is so great that their hearts shatter, and even the trees weep for them. The six domestic animals shed tears, birds cry out in lament, bystanders forget themselves, and listeners are moved to tears, their anguish too great to bear. If the Dao possessed great compassion, it would surely pity them and relieve them, freeing them from these sufferings. If the Dao neither pities nor relieves them, then by inference and verification we may conclude that the Dao has no compassion and that its grace does not reach everything. In the past, an orphan moved the drowned woman in the river (so that her drifting ceased), and an abandoned infant at Fanyang was nursed by a numinous beast. If mountains and rivers can be moved to pity, how much more so the Dao? From this reasoning we may conclude that the Dao is not without love, and that the sage is not without compassion. Rather, the Dao stands alone and does not mingle with the myriad things, for this is the inherent nature of governing through non-action (Wuwei).

(Reply) All sentient beings have their own conditions and categories, and whether they experience sorrow, grief, pain, or vexation, all are determined by the karmic retribution of previous lives. As for the drowned woman and the abandoned infant, the river's flow was halted and the numinous beast nursed the child because I dispatched a dragon to cut off the water and dispatched the numinous beast to nurse the infant. Did you know this? From this we can see that water flows and tigers kill each according to their ordinary principles. Is it not so? That these things are not always so is precisely because of me!

Bian Fu says: If the Dao truly responds, there would be no sorrow or suffering. If the Dao is compassionate, no orphan would be abandoned. That the people of the realm fall into the depths of misery, and that some die without relief, shows that the Dao has neither response nor compassion and merely follows the natural transformations of the myriad things. If this were not so, there would have to be two Daos: one governing poverty, solitude, misfortune, and calamity, and another governing longevity, abundance, joy, and naturalness. By reasoning from the same kind, we should know that the Dao is of two kinds.

The questioner replied, “All living beings have different circumstances and conditions. The length of their lives and the joys and hardships they encounter seem already fixed and difficult to change. The karma created in the past has been set, so the karmic results received in this life are hard to predict. Yet karmic results do not come about without cause; every outcome has its own origin. It is like planting: whatever seed you sow will produce something of its kind. How could different seeds yield an entirely different crop? The outcomes of poverty or wealth, hardship or joy, follow the same principle.

“Why do I say this? A single mother may give birth to four or five children, yet they may differ in height, complexion, and appearance. Their lifespans, social standing, and circumstances may differ as well. From this we can see that the karmic causes planted in the past are not easily changed. Everyone can now understand the matters I asked about.”

The Celestial Worthy said, “If you had not raised these questions, the people would have had no way to know. If you had not asked, the doubts in their hearts would have been difficult to resolve. Now you have lit a lamp whose light can shine for ten thousand miles. If there is anything you still do not understand, do not feel troubled by it. If you still have doubts, do not think you should refrain from asking again.”

The Questioner said, “Thank you, Celestial Worthy, for your gracious answers. Yet I still have many questions about the Six Deficiencies—the six flaws or shortcomings, though their precise meaning here is unclear. I have asked several things and understood the principles involved, but many questions remain in my heart, and they have not been fully resolved. I would therefore like to ask you more.”

The Celestial Worthy said, “If you have questions, ask freely. Do not keep your doubts bottled up, lest you lose your way in the present moment.”

The Questioner said, “Once again, I thank you, Celestial Worthy, for your gracious answers. As you have said, all living beings have different circumstances and conditions. Poverty and wealth, hardship and joy seem already fixed, and each person bears the results of past karma in their social standing and lifespan. I would like to ask: Can those who are poor, distressed, lonely, and lowly still gain blessings by cultivating goodness and accumulating De (Virtue/Power)? If they encounter an opportunity to do good but fail to act, will they continue to drift through the cycle of rebirth, perhaps even falling into an evil realm? I humbly ask you to explain the causes and conditions involved, so that this question may be answered and those who are poor and lacking in good fortune may understand.”

Replying: Your question is both important and subtle. Sit upright and quietly, and listen carefully as I explain.

All living beings, whether they live in hardship or ease, and whether their status is high or low, experience in this life the corresponding fruits of causes they created through their actions in past lives. Those who are poor, suffering, or dissatisfied with their circumstances should understand that poverty is not a condition to accept complacently. They should strive to practice ritual purification and abstention, cultivate good deeds, give alms, pay homage, and offer incense and water. They should help others carry heavy loads, make way for the elderly and frail when walking, conduct purification rites, and encourage others to do good. If they do their utmost to carry out every kind of good deed, they will in time attain the Way of Great Perfection, the highest realm of cultivation. Why, then, speak constantly of being poor?

A poor person who gives away a small amount of money may gain merit equal to that of a king who gives a hundred pieces of gold. A person who perseveres in cultivation while in hardship and bows once may gain merit equal to that of someone who spends an entire lifetime as a monastic. Why? Though the poor have little to live on, they are still willing to give away their possessions; the merit of this is great and hard to measure. Those in distress are troubled in heart and may find it difficult even to think of cultivating the Way, yet they still bow in reverence to it. Their intention is enough to equal a lifetime of monastic life for someone who is lax in practice. This is like a lotus blooming in boiling water: truly, it is a rare and precious thing.

The karma created in the past is not fixed forever; every deed brings its corresponding result. The only concern is that the poor may not know the Way exists and may constantly feel inferior to others; or that those who are isolated and low in status may not believe in cause and effect, and so remain trapped in loneliness and lowliness. Thus, the Perfected Ones, those who have attained the Way, understand this principle, remain vigilant, cultivate the Daoist teachings, and ultimately become Perfected Ones themselves.

Living beings who suffer and feel anguish can also reach a state equal to that of the Ten Immortals, the perfected beings of Daoism, if they understand that suffering is to be rejected and ease is to be sought, and strive to cultivate amid hardship. Why? Those who recognize suffering and cultivate within it will ultimately escape it; those who recognize their lowly circumstances and refuse to accept them can rise beyond them. This is because every living being has the potential to become a Perfected One.

All living beings are subject to both ease and suffering by nature. Beings in realms below that of the First Immortal all experience suffering and ease. Only upon reaching realms above the First Immortal does one escape suffering forever—how much more so upon attaining the Way? Therefore, the karma living beings create is not fixed forever. Each action brings its corresponding result, and no kind of person is destined to remain as they are.

The debater said, “Thank you for your instruction. I would like to ask something further. The perfected beings and enlightened sages in the ten directions are as numerous as the sands of the Ganges. What Qi—the primordial energy that forms life and all things—did they receive at birth, and what Daoist methods did they cultivate to accomplish such great deeds and attain their present fruition?”

The reply was: “The perfected beings and enlightened sages in the ten directions, as numerous as the sands of the Ganges, have all been brought to fulfillment through cultivating the Scripture of Original Reality. The Dao of Original Reality is vast and all-encompassing, yet so subtle that nothing lies beyond its reach. It widely proclaims its teachings and saves countless heavenly beings and humans—more than can be numbered, like the sands of the Ganges. It is also like a floating bridge spanning a river: since the waters first arose at the beginning of the kalpa, it has ferried immeasurable numbers of people across, beyond all counting. Since the Scripture of Original Reality began to transform the world, it has guided the sages in the same way.

“If you cultivate the scripture, keep the fasts, and accumulate merit, you too can equal the Ten Immortals. The Ten Immortals were once ordinary people. They endured afflictions and hardships, and through arduous cultivation reached the realm of radiance. How much more certain is your path, given the deep store of good karma you accumulated in past lives, which continues into this life and has made you perceptive, learned, and far-sighted, able to grasp profound principles. Your achievements are as high as Mount Kunlun, and your virtue as vast as the deep sea. The time of your becoming an immortal is certain, without the slightest error.

“Why do I say this? When you set the two mirrors facing one another, darkness is dispelled everywhere. You are destined to follow the Dao of Highest Clarity, the higher celestial realm and path of cultivation in Daoism. Golden books, jade registers, and violet writs record and determine your rank. Like a shadow appearing wherever light falls, it was settled long ago in the Central Yang. The foundation of your virtue is the same.”

The debater said, “Indeed. After they depart, the enlightened sages are as numerous as the sands of the Ganges, and yet it seems none return. Those who begin to study now are also as numerous as the sands of the Ganges, and yet they seem never to run out. If the number of students does not diminish, those who depart will continue without end. But if the number of students must eventually diminish, then the conditions that sustain them will also be severed. I beg you to explain these matters to me separately.”

“Yes, exactly. Even if the number of those who have crossed over were as countless as the sands of the Ganges, it would still not be many. When the calamities of the nine heavens have run their course and heaven and earth have turned to ashes, ants and all other tiny beings will give rise to good intentions. After a thousand days, those who attain the Dao will still not be many. Once these tiny beings have all given rise to good intentions, all living creatures will move together into the Seven-Treasure Jade Capital of Purple Tenuity—the celestial palace of Daoist teaching. After another thousand days, those who attain the Dao will still not be many. Thus, emptiness cannot be filled, and the void cannot be made full; this is why it is called a realm beyond comprehension. Though the opening of a pearl can accommodate all things, it does not thereby become narrow or full. Though the realm of Everlasting Joy is vast and all-embracing, it cannot thereby be occupied in its entirety—how much more so the realm of emptiness?”

The debater said, “I am grateful for your instruction. I would still like to ask: according to what the Celestial Worthy has said, when the calamities end and the allotted span of cosmic fortune is exhausted, all beings will attain the Dao, and none will remain behind. Why, then, should beings who pass through successive transformations need to receive instruction, seek out a teacher, practice diligently, or rely on a method? That would only mean suffering in vain. Would it not be better to sit still, make one’s own living, raise chickens, grow millet, and prepare meals?”

The reply says: Better to enjoy one year and then die than to suffer for a hundred years; better to have one zhang of splendid brocade than ten lengths of coarse cloth. Though birds and sparrows may live for three hundred years, that is no better than a human living for one year. Better to have ten coins of gold than a hundred jin of iron; better to deliver one hu of grain in reality than to promise a thousand pieces of gold. Better to eat one’s fill and live in peace now than to wait for a ruler who will come a hundred generations from now.

This is like gambling or playing chess: the advantage lies in making the first move, for the one who moves first is more likely to win. Do not leave debts unpaid. Debt becomes a burden on you, bringing shame and liability; you must repay it through labor, neglecting farm work and gradually falling into poverty. The debt is then passed down to your descendants, who go without adequate clothing and food for a long time, are forced into service to repay it, and may even be driven to their deaths. Men are reduced to low status, and women are treated with contempt; others are unwilling to marry into the family. Such are the consequences of gambling debts.

Why say this? Making the first move is like attaining the right path; leaving debts unpaid is like falling into the “Three Paths” (the Buddhist term for the hell, hungry ghost, and animal realms). Thus, the Perfected (those who have attained the Dao) cultivate the Dao early. They have already attained the fruit of the “Eight Liberations” (a state of practice in which afflictions are released and freedom is attained), and continually enjoy the bliss of Wuwei (non-action), with merit beyond measure.

This is also like farming: sow early and harvest early; sow in the middle of the season and harvest in the middle of the season; sow late and harvest late. If you do not sow, there is no grain to harvest. If disaster strikes, there is nothing to gather, and you can only wait for others to give alms and relief. It is the same when one hopes to harvest without having put in any effort.

It is also like someone who must carry a heavy burden for a hundred years: how could they cross that distance all at once? If someone spends ten years in prison, how could they bring it to an end immediately? Looking far ahead to the sweetness of life ten years from now leaves the present dark and difficult to endure; yet if one focuses only on today and hastens to obtain something at once, one may not get what one seeks. Thus, the Perfected understand that they should not make reckless demands for what remains beyond their reach. By letting go of attachment, they attain what they truly desire; by refusing to grasp at fruit before it ripens, they obtain the true result.

This is also like weeding a field: merely hoping for rain from Heaven may not bring the desired result. It is better to repair the ditches and embankments first and channel water into the fields, so the harvest is assured. Heaven does not fail to send rain; the concern is that scorching heat and drought may bring famine and hardship, making it difficult for people to live long. At the end of a kalpa (when the cycle of time is ending and the world is in decline), the Dao is not beyond seeking; the concern is that one may fall into the Three Paths and be unable to escape. The Perfected fear this outcome and therefore seek the Dao in advance. When the Dao is truly attained, one is free from trouble and ruin for a long time.

The Perfected constantly abide in Wuwei: they act without acting, bear responsibilities without clinging to them, entrust themselves to what offers no support, place their intentions in what gives them no place to rest, dwell without delusion, and remain free of attachment. Therefore, sages value the first steps of cultivation and cherish merit established early. To establish merit early is to honor those who cultivate the Dao. The Three Periods and Nine Calamities (times of disaster described in Daoist teachings), along with all manner of misfortunes, are difficult to predict; yet all who cultivate the Dao with humility and sincerity can attain liberation. Thus, sages value merit established beforehand and prize cultivation from the beginning. All who aspire to seek the Dao must begin with the first steps of cultivation.

“Initial practice” refers to the start of cultivation and also concerns the origins of karmic wrongdoing; “prior merit” refers to meritorious deeds established earlier. Therefore, one should cherish merit and value cultivation. Those who neither cherish merit nor value cultivation are no different from the six domestic animals. The six domestic animals do not know the Dao, so how could they understand the profound meaning of merit and cultivation? That is why they are compared to the six domestic animals.

The debater said, “Thank you for your kindness. I would like to ask one more question: Some people in the world receive teachings from a master and cultivate the Dao and De, yet after many years, even through several kalpas, they still achieve nothing. Others cultivate the Dao and De without necessarily spending many years and attain the state of Supreme Truth and Wuwei. Why is this?”

The answer was: For those who cultivate the Dao, the most important thing is to grasp its principles. Some people practice for many years and still achieve nothing because they have not truly understood those principles.

