《通玄真经[注](徐灵府)》Vol. 2

Change enables people to understand how things work and no longer remain confused. Life and death are only temporary names. Once this is understood, there is no need to fear them; and though the transformations of all things may seem illusory and unreal, there is no need to be alarmed by them.

The Perfected person who has attained the Dao relies on an unshakable pillar and walks a path without obstruction. The “unbending pillar” refers to the Dao, and the “unbarred path” to De. With the Dao as their pillar, they cannot be toppled; with De as their path, everything they do accords with what is fitting. They draw upon a treasure without end, and the workings of their spirit know no bounds. They learn from a teacher who does not die, whose foundation lies in realizing what is neither born nor destroyed. Wherever they go, they find things flow smoothly; whatever they encounter, they find a way through. In every bend and stretch, every bow and lift of the head, they preserve their nature and remain undeluded, meeting fortune and misfortune with composure. Gain and loss cannot trouble them, and life and death cannot constrain them. What, then, is there to gain or lose that deserves their concern?

Those who hold fast to righteousness may be guided through benevolence, but cannot be coerced by military force; they may be set right through righteous means, but cannot be enticed by profit. Because they value righteousness, they regard profit lightly. A noble person will die for righteousness; wealth and rank cannot hold them back. They would rather practice righteousness and die than live by compromising it. Those who act for righteousness are not frightened by death, for in dying for what is right, they have already set aside concern for their own life and death. How much more so for one who practices Wuwei (non-action)? Such a person is free of entanglements and regards the world as a pillar made of shadows. The “shadow pillar” refers to emptiness: having no form, what could bind it? If even those who hold fast to righteousness cannot be intimidated by military force, how could a person of the Dao be frightened by death?

Look upward to examine how the Perfected person acts, and probe deeply into the intent of Dao and De; look downward at worldly conduct, and you will find lessons that can serve as warnings and deepen your cultivation. One who does not regard the affairs of the world as personal property—how could they take worldly doctrines as the foundation of their life? If the rulers of antiquity had all treated the world as their private possession, failing to realize the Great Dao and simply acting on their own whims, it would have been like beating a drum while hoping it would make no sound. In the end, there would be no response.

Laozi says: Honorable status and abundant wealth are things people covet, but compared with their own lives, these things are unimportant. Those who prize power value worldly titles and status while taking their own lives lightly; those who cultivate the Dao cherish themselves and regard possessions lightly.

Thus, the sage eats only to satisfy hunger and nourish the breath, and wears clothes only to cover the body and ward off cold. The sage is content with what is reasonably needed, neither coveting more nor accumulating too much. Enough to sustain oneself is sufficient; anything extra is given away.

The sage clears the eyes and does not covet the sight of external things; quiets the ears and does not crave sounds; speaks with care, keeping the mind from being led astray by distracting thoughts; sets aside cleverness and returns to simplicity and authenticity. The sage lets the spirit rest, sheds acquired habits, favors nothing and hates nothing. This is called “great openness,” a state in which nothing obstructs the way.

To remove impurity and escape entanglement, nothing is better than returning to the root. What, then, could not be accomplished? To “return to the root” means returning to one’s original state of emptiness and stillness, free from attachment. Complicated thoughts and desires become sources of impurity and entanglement. They must therefore be dispelled and cleansed one by one, so that one may return to the source and recover simplicity.

Those who understand the way of nourishing life cannot be tempted by profit; those who understand how the inner and outer correspond cannot be lured by power. Coveting profit harms life, and admiring worldly titles and status obstructs cultivation of the Dao. Neither is something a perfected person—one whose cultivation has reached a profound level—would do.

The outer realm without boundaries is vast and limitless; the inner realm without boundaries is most precious. One who understands this vastness and preciousness can go anywhere and find things flowing smoothly. When the Great Dao manifests, outwardly it has no boundary; within, it has no end. It reaches everywhere. This may be called the most precious realm.

Laozi says: Those in ancient times who understood the Dao (the Way) were skilled at regulating their emotions and nature and cultivating the heart-mind. They nurtured body and mind through calmness and kept themselves within proper bounds. They took joy in attaining the Dao and paid no heed to poverty or low status. Content with their De (Virtue/Power), they were not troubled by hardship. Once their emotions and nature were at peace, they could forget the distinctions brought by poverty and low status.

A person’s nature may be reluctant to accept certain things. Yet if desires are not excessive, then even when one cannot obtain what one seeks, one will not suffer for it. And if the heart-mind is not attached to a particular pleasure, then even without that pleasure, one will not neglect what should be done. The more desires one has, the more inadequate what one seeks will seem. Without attachment to any particular pleasure, one can be at ease wherever one goes.

Whatever does not benefit one’s nature should not be allowed to damage one’s De; whatever harms life should not be allowed to disturb the peace of body and mind. Fame and profit damage De, while craving pleasures and desires harms life. For this reason, those who have the Dao do not pursue them. They do not indulge the body and act as they please; instead, they keep to proper standards and can thus become models for all under Heaven. By exercising care and self-restraint, they can serve as examples to others.

They eat according to their appetite and dress to suit their bodies. They ask only for shelter enough to live in, and let their actions follow reason. Even if they possessed all under Heaven, they would not claim it as their own. They let all things follow their natural course and seek no private gain from them. How could such people lose their nature and life over poverty or wealth, honor or low status? To do this is to be said to have understood the Dao. Only those who have truly grasped the Dao and know contentment can have more than enough for all under Heaven without seeking profit from the myriad things. How could they indulge their desires and thereby harm, or even take, their own lives?

“Preserving clarity” means maintaining a mind that is calm and clear.

Laozi says: The Qi (vital energy) people receive from Heaven enables their ears and eyes to perceive sounds and colors, their noses and mouths to distinguish fragrance from foul odors, and their skin to sense cold and warmth. These sensations are originally the same for everyone, regardless of rank. Yet some people meet their death while others preserve their lives; some become noble persons while others become petty people. The reason lies in the different restraints and guidance each receives. People’s preferences are much alike, but the outcomes they ultimately attain vary. If they simply follow their every desire, they will be controlled by external things. People differ in their innate wisdom and folly, and their dispositions are more or less deep-rooted. Thus some become honored and others lowly, some live long and others die young; their outcomes are not the same.

Shen (spirit, the inner sovereign of a person) is the depth of wisdom. When Shen is clear, wisdom is lucid, and one can observe things without overlooking anything. Wisdom is the heart’s storehouse; when wisdom is impartial, the heart is balanced, and one acts without favoring oneself. People do not use turbid, flowing water as a mirror, but look at their reflections in clear, still water, because it is calm and pure. Turbid water cannot reflect an image; when Shen is unclear, it too cannot be settled. Only when Shen is clear and the heart is balanced can one see the true condition of things. Clarity and balance make it possible to discern human nature and the principles governing things.

Thus, those skilled in using things must understand how to draw on what seems to be “of no use.” This means that presence and absence bring one another to completion, while body and spirit preserve one another. Dust and grime cannot obscure a bright mirror; when the spirit is clear, desires and cravings cannot disturb it. Clarity keeps one from becoming clouded; stillness keeps the spirit from being misled. When the mind focuses on something, the spirit gathers there. The mind and spirit are connected, so wherever the mind turns, the spirit is present. Returning to a state of emptiness and stillness dispels agitation, allowing the breath to gather and settle within. This is the state in which the sage roams freely in the Dao (the Way): the mind is not constrained by stillness or agitation, and the spirit moves freely in clarity. Therefore, anyone who governs the world must understand human nature and the true conditions of life in order to govern well.

Guarding the True: Preserving what is genuine and one’s original nature.

Laozi says: A sage is simply someone who gives their nature and feelings a fitting place to settle. They eat according to their appetite and dress according to their body’s needs. When they exercise restraint, greedy and impure thoughts have no chance to arise. Put an end to desire, and one’s nature and feelings can unfold; eat and drink in moderation, and one’s inborn nature can be preserved.

Thus, one who can truly possess the world will never treat it as private property or deliberately manage it for personal ends. One who wins a reputation does not seek it through transgressive conduct; one whose name becomes known throughout the world does not exalt or take pride in themselves. People then gladly choose such a person and do not reject them. One who earns a good name does not do so by boasting of themselves in their community. The people respect them, yet do not feel oppressed by them.

One who truly understands the nature of life will naturally embody benevolence and righteousness. But unless one can discern that poverty and prominence each have their proper place, and understand the circumstances of people and things, one cannot speak of having the world come of its own accord or the people draw near of their own accord.

As for the state of a Perfected Person—a person who has attained the Dao—their spirit is not obscured, and their heart is not burdened by external things. They are clear and open, calm and untroubled. Power and profit cannot entice them; sights and sounds cannot confuse them; skilled debaters cannot persuade them; clever people cannot sway them; and the courageous cannot frighten them. This is the state in which a Perfected Person roams freely.

A person whose spirit is clear is neither obscured by external things nor confused by events. Even if someone has power enough to overawe princes, wealth piled like mountains, a singing voice so lovely it seems to hold back the clouds, beauty enough to overwhelm a city, eloquence like an unbroken chain, intelligence that flows without pause, or strength enough to lift a great cauldron, they still cannot take away an ordinary person’s resolve—much less that of a Perfected Person.

The source that gives life to all things does not itself come to life; the source that drives the transformation of all things does not itself change. Only what does not come to life can give life to all things; only what does not change can drive their transformations. Because it neither comes to life nor changes, it can be the source of life and transformation. Without understanding this principle, one may know the workings of Heaven and Earth and observe the sun and moon closely, speak with agility, and write with elegance, yet still be of no use in governing the world. If one does not understand the nature of life or grasp the subtle and difficult points that are hard to discern, then even if one’s presence seems to encompass the cosmos and one’s words pour forth like a river, one may appear extraordinary while remaining, in truth, decayed and useless. What, then, could one do for the world?

Therefore, a sage does not lose sight of the root to which they hold fast. They regard power and reputation lightly, and the Dao and De as precious.

Laozi said: Serenity, stillness, and tranquility are ways to nourish life; peace, joy, and empty stillness through Wuwei (non-action) are the foundations for keeping one’s Virtue (De) secure. If one cannot remain tranquil and joyful, how can one preserve the Great Dao (the Way)? When the external world does not disturb the heart, a person’s nature can rest in its proper ease. When the heart is still and does not damage its peace, Virtue can remain secure in its place. To meet the affairs of the world by means of the way of nourishing life, and to pass through life holding fast to Virtue: this is what it means to understand the Dao. When external things do not stir us, harmony within the heart arises naturally. Through cultivation and accumulation, body and mind find a place to settle, and in the end return to their natural state.

Then the blood and Qi (vital energy) will not stagnate, and the Five Viscera—the heart, liver, spleen, lungs, and kidneys in Chinese medicine—will not accumulate pent-up Qi. Neither fortune nor misfortune can throw the spirit off balance, and neither praise nor blame can stain the heart. Body and mind will be clear and open, emotions and breath will flow in harmony, and fortune, misfortune, praise, and blame will no longer disturb the heart. If the times are not right, who can accomplish anything? Even a talented person born at the wrong time cannot escape hardship; how much less can one who lacks moral cultivation? When ruler and minister meet in mutual understanding, their response is like that of clouds and dragons. An extraordinary ruler and an extraordinary minister coming together is a rare encounter, scarcely seen once in a thousand years. If one has the talent to govern the affairs of the world but happens to live in a disordered age, one should rein in one’s ambitions, withdraw from public office, and stop seeking fame and achievement. Thus, after helping King Goujian of Yue achieve victory, Wen Zhong was killed, while Fan Li, whose courtesy name was Shaobo, departed by boat. The difference between the worthy and the unworthy is made plain in this way.