This is like a lame person who must travel ten thousand miles: walking only ten miles a day, it takes three years to arrive. Another person sets out for the same place but travels swiftly, covering three hundred miles a day and arriving in fewer than ten days. Those who cultivate the Dao differ in the same way according to whether they grasp its principles. One who truly understands seems to stride ahead as if flying, impossible to catch up with. Why? One person rides a dragon, while another trudges on foot. How could they keep pace? Though their destination is the same, their speed differs; those who cultivate the Dao also differ in their aspirations and attainments.

Some appear to practice Daoist methods but remain attached to worldly fame and profit. Some invoke the name of the true Dao while doing nothing but deceitful things, even recklessly divulging secret teachings. Some speak like realized adepts but look down on others in their hearts. Some recite scriptures whose meaning is clear, yet their minds are not focused. Some are advanced practitioners but are absorbed in greed for wealth and women. Still others pretend to be people of noble standing and use their authority to intimidate the ignorant. Such people are bound to fall into the “Three Paths” (the three evil realms in Daoist teaching). Where, then, is the Dao they cultivate? Their learning is not yet mature, yet they follow their companions, rushing from place to place. Even if they travel throughout the human world, they are like walking corpses, as though shut inside a prison. How can those who cultivate the Dao be compared with them?

Why is this so? Consider a debate over a question: one person offers an interpretation, and ten people challenge it; one person raises an objection, and ten people respond. Perhaps only one or two truly get to the heart of the matter, and no more than two or three offer fitting replies. Everyone may be discussing the same question, yet each sees it differently. Whether one can grasp the principles is much the same.

The debater said, “Thank you for your guidance. I have another question. I have seen some people in the world leave home to become monastics at the same time, each following their own wishes in choosing a different master and cultivating Dao and De, tirelessly day and night. The disciples of one master all attained the Five Supernatural Powers—the five abilities gained through cultivation—while none of the other master’s disciples gained any special insight. If we compare the number of years they practiced, both groups have practiced for the same length of time; if we compare their diligence, both have made equal effort. Why, then, have the disciples who follow one master made progress, while those who follow the other have not?”

Masters may be wise or ignorant, and so their disciples’ cultivation may advance or stagnate. Why is this? The master is the gateway to entering the Great Dao.

When one meets a bright master—a master who understands the Daoist teachings and can instruct disciples correctly—the master understands the meanings of the scriptures, grasps profound truths in the present moment, and discerns subtle insights into the Dao. The master teaches disciples to pay respects according to proper rites, instructs them in accordance with the teachings, passes on methods of cultivation based on the classics, and guides them into ritual assemblies. By means of etiquette, the master keeps disciples in due order; by means of precepts, the master regulates their conduct and speech, enabling them to make daily progress. Though disciples may differ in their outward bearing, their understanding of the Dao gradually converges. Whether near or far, they can follow the instruction and come to understand the essentials of cultivation.

In awe of the spirits’ numinous power, disciples are constantly concerned that they might stray from the right path. They therefore apply themselves day and night, keeping their practice single-mindedly and without change. In this way, their breathing becomes harmonious, their minds calm and gentle, and body and mind at ease. The radiance of the spirits also guides and supports them, bringing them gradually closer to the true Dao. By focusing on cultivating the Three Zhen—the three divine beings or levels of the true Dao revered in Daoism—they can elicit wondrous responses. They put the teachings into practice, turn their minds back toward the Dao, advance with courage and vigor, and follow the Dao. The Three Masters who transmit the teachings and support cultivation offer further guidance; as the disciples continue their study, their spirits are transformed. The fruit of the Five Powers—the five spiritual abilities or numinous effects gained through cultivation—is attained through accumulated merit and practice. In time, they will also surely attain the fruit of the Mysterious Register of Wuwei, a state in which one accords with the Dao and accomplishes things through non-action.

A bright master is a bridge leading to a hundred kinds of Daoist practice. It is like going out to sea to gather precious treasures: first one must know the proper courtesies for presenting a calling card and announcing one’s identity. One must also prepare a sturdy boat and sails, and make all arrangements before reaching the place where the treasures are found. The boat must withstand rising and falling waters; then one must find a way to dig through sand and stone and extract the treasures. The harvest may be great or small, but the journey out and back must be made without mishap. Following a bright master is just the same.

It is also like the Golden Elixir, Soft Lapis, and the Eight Zhi—precious immortality medicines in Daoist legend—hidden among ten thousand li of rugged, dangerous terrain. Whoever can brave the dangers, reach them, obtain them, and take them will live as long as Heaven and Earth and will not die before their time. Everyone who hears of these medicines longs to obtain them; all want to go and gather them. Yet the journey is perilous, and people are blocked at every turn and unable to proceed; in the end, all turn back. Following an ignorant master—one who is unenlightened and cannot teach correctly—is the same. It is not that treasures such as Soft Lapis do not exist; the disciples are simply blocked and cannot reach them. It is not that the true Dao is absent from the void; people simply lack guidance and cannot find their way there.

This is like crossing a river in a leaky boat: once it fills with water, it is bound to sink. A boat traveling through broad, fast-flowing waters is sure to go under as well. The Eight Zhi, far away in a place of danger, often cause people to turn back halfway. If one goes to sea in search of treasure without first presenting a calling card and announcing one’s identity, the boat will capsize. When masters and disciples lack De, they meet the same fate.

Thus, a realized person does not make himself a master, and so can become a master; does not consider himself enlightened, and so can attain clarity; does not cling to the self, and so can fulfill the self; does not presume to be wise, and so can gain wisdom; does not insist on his own views, and so can gain insight; does not exalt himself, and so can become truly eminent; does not boast of his De, and so can cultivate De; does not display himself, and so his name becomes renowned; does not act on his own authority, and so can be effective; does not rely on his own ability, and so can shoulder great responsibility; does not consider himself great, and so can accomplish great things; does not praise his own excellence, and so reveals real beauty; and does not claim to be true, and so can become true. These thirteen ways are not adopted by the realized person.

Those who seek to learn especially need a good teacher, and should carefully reflect on their cultivation and conduct. If they force themselves to take on what they are not yet capable of, misfortune will surely follow. If they pose as craftsmen before they have mastered their craft, they will eventually injure their own hands. Therefore the realized person does not seek fame, and fame comes to him; he does not prize praise, and praise endures.

A Daoist should devote himself to the Dao, diligently cultivate De, rely on virtuous companions in the Way, follow a bright master, study the teachings and precepts, recite the scriptures, cultivate immortal Qi, observe purification and fasting, visualize the spirits, examine faults in speech, restrain the five states of the heart, let go of the six emotions, turn away from darkness and evil, and move toward the gate of life. He should practice expansive compassion, hold all living beings in his thoughts, pity the orphaned and elderly, and show care for the poor. These are the highest accomplishments for a seeker of the Way and the means by which the worthy accumulate blessings. Without a bright master to establish rules and point out methods, how could one do these things? The bright master is therefore the gateway to entering the Great Dao. When the master is enlightened, the teachings can be put into practice; when the master is ignorant, the teachings are difficult to fulfill. Thus, among the disciples taught by the same master, some may attain the fruit of the Five Powers, while others may gain no realization or spiritual response.

Bianfu said, “Thank you for your instruction. I would be glad to hear you explain further. Can those who cultivate the Dao, renounce the five grains, and take medicinal substances attain the Dao?”

The reply was, “Yes.” Bianfu asked again, “How does this compare with observing a long fast?” The reply was, “It is inferior to observing a long fast.” He asked, “How does a long fast compare with reciting scriptures?” The reply was, “It is inferior to reciting scriptures.” He asked once more, “How does reciting scriptures compare with sitting quietly and contemplating the Dao?” The reply was, “It is inferior to sitting quietly and contemplating the Dao.”

So, can those who renounce the grains and take medicines attain the Dao? The answer is, “Yes.” Asked how this compares with a long fast, the answer is, “It is inferior.” Asked how a long fast compares with reciting scriptures, the answer is, “It is inferior.” Asked how reciting scriptures compares with sitting quietly and contemplating the Dao, the answer is, “It is inferior.”

Why is this so? Those who renounce the grains devote most of their attention to medicinal substances. Once the medicinal Qi is abundant, they must wait a full thousand years for this stage to end and for them to be reborn; at that point, they are still no different from someone just beginning to study the Dao. Those who observe a long fast, by contrast, accumulate merit day by day. When their merit reaches ten thousand, they can ascend through the air and transcend the four realms. The merit of fasting is deep, and when one’s De is complete, one can ultimately attain the Dao of Wuwei and Perfect Truth.

The achievements of a long fast are inconceivable, and the same is true of those who recite scriptures. Why? Those who recite scriptures accumulate merit according to the number of characters in the text, one merit for each character. When their merit reaches three thousand, their names are entered into the Upper Clarity—the Daoist realm of pure emptiness. How much more so for those who study scriptures extensively and uphold them over many years? Scriptures are the Dao’s teachings. After reading a scripture, putting its words into practice is like personally receiving the Great Dao’s admonition. Scriptures can therefore guide all beings and remove the affliction of desire. Once affliction is removed, vexations and calamities also disappear. When calamities have passed, the Five Poisons—the various evils that, in Daoist usage, cause people to sink into delusion—diminish; all evils disperse, and every good gathers. Through cultivation, one can then surpass the ranks of the immortals and attain the highest fruition.

Thus, perfected beings cherish scriptures and treasure them as they would a spouse or children. The path of the Ten Immortals begins here, and scriptures are the surest means of leading people toward Wuwei. The cultivation of those who study the Dao likewise has inconceivable power. Why? “Contemplation” means mindfulness; when mindfulness becomes single-minded, it is concentration. Concentration means that the mind does not waver. When the mind does not waver, one can put into practice the methods cultivated by the Ten Immortals. Because the mind is clear and still, the gateway of right mindfulness remains guarded, and improper thoughts and unwarranted imaginings can be cut off. With the spirit settled, one’s resolve is not easily taken from them.

Therefore, the cultivation of perfected beings can settle the mind and spirit; studying the scriptures can rectify body and mind; and fasting can increase merit. Persist in these practices without changing course, and one can attain the Dao of Perfect Truth. Never departing from the practice of the Dao, one’s merit will become complete, and one can become a venerable being in the supreme realm, roaming freely in the Purple Gold Field, a Daoist immortal realm, and surely attain lasting joy.

All beings, as numerous as the sands of the Ganges, should cultivate the causes and conditions of the three deeds of body, speech, and mind—that is, actions, words, and thoughts. Accumulate merit throughout the ten directions and persist in cultivation without changing course; then you can attain the Dao of Perfect Truth and become a lofty Supreme Immortal. You should cultivate in this way and, as stated earlier, also nurture good deeds. Lotuses will arise beneath your feet, and a dignified appearance and fine qualities will naturally become manifest.

The disputant said, “Thank you for your instruction. I have another question. As the Heavenly Worthy has said, cultivating the three karmic actions—the good deeds of body, speech, and mind—brings immeasurable merit and allows one to discuss the Dao alongside the Ten Immortals. The resulting state is inconceivable and beyond measure. I wonder whether other good deeds also bring corresponding rewards.”

The reply was, “They do.”

The disputant asked, “If someone who studies the Dao does not cultivate the three karmic actions, but instead devotes great effort to building Daoist temples and monasteries and gives away all the goods intended for offerings, what reward will they receive?”

The reply was, “They will naturally receive the reward of heaven.”

The disputant asked, “When that reward has been exhausted, where will they stay and where will they make their home?”

The reply was, “They will still stay in a place of impermanence and make their home in a place of impermanence. Why? If, while enjoying the reward, they cultivate the three karmic actions, they can discuss the Dao with those who have attained the highest Way and ultimately attain the supreme fruit. If they do not cultivate the three karmic actions while enjoying the reward, then according to their karma they will be reborn as a human or a bird, or fall into the Three Wretched Realms: hell, hungry ghosts, and animals. Thus, the places where they stay and make their home are all impermanent.”

The disputant asked again, “If someone does not commit the four karmic actions and instead… Why? If, while enjoying the reward, they cultivate the three karmic actions, they can discuss the Dao with those who have attained the highest Way and ultimately attain the supreme fruit. If they do not cultivate the three karmic actions, then according to their karma they will be reborn as a human or a bird, or fall into the Three Wretched Realms. Thus, the places where they stay and make their home remain impermanent.”

The disputant asked, “If someone refrains from the four karmic actions and devotes themselves solely to establishing an altar and distributing offerings, what reward will they receive?”

The reply was, “They will receive their reward in the Heavenly Kitchen and the Earth Treasury, places that symbolize blessings in the heavens and beneath the earth.”

The disputant asked, “When that reward has been exhausted, where will they stay and where will they make their home?”

The reply was, “They will still stay only in a place of impermanence. Why? If, while enjoying the reward, they cultivate the three karmic actions, the fruit they attain will be supreme. If they do not do so, they will fall according to their karma, and so will still stay only in a place of impermanence.”

The disputant asked, “If someone of steadfast purpose does not cultivate the five karmic actions, but devotes themselves solely to spreading the Dao’s teachings and does not engage in worldly affairs, what reward will they receive?”

The Perfected One, a supreme adept who has attained the Dao, said: “The Four Paths are difficult steps on the ladder of cultivation, and one must cultivate meditative stillness gradually, step by step. Why is this so? Because these practitioners cultivate the Dao while living at home. In this life, they cultivate the three forms of action—body, speech, and mind—and their merit surpasses what can be achieved by cultivating these three alone. Upward, they gain the benefit of continuing their practice; downward, they can stand alongside those who advance on the path to immortality. Thus, the Perfected One widely nurtures good fortune and virtue, and none of this goes unrewarded.

How can such results come about? The Perfected One creates various good causes and receives corresponding fruits. By cherishing many forms of compassion, one gives rise to many ways of caring for living beings. By building temples and monasteries, one will later receive palaces; by establishing altars, making offerings, and distributing wealth, one will enjoy food served from the heavenly kitchens. By teaching others through the Dao, one will gain unobstructed wisdom. By abstaining from the five pungent foods—strong-smelling vegetables regarded as hindrances to pure cultivation—one will attain a pure body. By giving up rich, sweet, and fatty foods, one will attain a form shaped by Wuwei (non-action).

By delighting in reverence, one can become a supreme and unsurpassed venerable being. By delighting in not killing, one can gain a long life. By delighting in praising good deeds, one can possess a thousand wondrous voices. By practicing patience through hardship, one can attain a graceful and beautiful appearance. By not slandering or humiliating others, one can be loved and respected by all. By constantly rescuing living beings, one can be free of illness. By harboring neither favoritism nor aversion, one can attain the wisdom of equality. By using medicines to relieve the suffering of living beings, one can possess the miraculous speech of a skilled physician. By delighting in honoring the Dao, one can attain a body of purple gold. By not speaking falsehoods, one can gain a tongue like a lotus. By never interrupting one’s cultivation, one can acquire all the auspicious marks. Every state that is difficult for others to attain comes from good deeds accumulated in the past.

Through such cultivation, the Perfected One can transcend the celestial realm of Taishang. If you cultivate in this way, the road ahead will not be long. As merit accumulates and conditions converge, even vast spans of kalpas will pass like a flash of lightning. Then you will roam freely beyond the Great Luo Heaven, seated in contemplation of worlds vast and boundless. Even the tiniest things will be as clear as a bright pearl in your palm, and you will know in advance where the pearl goes and where it returns.

Such virtue and achievement arise from the accumulation of many good deeds. If you cultivate in this way, the road ahead will not be long. As merit accumulates and conditions converge, even vast spans of kalpas will pass like a flash of lightning. You will roam freely beyond the Great Luo Heaven, seated in contemplation of worlds vast and boundless. Tiny things will be as clear as a pearl in your palm, and you will know in advance where the pearl goes and where it returns. Such virtue and achievement come from the accumulation of countless good deeds. If you do not make the effort to complete even one good deed, it will be difficult to climb the heights of the immortal path. As long as you cultivate diligently and do not fear hardship, you will ultimately gather together with all in the realm of the Utmost Real.”

The disputant said, “Thank you, Celestial Worthy, for your teaching. There is still something I do not understand. As you have said, the beings in the ten directions, as numerous as the sands of the Ganges, all arise from the three karmic actions of body, speech, and mind—that is, karma created through bodily conduct, words, and thoughts. Why, then, can rulers and feudal lords become people of high rank? When their fathers die, their sons inherit their positions. Why is this? If we consider the causes and conditions, father and son do not necessarily seem to share the same good fortune. If we consider family lineage, inheritance can also come to an end. The distinction is difficult to understand. I beg you to explain where these causes and conditions come from.”

The Celestial Worthy replied, “A good question. Rulers and feudal lords receive their titles from generation to generation because the karma they created in the past accumulated as a cause, and they therefore share in this good fortune.”

The disputant asked again, “Then why do titles and good fortune come to an end? If a fortunate person is reborn and continues to enjoy good fortune, family inheritance should never cease. If not, it seems there can be no corresponding cause and condition.”

The Celestial Worthy replied, “People’s high or low status arises from different causes and conditions and belongs to different kinds. When people have created the same karma in the past, they share the same good fortune and receive corresponding positions. Why? It is like cultivating a field: the crop depends on the seed sown. Whatever is planted grows from that seed. Change the seed, and what grows changes too. Thus, the same field can be planted with hundreds of different crops in succession. All the more can a fiefdom or title pass to different people, or even cease to be inherited.”

The disputant said, “Thank you, Celestial Worthy, for your teaching. I still have a question. The principles you have explained have never been heard in the world. I would like to ask how many kalpas—the exceedingly long periods of time—have passed since the ‘Original Appearance,’ as the Jing describes it, first brought the world into being, and how many people it has delivered. Were those delivered people who had a connection to it, or did they include those without such a connection? I beg you to explain the causes and conditions behind this.”

The respondent said, “Good! Good! The wondrous scripture of the Original Nature that I revere and transmit has passed through kalpas as countless as the sands of the Ganges—immensely long spans of time—and has guided immeasurable numbers of people, too many to count. It has always accompanied living beings, arising with the course of their times and vanishing with it. Even if the waters of the sea could preserve a record, people would still not know of it. Before the Radiant King of the Sun and Moon, there were many great sages who attained the Dao, as countless as the sands of the Ganges. All learned from the Original Nature and ultimately attained the Dao. Thus, the Original Nature stands foremost among the scriptures. It moves in harmony with the Dao, and its realm is beyond comprehension.

“After hearing the Celestial Worthy’s teaching, everyone grasped its meaning and rejoiced greatly. They rose, performed the three prostrations, then knelt before the Celestial Worthy and bowed their heads to the ground. They offered this verse in praise:

“A thousand years of karmic ties have brought us together;

we arise with the course of our times and take form in this world.

Fortunate are we to meet the supreme Celestial Worthy

and hear you explain the scripture of ultimate truth.

Every question we asked has found an answer;

the fruits of cultivation appear through the three actions of body, speech, and mind.

All manner of good deeds unfold amid impermanence,

and the turning of living beings through the realms never ceases.

Those who seek to learn uphold the luminous divine Dao,

and so the teachings grow ever clearer.

Following your guidance, we seek the Dao of Wuwei;

when our cultivation is complete, we may be counted among the Ten Immortals.

If both teacher and disciple remain benighted and ignorant,

even after ten thousand kalpas they will not succeed.

They are like blind people crossing countless dangerous places:

they are bound to fall into a deep pit.

By following a great sage as their teacher,

people can transcend and enter the Dao of ultimate truth.

All who have come here today

should strive to practice every kind of good deed.

Even in the presence of kings and nobles, they should not shrink back;

everyone should cultivate with a reverent and focused heart.

Wealth and rank are like bubbles on water

and are not worth boasting about.

Having attained the Dao, the body becomes purple-gold;

rooted in emptiness, it fulfills Wuwei.

Whether noble or lowly,

each person’s thoughts determine what is right and wrong.”

End of Volume One of the Supreme Wondrous Dharma Scripture of the Original Nature.

The Upper Scroll of the Scripture of the Original Forms of the Supreme One’s Wondrous Way has ended.

“Universal Teaching” says: The Great Dao creates Heaven and Earth, and its De (Virtue/Power) enables all things to flourish. It embraces and nurtures life without end; its work fills Heaven and Earth and accords with all things.

The Dao (the Way) is the creator of Heaven and Earth, and the power of De (Virtue/Power) enables the myriad things to flourish. It embraces and nurtures all things without limit, and its workings fill Heaven and Earth with primordial Qi (vital energy). All kinds of beasts and spirit insects know they were born from the Dao. They remain attached to their kin and have no intention of harming others—how much more so should this be true of those who cultivate the Dao and become immortals? Those outsiders who do not honor the Dao are, in their nature, inferior even to beasts and spirit insects. Even earth, stone, plants, and trees can be moved, yet outsiders refuse to accept the Dao. From this we can see that their hearts have turned away from the Dao: their spirit and body remain separated for a long time, and each sees things differently. Thus spirit and body part company and dwell apart.

Those who cultivate the Dao must practice with body and mind together if they are to reach the realm of the Dao together. They do not indulge in idle thoughts or rash actions; they focus on holding fast to their purpose and remain unmoved by external things. Even if stones fall from the sky, fierce flames consume the earth, the ground splits open, and the Yellow Springs surge forth, they never turn back. This is how those of firm resolve honor the work of the Dao.

Some are content to dwell on Mount Lao and cultivate the Dao. Even if three thousand heavenly demons pound the mountain and hurl rocks at random, stones tumble all around them, trees snap, cliffs collapse, and fragments fly like snow, none of it can harm them or alter their steadfast resolve. Their minds remain settled, and they hold to their original purpose. Then a hundred blazing flames, like torches, may attack all at once to terrify the cultivator, scorching the woods and destroying every fruit and plant. The fire surges and recedes like the tide of the sea. Still, the cultivator’s resolve remains quiet, the mind at ease and untroubled. They are not alarmed, their thoughts are not disturbed, and instead they become clearer still. They are neither impatient nor afraid; their Dao-heartedness remains as before, and they pursue Wuwei (non-action).

The “teaching without words” is passed only to disciples such as I; the “teaching without names” is entrusted only to later students such as I. Why? Because what is without words and names embodies the very nature of emptiness. Those who can accord with this Dao naturally manifest the Dao in their hearts on their own; this is beyond the reach of ordinary people. They all come from the heavenly realms. Outsiders hold inverted views: they build teachings on attachment to substantial existence, deluding the people and leading many into danger. How much less can they understand the nature of emptiness? Those who can do so are seeds of my Dao. If they are not seeds of the Dao, not disciples, how could they know that emptiness is the foundation?

The Dao creates Heaven and Earth, yet does not take me as its father. The power of De brings the myriad things to flourish, yet does not take me as their mother. How much less could I alone know where emptiness comes from? Thus, the Perfected Ones know that emptiness can be their refuge, so they cultivate emptiness and attain it; they know that nothingness can be relied upon, so they cultivate nothingness and attain it. Once they understand the principle of “without words and without names,” they know that heavenly beings descend into the world to teach and transform its people. They carry the Dao within themselves and put it into practice, follow the movement of Yin-Yang, gain benefit through emptiness, and accomplish their work by relying on nothingness.

All living things that breathe do not know where they themselves come from, so they call it “nature” or “causal conditions.” People speak this way whether they are suffering or happy, rich or poor, noble or lowly. Those who truly understand nature do not cling to the idea of “nature”; those who truly understand causal conditions do not cling to the idea of “causal conditions.” It is like a small child learning to speak: the child knows only how to imitate and follow a guide, without understanding the meaning of the words; the child knows only how to learn, without understanding the principles within. So I learn from my father’s teachings and proclaim them in every direction, diligent and tireless, enduring hardship without claiming merit. I always accomplish the work and then withdraw, in accord with the Way of Heaven. For this reason, I abandon that doctrine and choose this path.

When firmness reaches its extreme, it is easily broken; De is gentle and yielding, soft as snow. One should follow the Way of the Mean, using it to bring the upper and lower into harmony. Thus, lower what is high and raise what is low: this is how the Dao works. What is rigid will perish, and what is powerful will break. Only by avoiding both destruction and fracture can one endure. If one insists on being strong and rigid, the body has no protection to rely on. Where, then, is the Dao?

Those who cultivate the Dao therefore choose balance and reject rigidity, lowering what is high and supporting what is low. They nourish the body through water’s nature, as water moistens the Jade Palace—a Daoist term for the inner chambers of the body—and so remain free of trouble throughout. A true cultivator does not regard themselves as ill, but takes the people’s hardships as their own concern. This is why it is said, “Take illness as illness.” When there is no worry or affliction, what do I have to worry about?

Striving to dominate and fight leads toward death; peace and gentleness are the foundation of preserving life. Why is this so? No matter how fierce a tiger is, it can be caught in a pit or cage. No matter how hard a tree is, fire can consume it. Is a pit not something to fear? If a person treats it as a companion and lets down their guard, it is there that the overbearing will be trapped. Though fire comes from wood, if one keeps drilling wood to make fire without stopping, the wood being turned will eventually be consumed by the flames.

A realized person—the one who has attained the Dao—therefore avoids forcefulness and preserves gentleness. The strong tend toward death; the weak tend toward life. Those who cultivate the Dao prize the art of nourishing life and value guarding body and mind. In the world, those who strive to dominate prize force and value firm attachment. Cultivators and worldly people act differently and seek different gains. Though they exert equal effort, they ultimately reach opposite outcomes.

Which is closer to us: the Weng that gives birth to things, or the Weng on which things depend? The source that gives birth to all things is the Qi of Heaven. Follow it, and Qi becomes harmonious; go against it, and Qi becomes disordered. Though the effort expended is equal, the results are utterly different.

What gives rise to human beings, and by what means do they come into the world? Which kindness is closer and more important? Human life comes from the primordial Qi bestowed by Heaven—the original vital energy that constitutes life. When we follow it, our breath is harmonious; when we go against it, our breath becomes disordered. Thus the father corresponds to Heaven and the mother to Earth. To go against one’s parents is to go against Heaven and Earth. Yet some people regard the parents who raised them as more exalted, and their wives as more important still, because their desire for their wives makes them value them so highly. The perfected person, one who has attained the Dao, abandons private attachments and thus becomes perfected. By not placing those who raised them above Heaven and Earth, they are able to attain the Dao. People everywhere hold different views, yet all are born by receiving Heaven’s primordial Qi and grow by relying on Earth’s breath. They do not understand the kindness of those who raised them or the kindness of Heaven and Earth. In their understanding of the Dao, they are even surpassed by birds and spirit creatures.

Where promiscuous women gather, people can be widely replenished and renewed. If one takes pleasure in remaining there, one will engage in sexual relations with women; if one does not take pleasure in it, one’s mind should be as settled and unmoved as that of a eunuch. In that case, what use is this supposed replenishment? People do not understand the kindness of those who raised them or the kindness of Heaven and Earth. In their understanding of the Dao, they are even surpassed by birds and spirit creatures.

Where promiscuous women gather, people can be widely replenished and renewed. If one takes pleasure in remaining there, one will engage in sexual relations with women; if one does not take pleasure in it, one’s mind should be as settled and unmoved as that of a eunuch. The question is this: if one answers desire with desire, how can desire be restrained? If one faces desire with the eunuch’s lack of desire, what is there to covet? So the sage lets the mind roam freely and without attachment, like a bird in the sky, and keeps desire as faint as that of an infant or a eunuch. Even when temporarily in a place of sexual temptation, how could it affect them?