The eyes may discern the tips of the finest hairs on an animal in autumn, yet the ears may fail to hear a thunderous crash. When the ears attend closely to sounds as beautiful as gold and jade, the eyes may fail to see Mount Tai. A person absorbed in small matters may forget great ones; when intent on looking, one may neglect listening, and when intent on listening, one may neglect looking. The sound of thunder is not faint, yet someone who cannot hear it is not necessarily deaf. Mount Tai is not small, yet someone who cannot see it is not necessarily blind. This is because the heart cannot attend to two things at once, and the mind cannot readily serve several purposes at the same time. Therefore, many people see a gain and forget the Dao, pursuing external things while forgetting themselves.

Now things arrive one after another, consuming people’s lives and draining their vital essence, like a spring that continually flows away. Even if we wish to avoid their influence, how can we manage it? The pleasures of sound and color, the delights of flavor, and music as precious as gold and jade can confuse our nature and obscure our spirit. These enticements reinforce one another and gradually gather into a deep abyss. Unless one is a Perfected One (Zhiren), whose Virtue is profound and who has risen beyond ordinary people, how could one spread one’s wings, soar into the sky, and cross the sea of wisdom?

If a basin of water is left clear, after a day it can reflect even the eyebrows and eyelashes. But if the water is stirred, a single motion is enough to make it impossible to see shapes as simple as a circle or a square. The human spirit is like water in a basin: difficult to clarify, yet easily muddied. Ordinary people’s nature is readily stained by worldly influences. Knowing that the human heart is easily tainted, one should all the more hold fast to the right path, even when it is difficult to follow. Water is not easily clarified in a vessel; understanding how difficult it is to clarify one’s nature, one should keep away from things that readily cloud the spirit.

Laozi says: The highest sage models himself on the Dao of Heaven, following things as they naturally are and refraining from forced action. The ruler of the next rank esteems the worthy and governs through example and instruction. A ruler of a lower rank leaves affairs of state to his ministers. To depend entirely on ministers is a path toward peril: power falls into others’ hands, and the state may face crisis at any moment.

Esteeming the worthy can also become a source of delusion. When a ruler promotes worthy people without restraint, ministers may deliberately alter their nature and pretend to be virtuous and capable. Such pretense is not genuine and can lead people into confusion.

To model oneself on the Dao of Heaven is to follow the patterns by which Heaven and Earth operate. Governing the world, too, means accommodating the growth and activity of all things under Heaven. Emptiness and stillness should be the foundation: an open mind does not cling to things, while a quiet heart can hold fast to all things. By maintaining stillness and purity, one can sustain the world and become master of all things.

Only by understanding the Dao of emptiness and stillness can one govern affairs well from beginning to end. Thus the sage governs through stillness, while reckless action brings disorder. When the heart is still, the mind and spirit are not disturbed; when one can govern oneself, all things remain in order. Hence it is said: “Do not stir things up or entangle them, and all things will naturally become clear. Do not startle them or throw them into confusion, and all things will naturally find their proper order.” This is the Dao of Heaven. Here, “stirring” means disturbing things and acting recklessly; “startling” means causing them to fall into disorder. If the people are governed in this way, they and all things can each rest in their proper place.

Laozi says: The Son of Heaven and the lords of the nobility regard the realm or their state as their own household, and all things as their possessions. To possess the vast realm and its countless things can easily make people feel powerful and grow arrogant in their ambitions. Those who rely on their strength may flourish for a time, but in the end they perish. Those who remain mindful of the dangers they face can preserve themselves even in peril. When a great state uses force to seize from a small state, or when a small state’s ruler acts arrogantly and mistreats his subordinates, disaster will follow. Those who rely on power will perish, and those who bully their subordinates will also be brought down. Extravagant thoughts and boundless desires are like fierce winds and driving rain: they cannot last. So one must understand that power cannot be relied upon, and violence cannot endure.

Therefore, the sage uses the Dao to bring stability to the realm and holds fast to the One, the fundamental principle of the Dao. The sage follows what is natural, does not force things, and does not damage the inner Qi of harmony. Only the sage understands that violence cannot endure, and so uses De to bring stability to the realm. By refusing to cling to likes and dislikes in dealing with others, the sage does not disturb the harmony, and peace may be achieved. The sage values what is subtle, holds to softness, yields rather than claiming possession, and does not flaunt power. The sage takes the rivers and seas as a model: they do not act deliberately, yet their accomplishments and renown arise of themselves. By not forcing anything, the sage can accomplish the work of a ruler. This means that a wise ruler does not claim credit for achievements, and the people are naturally transformed by his teaching; he has De but does not dominate the myriad things, and they naturally turn toward him.

The sage dwells in the soft and lowly position in the realm, and so the spirit endures. What is called divine insight remains clear even when it sinks into the Nine Depths, the dark recesses beneath the earth, and does not become conspicuous when it rises to the Three Pure Ones, the lofty heavens of Daoist teaching. Its source lies in what has no beginning—how, then, could it have an end?

By cherishing oneself, one can attain one’s own dignity. The authority to rule a state of ten thousand chariots, and the responsibility for making one’s achievements and renown through all things, are weighty indeed. One must therefore not take oneself lightly; if one does, one’s accomplishments and reputation cannot be realized. The sage values all things. To treat them lightly is to treat oneself lightly; to treat oneself lightly is also to treat the realm lightly. If the realm is treated lightly, the myriad things will not turn toward the ruler.

The Great Dao brings the vast into being from the minute and grasps the root among the many things. Though things are numerous, the One remains their root. Thus the sage governs the realm through the Dao. Softness and subtlety mean seeing what is minute; frugality and restraint mean seeing what is few. Seeing what is subtle makes it possible to accomplish the great; seeing what is few makes it possible to achieve what is good and beautiful. A ruler who does not slight the people of small states can accomplish great undertakings. One who cultivates oneself without neglecting even the slightest benefit of good conduct can accumulate De.

The Way of Heaven restrains what is high and supports what is low; it reduces what is excessive and replenishes what is insufficient. The Way of Heaven does not favor fullness, but benefits the humble. The rivers and seas lie low, and so all the waters of the realm flow toward them. The sage is humble, quiet, and yielding, and so gathers goodness. The rivers and seas are vast because they are skilled at receiving; the sage is honored because he yields. To be open and not self-satisfied is to know that one is lacking. Only by dwelling low can one reach the heights; only by knowing one’s deficiencies can one become virtuous.

Those who are self-important cannot stand for long; those who are extravagant cannot endure; those who strive to prevail through force will ultimately be defeated. Only by holding to emptiness, quiet, and softness can one endure. Boasting, extravagance, and indulgence bring swift ruin. Fierce winds and driving rain do not last a whole day; a small valley cannot be filled in an instant. The winds and rain carry a forceful, violent momentum, and so cannot last. A small valley lies in a powerful position and is easily struck by floodwaters. Therefore, the sage holds to softness and humility, casts aside extravagance and pride, and does not act with force. By holding to softness, one can accomplish strength; by avoiding extravagance and pride, one can endure. A person who is neither arrogant nor extravagant, and holds to softness and humility, can gather the heroes and become their leader, even if endowed with heroic talent.

Laozi says: When the Way of Heaven reaches its extreme, it turns back; when it reaches fullness, it begins to diminish. The movements of the sun and moon follow this pattern. Therefore, each day the sage lessens desire, keeping the heart empty and still, and never daring to become complacent. Each day, through gentleness, humility, and deference, the sage cultivates virtue. In this way, merit and virtue do not decline. Such is the law of the Way of Heaven.

The Way of Heaven abhors fullness and favors humility. Tang Yao and Yu Shun therefore followed the Way of Heaven and became people of lofty virtue. The Way of Heaven abhors violence and warns against arrogance. Xia Jie and Shang Zhou therefore scorned the Way of Heaven and ultimately met their downfall. People generally prefer high positions to low ones, gain to loss, benefit to illness, and honor to low status. The masses act according to these desires, and so find it difficult to achieve anything; clinging to them, they also find it difficult to gain anything of real worth.

The sage therefore follows the Way of Heaven: without acting recklessly, the sage accomplishes things; without clinging, the sage gains what is needed. The masses follow worldly conventions, favoring high rank and prominence and disdaining low status. They strive single-mindedly for nobility, yet cannot make themselves truly noble. The sage follows the Way of Heaven, neither coveting honor nor rejecting lowliness. Thus, without striving for honor, the sage is naturally respected; without striving for eminence, the sage is naturally wise. The sage shares the feelings common to all, yet follows a different way of acting, and so endures. The sage draws in the light and blends with the world.

For this reason, the Three Sovereigns and Five Emperors each kept a vessel for admonition called the youzhi, a wine vessel that reminded people not to become complacent. When water is poured in only to the proper level, the vessel stands upright; once it is full, it tips over. This vessel still exists today, preserving the lesson against fullness. From this we can understand that emptiness, stillness, and humility preserve us, while fullness cannot last.

When all things flourish to their peak, they decline. At noon the sun begins to move westward; after the moon is full, it wanes; and when joy ends, sorrow often follows. The Way of Heaven has fullness and decline, and human affairs, too, have flourishing and decay. Some things begin auspiciously but end in danger; others begin in happiness and later fall into sorrow.

Therefore, those who are clever and wise should hold fast to plainness and simplicity; otherwise, relying on their intelligence, they will become excessively discerning. Those who are widely learned and skilled in debate should restrain themselves through simplicity; otherwise, arguing without limit will harm the right way. Those who possess strength and are brave and resolute should keep themselves in check through reverence; otherwise, relying on their strength will make them rash. Those who are rich, honored, and powerful should restrain themselves through humility and deference; otherwise, pride and self-importance will bring many regrets. Those who extend their kindness throughout the world, too, should understand the value of yielding. These five forms of cultivation were principles by which the sage kings of antiquity held fast to the world.

Those who follow this principle do not seek fullness. Precisely because they do not seek fullness, the old is not hastily replaced, nor does the new continually multiply as a result. Carefully preserve a plain and humble state, and do not let the desire for fullness rule you. Practice this Way, and you can preserve the world; how much more, then, can you preserve yourself?

Laozi says: The sage closes away with the Yin and opens with the Yang. When it is right to remain hidden, the sage stays hidden; when it is right to appear, the sage appears. Only by not letting oneself become full can one avoid becoming like something worn out and difficult to renew. Carefully hold fast to simplicity and a state of not seeking fullness. Following this Dao can preserve all under Heaven—how much more, then, can it preserve oneself?

Laozi says: The sage closes away with the Yin and opens with the Yang; when it is right to remain hidden, the sage stays hidden, and when it is right to appear, the sage appears. If a person can reach a state in which they are not attached to pleasure, then nothing can fail to bring them joy. When nothing can fail to bring them joy, they have reached the greatest happiness. This is to meet external things with joy that arises within, rather than relying on external things to please the heart. In this way one can find contentment in oneself and remain steadfast in one’s purpose. The sage values all under Heaven because the sage follows the circumstances of the world and grasps the essentials of governing it.

The greatest happiness does not lie in the sounds of music, the playing of instruments, or beautiful women. It lies in stillness and emptiness, clarity and calm, and in taking Wuwei (non-action) and freedom from desire as one’s joy. To meet external things with joy that arises within is to share one’s happiness with others and to accord with the Dao of nature. Relying on external things for happiness means using pleasure to gratify oneself, which instead harms oneself. One should therefore follow the nature of things and allow each person to find joy in their own way. This is an essential principle of governing all under Heaven. Happiness does not lie in external things or in other people, but in one’s own heart. When one has cultivated oneself, all things can find their proper place. Seeking outwardly leads one away from the Dao; cultivating oneself inwardly brings one closer to De (Virtue/Power).

Those who understand the way of inner cultivation put their preferences, desires, likes, and dislikes outside themselves, and so are not led by anger or joy, pleasure or pain. They see all things returning to a mysterious sameness and do not cling to right and wrong. When the heart is clear through cultivation, De can take root. If both pain and pleasure can be set aside, where can love and hatred attach themselves? Things have no fundamental differences and naturally return to mysterious sameness.