Women are not without desire; it is simply that I do not respond to their desire. What, then, can their desire bring about? Desire grows when two people indulge one another’s lust. Thus, when the perfected person encounters promiscuous women again and again, they instead come to regret their ways, stop feeding desire, and gradually put an end to it of their own accord. When seeing beauty, regard it as wood and earth; when seeing precious treasure, cast it aside as though it were rubble. Why? The more one acquires, the more one covets treasure; the more one indulges in sexual desire, the more it flourishes. When the great affinity, the fundamental opportunity, is about to be severed, what can treasure and beauty then attach themselves to? Restrain and relinquish desire in accordance with this principle, and there is nothing the Dao cannot accomplish. Only those who understand can grasp this.

The generation of the myriad things is the foundation of the Four Great Elements, yet people do not understand this. To delight in sexual desire and indulge in it only makes desire flourish further. When the fundamental opportunity is about to be severed, what can treasure and beauty then attach themselves to? Restrain and relinquish desire in accordance with this principle, and there is nothing the Dao cannot accomplish. Only those who understand can grasp this.

The “One” is the root of all things and the root of the four great elements that make up the world, yet people do not know this. Yang Qi brings life forth, and Yin Qi nurtures and transforms all things, yet people do not believe it. Heaven covers all, and the thick earth bears all living beings, yet they do not understand. The sun and moon shine, yet the myriad kinds of beings in the world do not fully comprehend them. Though their effects and evidence are plain to see, people still do not believe in the existence of spirits. They leave life and death to fate, rather than creating good causes and forming good connections. They cling to their biases, each insisting on one side, and even take their father to be their sole source of support.

Thus, the realized person—one who has succeeded in cultivating the Dao—practices the “One” and holds fast to De, thereby nurturing the four great elements. When their work is complete, they receive the reward of purple gold, the noble blessing brought by success in cultivation. The wise understand this principle and first create good causes and form good connections, nurturing spirit and body. They neither abandon nor deplete them, but keep body and mind whole and stable, preserving their natural state. They know that the “One” gives rise to the “Two,” the “Two” to the “Three,” and the “Three” to the myriad things. Heaven and earth endure through this principle, and their flourishing also comes from it; therefore, one should always cherish and follow it. Those who do not understand the “One” are no different from the six kinds of domestic animals. These animals do not know the “One,” nor do they know from what causes and connections they themselves came. So those who do not understand this principle are classed with the six kinds of domestic animals.

The Dao moves in an upright way, yet does not cut things apart; it enters everywhere, according to what each thing needs. Its De is complete, without deficiency; it follows the response of merit and brings all things to completion. If anything is cut apart, there is the danger of damage; if anything is deficient, there is the harm of coming to a halt. The Dao, then, neither divides nor lacks. Though calm and formless, it is not thereby diminished.

Why is this so? When a person’s thoughts resonate, the Dao responds; when a person has accumulated merit, the Dao connects with them. The Dao’s action spreads in all directions and can also bend its way into rooms and the smallest places. Thus, the Dao itself is neither broad nor lavish, yet it can respond to what is broad and lavish. It is neither conspicuous nor narrow, yet it can respond to what is conspicuous and narrow. It has no distinction between beauty and ugliness, yet it can respond to both. It belongs neither to guilt nor to blessing, yet it can respond to both guilt and blessing. The Dao is beyond thought and discussion, empty and formless, yet it can give form to all things and fill the world. To explain it in words is beyond what writing can make clear; to measure it is beyond the reach of even the most skillful schemes and wisdom. One may compare it to the Spirit of the Valley, the symbol of a hollow valley that can give life and nourishment to all things: it responds according to the different sizes and shapes of things. The Dao’s resonances and transformations work in the same way.

The good person is like water: he nourishes all things and brings them all moisture and benefit. His merit, too, flows like water and benefits everyone. Thus, the Dao prizes gentleness and humility, while De values clear order. The Realized Person—the one who has attained the Dao—always cherishes the Dao and esteems De. By holding firmly to them without wavering, he can fulfill the charge entrusted to a Realized Person.

Stone and water coexist, while the Fanzi, a term used in the scripture, responds to the Dao and undergoes transformation. Though these share a name, the principles by which they are put to use are different. So even when water and stone occupy the same place, they receive different kinds of nourishment. The Realized Person cherishes the Dao and De, valuing them more than the nourishment water provides. He travels all day without parting from his provisions—here a metaphor for the Dao and De he holds to—and regards them as companions at his sides, and uses them as if they were right before him. He maintains them with reverence and applies himself diligently day and night, always feeling that he has not done enough. Though stone and water share the same place, they receive different nourishment. The Realized Person therefore cherishes the Dao and De, and ultimately attains realization.

When the world has the Dao, true law flourishes; when the world lacks the Dao, true law declines. Why is this so? When people in the world fail to honor the Dao, the true Qi—the subtle energy of the Dao—scatters, and so the law declines. This is not because a ruler can personally abolish it. Rather, when the nation’s fortune is nearing its end, delusion arises and leads to the law’s abandonment. If the law flourishes, this too is not something a ruler can bring about alone; it is because good fortune is deep and enduring.

Thus, when King Yefu cast off the corruption of indulgence in sights and sounds, Ziyang, a Daoist sacred being or immortal, was able to manifest in response. Miaofan, a Daoist term for a wondrous and pure realm, arises from the sincerity of vows and commitments; in time, an opportunity to remove suffering will also come. These are all causes formed through past actions coming to fruition in this life. Causes formed through actions in this life will become provisions for lives to come; causes formed in a previous life leave their signs upon the body in this one. Therefore, an emperor cannot, by his own power, make the true Dharma flourish or decline. If he governs in accord with the principles of all things and follows the Dao, he will thereby bring about the corresponding consequences—and in due course, like King Yefu, he will undergo their effects.

From birth to death, a person does not remain in one fixed place. Instead, they pass continually through the Five Destinies, the five possible realms of rebirth, taking birth according to the realm they are bound for. People are born in accordance with their karmic deeds; no one comes to enjoy honor and riches without cause, or to suffer hardship without cause. The celestial gods keep watch from above, the earth spirits examine from nearby, and the officials in charge inspect a person’s hun and po souls, missing nothing, however slight. This is like the ridges of a millstone: no one can escape their constraint. The same holds whether someone undergoes karmic retribution or seems not to undergo it.

Why is this so? When building a wall, every section of the formwork must be tamped with a pestle. If even one section is left untamped, the wall cannot stand firm. For this reason, the sage, fearing that sins would be difficult to bear, diligently cultivates the Dao and resolves to pursue purity and stillness. The sage does not submit to worldly restraints or devote himself solely to the work of kings. Through such diligent cultivation, one can finally be freed from the suffering of constraint.

Those with aspiration and understanding can be companions to celestial beings. They are not troubled by demons and evil influences, nor burdened by unfounded entanglements. Why? Because they have aspiration and understanding. Those without aspiration or insight consort with the six domestic animals. The six domestic animals know their mothers but not their fathers; thus, people without aspiration or understanding are likened to beasts.

It is supremely lofty, with nothing above it to cover it; profound and vast, with no bottom to reach. It extends without limit in every direction, and pursuing it further reveals no end. Its bounds cannot be measured, and its capacity cannot be gauged. Vast and pervasive, it moves freely, manifesting as the myriad things. Its De (Virtue/Power) extends throughout the ten directions; it nurtures all that has form and bestows its loving care on everything.

Why is this so? If it did not appear in perceptible forms, whom could people ask for guidance, and how could they understand? Thus it manifests in many forms of transformation and response. By practicing these teachings, focusing the mind and remaining steadfast, one can meet the supreme Dao (the Way). Therefore, the perfected person—the one who has attained the Dao—practices the methods of transformation and response and ultimately reaches Wuwei (non-action), in which one follows nature without contrivance.

If you understand that these methods can be followed, then practice diligently, and you too can become a companion of the perfected. Why is this so? True nature, the fundamental nature of all things, has no form. It arises from nothingness, belongs to no color or image, and is the mysterious, natural Qi (vital energy), the source from which all things are formed. How could it be diminished by manifesting in forms of transformation and response? Though it divides, it does not lessen; though it disperses, it is never exhausted. Clear and subtle, it depends on nothing. It gathers Qi to form bodies and nourishes all things everywhere.

The workings of the Great Dao turn in cycles without end; its function is inexhaustible. The Great Dao repeatedly returns, reaching no low point; its function, too, has no bounds. When a task is complete, one claims no credit and always places oneself last. Though highly skilled, one does not call oneself a master craftsman or take pride in one’s reputation. This is the truest and highest teaching, and the practice required by the principle of Wuwei (non-action).

Completing a task without claiming credit follows the pattern of Heaven. Setting aside skill and fame offers the True Person’s example. If one seeks neither credit nor renown, does that mean ceasing to teach and respond to change? The True Person follows the teaching of seeking no reputation, works diligently without regarding the work as a burden, and so brings things to completion. Why? Clinging to fame makes it difficult to establish achievements; clinging to one’s own achievements leads one to treat one’s work as a favor and expect repayment. The True Person therefore knows only to act, without thinking of winning a name; knows only to work diligently, without feeling burdened. They give without seeking repayment, and the results arise of themselves.

Rivers flow into the sea without expecting the sea to send the water back, yet the water naturally circulates in return. The workings of the Great Dao follow the same pattern. Thus the True Person need only act and work diligently.

A house must have doors and windows, and its interior becomes bright through the light that enters. However finely built the house may be, how could it be bright if no light came in? Without light, the builder has no way to put their craft to use; without doors and windows, light cannot enter. If living beings lacked Dao-nature—the basis for cultivating and realizing the Dao—teachers would have no means to instruct them. Living beings possess an innate basis that can reflect and understand the principles of the Dao, so laws and standards are established to guide them. It is like looking inside a house at night: at first nothing can be seen. Only after a lamp lights the room can one see clearly and carry out the work of building.

Thus the True Person can cultivate into a True Person only through the instruction of the Three Teachers—the masters who transmit teachings and guide practitioners on the path. Why? A house without doors and windows is as good as no house at all. In the same way, a person who has a body but does not accept guidance from a teacher is as if they had no body. Therefore, only by letting go of attachment to worldly love and cultivating the Dao can one become a True Person; only by leaving home to study can one perfect De (Virtue). Thus Yuluoqiao, a personal name, revered the Great Dao and honored De, ultimately reaching the state of Wuwei.

Even if gold, silver, pearls, and jade are piled as high as mountains, and money, goods, and fine cloth are as plentiful as open fields, these riches will only dwindle day by day, and blessings will diminish day by day, if one does not keep the Dao (the Way) in mind or set one’s heart on pursuing the true Dao. In the end, there will be nothing to rely on and nothing to offer protection.

Birds scatter their droppings everywhere, yet do not regard them as precious. Dung beetles roll balls of dung, yet do not see them as treasures. Thus, treasures are not worth esteeming, and money, goods, and fine cloth are not worth venerating. The perfected person—the one who has attained the Dao—values the Dao and thinks little of treasures, honors De (Virtue/Power) and relinquishes wealth, ultimately reaching the state of Supreme Truth. Why is this so? The gathering of treasures may invite calamity; when wealth accumulates, thieves will come. Therefore, those who cultivate the Dao diligently seek the Dao rather than amass treasures. They cultivate De rather than busily hoard money and fine cloth. Even wealth piled up to the edge of the sky is no match for sitting peacefully and cultivating this Dao. So they do not pursue treasures or wealth.

The Dao brings forth the myriad things, and De nurtures them all. The Dao’s workings reach living beings and nurture every formed thing. Thus the Dao brings forth and nourishes the myriad things, yet does not claim mastery over them; De brings life to fulfillment, yet does not count this as toil. The Dao therefore stands above the myriad things without seeming burdensome, and the people do not grow weary of it. If one turns away from the Dao, wealth cannot be kept for long. Why? A person cannot be separated from the Dao, just as a fish cannot be separated from water: separated from the Dao, a person declines and perishes; separated from water, a fish dies.

Therefore, the perfected person holds to the Dao and puts De into practice, and is thereby able to live on. To “live on” means to remain still and clear, unchanged by external things, and settled in Wuwei (non-action: following nature without forcing things). This is the “Dao of long life and lasting vision.” “Lasting vision” means that even if Heaven and Earth are destroyed and all things perish, the human body can still remain alone; even as Heaven and Earth are worn away, the spirit remains clear and at peace. Hence it is called the Dao of long life and lasting vision.

Before an infant is born, its nature is free of desire. A luminous pearl hidden inside a mussel holds its radiance within. Why is this so? An infant cannot yet understand the outside world or make distinctions in its mind. It cries only when it wants milk, and stops when it is no longer hungry. Even if it goes a long time without milk and cries all day, its voice does not grow hoarse. Why? Its inner state is utterly calm, free of impatience and distress, and so it can give rise to a good nature.

A luminous pearl hidden in a mussel becomes a pearl when it emerges; if it never emerges, it remains merely something inside the mussel. The danger is that, as people grow up, they may be drawn in and controlled by desires and passions, whose poison is then hard to dispel. Thus the perfected person, one who has succeeded in cultivating the Dao, attains the true Dao through freedom from desire. By practicing Dao and De from the age of seven, one can cultivate oneself to completion. Why? Desire is the source of the Five Poisons, the five fundamental causes of harm, while delusive thoughts are the root of self-inflicted misfortune. They should therefore be removed. One should yield to desire only with caution and never indulge harmful thoughts, so that their poison does not become difficult to dispel.

The perfected person attains the true Dao through freedom from desire. By practicing Dao and De from the age of seven, one can cultivate oneself to completion. Why? Desire is the source of the Five Poisons, and delusive thoughts are the root of self-inflicted misfortune; they should therefore be removed. One should yield to desire only with caution and never indulge in it.

The minds of fickle people drift and waver, making them difficult to entrust with anything. Those who hold heterodox views, once they leave the right path, find it hard to turn back. Yet if such people awaken, they may advance faster than ordinary people and reach the realm of an earthly immortal in an instant. Why? Because they were once tainted by false teachings, then steeped in the influence of the Qi of Kongzhi, and accepted the right path through the wisdom and virtue they had accumulated in the past. Once they recognize that they had gone astray, they can turn their error into a reason to seek the Dao. Thus, the more deeply they were once attached to their mistaken course, the more swiftly they may awaken.

Fickle people and those who hold heterodox views, when their minds are deluded and they refuse to change, do not turn back once they leave the right path. They focus only on clinging to a particular practice, rather than holding fast to loyalty and sincerity. They drift east or west with the wind, carried away at its slightest breath. Why? Lacquer is naturally black and readily takes on whatever color it touches. It cannot keep to a single color; when stained, it changes accordingly. So those whose resolve is unsteady cannot be guided by the Great Dao, and those who cling to heterodox views are difficult to bring to repentance. Each holds fast to one side and does not take the orthodox teaching as a guide.

Therefore, the resolve of a perfected person should be as firm and unmoving as Mount Kunlun. Though trees grow tall, they never ultimately separate from their roots. The perfected person forms an unbreakable covenant through steadfastness without form or trace; he protects himself with a barrier without form or trace that cannot be opened. He never drifts with the wind, and so can become a perfected person.

To make soil into clay, water is essential; to knead clay into a vessel, it must first be mixed evenly, or the vessel will not be smooth. Water is therefore the beginning of mixing the soil, and evenness is the foundation for making the vessel smooth. Only when a craftsperson works the clay does it acquire the name and form of a pottery vessel. Without kneading, the soil cannot take shape; without making it evenly smooth, no vessel can be made.

Thus the roles of soil, water, and the craftsperson work together: the soil is gathered, kneaded in turn, supported until it takes shape, and then passed on to the pottery-making process. It is fired, and only after the smoke changes color, the kiln entrance is sealed, the vessel cools, and the kiln is opened can one see the result of the pottery’s completion.

Why put it this way? Soil is the essential condition for a pottery vessel to take form, while water is the supporting aid that brings this about. Kneading the soil gives the vessel its shape, and mixing it evenly allows it to take form. The craftsperson is a model in the world; fire, meanwhile, works with focused purpose through Zhenqi (the inner force that enables the firing). Though the pottery vessel is made for people to use, its merit begins in the tiniest details and ultimately brings forth rivers and seas, mountains and peaks.

Those who cultivate the Dao and attain it follow this principle; today, they can reach the highest state. All ordinary people, too, can put it into practice, accumulate blessings, and become one of the Ten Immortal Types, the categories of perfected immortals in Daoism. Virtue as deep and vast as the sea is beyond imagining, and its power shakes the great thousand worlds, a Daoist and Buddhist term for the vast universe. Such is the Dao’s mystery: immeasurable and boundless.

Abandoning proper cultivation leads one onto a crooked path. Those who do not learn are like the blind, unable to discern their way. The path to attaining the Dao begins here. If one does not understand the true meaning of Daoist teachings, one will wander without direction like a beast. Even if one is eloquent in speech, one’s conduct may be no better than that of the six domestic animals. One’s hands, led by selfish desires, steal worldly wealth and claim it as their own.

People do not realize that such acts secretly accumulate guilt and bring the suffering of hell, including the torment of knife-bearing winds. When suffering comes, they may hope their descendants will redeem them, but this only entangles them all, drains the family’s resources, and leaves them with nothing. If one can rid oneself of these faults and devote oneself to studying texts of ultimate truth, crookedness will naturally cease, and one will no longer invite deluded and false things. Those who do not learn are like people without eyes, unable to tell good from bad; the six domestic animals do not understand learning, and the same principle applies.

Set aside self-interest and complicated books, and one can rise high by following nature. The benefits brought by Dao and De (Virtue) are beyond reckoning; even ten thousand kalpas, an immeasurably long span of time, are as brief as a flash of lightning. De has such power, and only the wise can cultivate it diligently. At first it may seem ordinary; only when its effects become evident can one recognize the Dao’s wondrous source. When the merit and responses of cultivation are complete, one can reach the realm of Wuwei (non-action) and pay court to the worthy sages of the Three Realms. As long as one cultivates without slackening, one will eventually enter the gate of eternal joy and attain a lofty, natural state. The benefits brought by Dao and De are beyond reckoning; even ten thousand kalpas are as brief as a flash of lightning. De has such power, and only the wise can cultivate it diligently. At first it may seem ordinary; only when its effects become evident can one recognize the Dao’s wondrous source. When the merit and responses of cultivation are complete, one can reach the realm of Wuwei and pay court to the worthy sages of the Three Realms. As long as one cultivates without slackening, one will eventually enter the gate of eternal joy.

Which is more common, beauty or ugliness? And how great is the difference between the respectful “wei” and the casual “a”? Thus, the noble person dislikes a careless reply, and in the end earns the conduct and reputation of a noble person. Such character is bestowed neither by Heaven nor by Earth. It comes from holding fast to loyalty, practicing goodness, keeping one’s word, and making virtue shine, without pursuing empty adornment. If one merely acts according to social convention, one may have a reputation but accomplish nothing in reality. If one treats others with a dismissive attitude, one may seem imposing but lack substance. Therefore, the wise set aside the pursuit of a noble reputation and cultivate the Dao of Wuwei.

Those who cultivate the Dao esteem humility, while demons esteem arrogance. The human path—the way of worldly people—values life, while the ghost path—the way followed by ghosts and spirits—values death. The true Dao esteems simplicity, while the human path pursues splendor. Though these paths share the same names, they lead in opposite directions.

Why do those who cultivate the Dao esteem humility? Because they are willing to embrace the virtues of many good deeds. These virtues gather together like rivers flowing into the sea; hence the saying “esteeming the lowly.” Demons esteem arrogance. Unwilling to embrace many virtues, they take only their own strengths as their teacher and refuse to humble themselves before the many forms of goodness. This is therefore called “the demonic way.”

The human path values the body’s wholeness but does not seek long life. When illness and suffering arise, people pray to the gods, vainly seeking favors and blessings. They do not seek to live for a long time, so the human path is said to “value life.” The ghost path, by contrast, values the end in death and also values injury; hence it is called “valuing the end.”

The true Dao values simplicity and does not pursue splendor or display. It is concerned only with whether one can attain the Dao, not with whether one’s own status is exalted. Thus, although the matters of concern are the same, the directions—following and opposing—are not. A perfected person, one who has attained the Dao, can gather many virtues precisely by making themselves humble; their radiance is like the sun and moon, and their stature is as lofty as Mount Kunlun.

The rivers and seas lie in low places, so they gather the waters of a hundred streams and become kings of all the valleys. They support the virtue of the many virtues, subtle and exalted, and the Four Masters ultimately impart the Way of numinous wisdom. Thus, those who cultivate the Way should not focus only on seeking high places, nor rely solely on favors received. Lords and kings call themselves “orphaned” or “bereft,” using humble titles to attain a position of honor. The Realized Person, one who has attained the Way, dwells in low places and thereby reaches the heights. By being able to receive the virtue of the many virtues, one can fulfill one’s own De. Why is this so? If high places lack deep foundations, plants cannot grow. And if a foundation is deep but not broad, or high but not substantial, it is difficult for anything to flourish.

A silkworm is as small as a strand of hair. It eats mulberry leaves and produces silk, which is eventually woven into ceremonial robes and multicolored brocades worn by emperors. Their colors are vivid, their fragrance sweet, and they are exceedingly precious. If plants cannot grow, then a foundation that is deep but not broad, or high but not substantial, is also unable to bring anything to fruition. (The original repeats the preceding sentence here.) Though the silkworm is tiny, what it produces is precious; this is how things of high and low value are connected. In foreign lands where there are no silkworms, people who see colored silk fabrics do not know where they come from. If someone explains that silkworms produce the thread and skilled women weave it, they will believe it.

If a teacher explains where the Dao and De come from, that teacher will have a dignified and complete appearance, unmatched in the human world: a voice like thunder, eyes like the sun, and a composed, harmonious face; arms that hang below the knees; feet that tread the firm Qi of Qian, the Creative. Ten lines mark the palms, and the lines on the forehead form the character wu. The ears rise above the hair, the bridge of the nose is straight and well formed, and the mouth has forty-eight teeth, white as frost. The tongue can cover the face; the mouth carries the fragrance of lotus and orchid. Eight-colored radiance shines between the brows, and a white tuft of hair gives off light. At the crown are a fleshly protuberance and spiral markings, the top of the head like a jade hall. The pattern of the Northern Dipper appears on the back, a Vermilion Bird grows on the chest, and the feet tread a dragon couch. Blue and white colors appear on either side, and Six Jia spirit generals guard the figure. Divine Real Ones, holy perfected beings, accompany him like wings, while the Nine Immortals stand in rows at his sides. He does not diminish through the passage of kalpas, but endures without end. His movements extend and contract freely; his form can appear across vast distances. He can set in motion the six tremors of Heaven and Earth, and is deep as the sea. Such are his might and virtue: he is king of all the sages.

He arose through learning from a master and rose beyond the world at the Daoist altar. The foolish and unenlightened, however, did not believe him; astonished, they rejected him. In foreign lands where there are no silkworms, it is indeed difficult to imagine such a thing by ordinary reasoning. What truly exists is not false; once it is known, the doubts one had before disappear.

When bandits are about to invade a state, what means should be used to resist them? When a state is surrounded on all sides, how can it break free? The answer: When bandits arrive, they may be held back with military force, or the conflict may be settled through negotiation and planning. Why? Because bandits are timid by nature and relatively easy to resist. If the enemy force is small, the troops can be recalled and negotiation and persuasion used instead; the enemy can be made to withdraw without deploying the army. Why? Negotiation can overcome evil, and good fortune and De can dispel calamity. Thus, disputes can be settled through negotiation, and dangers averted through good fortune and De.

If a state is surrounded on all sides, strengthen its walls, close its gates, prepare its weapons and armor, and keep a strict defense. When the enemy grows weary and loses the will to fight, it will soon withdraw. Thus, Realized Persons who have attained the Dao often use military force to defend against bandits and prevent them from causing harm. They also strengthen the walls so that the enemy cannot capture them.

When a state is on the verge of disorder, what can be done to stop it? When ministers grow dissatisfied with their ruler and prepare to rebel, how can the situation be brought under control? The answer: The people often become unruly because government orders are harsh and burdensome; ministers often rebel because the ruler is muddled. Disorder and rebellion generally arise from these causes. How should they be remedied? The answer: Remove greed and care for the people through Wuwei (non-action)—by reducing burdensome interference and allowing them to live in peace. Then the people will be calm and willing to cherish their ruler and state, and the state will remain free of disorder from beginning to end. When people throughout the realm are glad to support their ruler, why would they reject stability and turn to rebellion? Thus, the state can remain free of disorder.

Ministers are on the verge of rebellion because the ruler is muddled, so they do not obey the laws or act in accordance with proper standards. To resolve the rebellion, the ministers should be led to repent and correct their mistakes, abandon their former habits, and amend their conduct going forward. The laws and institutions should be put in order, the guiding principles of government restored, and affairs conducted according to the statutes. Within the state, there should be no confusion; toward others, there should be no violence.

Thus, Realized Persons who have attained the Dao constantly remove burdensome rules and disorder, bringing the people to peace and willing compliance. They constantly dispel muddle and harm, so that ministers are glad to fulfill their duties and harbor no thoughts of rebellion. When the ruler is clear-minded and the ministers are at peace, the state can endure without collapsing or falling into ruin. When the people are glad to live in stability and harmony, they can enjoy peace for a long time.

Unworked wood cannot be made into a vessel; untilled fields will not yield crops. Why? Wood left unworked will eventually decay and fall apart. Land no one cultivates will become overgrown with brambles, a refuge for beasts and birds such as jackals, wildcats, and owls. If wasteland is left untended, it will in time become a thicket of brambles. So it is, too, for those who study the Dao: if they give up cultivation, this is what becomes of them.

Wood left unworked can only remain withered and decayed. But if it is handed to a craftsperson, measured with an ink line, and repeatedly shaped with tools such as an ax, saw, and chisel, it can at last be made into a vessel. It will be convenient to use and will not easily break under use. Thus, when a Perfected Person (one who has attained the Dao) entrusts unworked wood to a craftsperson, it can be made into a vessel; when wasteland is cultivated, it can yield grain.

Why is this so? Unworked wood and wasteland stand for ordinary people. Entrusting wood to a craftsperson and land to a farmer stands for receiving instruction from a teacher. Making vessels and harvesting grain stand for the results of cultivation becoming visible. Thus, the Perfected Person diligently cultivates and refines himself, and only now has he attained the state of a Perfected Person.

Following the Dao of Wuwei (non-action) brings increasing gain day by day; clinging to purposeful action brings increasing loss day by day. Why? Wuwei does not mean doing nothing. It means not acting recklessly, while allowing all things to find their proper place. Thus we know that Wuwei brings benefit. Clinging to what exists means becoming bound to particular things. All things with form will eventually return to formlessness, so we know that clinging to purposeful action gradually brings loss. If one can keep diminishing, letting go even of the thought of diminishing, until one reaches Wuwei, then this is the way. In cultivation, the Perfected Person devotes himself to Wuwei and does not cling to purposeful action; he undertakes what brings increase and avoids what brings loss. In this way, he achieves increase.

To abide in the Dao, one must act with integrity; to live within the Dharma—the teachings and their norms—one must follow the true Dao. Failing to do so leads onto a deviant path. Thus, a perfected person, one who has attained the Dao, always turns away from deviant ways and follows the proper path. In this way, they attain the rank of true perfection.