A man of learning should hold firm to his principles; a woman should keep to an unchanging integrity. A man who has the Dao cannot be shaken by all manner of falsehood; a woman who preserves her chastity cannot be swayed from her integrity even by a thousand pieces of gold. They are respected without relying on power and wealthy without relying on possessions; they possess inner strength without relying on force. They do not covet wealth or worldly fame, nor do they feel secure because of high rank or endangered because of low status. Their body, spirit, vital energy, and intention each rest in their proper place. When they honor the Dao and enrich De, look lightly on power and let go of profit, their purpose remains clear and body and spirit come into harmony.

The body is the place where life resides, Qi (vital energy) is the root of life, and Shen (spirit)—the power that governs mental activity—is the master of life. If any one of these three loses its proper place, the others are harmed as well. The three referred to here are body, spirit, and Qi. Once spirit disperses, the body and its vital energy also decline. If any one of the three loses its support, what can the other two rely on?

Thus, when Shen is the master, the body benefits; when bodily pleasure is the master, spirit is harmed. To cultivate Shen, one should preserve the root through emptiness and stillness, allowing the spirit to function and Qi to become abundant. If one attends only to bodily desires, one will be harmed by desire: the body will decline, and spirit will depart.

Those who are greedy and full of desire become absorbed in power and profit, pursuing fame and status and believing that their intelligence and high position set them above others. Their spirit is gradually depleted, and they sink into this condition with no way back. Once the body’s inner workings are blocked, they can never be restored; such people are therefore often troubled by confusion, forgetfulness, and loss of self. Spirit is difficult to control, while power and fame readily mislead people. The heart should therefore be kept within bounds, and the gate of desire should not be left open. Even if one fears that this may hinder one’s dealings with the world, one must not let desire run unchecked; otherwise, the harm will be difficult to repair for the rest of one’s life.

A person’s spirit and purpose grow fuller and stronger in stillness, but are gradually depleted and worn down by agitation. Stillness restores vitality; agitation damages life. The sage therefore preserves the spirit, keeps the breath calm and gentle, and lets the body remain steady and at ease, advancing and withdrawing in accord with the movement of the Dao. In this way, the sage can respond to the transformations of all things and meet every circumstance. With spirit and Qi at peace, purpose firm, and the body at ease, the sage can follow the Dao, adapt to changing times, and face anything that arises.

Laozi says that the so-called “True Person” is one whose original nature accords with the Dao (the Way). Though possessing things, he is as if he possessed nothing; inwardly full, he shows no self-satisfaction. He cultivates his inner life without deliberately managing his outward appearance. Understanding the state of natural simplicity, he returns to simplicity through Wuwei (non-action). He perceives the root and embraces the spirit, wandering at the source of Heaven and Earth, transcending the world of dust and roaming freely in the realm of non-action and non-involvement. To live by what is true and return to simplicity is to wander at the source of Heaven and Earth; to act without action and remain free of affairs is to roam beyond the turmoil of the world.

He gives no thought to clever schemes or cunning, and discerns what is true and false in things without being shaken by their changes. Once his true nature is manifest, external things can no longer alter it. Amid change, he holds fast to the root; his attention is turned inward, and he regards good and ill fortune as one. By keeping to the root without changing, he faces change without doubt. He can naturally take gains and losses, good and ill fortune lightly; how could they still entangle him?

At rest, he clings to no particular thing he intends to do; in action, he decides in advance on no destination. He is tranquil and free of fixed intention. He understands without deliberate study, perceives without looking, accomplishes without contriving, and responds aptly without relying on governance or arrangement. This is “knowing without knowledge, seeing without looking”: true knowing comes from not clinging to human-made knowledge and judgments, while believing oneself to know everything is delusion. When something calls forth a response, he responds; when moved, he acts. He sets out only when there is no alternative, moving as swiftly as light, flowing on without lingering. In stillness, he is like a shadow that follows its form: settled, and in accord with what is natural.

Taking the Dao as his guide, he responds to things and acts spontaneously. His mind is open and unconstrained, quiet and free of deliberate action. Outwardly, he seems empty and alone, as though waiting for something; he also seems to drift without attachment, yet has no fixed intention. He regards the thousand forms of life as one transformation and their myriad differences as sharing a single source. Living beings take different forms, yet all are caught up in change; things have countless appearances, yet all arise from emptiness.

Within him, vital energy is present but not deliberately driven; spirit is present but not arbitrarily expended. He keeps his mind clear and is not made a servant of affairs. Holding fast to uncarved simplicity, he stands grounded in a pure nature and nurtures his true nature and spirit. He sleeps without dreams because he has severed all delusive thoughts. His wisdom does not stir recklessly because he has no needless anxieties. His actions leave no trace because their mysterious workings are subtle. In stillness, he does not cling to bodily form: though present, he seems absent; though alive, he seems dead.

The phrase “going in and out without obstruction, commanding ghosts and spirits” refers to the spirit reaching a state of communion with the Dao. The commentary explains further that this state comes from forgetting the body and senses and setting aside discriminating cleverness, allowing the spirit to flow freely without losing its root. “Origin” refers to vital energy. There is no break between day and night; the heart continually nourishes all things with the gentle warmth of spring and is not carried away by external changes. This does not depend on any other technique; it comes from the heart being in accord with the Dao.

The body perishes, but the spirit does not change along with it. The body seems to return to nothing, while the spirit is not confined to any fixed form. Responding to the myriad changes without changing oneself, one can undergo a thousand transformations without end. It is precisely by holding to what does not change that one can respond to change; thus one can appear and disappear without limit and transform without end.

What changes eventually returns to formlessness. That which does not lose its root amid change exists together with Heaven and Earth. Therefore, what gives rise to life without end does not cling to any single birth; all things undergo only the flow of generation and transformation, and change itself has no fixed, unchanging form. All things are subject to generation and transformation and must pass through birth, death, and change. Heaven and Earth, by contrast, are not bound to any particular process of generation and transformation, and can therefore generate and transform eternally without end. This is the realm in which the “True Person” wanders, and the pure, subtle Dao. The commentary says that the True Person wanders beyond birth and death, carried by pure and subtle vital energy.

In the Fuyan, “fu” means to accord with or fit together, while “yan” means principle. Thus, to use language to accord with subtle principles, and then, after grasping the mysteries of the Dao, to avoid becoming bound by words—this may be called a profound state.

Laozi says: The Dao is so high that nothing is higher, and so deep that nothing is deeper. It is in the highest place and in the lowest, and so it can be both high and deep, above and below. It is level like a level and straight like a line snapped with an ink cord, yet it does not depend on either tool to appear level or straight. There is nowhere it is not level, nowhere it is not true. It is like a circle drawn with a compass or a square made with a set square, yet it is not confined by circular or square forms. It makes the circle round without having any fixed roundness of its own; it makes the square square without having any fixed squareness of its own. It encompasses Heaven and Earth, with no distinction between inside and outside. It is so vast that there is nothing beyond it, and so minute that there is nothing within it. It runs through and covers all things, meeting no obstruction. It is all-embracing and vast, without bounds; it reaches everywhere without hindrance or stagnation.

Therefore, one who has realized the Great Dao is neither angered nor delighted by external things. Sitting in stillness, the mind holds no worries; in sleep, one is not troubled by dreams. When things are seen, one can name them aptly; when events arise, one responds in accordance with their course. The commentary says that these points have already been explained above.

Laozi also says: Those who seek to claim a reputation will inevitably stir up trouble. Once trouble arises, they abandon the public good and pursue private gain. Those who want to take charge and seek a reputation will inevitably bring about difficulties; once difficulties arise, harmony becomes hard to maintain. They should therefore set reputation aside and return to harmony. Turning away from the Dao and acting as one pleases, they see praise and take themselves to be virtuous; they establish a name for themselves and take themselves to be worthy. The commentary says: “Bei” is synonymous with “turning away.”

Laozi says: Those who seek to possess fame are bound to create many troubles. Once troubles arise, they abandon the public good and pursue private gain. Those who seek to command and wield power in order to gain a reputation will also stir up trouble; when troubles multiply, harmony among people becomes difficult. Therefore, abandon fame and return to peace.

Turning away from the Dao (the Way) and acting recklessly, they dress themselves up as good people simply to win praise, and establish reputations to make themselves appear wise. “Bei” means “to turn one’s back on.” Seeking praise by going against the Dao is not heartfelt joy; seeking a reputation by catering to worldly tastes is not true wisdom.

If governance does not accord with how things are, it will invite many criticisms; if action does not accord with the times, it will be difficult to achieve results. By acting in accord with how things are, one can accomplish great things with little effort. By acting in accord with the times, one may expend great effort yet achieve little. Acting recklessly just to reach a goal cannot make up for one’s faults even when successful; failure, however, may bring the penalty of death. Those who pursue renown, rush to establish achievements, and seek only to please the ruler of the day may fail to benefit the people through their accomplishments, while their failures can already bring disaster upon themselves.

Laozi says: Do not treat fame as something to possess, strategy as a storehouse on which to rely, affairs as burdens you must shoulder, or cleverness as something that rules over you. Hide yourself in a state of having nothing to do. Those who rush to seek praise and establish achievements in order to please the ruler of the day may fail to benefit the people through their accomplishments, while their failures may bring disaster upon themselves.

Laozi says: Do not place yourself where everyone’s eyes are upon you. Do not make yourself the center of plans, take charge of affairs, or presume to rule by your own wisdom. Conceal yourself from view, yet act without slackening. Do not put yourself ahead of good fortune or become the source of disaster. When you act without taking the lead, you leave no trace; leaving no trace means you will not invite others to compete for good fortune or usher it in. Take the initiative, then respond in accordance with how circumstances unfold, and you will not slacken. If you do not slacken, you will not bring disaster upon yourself later.

Begin work before its traces have appeared, and act only when circumstances make it necessary. If you want good fortune, first avoid disaster; if you want gain, first keep clear of harm. By governing matters before their signs emerge, you can bring about good fortune. By abandoning the pursuit of gains that defy what is natural, you can avoid harm.

Thus, one who finds peace through Wuwei (non-action) will fall into danger if they lose the foundation of that peace. One who governs through Wuwei will fall into disorder if they lose the foundation of their governance. To lose the foundation of peace is to abandon peace of mind and seek peace outside oneself; this leads to distress. To lose the foundation of governance is to neglect one’s own cultivation and think only of governing others; this leads to confusion.

Therefore, do not seek to shine like jade or stand out like stone. Jade and stone are ranked as precious and common, and from this distinction rivalry arises. The beautifully patterned hide of an animal will eventually be stripped away; an animal with splendid horns may eventually be killed because of them. Sweet springs will in time run dry, and straight trees will eventually be cut down. When things possess beauty, they are more likely to suffer harm; people who ceaselessly pursue fame are likewise liable to invite disaster.

Flowery speech may later become a fault: one may first win praise through ornate words, only to bring disaster upon oneself through them later. When fine jade is found in a mountain, the mountain is excavated; when people speak carelessly, they invite trouble. The troubles of ordinary people often begin with words. Even the noble person takes this as a warning and keeps their mouth firmly shut. How, then, could petty people who speak at will avoid inviting disaster?

Laozi says: When times and circumstances change, people should act in accord with them. Those who do not understand the Dao, however, turn good fortune into calamity. People follow the current of the times without understanding its principles, and often bring about their own ruin through good fortune. Sages govern worldly affairs and put the principles of the Dao into practice by first discerning what may endure and what may decline, and weighing gains and losses in advance. Thus, they can advance or withdraw with ease without being confined to a single course. They are neither alarmed by favor nor dismayed by disgrace, and in the end preserve themselves and avoid danger.