Why is this so? Consider a craftsman casting an object. Following its shape and size, he repeatedly checks and adjusts it with a compass and a square, so that the material takes the form of the mold. Materials of the same kind are shaped according to their nature and are not changed without cause. When gold, silver, copper, iron, and other materials are melted, each retains its own kind. When a teacher cultivates the proper Dao, the disciples too become upright; when a teacher practices a deviant Dao, the disciples too go astray. The same principle applies to the teaching that passes between teacher and disciple.

Hard sand and stone must be ground into a stone mill; without a hammer in hand, how could a craftsman make one? A piece of blue-white stone with straight grain must be carved into a stone pestle for pounding grain. However skilled the craftsman, how could he make it without a hammer? For this reason, those who study the Dao must accept instruction and discipline, and come to understand its principles by studying the scriptures. Even a wise teacher must rely on the scriptures to teach; even a talented person will find it difficult to learn without a teacher’s guidance. So they must be taught through the scriptures and guided by instruction. Just as building a boat requires water, felling a tree requires an axe, making fire by drilling wood requires wood, and drawing water from a deep well requires a rope, a perfected person must undergo a teacher’s refinement and instruction before being able to shoulder the responsibility of Great Perfection’s Wuwei (non-action)—the highest state of following nature without contrivance.

If a cauldron holds water but no fire is lit beneath it, how can the water boil? If grain is put into a stone mortar but no one sits down to pound it, how can the husks and impurities be removed to yield fine rice? Everything, then, depends on practical effort for its completion. Those who aspire to experience the taste of the Dao must work diligently; only then can their endeavors succeed and their state of cultivation advance.

Thus, a perfected person—one who has succeeded in cultivating the Dao—must undergo a process like being boiled over a fire and pounded in a mortar before achieving a refined result. Why is this so? Because blessings are not squandered for nothing, and effort does not fail to bear fruit. Without undergoing trials and being winnowed, one remains in a coarse state and will ultimately be discarded. Without carving and polishing, something crude and decayed can never become a useful vessel. Only the wise, therefore, put the teachings into practice and cultivate diligently. Without practice and diligence, one can never draw near to the Dao. Water in a cauldron that is not heated and grain in a mortar that is not pounded will remain unchanged: sitting by and watching without taking action can never fulfill one’s wishes. The same is true of a Daoist practitioner who is surrounded by Daoist teachings but does not put them into practice.

Although the qin and se can produce refined, proper music, they make no sound if they are not played. Although bells and drums can produce rhythmic tunes, they make no sound if they are not struck. The same is true of those who truly cultivate the Dao: if they do not put their own Dao into practice, it remains unheard.

A perfected person plays the qin to awaken people and beats the drum to summon them. Why? To let all beings hear the teachings with their own ears and understand their meaning. The qin and drum are like the nature of the Dao; striking and playing them are like the instruction of a teacher. Those who love the qin will naturally come to hear it, and those who love the drum will naturally come to hear it. So the perfected person plays the drum and qin without pause, day and night, mindful of all beings and concerned that they might not hear the beautiful music. That is why the playing continues through every hour.

If beings cherish the Three Treasures—the Daoist veneration of the Dao, the scriptures, and the teachers—they should be taught the Three Treasures. If someone loves the qin and se, they should be given these instruments. Why? Because the qin and se can awaken beings, so they are given to them. If the perfected person did not play the qin and se, how would beings know of them? If the perfected person did not proclaim the truth, beings would have no way to know its meaning. Teaching the Three Treasures and playing the qin and se are therefore ways to let beings hear and understand the teachings.

At this time, a person in the assembly named Yemu heard the Celestial Worthy say that playing the qin and se could awaken living beings. He resolved to reform himself and cultivate the Way, playing the qin and beating the drums day and night without pause. Yemu returned to Mount Beilong, felled paulownia trees in autumn, and made bells, drums, qin, and se. He adorned the instruments with pearls and jade, painted them in bright colors, and carved coiling dragons on them. He strung the qin and se with yellow silk and fashioned jade pieces for plucking. With three thousand disciples, he studied the qin and se throughout the kingdom and performed on bells and drums, playing day and night without the briefest pause.

People came from near and far to hear the music. Men and women, young and old, all stopped to listen. The crowds numbered in the millions, and those who came were unwilling to leave. Yemu was delighted. Year after year he devoted himself to practice, imagining that if he cultivated the Way in the morning, he could become an immortal by night and ascend to the heavens with ease. Yet from the beginning until old age, he and his disciples all eventually died and fell into the Three Evil Paths—the hells, the realm of hungry ghosts, and the realm of animals, as Daoism describes them.

Thus, the perfected person, one who has attained the Dao, is not ultimately drawn in by music and sound, and so can discern things clearly. By not clinging to what one believes one knows, one can truly attain wisdom. Why is this so? The perfected person learns the Dao without blindly paying homage to a teacher or passively accepting instruction. They do not cling to their understanding or fixate on it, display their cleverness, or proclaim themselves. Thus, they do not set themselves up as teachers, yet become teachers; they do not boast of their insight, yet achieve clarity; they do not make themselves conspicuous, yet become renowned; they do not keep their gains to themselves, yet are able to give to others. By not placing themselves in the position of teacher, sage, celebrated person, or giver, they naturally gather every kind of merit and thereby become perfected.

Therefore, the verse says:

In sum, the Way of Great Constancy is vast and without bounds, and all things and methods have no fixed, unchanging form. Coming and going like whirlwinds, the rivers flowing eastward carry away the long years; the affairs of the world turn and change, like boiling water in ceaseless surges.

Taken as a whole, everything in the world is in a state of constant change. Things come and go like swirling winds, or rush eastward like flowing water, carrying away the years of human life. The affairs of the world surge and churn again and again like boiling water, bringing sorrow and harming people’s nature. Those who have attained wisdom see through the principles of future lives, so they let go of attachment and follow the Dao. Through cultivation in this life, they gain peace and joy; when their merits are complete, they ascend to the highest realm. All manner of afflictions vanish like dispersing clouds. Purity and Wuwei (non-action) are the true path. Every mark of beauty—an appearance of dignity and perfection—comes fully into view; they rise beyond the ordinary and become sages who understand the Great Dao. As for all the blessings of ordinary people, □□□□□.

Taishang Miaofa Benxiang Jing, Scroll Two

Taishang Miaofa Benxiang Jing, Scroll Three

General Discourse

The Celestial Worthy said: “Here I am, speaking broadly to all beings about the Taishang Miaofa Benxiang, the fundamental reality of the Supreme Wondrous Dharma. I will explain the causes and conditions that lead to the highest Dao, and use immeasurable methods of teaching to save all beings. They have all gathered here; not one fails to look up to me with reverence.”

At that time, the Eastern Yu, Western Yu, Southern Yu, and Northern Yu, together with the people who had come from the east, west, south, and north, and all the followers of heterodox paths—including Yemu, Bugou, Duwan, Muhou, and Jilu—came before the seat. Each gave off a dazzling radiance, displaying their might among the assembly and unsettling people’s hearts. They vied with one another in clever rhetoric, trying to raise objections, but they could not succeed.

The Yu, those who had come from the east, west, south, and north, and all the followers of heterodox paths—including Yemu, Bugou, Duwan, Muhou, and Jilu—came before the seat. Each gave off a dazzling radiance, displaying their might among the assembly and unsettling people’s hearts. They vied with one another in clever rhetoric, trying to raise objections, but they could not succeed.

Yu said, “Yesterday you explained that all living beings, from the karmic causes of their former lives to the karmic results they experience in later lives, receive their present circumstances from causes in the past; nothing happens without a cause. I have quietly observed living beings, yet, living in the darkness and seclusion of this world, how could they know the causes of former lives or the consequences borne in this life? If they are fortunate enough to encounter instruction and a path of practice, they can achieve results by following the teachings. Those who do not encounter them can only drift with the current. It is like someone trying to gather firewood from a river: what the hook catches can be pulled out, while what it misses floats downstream. Ordinary people are like firewood in the water: those who encounter the teachings can find their way through, while those who do not are carried along. Does this mean that the karmic force of a former life determines everything one experiences in this life? If what one experiences now is determined only by actions in a former life, there is no need to act further. If past karma is enough, there is no need to seek the teachings now. And if one’s fate has already been fixed, there is no need to rely on cultivation to change it. What you have said does not accord with the ultimate truth; your reasoning is not yet clear.”

Yu continued, “Living beings in the ten directions each have their own kind and nature; these are not caused by karmic causes from former lives. Birds give birth to birds, beasts to beasts; humans, plants, and all kinds of moving creatures likewise beget their own kind, with similar forms. Does this show that they have karmic causes and results from former lives? For example, when metal is melted, it takes on different colors; plant a particular seed, and it yields the corresponding fruit. How could things depart from their own kind and become something else? What you have said does not accord with the ultimate truth; your reasoning is not yet clear.”

Lai continued, “I have observed how living beings are: when the parents have four legs, their offspring have four legs too; when the parents can fly, their offspring can fly too. If the parents are white or black, their offspring are likewise white or black. When the parents can speak, their offspring can speak too. I have never seen a bird that can run thousands of miles like a horse. What you have said does not accord with the ultimate truth; your reasoning is not yet clear.”

Lai continued, “I have seen that fish live in water, tigers dwell in deep forests, swallows and sparrows make their homes near people, and earthworms live in burrows. Each kind has its own nature and receives its own endowment. Why would they go against their nature and eat what is unsuited to them? What you have said does not accord with the ultimate truth; your reasoning is not yet clear.”

The Mother of the Wilds said again, “I see that insects give birth to insects, oysters to oysters, flies to flies, and ants to ants. They follow their nature in feeding and sustaining life. How could the forms of their bodies change because of karma from a previous life? What you say does not accord with the highest truth. I still do not understand.”

Bu Gou said again, “I see that among living beings, those who eat meat have offspring who also eat meat, and those who eat grass have offspring who also eat grass. How could their forms change because of karma from a previous life? What you say does not accord with the highest truth. I still do not understand.”

Bu Gou continued, “I see that among living beings, those who eat meat have offspring who also eat meat; those who eat grass, offspring who also eat grass; those who eat wood, offspring who also eat wood; and those who eat earth, offspring who also eat earth. Each kind of being has its own fixed nature and temperament. They do not mix with one another or turn into another kind. What you say does not accord with the highest truth. I still do not understand.”

Du Wan said again, “I see that living beings have different natures. Some have similar forms but different names; they receive different endowments of Yin and Yang and undergo different transformations. When we use this principle to observe all things, we see that each has its own kind and temperament, and that they do not change into one another. From one case we can infer a hundred, and from one kind we can infer the myriad kinds. What you say does not accord with the highest truth. I still do not understand.”

Mu Hou said again, “I see that people rely on their country and their bodily form to preserve both the country and themselves. Those with unbound hair retain the form of those with unbound hair; those who walk sideways continue to live in the form of sideways walkers. Each is born according to its kind and reaps the karmic result appropriate to its kind. How could anyone go against their nature and inexplicably take on another form? From Heaven to Earth, there has never been a case of one kind taking on the form of another. What you say does not accord with the highest truth. I still do not understand.”

The chicken and the deer each said, “I see that among all living beings, some are square, some round, some long, and some short. What you say does not accord with the highest truth. I still do not understand.”

The chicken and the deer each said, “I see that all living beings are shaped differently: some are square, some round; some long, some short. Each receives its own nature, which determines its kind and temperament. I have never seen earth refined into gold, or a pig transformed into a dog. Like kinds give birth to like kinds, and different kinds each continue their own line. The nature each life receives does not change.

“If kinds can change, then ordinary people and all living beings must have foundations planted by the causes and conditions and blessings of their past lives. Can they really cultivate the Perfect Way? If kinds cannot change, and are fixed from birth, then everything you say is false. You are only deceiving ignorant young people and pursuing something useless.

“I would rather bear the consequences of my actions in this life, with their retribution visible here and now, than believe your false claims about causes and conditions in past lives and consequences in lives to come. Such claims will only confuse those who study after us, disrupt the state’s moral instruction, and vainly cater to changing worldly fashions. Will this let us see the spirits? If people truly act as you say, they will be cut off from the Way of long life.”

The Celestial Worthy says: All living beings differ in their circumstances and kinds. The karma accumulated in past lives shapes what one undergoes in this life; what one does in this life will shape what one undergoes in lives to come. Without causes and conditions, how could retribution arise? Without parents, how could children be born? Without Heaven and Earth, on what could the myriad things settle and grow?

It is like planting crops: without soil, they cannot grow. Flying insects cannot fly without wings. Carriages and horses cannot travel without roads, and clouds and rain also need the right conditions to form. Why do I say this? If the myriad things did not depend on one another and each existed entirely on its own, then their lifespans and fates would all be the same. If every kind were fixed and unchanging, their outcomes would also be identical. Yet children born of the same father meet with different circumstances, and children nourished by the same mother have different appearances. If there were no causes and conditions, all living beings would receive the same results; if fortune and misfortune did not differ, they would all be equally strong or weak.

According to what you say, crops could be planted in the air and fields could be tilled in flowing water; children could be conceived without fathers, and descendants born and raised without mothers. Ore can be forged into tools, bee colonies tended until they produce honey, silkworms raised until they weave brocade, and hemp grown and processed into cloth. These results are possible because there are specific conditions: forging ore, tending bees, raising silkworms, and planting hemp. The way of achievement you describe is different from my Dao.

The Dao I cultivate differs from yours, and so do our methods of cultivation. Though both are called “Dao,” the principles they follow are exactly opposite. My practice is to achieve things by relying on real causes and conditions: to cultivate emptiness while grounded in actual circumstances, to follow the Dao on the basis of what truly exists, and to act for the uses of the future without anticipating a reward while cultivating. Thus, one who understands diligence without demanding a return will naturally receive its fruits; one who understands practice without clinging to arrival will find the Dao open before them. By yielding after success, one’s achievements are in fact brought to completion; by facing blessings without claiming them, one’s blessings naturally endure.