Those who are ignorant of the principles of the Dao often use good fortune to flaunt their power. When good fortune reaches its height, calamity follows. This is not because good fortune and calamity overturn one another, but because one’s actions and their application have gone beyond what is fitting. Heaven and Earth are like a canopy and a carriage: Heaven arches above, while Earth bears all things. Those skilled in applying the Dao act without limit and do not invite harm. Heaven, as a canopy, stretches over a boundless expanse yet allows each thing to find its proper place. Earth, as a carriage, bears and carries things without end, yet harms none of them.

The Five Phases—Metal, Wood, Water, Fire, and Earth—act upon one another and necessarily restrain one another, as when Metal and Fire contend. The Qi of Yin and Yang also alternates in its movement. Thus, all things beneath Heaven’s canopy each have a place suited to them. To recognize what one does not know is wisdom; to claim knowledge while knowing that one does not know is a failing. It is good to know that one does not know everything; to lack understanding yet feign wisdom is a failing.

Laozi said: Gold forms within mountains and jade within stone, and they wear one another away. Trees give rise to worms and are then eaten away by them. People set all kinds of things in motion, only to be harmed by them in the end. When fame flourishes, the Dao declines; when disputes arise, calamity follows. Those who delight in stirring things up cannot avoid setbacks, and those who compete for profit cannot avoid falling into hardship. Anyone who crosses water will get their feet wet; anyone amid dust will soil their clothes. Skilled swimmers drown, and skilled riders fall from their horses. In each case, becoming absorbed in what one loves brings calamity in its wake. Boasting of one’s abilities undermines one’s achievements; forcing one’s strength endangers oneself. The key is to grasp the right moment, not to compete for gain. Governance should follow the Dao, not rely on one’s own claims to sage wisdom. When the time is ripe, results come naturally; there is no need to force them. The Dao prizes quietly maintaining its dignity. Why boast of being wise?

Land lies low and does not contend for height, so it is stable and free from danger. Water flows toward low places and does not contend in speed, so it keeps flowing without delay. What the Dao values and De esteems is to rise naturally without contention, and to move swiftly without haste. Thus, the sage clings to nothing and so loses nothing; acts without presumption and so ruins nothing. The Dao has no form and cannot be grasped; insist on holding it, and you will lose it. Nor is the Dao a thing that can be carved: force your way into action, and failure comes easily.

Laozi said: “One saying can express boundless principles; two sayings can become a standard for all under Heaven; three sayings can make a person a leader among the feudal lords; four sayings can make a person unrivaled in the world.” Hold fast to trustworthiness, and trust without limit can be won. Follow virtue, and you can become a model for all under Heaven. Appoint capable and virtuous people, and you can become a leader among the feudal lords. Abhor the wrongdoing of a few and care for the many, and you can become unrivaled in the world.

Laozi said: “One saying can express boundless principles; two sayings can become a standard for all under Heaven; three sayings can make a person a leader among the feudal lords; four sayings can make a person unrivaled in the world.” Hold fast to trustworthiness, and trust without limit can be won. Follow virtue, and you can become a model for all under Heaven. Appoint virtuous people, and you can become a leader among the feudal lords. Abhor the wrongdoing of a few and care for the many, and you can become unrivaled in the world. If you can put all four principles into practice, you can occupy the emperor’s throne. Even by putting just one of them into practice, you can wield power from a lower position or assist a ruler.

Laozi said: There are three kinds of death, and they are not all ordained by fate; people bring them upon themselves. When a person eats without restraint and treats their own body carelessly, illness takes their life. When the pursuit of pleasure has no limit and desires are never satisfied, punishments can take their life. When a few oppose the many, or the weak bully the strong, war can take their life. Thus, life and death are connected to one’s own actions. Misfortune and good fortune do not arrive from nowhere; they are, in fact, mostly caused by what people do.

Laozi said: When you give generously, the return is often abundant; when you incur deep resentment, the troubles you invite are often severe. There has never been a case of giving little while expecting a great return, or harboring resentment without fearing the trouble it may bring.

Laozi said: Examine what was done in the past, and you can understand the sources of today’s good fortune and misfortune. Great merit brings a generous reward; deep resentment brings great trouble. The kindness or resentment a person leaves behind often leads to consequences of corresponding weight.

Laozi said: By examining the workings of fate, bringing the heart-mind into order, setting likes and dislikes straight, and keeping one’s feelings and nature in due measure, one can understand the way of governance. Examining fate keeps one from being confused by good fortune and misfortune. Bringing the heart-mind into order keeps one from giving way to anger or delight. Setting likes and dislikes straight keeps one from coveting useless things. Keeping one’s feelings and nature in due measure means not allowing desires to become excessive. In this way, whether acting or still, one can follow what is right; rewards and punishments remain impartial; desires are not allowed to harm one’s nature; and one learns to restrain desire, preserve life, and be content. None of these four things need be sought outside oneself or depend on others: they can all be achieved through self-examination. To understand these four points is to be called discerning; one need not rely on others, but only examine oneself.

Laozi said: There is no need to look outside for someone to blame, or to depend on others. Turn inward and examine yourself, and you can gain something. To understand the four points just described is to be called discerning. There is no need to rely on others; one need only examine oneself.

Laozi says: Do nothing that would give others cause to reproach you, and do not resent them for reproaching you. If you do nothing deceitful, what reason would others have to criticize you? If you hold kindness and forgiveness in your heart, you will not blame others either. Cultivate virtue worthy of praise, but do not seek praise from others. Cultivating your own virtue without seeking others’ approval still cannot guarantee that misfortune will not come. And believing you have brought no misfortune upon yourself cannot guarantee that good fortune will arrive, because good fortune cannot be gained by competing for it.

Unexpected calamities cannot be guarded against: fate is beyond human control, and cannot be summoned by force. When good fortune destined to come arrives, accept it. Misfortune is not something you have caused, so do not grieve when you find yourself in difficulty. Good fortune is not something you have achieved, so do not become complacent when things go well. If you did not bring misfortune upon yourself, what is there to worry about even when it strikes? If you did not bring good fortune to yourself, what is there to rely on even when you enjoy it? So remain at ease and content, manage affairs through Wuwei (non-action), and be calm, untroubled, and free.

Laozi says: Keep to what you already have, and do not pursue what you have yet to obtain. Even if you enjoy good fortune, what is there to rely on? So remain at ease and content, manage affairs through Wuwei (non-action), and be calm, untroubled, and free.

Laozi says: “The Dao lies in holding fast to what one already possesses, rather than pursuing what one has yet to obtain. Pursuing what is not yet attained can cause one to lose what one already has. Follow the duties that are already yours, and what you desire will come of its own accord. What is already yours is your own spirit; what is not yet yours is the array of arts and techniques. Today, people abandon their own spirit and instead seek arts they have not yet attained. Before they can obtain those arts, they have already forgotten what they possessed. If they do not hold fast to single-mindedness, the root of attaining the Dao, they are bound to regret ending up empty-handed on both counts. Thus, the perfected person—one of deep virtue who embodies the Dao—holds fast to the root and does not chase after the branches. They value what they have gained within and use it to respond to external things.

If governance is not yet secure but one rushes to pursue peace and stability, the situation will surely become dangerous. If one’s conduct is not yet free of fault but one hastens to seek renown, one will inevitably suffer a setback. Only when the foundations are firm can the state be at peace; only when one’s conduct is complete can one avoid disgrace. Therefore, no blessing is greater than being free of calamity, and no gain is greater than suffering no loss. To be free of calamity is itself a profound blessing; to suffer no loss is itself the greatest gain.

At times, things appear to bring benefit but in fact cause harm; at other times, a seeming loss turns out to bring benefit. Only in the absence of calamity is there no true loss or gain. One cannot use profit to entice people to pursue success, but one can help them settle their spirit and avoid harm. The Dao cannot be dangled as a prize of profit: when one does not covet gain, one escapes the calamity that covetousness brings; the spirit naturally settles, and the Dao naturally becomes manifest. Therefore, one should grow accustomed to being free of calamity rather than coveting blessings; be at ease with being free of blame rather than hastening to establish a name through meritorious deeds. When there are neither calamity nor blessing, neither blame nor merit, this is called “great pervasion”—being joined with the Dao and moving freely without obstruction.

The Dao is vast and deep, difficult to discern. It follows Heaven’s power and shares Heaven’s Qi, without thought or advance planning. To call the Dao obscure is to say that it is remote and subtle, impossible to see directly. If people simply model themselves on Heaven’s emptiness and stillness, live by Wuwei (non-action), and take freedom from reckless thought as their guiding principle, things will come to completion of their own accord. Without exertion, all things will gather.

One does not make a point of welcoming those who arrive, nor hold back those who depart, but lets them come and go naturally. Though a person may be situated in any direction, east or west, north or south, the mind can remain independently centered. The body responds without limit as things change, while the Dao dwells at the center and moves naturally. Thus, even amid confusion, one does not lose one’s integrity; by yielding and adapting, one can instead preserve oneself and achieve greatness.

The Dao flows together with all under Heaven, yet does not leave its own domain. The primordial Qi moves without ceasing, and true Jing (essence) remains ever-present. One neither makes a show of goodness nor deliberately avoids what is ugly and evil, but follows the Way of Heaven. One does not act on private will or cling to personal views, but follows the principles of Heaven. One neither plans in advance nor lets opportunities slip away, but responds to the timing of Heaven. One neither forces oneself to obtain what one wants nor refuses one’s share of blessing, but follows the laws of nature.

Heaven has no private interests and speaks no words, yet through it all things and people grow. When people practice Wuwei and refrain from reckless plotting, all manner of affairs can be brought to completion. If the mind does not seek extraordinary blessings and one’s conduct does not invite strange calamities, calamity and blessing will no longer give rise to one another. Who, then, could come and harm you?

A person of highest De (Virtue/Power) speaks and acts as one, and their deeds accord with blessing and virtue. Those above and below are of one mind, and they do not stray onto divergent paths. Such a person corrects biased views and turns people away from crooked ways, points out the right path, and guides them toward goodness; the people will then move in the right direction. Partial views are not enough to teach and transform the world. Only by upholding the upright Great Dao can one guide the people.

Laozi said: “Good conduct should be encouraged, and what is not good should be examined. Encouragement helps people understand the responsibilities they must take on. If someone strays onto a crooked path, those who see it should guide them away from wrongdoing and toward the right path. Only then will the people act in the right direction. One cannot transform the customs of the world by relying on biased views alone; only by following the right path can the people be guided.

Laozi also said: “When doing good, encourage yourself; when you find what is not good in yourself, look inward. Encouragement means spurring yourself on; examination means scrutinizing yourself. When people do good, they should encourage themselves every day. If they discover something wrong in themselves, they should examine the fault and correct their course. In this way they can move toward the right path and will not abandon good conduct. But if they presume themselves to be good and focus on finding and reproaching others’ faults, they will invite misfortune. So those who urge others to do good while aiming to blame others and win a reputation themselves also stray from the path of goodness.

The Dao cannot be gained by striving forward to seek a reputation; one should instead turn back and cultivate oneself. Thus the sage does not seek fame through deeds or win praise through cleverness and talent. In governing, the sage follows what is natural and does not impose personal intentions. When moving forward, the sage does not display clever skill to gain a reputation; when withdrawing, the sage cultivates and governs the self. Following what is natural, why would one seek others’ praise?

Deliberate effort may fail; seeking something may not bring it. People may face hardship, but the Dao is never obstructed by it. When people seek something and do not obtain it, the Dao, through Wuwei (non-action), naturally brings all things to completion. To possess wisdom yet act without forcing things has the same effect as not displaying wisdom; to possess ability yet refrain from reckless action is equivalent in De (Virtue/Power) to not displaying ability. When wisdom appears like a lack of wisdom, and ability like a lack of ability, the display of human cleverness fades once the Way is understood.

Those whose De reaches the highest level are inwardly full, while outward displays of talent and intelligence recede. Thus they seem to possess something while appearing to have nothing, and to be full within while appearing empty. Human beings and the Dao cannot each fully manifest themselves at the same time: if people cling to fame, they turn away from the Dao; when the Dao shines forth, human fame comes to a halt. If personal fame is allowed to overshadow the Dao, that fame may flourish, but one’s position becomes precarious. The Dao should be held to single-mindedly; in worldly affairs, one cannot have everything both ways.”