If you hold fast to your achievements, they are no longer something you can rely on; if you cling to blessings and refuse to let them go, they will eventually be used up. Therefore, by yielding one’s achievements and relinquishing blessings, one ultimately gains both achievement and blessing. When one cultivates life after life, the fruits follow naturally from one’s actions.

Thus, the Realized Person, one who has attained the Dao, accumulates good karma over many lives without expecting a return. Even if they offer the decaying flesh of their own body to eagles and tigers, they do not expect gratitude from them; they do so only out of compassion for their hunger. Therefore, giving without seeking a return brings the natural fulfillment of good deeds; enduring hardship without demanding pleasure also gives rise to happiness. Those who understand cultivation, diligence, the accumulation of practice, and its application do not rush to demand reward on the strength of a single lifetime’s effort. This is why the methods you and I follow differ, and why our achievements and the results we undergo are also different.

Siyu, Silai, Yemu, Bugou, Duwan, Muhou, Ji, and Lu, among others, refused to believe. They said to one another, “What the Celestial Venerable says is not the true Dao. He is merely speaking recklessly about empty promises of future karmic retribution, spinning out parables to deceive the ignorant. We who cultivate the Dao do not believe such things. If we destroy our bodies for nothing, will we not have lived this life in vain? He passes off things that have not yet happened as future karmic retribution, then uses clever parables and talks of causes and conditions to confuse the Fourfold Assembly—the monks, nuns, laymen, laywomen, and other followers who cultivate the Dao—and waste their lives.” Some of them then thought of leaving. In an instant they took to the air and sped away, one after another, heading back.

At that moment, the Celestial Venerable drew in the light from the heavens, and all around them became dark. The Dao cultivators lost their way and did not know where to go. Only the space before the Celestial Venerable’s seat remained as bright as before, entirely undisturbed. They returned and drew near that patch of light, asking, “What strange thing has happened in the heavens? Why has the light suddenly vanished, leaving darkness on every side, so that travelers have lost their way? We do not know what has caused this strange event.”

The Celestial Venerable said, “What does the disappearance of the heavenly light have to do with you? You practice Daoist arts and can fly through the air; your supernatural powers are rare in this world. Could darkness really trap you or make you lose your way? I was simply explaining the karmic retribution of future events that have not yet come to pass, to enlighten the ignorant. How would I know why the light has vanished? Why not use your Dao wisdom to examine the matter and your Dao eyes to see it? Then you will naturally understand the reason.”

Yu said, “Our Daoist arts let us know only such things as the length of one’s life and how to fly. We have never encountered a principle like this. Please explain it to us, Celestial Venerable. If you can make it clear, we will know that you truly understand causes, conditions, karmic retribution, and the merits of cultivating the Dao in the future. If you cannot explain it…”

Yu said again, “Our Daoist arts let us know only such things as the length of one’s life and how to fly. We have never encountered a principle like this. Please explain it to us, Celestial Venerable. If you can explain it, we will know that you understand causes, conditions, karmic retribution, and the merits of cultivating the Dao in the future. If you cannot make it clear, we will know that what you say is false.”

The Celestial Worthy then laughed with delight. Light shone from his mouth, illuminating the ten directions, so that the pure realms of the eight regions could all be seen clearly. Everyone saw all they had experienced in the past and all the places they would go in the future. They also saw their present actions and karma, as though everything could be examined one by one. The past, future, and present circumstances and destinations of the four classes of beings were all revealed.

They saw the palaces of the immortals atop Mount Kunlun. The palace city extended four thousand li in each of its four directions, and was surrounded by twelve hundred gates, with another three thousand six hundred smaller palaces within. Its golden towers and jade halls were arranged in five cities with twelve gates. The ground was entirely paved with colored glass, while coral, silver ornaments, and pearls were linked in layer upon layer, shining with a brilliance beyond compare. They saw the Celestial Emperor governing from the center, assisted in the four directions by thirty-two Heavenly Kings.

They also saw the lofty, splendid palace pavilions at the four corners, where four Celestial Emperors each held court, with celestial dragons, ghosts, and spirits standing in attendance on either side. The wonders of Mount Kunlun were beyond counting. At that moment, the Four Yu, the Four Lai, and people of various deviant paths finally awakened. They would never again fall back from the Way and attained the Way of the Earthly Immortals—the level of immortal attainment cultivated by earthly immortals.

Then Jinglao asked, “Beings each have their own karmic conditions and kinds. Everything people do forms karmic causes through their actions, and they receive the corresponding results. People such as the Four Yu and the Four Lai once disbelieved in the orthodox Way, which is why they have now fallen into deviant paths. Yesterday, although they briefly acted on their own power, they did not follow the orthodox teachings. Having turned away from the Way, they fell into confusion and then returned. Now they still do not believe completely, yet they have not rejected it entirely. How is it that a single thought of belief has already brought them to such a high level of attainment?”

The reply was: “These twelve kinds of people who follow deviant paths all planted false and misguided causes when they first entered the Way. As a result, they encountered improper teachings, fell into confusion, and then returned. Now they still do not believe completely, yet they have not rejected it entirely. How is it that a single thought of belief has already brought them to such a high level of attainment?”

He replied, “These twelve kinds of deviant paths all arise at the beginning of cultivation from the influence of deluded and corrupting forces. A person encounters an improper teacher and receives an improper current of Qi. That current transforms into a spirit-creature and invades body and mind, leading the person onto a deviant path. It also attaches itself to the person’s consciousness, which is why the path is called deviant. Yet by practicing with sincerity just once in this life, one can draw on the merit of that practice to attain the state of an earthly immortal. The Four Yu possess deep-rooted wisdom, so in the end they can enter the realm of the Great Way and true perfection.

“Why do I say this? For those who cultivate the Way, the first resolve is crucial, but it is also vital to achieve something in the end; only then can one receive the final reward. It is like a tree bearing fruit. If frost, hail, and cold winds damage its blossoms, they will not set fruit. But when the weather is favorable the following year, the blossoms will produce plump, sweet fruit. One must wait for the right season to ripen; in the end, the harvest will come. The tree represents those who seek the Way, its blossoms represent the fruits of cultivation, and frost and hail represent deviant teachers. When a seeker is led astray by such a teacher midway through the journey, then turns to a true and upright teaching, the blossoms can return and bear fruit, and the seeker can ultimately achieve success.

“Dong Yu is a native of the Central Lands in the Eastern Sea. In his youth he cultivated the Way, aspiring to become an immortal. Midway through, he encountered a false teacher who transmitted techniques to him. He practiced them and was therefore called a counterfeit practitioner. Xi Yu is from Golden Granary in the Western Sea. In his youth he loved the Higher Way and paid no attention to managing a household. Midway through, he received the teachings of Ye Mu, learned them improperly, and practiced accordingly, becoming tainted by deviant essence. Because his practice was unsound, deviant Qi attached itself to him and polluted his consciousness. Yet he believed himself to be a true immortal, and so he was called a practitioner of a deviant path.

“Nan Lai is from Yangze in the Southern Sea. In his youth he studied Daoist arts, aspiring to positions of high rank and distinction. Midway through, he received the teachings of San Zhi, took to them, and put them into practice. Deviant Qi attached itself to him, and in the end he followed a heterodox path. Bei Lai is from Cangchi in the Northern Sea. In his youth he encountered Daoism; as an adult, he met a deviant teacher who transmitted teachings to him. He followed them in practice, believing them to be the true and upright Way, and was later called a practitioner of a deviant path.

“Ye Mu is from Changyin in the west. In his youth he cultivated the Way and sought neither worldly fame nor profit. Midway through, he encountered perverse teachings and followed them, straying from the orthodox teaching. Deviant Qi attached itself to him, and his vital essence transformed into a spirit. Anyone who takes this as a model and is influenced by it is also said to follow a deviant path. Bu Gou is from Hanchi in the north. In his youth he loved the Daoist path and did not follow worldly customs. Midway through, he encountered the teachings of a false teacher and devoted himself to practicing them. As a result, deviant Qi invaded body and mind. To take this spirit as a model and practice accordingly is also called following a deviant path. Du Wan is from Wuji in the east. In his youth he devoted himself to cultivating the Way. Midway through, he encountered the teachings of a false teacher and put them into practice, eventually falling onto a deviant path.

“These deviant methods are easy to encounter, but a true teacher is difficult to recognize. A teacher is like a Daoist practitioner’s parent and must instruct with the care given to raising a child; therefore, goodness and uprightness are especially essential. True Persons choose their teachers carefully and learn from them, and so they can become perfected. They discern the Way with care and cultivate it, and so they can attain the Way. The reason the various paths of cultivation lead into deviance is, at root, that the teacher’s instruction is not true. Blossoms struck by frost are like work done by an unskilled craftsperson; a seeker who falls into heterodoxy midway through the journey does so because their resolve is not firm.

“Those who study should first establish their resolve, then set their aspirations, and be sure to preserve sincerity. First form the intention, then apply yourself diligently, and you can reach your goal. Those who cultivate the Way must have strong resolve, firm discipline, and a steady mind. They should examine their thoughts carefully, choose a teacher and practice, work alongside good companions on the Way, and reflect repeatedly in order to improve. How could they go wrong? If they follow a wise teacher, fear no hardship, and gain something each day, how could they fall onto a deviant path?

“Cultivating the Way is not easy, and being a teacher is difficult too. Imagine a group traveling together through dangerous terrain: even thousands upon thousands may fail to reach their destination. But if one or two people can use wisdom to guide the others, courage to resist folly, and steadiness to reassure them and dispel their fear, then the bandits ahead will hold back. Everyone traveling together can pass safely, and hundreds or thousands will all benefit. It is the same for seekers of the Way who encounter a good teacher. Therefore, True Persons do not cultivate carelessly or act blindly; in the end they attain Wuwei (non-action). They know to cast aside what is harmful and preserve what is beneficial, and by this means they can attain the Way.”

Yu Xiang asked the Celestial Worthy: “From where do all things and all teachings arise? What Qi do they depend on to exist? Please explain their causes and conditions, so that all beings may know their origins.”

The Celestial Worthy replied: “All things and teachings receive the Dao’s Qi and come into being; they take shape through emptiness. Why is this so? The Dao has no fixed form, yet it can accord with Qi and transform to bring forth the myriad things. Emptiness has no boundaries or barriers; it can permeate and sustain things that have form. Without emptiness and Qi, all speech and thought would vanish and cease. Without speech and thought, the myriad things would have no way to appear. Thus the Dao’s Qi is the source from which all things arise, and emptiness is the condition that allows them to take shape.

“That is why the Dao is called the father of the myriad things, and emptiness their mother. Consider how the father belongs to Yang and the mother to Yin: when Yin and Yang unite, the child is nourished through fetal breathing, and only after ten months does it take form. Once it has a body, it is given a name and a written character, and relations between parent and child, along with ranks of precedence, are established. Without a father, where would the child come from? Without a mother, how could the fetus be nourished? Emptiness can permeate and contain the myriad things, so it is called their mother. Without the children it gives rise to, there would be no basis for speaking of emptiness as a mother. It is because the myriad things exist that emptiness’s capacity to bear them becomes apparent.

“The Dao brings the myriad things into being; De nourishes them. Their forms appear for a time, seeming to exist as real. Without children, filial devotion could not be expressed; without things that have form, emptiness could not be discerned. This is how being and nonbeing give rise to one another.

“Therefore, the realized person—the one who understands and practices the Great Dao—often cultivates emptiness, for he cherishes the mother of the myriad things. He also follows the Dao, for he honors their father. To revere the Dao and prize emptiness is to honor them and grasp the root. Why? Because our own roots come from our parents, and this root is what most deserves our respect.

“Some beings, regardless of rank, do not know what the root is. As a result, they harm themselves and sever their own source. Consider a tree: if its roots are cut, it can scarcely survive; if they are left exposed, it will wither when winter comes. Those who have lost the Great Dao are the same: like new shoots growing from a fallen tree, or a fish out of water, they may survive for a while, but their lives will not last long.

“Therefore, the realized person holds fast to the Great Dao in pursuit of lasting life. Only by sending roots deep and securing the base can one preserve vitality and a youthful appearance. In this way, one does not depart from the Great Dao or go against nature, and so can live in peace and joy.”

Yu said, “I am grateful for your teaching. I would like to ask one more question. The true essence of the Dao rests fundamentally in silence. It has no body or form and can be described only through emptiness and nothingness. Those who already dwell in blessedness and have attained the state of the Perfected: what teaching do they honor and practice? What do they take as their foundation? What thoughts and intentions give rise within them, enabling them to attain this state? Please explain it clearly, so that people in later generations may understand.”

The reply was: “Your question is important and subtle. Listen carefully, and I will explain it point by point. The utmost true Dao has no form. Only by cultivating emptiness and nothingness can one understand its essence. The highest principles cannot be fully expressed in words; only by following the path indicated in the scriptures and putting it into practice can one understand the Dao. Keep in mind the suffering of all beings. Be concerned for the world and help all living beings as widely as you can. Do good throughout the day without worrying about yourself. Help others throughout your life without clinging to your own body or interests. Hold to this intention and follow the scriptures’ guidance in practicing the Dao; a response will then arise naturally. You do not refuse or grow weary in practice, and so you receive the title ‘Great Perfection.’

“Consider boiling salt earth: once you know to add fuel and kindle the fire, after a time it will naturally change, and numinous beings will emerge throughout the pot. A person need only perform acts of compassion; happiness and good fortune will come in their own time. Why? When evil thoughts arise, harm appears in dreams; when good thoughts emerge, auspicious things appear in dreams. Thus, evil deeds bring calamity, while good deeds bring blessings. From this we can see that if you do not reckon on a reward as you act, the result will form naturally. Know to sow the seed without dwelling on the harvest, and the yield will be abundant. The Dao of true nature is the same.”