Laozi said: “It is better to set each person’s rightful share in advance and then decide by lot than to ask an honest and trustworthy person to distribute the goods. Why? Even when someone distributes them with a fair mind, this is less likely to ensure fairness than a procedure free of personal bias. It is better to close the doors, seal them, and store the goods securely than to ask an incorruptible person to watch over them. Even someone with few desires is less reliable than someone without selfish desires. A lottery can dispel doubts without personal bias; entrusting someone to guard the goods still invites suspicion that they may act out of self-interest.”

When others point out our faults, we often resent them. When we see our own ugliness in a mirror, we try to improve our appearance. When a wise person’s errors are brought to light, they reflect and make amends; a foolish person instead praises themselves and declares themselves good. If we can interact with others and deal with things without claiming everything as our own, we can avoid many burdens. Putting others first and ourselves last brings few mistakes over a lifetime.

Laozi said: “When serving others, one does so either with precious goods or with humble words. Even if the gift is modest, it may not satisfy a person’s desires. A noble person does not prize precious goods, but treats others with simple gifts and an attitude of humility and respect. If we act this way, even a long association will not become tiresome. By lowering ourselves and asking little of others, we can avoid the burdens that words bring. Putting others first and ourselves last brings few mistakes over a lifetime.”

Laozi said: Whenever one deals with others, one either offers gifts or speaks humbly. Yet however few the gifts, desire is not thereby satisfied. The gentleman does not prize precious things; even when giving clothing, he does so with humility and respect. When people act this way, their dealings can endure without becoming tiresome.

Humble conduct and deferential speech, however much one says, do not necessarily forge a lasting friendship. Petty people rely on constraints and sworn oaths to uphold their agreements, yet within a few days they break their old promises. Among gentlemen, there is no need for a formal pledge: a single word is enough to make an agreement, and it remains unchanged for a lifetime.

The gentleman does not display benevolence and righteousness outwardly; instead, he cultivates virtue within. He holds to sincerity and simplicity inwardly and avoids false embellishment outwardly. He sets the affairs of his territory in order, devotes himself to developing the land, urges the people to remain steadfast in their homes, and strengthens the walls of the cities, so that those above and below unite in guarding the state.

In governing the people, he does not kill the innocent indiscriminately; in seeking gain, he does not seize things that are hard to obtain. This is the way to preserve the state, and it is a principle that brings benefit. When the ruler shares in the people’s interests, they are willing to give their lives for him; when he is of one mind with them, they join together to guard the state. One must not pursue fame insatiably or seek gain beyond what is proper. This is the Way of the sage king. Thus, people throughout the state unite to protect it, and its borders remain secure both within and without.

Laozi says: Sages can restrain their thoughts, while ordinary people are often ruled by desire. When thoughts prevail, the Dao can remain whole; when desire prevails, the heart falls into danger. The noble person acts with upright energy, while the petty person acts with deviant energy.

When the heart accords with one’s nature, conduct follows what is right, actions follow the way things are, and one is not bound by external things: this is upright energy. Craving delicacies, indulging in sights and sounds, giving free rein to joy and anger, and disregarding the consequences: this is deviant energy. Upright and deviant energies conflict with each other, and desire and nature harm each other. They cannot coexist: when one rises, the other declines. Therefore, sages lessen desire and follow their nature.

The eyes delight in beautiful sights, the ears in pleasing sounds, the nose in fragrance, and the mouth in fine flavors. Taken together, these sensations still lead back to the pursuit of gain, avoidance of harm, and desire. Yet the ears, eyes, nose, and mouth do not themselves know what to pursue; all are directed by the heart. Sages therefore lessen desire and follow their nature, allowing each to find its proper place. From this we can see clearly that desire must not be allowed to rule a person.

What the six senses and emotions of a person pursue is governed by a single heart. When one’s inner Qi is upright, desire will not harm one’s nature; when the heart turns outward toward deviance, falsehood will obscure what is true. So understand that the key to what is deviant or upright lies within oneself, and that choices are made by the heart. If the heart is upright, how can external things burden it?

Laozi said: Those who cultivate the body and preserve their nature should regulate their sleep and daily routine, eat in moderation, keep joy and anger in balance, and act and rest with due measure. When one’s inner cultivation is in order, there is no need to seek the good Dao (the Way) outside oneself, and no opening remains for harmful influences to enter. To adorn one’s outward appearance while damaging one’s inner self, to give free rein to desire and thereby harm the spirit, or to attend only to external polish and so obscure what is real—all lead astray.

If someone never forgets, even for a moment, that they are a worthy person, they will instead be constrained by their own nature. If, over a stretch of a hundred paces, someone never forgets that they are merely a guest, they will wear out their body. This is a reminder not to cling to status or to an image of oneself.

To care for the body and govern one’s nature, one should moderate one’s diet and remain calm, keeping the heart and Qi (vital energy) settled within so that the spirit can be preserved. A noble person is careful even about small things and does not worry only about distant dangers. Even on a short walk of ten paces, one should guard against the harm a decaying tree might cause. Even in a brief moment, something unforeseen may suddenly occur—how could one afford to be careless?

Plumage that is too beautiful can invite harm; branches and leaves that grow too luxuriantly may weaken the roots. Few things in the world can be perfect in both respects. The kingfisher is caught and killed for its vivid feathers; spring flowers are plucked for their abundant fragrance. It is uncommon for something to be beautiful while also benefiting others in every way.

Laozi said: Heaven shines brightly, but need not worry that the people live in darkness; the earth holds abundant resources, but need not worry that the people are poor. The light of Heaven’s Dao shines everywhere, penetrating the hidden places and revealing danger. Spring flowers are plucked for their abundant fragrance. There is no such thing as something that combines two kinds of beauty and at the same time brings about many benefits.

Laozi said: Heaven shines brightly and does not worry that the people are ignorant; the earth is rich in its produce and does not worry that the people are poor. The Dao of Heaven shines everywhere, open and vast, perceiving even the most hidden and obscure places. The earth’s bounty nurtures all things and offers aid far and wide, leaving nothing out.

A person of the highest De stands firm and unmoving like a mountain. Those who travel the Way take him as a standard to follow. He rectifies himself and brings fulfillment to all things, yet does not regard this as a gift bestowed on others. Those who receive his help do not feel indebted to him for his De. Thus he remains secure and endures. Heaven and earth do not contend with him over anything; he has nothing to lose. Since he does not claim De for himself, others have no resentment toward him.

A Perfected Person, one whose moral cultivation has reached the highest level, is not shaken by power or fame, nor brought down by desires that would harm him. He dwells alone in peace, firm and unwavering. Because he is always content, he does not regard what others give him as a gift. By letting go of what he clings to, he is less vulnerable to harm. So when something is given to him, he does not consider it an act of De; when something is taken from him, he feels no resentment. In this way, he can endure.

Those who are quick to anger are bound to harbor much resentment; those who are accustomed to giving often turn to taking. Only by following the natural ways of Heaven and earth can one accord with what is fitting. One can preserve the natural order by going beyond the bounds of joy and anger, letting go of attachment to giving and taking, and following things as they are, at ease and content.

Thus, when reputation becomes prominent, criticism may follow; when a good name comes to light, ill will may arise in its wake. Gain is the beginning of harm, and good fortune may become a sign of disaster to come. If you do not pursue gain, you will not incur the harm that accompanies it; if you do not pursue good fortune, you will have no corresponding disaster. Preserving oneself is the enduring way; wealth and status are merely temporary lodgings, external things.

Reputation is what people praise, and good deeds are what they admire. But if you do not seek to make yourself known everywhere, you will meet with less criticism and resentment. This does not mean you must entirely abandon good deeds and reputation. Rather, if you do not boast or rely on them, misfortune will naturally be less likely, and you will not cling to good fortune. Preserving oneself should be the constant way; wealth and status are like a temporary place of lodging.

Laozi says that sages do not wear strange or unusual clothes, nor do they behave in eccentric or outrageous ways. Their dress is neither ostentatious nor showy, and their conduct does not deliberately attract attention. They do not startle others with what they wear or make a point of acting differently from ordinary people. When their circumstances are favorable, they are not extravagant; when they face hardship, they do not shrink back. When honored, they do not show off; when they withdraw into obscurity, they do not feel disgraced. Even when they sometimes differ from others, they are never eccentric.

Hardship and favorable circumstances are conditions shaped by fate, so there is no need to be extravagant or fearful, to shrink back. Honor and withdrawal, meanwhile, depend on the times, so there is no need to boast or feel ashamed of withdrawing. Even if one differs from others, what is there to find strange? To act together with all things without clinging to any particular name is what is called “great pervading” (unimpeded access).

To make use of “nonbeing”—that is, to cling to nothing and remain unbound—is to avoid obstruction. This is great pervading.

Laozi says: One who has attained the Dao can set himself upright and calmly await the arrangements of fate and circumstance. When the time comes, he cannot force himself to meet it or make it stay; when the time passes, he cannot pull it back by force. Thus the sage neither actively strives to seize an opportunity nor abandons his principles by yielding. He simply sets himself upright, follows the right path, and responds to the times, neither bending himself to please them nor insisting on holding them back.

Even if I have followed the times for three years and the opportunity has already passed, I should leave. Even if I have left an opportunity behind for three years and it is still behind me, I need not turn back to pursue it. I do not insist on leaving, nor do I deliberately draw near; I simply stand securely in my own place. This means that acting ahead of the right time leads to excess, while falling behind means failing to catch up. Only by neither rushing ahead nor lagging behind, and calmly remaining in the middle, can one hold one’s position.

The Way of Heaven—the natural order of things—shows no favoritism; it draws near only to those who possess De. When good fortune arrives, it has not been won by one’s own efforts, so there is no need to boast of one’s merit. When trouble comes, it may not have been caused by one’s own actions, so there is no need to regret the past. This point was explained earlier. Keep the heart settled and tranquil, and do not let external things damage your De. Praise and blame cannot sway you; favor and disgrace cannot alarm you. Even the sound of a dog barking does not startle you, because you trust your own nature and know that you have truly done nothing beyond your proper bounds. When you know you are free of fault, you naturally have nothing to fear.

Thus, one who understands the Great Dao is not confused, and one who understands fate is not troubled. If you know both the Great Dao and fate, what is there to worry about or fear?

After an emperor died, his remains were buried in the open country; at sacrificial rites, his spirit was honored in the Bright Hall, the ceremonial hall where such rites were held in ancient times. This means that ancient emperors returned their remains to the open country, building neither lofty tombs nor planting trees as markers, so that the people would understand that all people must die. They honored the spirit in the Bright Hall without flattery or excessive sacrifice, so that the people would understand reverence.

Therefore, when Shen governs the body, the body can follow it and remain whole; when the body overwhelms Shen, life falls into hardship. Even when using intelligence and skill, one must return to Shen. This is called understanding the Great Dao. By following Shen, the body can remain intact; by indulging one’s desires, Shen departs. If one is not clear-sighted, how can one hold fast to this?

Laozi says: In ancient times, those who could hold fast to themselves took joy in virtue, and so they did not worry about poverty or low status; fame could not shake their resolve. They took joy in the Great Dao, and so they did not worry about hardship; gain could not sway their hearts. How could people like this be controlled by external things?

Laozi said: Those who were skilled at cultivating themselves in ancient times took joy in Dao and De, so they did not care about low status. They took joy in the Great Dao, so poverty did not distress them. Fame could not shake their resolve, and gain could not disturb their hearts. Thus they were humble and at ease, quiet and untroubled. When Dao and De are complete within oneself, poverty and hardship are no cause for shame. When one’s resolve remains intact, fame and profit cannot lead one astray. Such people can therefore be humble, content, quiet, and untroubled.

To worry about turmoil in the world only in terms of one’s own finite lifespan is like fearing that a river will run dry and weeping in the hope that one’s tears will fill it again. Those who grieve over turmoil in the world while attending only to their own peace of body and mind cannot speak of the Great Dao. It is like someone who does not worry that their own life is drawing to an end, but worries only that the world is poorly governed: shedding a few tears in the hope of increasing the river’s flow is of no use. Only those who stop clinging to governing others and instead cultivate themselves can speak of the Dao.

Laozi said: There are three circumstances that invite resentment. High rank invites the envy of others; great authority invites suspicion from the ruler; and a generous stipend invites resentment from others. Those who hold high status yet remain humble, and those who possess great wealth yet share it with others, can preserve themselves and attain good fortune. The higher their rank, the humbler their attitude; the greater their authority, the more cautious their hearts; the more generous their stipend, the more widely they give. If they achieve these three things, resentment will not arise. Nobility must have lowliness as its root, and high position must have a lower position as its foundation. If one fails to cultivate these three qualities, misfortune will befall them.

Laozi says: We speak in order to convey our thoughts to others, and listen in order to take in the thoughts of others. Expressing what we feel allows others to understand us; understanding what others mean allows us to communicate with one another.

If we can neither see nor hear, we cannot interact normally with others. People with visual or hearing impairments may find it difficult to understand what is happening around them. But “blindness” and “deafness” are not limited to the body; the mind, too, can be closed off. Failing to see Mount Tai before one’s eyes or to hear thunder is bodily blindness or deafness. Mistaking a deer for a horse or pepper for wheat is a failure of discernment and a dimming of wisdom—a kind of mental “blindness and deafness.” If we cannot distinguish what is right before us, how much harder it is to grasp the Great Dao. Not knowing how to reach the Dao is also a form of mental closure.

The Dao is the root of all things. Everything that has form is born from the Dao, which is to all things as a parent, and its kindness is profound. All who live by grain and vital energy are sustained and nourished; to all things, the Dao is like a ruler whose generosity is deep. All who possess wisdom learn from the Dao, which is like a teacher who awakens their understanding. All things are born from the Dao. Though formless, it gives them form, and so its virtue as a parent is immense. Grain and vital energy sustain life, and the Dao’s nurturing kindness is profound. Wisdom comes through learning. Even without a particular teacher, one can learn from the Dao, whose inspiration reaches far.

People often use what is useless to damage what is useful, spending their energy on things of no value and thereby harming what they truly cherish deep within. So long as knowledge remains limited, there will never seem to be enough time. A noble person often feels that their understanding is not yet deep enough, and uses this feeling to spur themselves on. If the time spent gambling at chess were instead devoted to asking about and seeking the Great Dao, one’s learning and insight would surely deepen. If that same concentration were then directed toward cultivating virtue, one might reach a profound and wondrous state. To neither listen nor ask is like mental blindness and deafness. Even without bodily impairment, those who do not inquire or seek knowledge may be called “blind and deaf.”

Laozi said: What truly moves people to submit is Virtue, not force. Virtue can win people’s trust; force cannot secure a lasting victory over them. Whether Virtue can transform others depends on whether one possesses it oneself. One should show kindness without expecting anything in return. Thus, if a sage wishes to earn the people’s respect, he first treats them with Virtue; if he wishes to be honored, he first honors others; if he wishes to surpass others, he first conquers himself; if he wishes others to stand below him, he first places himself in a humble position. In this way, both honor and humility are brought into accord with the Dao.

The sage kings of antiquity spoke to others with humility and willingly took the lower place in their actions. As a result, people throughout the realm gladly chose them as leaders and never wearied of them; they supported them without feeling burdened. This was because their Virtue was deep and abundant, and their Qi flowed in harmony with the Dao. Only by knowing how to give can one receive; by willingly taking the lower place, one can instead come to stand ahead. This is close to the Dao. To honor others is not to elevate them in exchange for being honored oneself; to let others go first is not a way to gain the lead. One acts this way because one’s Qi flows in harmony with the Dao and one’s Virtue is rooted within. That is why people choose such leaders without tiring of them and support them without feeling weighed down.

Laozi said: If one receives excessive favor without sufficient Virtue, one invites ridicule. If one holds high office without sufficient ability, one is in danger. If one enjoys a generous salary without having achieved great merit, one’s position is hard to secure. Thus, what seems like a gain may in fact bring loss, while what seems like a loss may bring benefit. When ability and position are mismatched, danger and ruin will follow. Loss and gain go hand in hand, and from them misfortune and good fortune emerge.

Everyone knows that what is advantageous should be treated as a benefit, but few understand that pursuing benefit too far can bring calamity. Only the sage understands that calamity may also lead to benefit, while an immediate gain may turn into calamity. People pursue profit without realizing that too much of it becomes a burden. The sage knows that pursuing profit may invite disaster, and so regards freedom from calamity as the true benefit.

If a tree bears fruit many times in a single year, its roots will surely suffer. If a household stores too many treasures, disaster will surely befall it in time. A great gain may turn into harm: this is a law of Heaven. When a tree bears fruit again, its roots are injured; when a household accumulates treasures, its master may suffer because of them. A windfall often brings an initial benefit, then gives rise to calamity. This is the law of Heaven.

Laozi said: When petty people act, they seek only to gain through luck. When a tree grows again, its roots are bound to suffer damage; when a household stores treasures, it is bound to invite calamity upon itself. This means that things gained unexpectedly often bring benefit at first, then lead to harm. This is the law of the Dao.

Laozi said: Petty people act only in the hope of gaining by luck, while noble people take what accords with the Dao as their standard. Those who do good do not seek fame, yet fame follows; fame was never sought for the sake of profit, yet profit follows in turn. Both receive the same things, but the outcomes are different. Petty people act only to gain by luck, and profit comes with harm in its wake. Noble people hold fast to the right path and do not make profit their aim, yet fame comes to them. Thus, although both gain profit, the harms they encounter differ. An action that brings benefit may therefore also bring harm.

There is no fixed standard of right and wrong in what petty people say, and no consistent measure of what is appropriate in what they do. They cannot hold fast to De (Virtue/Power), and so often invite disgrace. Those who understand only one thing and excel at only one skill are ordinary people; their knowledge is incomplete, and they are easily confined to a narrow corner. Those who can attend to all sides, possess many abilities, and are skilled at arranging and appointing people are sages. Sages also dismiss the wicked and appoint the worthy.

Laozi said: Life is only a temporary sojourn in the world; death is our final destination. Therefore, when the age is well ordered, one should preserve oneself through the Way and its moral principles. When the age is in turmoil, one should uphold those principles even at the cost of one’s life. A person’s death marks the end of a life spent putting the Way into practice. In a well-ordered age, one preserves oneself through the Way; in a troubled age, one safeguards the Way with one’s own life.

If a noble person can benefit others, they will have no regrets even if doing so costs them their life. They regard death as returning home, just as they continue to pass the years of their life. A noble person need only use life with care, follow the Great Way, and keep their conduct from straying from what is right.

Life is received from Heaven, while one’s fate depends on the age in which one lives. To have ability but not encounter a fitting age is Heaven’s will. To seek by proper means, while whether one succeeds is determined by fate. To meet the right moment is to encounter one’s time; to miss it is Heaven’s will. One does not rejoice because one has gained something, nor resent the loss of it.

A noble person can do good, but cannot guarantee that good fortune will follow. They may be unwilling to do wrong, yet still may not escape calamity. A noble person does good without expecting certain blessings, and avoids wrongdoing without assuming this will ward off misfortune. Still, they never abandon the Way for the sake of seeking blessings, or change what is right in order to escape calamity. Why? Because the right Way cannot be altered, and the heart holds to a single guiding principle.

Thus, when the time is right, a noble person enters public service and advances; what they gain accords with the Way, so how could it be a matter of mere luck? When the time is not right, they withdraw and act according to ritual propriety; what misfortune is there in that? They have no regrets even when poor and of low standing, because they have gained what they truly value. A noble person advances without treating success as good fortune, since what they gain accords with the Way. If no opportunity comes, they do not regard it as shameful; what is there to regret? They hold fast to the Way. Could poverty and low standing matter more than the Way?

Laozi says: Within the human heart are two kinds of Qi (vital energy): harmonious and contrary. When the heart is settled, Qi flows smoothly; when the heart is in turmoil, Qi turns contrary. Whether the heart is settled or in turmoil depends on whether it accords with the Dao (the Way) and De (Virtue/Power). Attain the Dao, and the heart is settled; lose the Dao, and the heart is in turmoil. Those whose hearts are settled yield to one another; those whose hearts are in turmoil fight. Yielding nurtures De; fighting brings calamity. When De is deep and abundant, Qi flows freely; when calamity takes root, Qi becomes disordered. When the heart is focused, Qi is harmonious and upright; when the heart is scattered, Qi becomes contrary and deviant. With what is upright, the Dao flourishes; with what is deviant, calamity arises. When the Dao is present in the heart, the spirit is clear. With a clear spirit, society, body, and mind can all be harmonious and at peace. When calamity takes root, Qi grows turbid; when Qi is turbid, strife and disorder emerge. When Qi is both turbid and chaotic, ruin soon follows.

Those whose Qi is harmonious will set aside their own interests to help others; those whose Qi is contrary will harm others to satisfy themselves. Both kinds of Qi can be regulated and brought under control through cultivating the Dao; there is no need to rely only on trivial external measures to cope with them. The Way of Heaven responds like an echo to a sound: accumulate De, and blessings will follow; accumulate causes of calamity, and resentment will follow. Heaven knows what people do. The consequences of good and evil are sure to come, like a shadow following its form and an echo answering a sound.

An official’s career may begin to falter even as it prospers; filial devotion may wane because of a wife and children; troubles may return after worry has briefly eased; and an illness may recur just when it seems close to recovery. Therefore, remain as careful to the end as you were at the beginning, and things will not go wrong. An official’s downfall often stems from straying from proper standards; the decline of filial devotion may be concealed in private life. Even when worry has eased for a time, remember that trouble may still arise; even when illness is about to pass, continue to exercise restraint and care. Only by remaining careful throughout can one avoid failure.

Laozi says: How could it work to promote people of flawed character to correct the upright? Nor should upright people be promoted only to have the corrupt interfere from the sidelines. This is what is meant by “being in the midst of filth without becoming stained by the same mud.” It is not easy to understand a person; selecting and appointing talent requires clear discernment.

Laozi said: How can people of corrupt character, once promoted, possibly set upright people straight? Upright people, once promoted to correct those of corrupt character, should not simply let matters unfold as they will, either. The saying “sharing the same filth yet differing in their nature” means that even while living amid corruption, one can still preserve a different character. It is not easy to understand a person, so those selecting talent must look closely. Yet today, people call distortion uprightness and mistake ignorance for worthiness. How can such people remain amid corruption without being assimilated by it?

Laozi said: The sage sees death and life as connected, while the foolish also take death and life to be one and the same. The sage understands their distinctions and principles; the foolish do not know where benefit and harm lie. The sage regards death and life as one, neither favoring life nor rejecting death, and so is not constrained by ideas about death and life. The foolish, by contrast, see them as different and cling to gain and loss; therefore, they fear and worry over death and life. The Dao moves through Heaven, and the myriad things are distributed across Earth; harmony between Heaven and Earth depends on people. If a ruler cannot bring order and harmony to government, Heaven’s Qi cannot descend and Earth’s Qi cannot rise. Yin-Yang falls out of balance, wind and rain come at the wrong times, and the people suffer illness and famine. The Dao relies on Heaven, the myriad things grow on Earth, and harmony between Heaven and Earth rests with people. People are where the essences and numinous energies of Heaven and Earth converge. A ruler must therefore bring order and harmony to government, regulate the atmosphere, bring stability to the people, and nurture the myriad things. Only then will wind and rain remain in their proper seasons and calamities be averted.