Yu asked, “If one’s thoughts are upright, one will receive a true response; if one’s thoughts are improper, the response will be false and deviant. This seems to depend entirely on one’s thoughts, making the rules and standards of a teacher unnecessary. Yet earlier you said that when the teacher is upright and true, the disciples will be proper; when the teacher is wicked, the disciples will be false. What you have said today seems different. Please explain this, so that those who do not yet understand may grasp it.”

If a master who transmits the Dao is clear-sighted, he will not leave his disciples confused or obstructed. If he is benighted, his disciples will be hindered by demonic forces. How can one study the Dao without a master? And how can someone be called good if there is no goodness in their heart? A clear-sighted master therefore acts with compassion and can put an end to extravagance and greed. Master and disciple question and learn from one another, while good companions study together. How can one learn the Shangqing tradition’s path of cultivation without a master’s guidance?

A master is like a father: without a father, where would a child come from? Without a master, how could the Dao be cultivated to completion? One should therefore respect a clear-sighted master. Such a master understands the Dao and will not teach what is mistaken. When later generations learn through an orthodox lineage, no baleful influence can disturb them; their merit and virtue reach completion, and they ultimately attain the Dao of utmost truth and Wuwei (non-action). Masters may be clear-sighted or benighted, just as people may be wise or foolish, and each follows a different path. People go in different directions after receiving instruction, just as masters and disciples imitate one another and friends influence one another.

When undyed silk is colored, it changes; the color it takes depends on the dyer. If the dye is dark, the silk darkens with it. Once a stain has taken hold, it is difficult to scrape away; glue and cloth, once bonded, are difficult to separate. The influence of demonic Qi (vital energy) on people works the same way. For example, when purple and vermilion are mixed, the vermilion eventually loses its original color. When the Zi and Mian rivers mingle for a long time, their flavors become mixed as well. Thus, those who live in a pure environment cherish purity and dislike filth, while those who live amid filth care little for beauty and cleanliness and instead grow accustomed to what is foul. People are drawn to those whose dispositions and preferences resemble their own; those they associate with influence their orientation toward the Dao, just as they shape their ideas of what is right and wrong.

A person of true strength should hold fast to honesty and simplicity, rather than choose superficiality and showiness. They should keep themselves plain and wait for a clear-sighted master’s guidance. If they pursue superficiality, they cannot receive the master’s discerning instruction. A noble person understands the value of honesty and simplicity, so stays true to their proper place, does not let themselves be casually tainted, and does not act rashly. When clarity of heart is extinguished, a person loses their way; by preserving it, they preserve the true Dao. Freely taking on the world’s demonic Qi harms body and mind, while improper conduct ruins the body. A noble person therefore holds fast to trustworthiness.

Cultivation should be clear and pure, like white snow. Great De appears humble and yielding, while holding fast to the true Dao seems like clinging to nothing. When clarity within the heart is lost, people go astray; by preserving clarity, the Daoist heart endures. If one is tainted by delusive desires and worldly ways, the body will eventually decay; if one’s conduct is improper, one’s physical form will also waste away. Therefore, a noble person should sustain themselves through fidelity.

Cultivation should be clear and pure, like white snow. Great De appears modest and unassuming; one holds fast to the true Dao without showing attachment. Work diligently, like a craftsperson devoted to their trade; guard the Great Dao as though watching out for thieves; aim at the target as an archer who fears missing the mark. When one’s cultivation and accomplishments are clear and pure, one is close to the Dao.

Do not deliberately appear easygoing, put on an air of subtlety, or pursue the mysterious and remote. Then many results will flourish of their own accord, and in the end one will attain Wuwei (non-action: refraining from contrived deeds and following nature). Why is this so? “Clear conduct” means keeping oneself pure and free of dust and grime. “Great De” means holding the Great Dao in one’s heart without disturbance or agitation. “Holding to the true” means aligning one’s will with the Dao and remaining still and steadfast. “Following the craftsperson” means working diligently according to clear principles, without making wealth and rank one’s aim. “Guarding the Dao” means staying alert, as one would against treachery and thieves, and fearing that one might stray from the right path. “Hitting the mark” means concentrating without wavering, like an archer who fears missing the target. Persist in these six practices, and you will be close to Wuwei.

Thus, the perfected person puts these six practices into effect, and six virtues gather in turn. Those who cultivate the Dao each make their own choices and hold to different things.

If the six practices are not complete, how can one attain Wuwei? If the Five Colors—blue-green, yellow, red, white, and black, broadly referring to the manifold forms perceived by the senses—cannot be left behind, how can one approach Wuwei and reach the wondrous state? When one’s cultivation falls short, it is like a sleeve that is too short to be of use. To force the practice of the Dao with fierce and courageous intent is like ice meeting boiling water: each vanishes in the encounter. Why is this so? A bird that keeps flying outside its nest has nowhere to settle in peace. To return to the Dao, one must come to emptiness, stillness, and freedom from defilement. If the turmoil of the Five Colors is not brought to an end, where can one abide in emptiness and stillness?

Therefore, the perfected person does not settle the heart amid desire and sensory turmoil, and so can truly be at rest. Only by leaving behind the pull of the Five Colors can one realize the true Dao.

A person of Dao and De does not seek to display themselves, yet they can accomplish things; they do not deliberately exert themselves, yet their influence takes effect. They do not regard themselves as exalted, yet they are naturally respected; they rely on nothing, yet they have something to depend on. What they depend on are the Three Treasures (the Dao, the scriptures, and the masters, as understood in Daoism). For this reason, the conduct of those who cultivate the Dao runs counter to worldly ways. Why? Worldly people prize greed, while those who cultivate the Dao prize integrity; worldly people glorify killing, while those who cultivate the Dao cherish life; worldly people indulge in lust, while those who cultivate the Dao value chastity and uprightness. Their actions may look similar on the surface, but their intentions and what they attain are different. Those who cultivate the Dao prize integrity, cherish life, and maintain chastity and uprightness; worldly people, by contrast, prize killing and give themselves over to lust. That is why the Dao runs counter to worldly ways.

The principles for cultivating oneself and governing a state are the same; the rules for walking a road and reaching one’s destination are also alike. Why? When cultivating oneself, one cuts off distracting thoughts, and the spirit becomes settled; when governing a state, one removes disturbances, and the state becomes peaceful. If one walks a road but cannot reach the destination, then the plans one has made cannot be carried out. Thus, the Realized Person (one who has attained the Dao) observes how a state is governed in order to cultivate themselves, and observes how things work in order to put the Great Dao into practice. They do this day after day, ultimately reaching the state of Wuwei (going along with nature without forcing action). In this way, they lessen desires and disturbances layer by layer, until they reach the Great Dao. Why? Because each day they reduce evil thoughts and increase good deeds. If a thought strays from the right way, they quickly let it go; if a troubled thought arises, they immediately dispel it. In this way, they are not burdened by such thoughts.

Great states perish and fertile fields fall into ruin because they are governed poorly. “Poorly” means failing to follow the proper principles. When fertile fields lie neglected, weeds flourish; when state affairs are thrown into disorder, the people become unsettled; when the people are unsettled, wars break out one after another, and the world cannot be at peace. That is why this is said. The people are the ruler’s foundation, and the ruler is the one whom the people honor. Without the people, the ruler has nowhere to establish themselves. So the people must not be treated with contempt, or the ruler loses their foundation; nor should the ruler be treated with contempt, or the people lose someone to honor. Neither side, then, should slight or demean the other.

One must observe how worldly affairs pass like flowing water and are difficult to preserve for long, and regard changes and transitions with care. The ruler is the one whom the people honor; without the people, the ruler has nowhere to establish themselves. Therefore, the people must not be treated with contempt, nor the ruler; neither side should slight or demean the other.

By observing how things continually pass away, we know they cannot endure forever. By examining how change and movement never cease, we know that no place offers a secure, permanent home. The wise see this clearly and can follow the Dao (the Way); the foolish cling to their errors and never awaken. The True Person—the one who has attained the Dao—understands this principle and puts it into practice, thereby reaching Wuwei (non-action, following nature without forcing things). They help others on a broad scale while putting the Dao into practice in the details of daily life, and they do not perish during their lifetime. To say that they do not perish means that their spirit endures and does not leave their body. This is the meaning of the saying that the True Person dies yet is not lost.

Straying from the right path may seem a small mistake, but entering the demonic path will not lead far. One may think one has achieved something without being able to understand it fully; one may think one understands, though the truth has not become clear. Why is this so? If someone travels alone without a guide, a person who has lost the way will fall into danger. And if someone assumes they have achieved something, understands the principles, and is eager to show it off, they will inevitably meet obstacles and demonic trials. Why? Learning without receiving instruction from a teacher leads to error and may even mislead later students. Those who wander through danger after danger will inevitably bring disaster and failure upon themselves. The True Person therefore walks along a high ridge without ever losing the way; by studying with an enlightened teacher, they avoid mistakes from beginning to end. Here, the high ridge is a metaphor for a safer path, emphasizing that a teacher’s guidance is needed in Daoist cultivation.

Therefore, those who cultivate the Dao should act with care. To teach what one does not understand is to disclose Daoist methods improperly; to teach others without having studied under a teacher invites obstruction. If illness goes untreated, its roots grow deeper and will eventually prove fatal. To remain in error without correcting it is to take a dangerous road toward certain failure. A horse galloping down a steep slope may leave many hoofprints, but it will still fall in the end. Wood forced to bend when it is too rigid will break. If crude iron is used to make a delicate tool, it will be damaged when it meets a twisted knot in the wood. Water that repeatedly batters a riverbank will eventually bore through it. Even finely stitched silk will tear when battered by the wind. A tree growing among others in a forest will eventually be damaged by its tangled branches and leaves. If the demonic path is not cast off, vital energy will melt away like snow in the heat. A sharp blade turned toward oneself will wound whoever is struck by its gleam; a clumsy person wielding an axe will inevitably injure their own hand.

Giving alms under the pressure of poverty will exhaust one’s resources and eventually bring failure. Those who are poor, weak, and destitute yet recklessly try to race onward will struggle to reach level, open ground. Crops planted on sandy mounds will struggle to survive when drought comes. When a tree has already fallen, its branches and leaves may still be lush, but if it is not cut back, it will eventually break apart on its own.

Building a house but leaving out its windows; setting up a crossbow to shoot but failing to string it; making a wooden vessel but not boring holes in it; building a boat to cross a great river but leaving out its oars—all are like trying to cultivate the right path without observing the necessary precepts and making the proper preparations.

Why is this so? Before acting, a perfected person first makes doors and windows; before drawing a crossbow to aim at a target, first secures its bowstring; before making a vessel, first prepares sharp axes and chisels; before taking a boat across the water, first fits it with oars. When all the necessary conditions are in place, nothing stands in the way of getting things done. A perfected person cultivating De (Virtue/Power) should do the same in order to achieve success.

The Dao (the Way) makes no distinction between those who are close and those who are distant; it draws near only to those who do good. The true Dao makes no distinction between noble and lowly; those who practice it receive a response. Merit is not bestowed without cause: good deeds bring a response. If cultivation does not cease, then following the right path will ultimately lead to the goal. Why is this so? Distinguishing between those who are close and distant leads to the harm of factional ties; distinguishing between noble and lowly invites harm from the powerful and privileged. Thus, a perfected person favors neither those who are close nor those who are distant, but responds equally to different people. By making no distinction between noble and lowly, they can respond to people of every status. A perfected person does not revere power or presume upon high rank, but remains inwardly composed. They do not look down on the humble, recognize what is good in everyone, and leave no one out.

They discern what is right and put the true path into practice, allowing no fault to go unnoticed. They set aside worldly desires and do not cling to them. They do not indulge in the five kinds of pleasure—the desires that can easily ensnare a person—or in various worries. They do not speak in exaggerated, empty terms, believe slander, or covet beauty and wealth. By casting aside the six kinds of wrongdoing, they can receive the six spiritual powers—the extraordinary capacities described in Daoism. With a generous heart, they nurture and widely aid all people, transforming their former circumstances. Leaving behind their old foundations and entering into present practice, they attain the utmost truth. In this way, they gain profound wisdom through the Three Clarities and Six Penetrations, and natural understanding; they occupy the highest realm and preside over the true immortals. Like a loving mother raising her children, they treat all beings equally and extend their blessings widely, so that each being receives benefits suited to its nature and circumstances.

This principle is beyond comprehension and is called the “Supreme True Dao of Emptiness and Nonbeing.”

Exaggerated speech may sound pleasing, but on close examination it cannot withstand scrutiny. Artful words may sound beautiful, but careful discernment shows they have no foundation. One may speak of possessing the Dao (the Way), yet in reality remain superficial and insubstantial; indulging in clever display only harms one’s De (Virtue/Power). In this way, the Dao becomes hidden and cannot be seen, nor will it descend upon such a person. Why? The Dao responds to what is genuine; it does not descend upon what is insubstantial. Thus, holding fast to what is real is the starting point for learning emptiness and stillness, and the foundation for attaining the true Dao.

Therefore, the perfected person—the one who has attained the Dao—speaks all day without resorting to exaggeration and acts throughout life without taking crooked or contrived paths. In this way, De comes to fulfillment without being obscured, and accomplishments become evident without being damaged, until one ultimately reaches Wuwei (non-action: refraining from contrived deeds and following what is natural).

Enlightened instruction is like the sun: it is applied without tiring. Its movement is like the tongue: it can be used without wearing away. The actions of the enlightened are like fine jade: they remain unstained by impurity. Their nature is like water: it flows without resistance. Their speech is like white snow: it can be applied without spoiling. Their words are like oil: they can be used without interruption. The admonitions of the enlightened are like the sun: their effect does not fade.