Laozi said: Acquiring an army of tens of thousands is not as good as hearing one apt saying; obtaining the Marquis of Sui’s Pearl, the fabled precious jewel, is not as good as understanding the root of a matter; and acquiring the He Shi Jade, the fabled famous jade disk, is not as good as knowing how a matter should be handled. One beneficial saying is worth more than ten thousand soldiers; when a matter is handled well, even the He Shi Jade is no treasure. Though the world is vast, those who delight in using arms will ultimately perish; even if a state is temporarily at peace, those who delight in war will fall into danger. Thus, in a small state with a small population, even if there are all kinds of tools, there is no need to use them indiscriminately. A great state should cultivate De, while a small state should be skilled at serving other states. Then no campaigns of conquest will arise, and people throughout the state will live in peace.

Laozi says: Anyone who can establish a ruler’s dominion must be skilled at winning. If they cannot overcome their opponents, they cannot control the situation. Anyone who can defeat an enemy must be powerful, but power depends on more than strength: it also requires De (Virtue/Power). A truly powerful person must know how to draw on the strength of others. Those who know how to do so will surely win people’s hearts. By drawing on the strength of the worthy and capable, they can gain everyone’s support.

Those who can win people’s hearts must first be able to settle themselves. Those who can settle themselves must understand the strength of softness and humility: after defeating someone weaker than themselves, they should hold their ground when faced with an equal. The strength of softness and yielding can overcome an equal; this principle never changes. Thus, by making it impossible for others to defeat them, they ultimately achieve a great victory. Those who remain humble and gentle are difficult for others to subdue, and so they can prevail.

End of Volume Four of the Tongxuan Zhenjing.

Volume Five of the Tongxuan Zhenjing

Commentary by Master Moxi

Dao and De

The preceding passage in this chapter examined the Dao and De; what follows turns to a critique of ritual propriety and cleverness. Although earlier chapters have already explained these principles in detail, they are discussed again here because they are profound and subtle. They must therefore be examined closely, so that later students may come to understand the Great Dao.

Wenzi asked about the Dao. Laozi said, “If one’s learning is shallow, one cannot hear the Dao deeply. Without study, one will not understand; without thorough inquiry, one will not become proficient. We listen to the Dao to expand our wisdom and put it into practice, and also to establish merit and achieve results. When you have a question, you should ask it. When you hear a teaching, you must examine it carefully. It is like striking a bell: the bell does not ring in response without cause. Those who ask and listen attentively will surely gain something.

“If your understanding is not thorough, you cannot comprehend; if you do not listen deeply, you cannot become proficient. Thus, the highest learners listen with Shen (spirit), examining the teaching deeply and missing nothing. Those in the middle listen with the heart and mind: sometimes they remember, sometimes they forget. The lowest learners listen only with their ears, and what they learn passes as quickly as the wind. Listening only with the ears leaves knowledge on the surface of the skin; listening with the heart and mind brings it into the muscles; listening with Shen lets it penetrate to the marrow. If you do not listen deeply, your understanding will not be clear. If your understanding is unclear, you cannot fully grasp the subtleties of the Dao. Without grasping those subtleties, your actions will not succeed. If you clearly understand the Dao and De (Virtue/Power) in their highest and most wondrous forms, your undertakings can be accomplished.

“The way to listen to the Dao is to keep the mind open and still, not letting Qi (vital energy) become agitated or indulging in scattered thoughts. Keep your gaze focused and do not listen carelessly. Concentrate your spirit and build it up continually, so that the inner self becomes full and gathered. Once you have attained the Dao, you must hold firmly to it and persevere over time. This is the way to listen with Shen, and the path to understanding the Dao. After attaining the Dao, you must be able to keep it: listen well and do not forget; embrace it well and do not let it go.

“The Dao is the source from which all things arise, and it has a beginning. To understand its principles, you must first understand the root. All things are weak at first and later become strong; they begin small and few, then gather into something numerous and great. A tree ten arm spans around grows from a sapling that fits in one hand; a terrace a hundred fathoms high is built from the ground up. Such is the pattern of Heaven’s Dao: from nothing to something, from the subtle to the manifest. Heaven’s Dao has always followed this course—how much more so must human affairs?

“The sages model themselves on Heaven’s Dao. They take a low position so they can place themselves below others; they stay behind so they can let others go ahead; they practice frugality so they do not enlarge themselves; they reduce what they have so they do not expand themselves. By staying low, they are honored; by remaining behind, they take the lead; by being frugal, they have enough; by reducing, they grow strong. All this is brought about by Heaven’s Dao. Ordinary people often exalt themselves and belittle others, and so lose the respect others might have given them. The sages put themselves last and others first, and so earn the esteem of all. From this we can see that those who go against the people’s wishes will not win their support; those who accord with Heaven’s Dao will be gladly upheld by the people.

“The Dao is the root of De, the foundation of Heaven, and the gateway to good fortune. All things rely on the Dao to grow, take form, and become settled. The Dao governs the transformation and generation of all things; De is what enables them to be nurtured. Every source from which things arise traces back to the Dao, and every path to good fortune begins with it.

“The Dao is Wuwei (non-action) and formless. It does not act deliberately, yet all things grow through it; it has no body, yet all things change through it. It can cultivate oneself inwardly and govern others outwardly, until one’s work is complete and one’s achievements established, bringing one close to Heaven. The Dao acts without acting, yet nothing is left undone. If self-cultivation and governance accord with Wuwei, one can dwell in peace and be in harmony with the Dao.

“The reality of the Dao is hard to perceive, and its true form is hard to discern. Yet in the deep and unseen, it truly exists and can be trusted and relied upon. When the Son of Heaven has the Dao, all under Heaven submits and the state endures. When the lords have the Dao, the people live in harmony and the state is preserved. When scholars and commoners have the Dao, they can preserve themselves and protect their families. From the Son of Heaven down to ordinary people, all should keep to the Dao, so that the state is stable, the people live in harmony, individuals remain safe, and their families are protected.

“When the strong have the Dao, they can prevail without fighting; when the weak have the Dao, they can gain without contending. When affairs are handled in accord with the Dao, undertakings succeed and good fortune follows. When ruler and minister have the Dao, loyalty and generosity prevail; when father and son have the Dao, there is loving care and filial respect; when scholars and commoners have the Dao, they love one another. Where there is the Dao, there is harmony; where it is absent, there is harshness. From this we can see that the Dao applies everywhere in human life. Practice it on a small scale, and you gain a small measure of good fortune; practice it on a large scale, and you gain great good fortune; practice it universally, and all under Heaven will submit. When people’s hearts turn toward it, they draw near to and uphold the place where the Dao resides, and good fortune follows.

“An emperor is one toward whom the people of all under Heaven willingly turn; a king is one to whom they willingly come and attach themselves. Without the people turning to them and attaching themselves to them, they cannot be called emperors or kings. If they lack the Dao and the people do not come to them, how can they hold the throne for long, even if they occupy it? If emperors and kings lack the people’s support, they cannot accomplish their work. The people are the foundation of the state; only when the foundation is firm can the state be at peace. Yet having the people without the Dao is not enough to preserve the state. To have people but lack the Dao is to possess a state in name alone.

“Those who have lost the Dao are extravagant and self-indulgent, arrogant and conceited. They show off, stubbornly impose their strength, stir up trouble, incur enmity, and provoke wars, becoming the source of calamity and disorder. When petty people act this way, they bring great disaster upon themselves; when those in high office do so, they bring about the state’s ruin. The resulting disaster may fall lightly on the person themselves or, at its worst, extend to their descendants. No offense is greater than lacking the Dao; no resentment runs deeper than the loss of De. This is the pattern of Heaven’s Dao. When offense is great and resentment deep, those who possess a state will eventually lose it, and those who possess a life will eventually lose it, for when the Dao is lost and De has decayed, Heaven’s Dao brings about their destruction.”

Laozi says: Those who cultivate the Great Dao cannot be pierced by a blade, even when attacked by a fierce person, and cannot be struck by a skillful one. Yet even if the blade cannot pierce them and the blows cannot land, they have still been insulted. Better to make the fierce person dare not stab and the skillful person dare not strike. But “dare not” does not mean the thought is absent. Better still is to keep people from forming the thought of stabbing or striking in the first place. Someone without such thoughts has no desire to possess, no schemes for profit, and no wish to harm others out of envy.

Those who cultivate the Great Dao remain unharmed when a fierce person attacks with a blade, and a skillful person’s blows cannot reach them. One might say they have suffered no injury, but the attacks have already brought them insult. In the eyes of ordinary people, this ability may seem like a supernatural wonder; from the perspective of the Great Dao, it is merely treating the Dao as a plaything. Better to keep the other person from forming the thought of attacking, while oneself harboring no desire to possess and no wish to harm others. Leave no conduct that runs against ordinary customs, and the Great Dao can then be preserved.

Better still, all the men and women of the world willingly draw near to such a person and care for him. Even without a fief, he can be a ruler; even without an official post, he can be a leader. People everywhere are willing to keep him safe and help him prosper. Gengsang Chu, a figure from Daoist legend, lived in accord with the ways of the world. Confucius praised the “uncrowned king”—someone without a king’s title who nevertheless possessed a ruler’s virtue—and this is the kind of person he meant.

So, to flaunt one’s strength and dare to act recklessly invites death; to have the courage to restrain oneself and avoid rash action is to preserve one’s life. When Wenzi asked about De (Virtue/Power), he showed that he already knew the Dao. Now he asks further about De, and also about benevolence and righteousness, then about ritual and wisdom. Without asking widely, how could one reach such a comprehensive understanding?

Laozi says: “To nurture all things and enable them to grow and develop, benefiting them equally without distinction and bringing them into harmony with Heaven and Earth—this is called De. To nurture all things and help them fulfill their potential without deliberate action or favoritism, allowing benevolence to nourish them and bringing them into harmony with Heaven and Earth—this is called utmost De.

“What is benevolence? When in a high position, do not boast of your achievements; when in a low position, do not feel ashamed of your shortcomings. Do not grow complacent over great matters or dismiss small ones. Care for people widely and without selfishness, and persevere over time without faltering: this is called benevolence. Do not be proud even if you are honored as the Son of Heaven; do not be anxious even if you hold a low rank and are merely an ordinary person. Show loving kindness and generosity impartially, and help people far and wide: this is benevolence.

“What is righteousness? When in a high position, support the weak; when in a low position, hold fast to your integrity. Do not give yourself free rein when successful, and do not change your principles when in hardship. Always act according to standards and reason, without distorting or wavering from principle for personal gain: this is called righteousness. Support those in danger and aid those in distress; remain steadfast in integrity despite poverty; and act in accordance with reason, as circumstances require: this is righteousness.

“What is propriety? When in a high position, be solemn and respectful; when in a low position, be modest and deferential. Know how to yield, maintain gentleness, and willingly place yourself last in the world. Do not presume to act recklessly or boast of your abilities: this is called propriety. Respect those who are older and care for those below you; humble yourself and put others first. Uphold the virtues of modesty and gentleness, and do not show signs of slackness or arrogance: this is propriety.

“Therefore, when De is cultivated, the people heed the government’s commands; when benevolence is cultivated, the people do not struggle against one another; when righteousness is cultivated, the people are fair and law-abiding; when propriety is cultivated, the people show respect and maintain order. When all four—De, benevolence, righteousness, and propriety—are cultivated, the state can be at peace. If any of them is deficient, using them to govern the people will bring ruin to the state; using them to cultivate oneself will endanger one’s life.

“All things come into being through the Dao; they grow through De; they care for one another through benevolence; they act with integrity through righteousness; and they learn respect through propriety. When all five are cultivated together, nothing under Heaven can oppose them. Without nurturing, things cannot grow and develop; without loving kindness, they cannot fulfill their potential; without setting things right, they cannot endure; without respect and the observance of propriety, people cannot be treated with honor.

“Therefore, De is what the people value; benevolence is what they cherish and feel attached to; righteousness is what they revere; and propriety is what they respect. These four are expressions of cultivated virtue acting in accordance with reason, and they are the foundations on which sages govern all things. Only those who possess these four virtues can be called sages; thus they can follow Heaven’s will and direct and govern the many kinds of things.

“When a gentleman lacks virtue, the people resent him; when he lacks benevolence, the people struggle against one another; when he lacks righteousness, the people become violent; when he lacks propriety, the people fall into disorder. When these four fundamental principles cannot be established, this is called being without the Dao. There has never been a case of being without the Dao that did not lead to ruin. After the Great Dao receded, the four principles of De, benevolence, righteousness, and propriety took on the work of governance. Wenzi asked about their roots and branches, and Laozi explained their gains and losses: if all four are abandoned, resentment and violence emerge, and conflict and disorder inevitably arise. This is being without the Dao, and the state will soon perish.”

Laozi says: In an age when De (Virtue) reached its highest expression, merchants could conduct their business smoothly in the marketplace, farmers took pleasure in cultivating the fields, officials were content in their posts, and scholars devoted themselves to cultivating the Dao (the Way). The people, too, gladly pursued their various occupations. Without the instruction of the highest De, how could everyone remain at peace in their proper place and take pleasure in their work? Thus, storms and rains did not destroy the myriad things, and plants and trees did not wither before their time. The Hetu and Luoshu also appeared. According to tradition, the Hetu was borne by a divine turtle marked with the Eight Trigrams (Bagua); the Luoshu refers to the nine principles of governance in the “Great Plan” chapter of the Book of Documents. Only De can move Heaven and extend its blessings to all things. This was the result of a sage ruling the world at the highest level.

When the age declined, taxes were levied without restraint, killing went on unabated, those who remonstrated were punished, and the worthy were put to death. Mountains collapsed and rivers ran dry; insects crawled without cease, and not even the vegetables could grow in the fields. The rulers of the last days destroyed laws and institutions, executed the capable and worthy while appointing the treacherous and corrupt, amassed wealth at will, and neglected affairs of state without ever being satisfied. Rebellious Qi (vital energy) assailed Heaven and Earth and rose into the sky, disrupting the courses of the stars. On Earth, the consequences followed: mountains collapsed, rivers dried up, the people could not live in peace, and insects and plants alike lost their proper habitats. For this reason, a ruler must take these events as a warning.

When the world is well ordered, the foolish cannot throw it into chaos by their own efforts, because the righteous Way flourishes and evil has nowhere to dwell. When the world is in disorder, even the worthy cannot govern it through their own efforts alone, because the few cannot prevail against the many. The sage’s calm and harmonious nature is determined by the endowment received at birth. Whether the highest De and the Dao can be put into practice depends on fate and circumstance. A person must first encounter the right moment to display their abilities; only when fate and circumstance align can their De become evident. There must first be a suitable age for the people it calls forth. Only by meeting the right turn of fortune and winning the ruler’s recognition can one find an opportunity to act. A tall parasol tree naturally draws the numinous phoenix, while a narrow ditch cannot contain a great fish.

Wenzi asked what it means to be a sage and what it means to be wise. Laozi said, “To hear the signs of events while they are still forming and thereby foresee their outcome is sagehood. To see signs appear before one’s eyes and thereby know how events will unfold is wisdom.”

Thus, sages can often hear and discern the signs of fortune and misfortune while they are still taking shape, and then choose the fitting course. The wise, by contrast, judge what action to take once fortune and misfortune have begun to show their forms. When they see that something can be done, they do it; when they know it is unlikely to succeed, they stop in time.

Sages understand the changes between good and ill fortune in the Way of Heaven, and so know how fortune and misfortune arise. The wise can see in advance the signs as events emerge, and so know where fortune and misfortune come from. Sages understand that good and ill fortune transform into each other. They detect changes before these take shape and bring order before turmoil breaks out. The wise understand that misfortune and good fortune transform into each other. Seeing the first signs once they appear, they no longer follow a path that would bring calamity.

To hear the signs of something before it happens is sagehood; to foresee the outcome once its shape has emerged is wisdom. To hear nothing and see nothing is true ignorance and confusion. To hear signs of what has yet to happen—if one is not a sage, how could one do so? To see calamity once it has appeared—if one is not wise, how could one discern it? It is only when one can neither hear nor see the signs that one may be called ignorant and confused.

Laozi also said, “If a ruler acts only on a passing sense of righteousness, he will trust what seems evident in the moment and follow only his own views, abandoning the constant norms of the Dao in favor of personal acts of kindness.”

To live by faith in a passing sense of righteousness, without considering future calamities, to slight the constant norms of the Great Dao while believing oneself clear-sighted—this is indeed ignorance and confusion.

Laozi said: If a ruler esteems moral principles above all else, he will trust only the immediate claims of righteousness. He will act in every matter according to his own judgment, abandon the standards for weighing circumstances, and rely instead on favors granted in the moment. He will care only that his actions seem righteous now, without considering the calamities they may bring later. He will slight the great Dao and the laws that govern the state, trusting instead in his own cleverness and skill at dispensing favors. Such a ruler is not wise.

When affairs are many and wisdom is limited, no one has ever succeeded by trying to manage them all with that limited wisdom. How could one get anything done by treating a cup as an ocean or drawing from a deep well with a short rope? A ruler who relies solely on his own clever decisions is bound to make many mistakes. Decisions made by one person alone are prone to fail; seeking the views of many makes a sound outcome more likely.

Those who insist on showing off their cleverness will end up trapped with nowhere to turn; those who insist on showing off their courage head toward danger and ruin. Anyone who flaunts only what they know will inevitably fall into difficulty. Anyone who acts on courage alone, without weighing the circumstances, can only watch as they approach disaster.

If a ruler enjoys giving but sets no clear limits, the boundaries of distribution between those above and below will blur, and the people’s expectations will have no end. If he levies too much, he will make enemies of the people; if he collects little in taxes but keeps giving, his resources will eventually run out. Thus, even small acts of generosity can bring resentment. Whatever is given must first be taken from somewhere; what can be drawn upon has an end, and what is given away will be depleted. Supplying endless expenses with limited resources cannot last. Taking from one to give to another always means that some gain while others lose. And when what is taken is unjust and what is given is misplaced, those who receive it may not be pleased, while those who lose out may become enemies.

Therefore, a person of resolve does not cling to taking, giving, gain, or loss, but holds to a balanced and moderate measure. Where, then, would resentment arise? From this we can see that wealth and goods cannot bear the burden of governing the times; the Daoist art—the method of governing in accord with the great Dao—is the standard to follow. Examining how taking and giving are apportioned reveals that this is precisely where resentment gathers. Wealth and goods cannot save the times; only the Dao can help the people.

Wenzi asked, “How should the rulers of antiquity have governed the world by following the Dao?”

Laozi replied, “Grasp the root, follow what is natural, and let the myriad things change along with the transformations of Heaven and Earth. The world is a vast and complex whole. The emperors of high antiquity governed it by no mysterious method: they simply modeled themselves on Heaven and Earth, held fast to the root without acting rashly, and followed the waxing and waning of the times.

The world as a whole cannot be forced into submission or managed through arbitrary action. Forced action ruins things; clinging to possession makes one lose them. The Dao is mysterious and formless, beyond grasping; to cling to it is to go astray. The Dao is subtle and without trace, beyond anything one can bring about by personal will; acting rashly leads to ruin. To grasp the root is to begin with what is subtle. Only by seeing what is subtle can one accomplish great things. By holding to the single root, one can encompass the many things and govern the myriad beings; with a broad mind, one can see what is subtle and overlook nothing.

Wuwei (non-action) means abiding in stillness and tranquility. By abiding in stillness, one can become a standard for the world. One’s actions do not exceed their proper bounds, and in stillness one is not confined by fixed rules: this is the highest tranquility, and so one can become a standard for the world.

When surrounded by abundance, do not grow indulgent; when occupying a noble position, do not become arrogant. If you hold high office without becoming complacent, you can be full without suffering loss. In this way, you can retain prosperity for a long time. If you hold high office without arrogance, you will not bring yourself into danger through indulgence, and can retain your honor for a long time. When wealth and rank endure in one’s own life, blessings and emoluments can extend to one’s descendants. This is the whole principle by which the rulers of antiquity governed.

The way of governing accords with Wuwei, and the heart resonates with the highest Dao. One remains amid abundance without becoming excessive, and holds high office without falling into danger. One’s benevolence nourishes the myriad things, and one’s De (Virtue/Power) is passed on to one’s descendants. The wise rulers of the past all held fast to this principle in teaching and transforming the world.”

Laozi says: The people have principles they commonly follow and laws they commonly observe. When moral principles cannot convince people to trust one another, and force cannot ensure their obedience, a ruler is established to govern them as one.

When customs are corrupt and people’s dispositions shallow, they do not follow a shared Way or observe common laws. Some put on a show of righteousness to win a reputation, while secretly using force to subdue others. Without establishing a ruler, what could bring society into order?

When a ruler upholds a common standard, the state can be governed; without a constant standard, society falls into disorder. When the laws are unclear, the people lose their bearings. The Way of the ruler does not mean that the ruler must actively intervene in everything. It emphasizes Wuwei (non-action): refraining from needless interference and letting things run according to their own patterns. The wise do not treat virtue as a tool for pursuing fame and profit; the brave do not use their strength to commit violence; the benevolent do not rely on their status to dispense favors. This may be called holding fast to a common standard. To avoid acting arbitrarily and to refrain from using one’s authority to dispense favors—only by meeting these five conditions can one be said to hold fast to “the One.”

“The One” is the Way that does not depart from what is right. It is the foundation of the myriad things and a principle in its own right. “To go” means to proceed toward something. Here, the point is that when a ruler establishes a principle and governs by it, all things can return to the right Way, and none will go astray. If a ruler frequently changes the laws, if rulers are frequently replaced, and if laws and the throne are both unstable, then the ruler has lost the common standard. The people and all things will be worn down and exhausted, and the realm will know no peace. A ruler without constant laws, who changes them at will with the times, cannot serve as a stable sovereign, and the Way of governance will also fall into disuse.

If a ruler uses their position to express likes and dislikes arbitrarily, those below will be unable to feel secure for fear of what might follow. A ruler should use virtue to give people peace of mind and should not show arbitrary favoritism or aversion. If the ruler acts according to personal whims and rewards and punishments are misplaced, officials will become afraid. Under such fear, punishments are easily abused. How could good governance be possible?

Thus, the disorder caused when a ruler loses the common standard is even worse than having no ruler. A ruler must uphold a common principle to unite the people. The people of the realm support a ruler because the ruler possesses the Way. If a state has a ruler but no Way of governing, the people are as good as leaderless. Even if there is a ruler in name, when corrupt ministers seize power, worthy people are persecuted, and taxes are levied without restraint, the people and all things are plunged into hardship. That is why such a situation is said to be worse than having no ruler.

Wenzi asked, “How many kinds of the kingly way are there?” Laozi replied, “There is only one. Although rulers have been called by different titles, the way of governing the state has been the same from antiquity to the present.”

Wenzi asked, “Some people in ancient times became kings by governing the world through virtue, while others became kings through military force. How can you say there is only one way? Tang Yao and Yu Shun passed the throne on through abdication, while Tang of Shang and King Wu of Zhou won the realm through conquest. These methods were not the same.”

Laozi said, “Governing the world through virtue is De. Governing it through military force can also be De. The Dao itself does not rise or fall or change; it is the times that differ in their simplicity and corruption. The principles of governance must adapt to circumstances and cannot be bound to fixed methods. Acting in accord with the times and guiding things in the direction they are already moving—this is truly a profound principle. How many people can understand it?

“In the distant past, people recorded events by tying knots, and the world could still be governed. Educating the people through virtue is De. Pacifying disorder and eliminating rebellion, using military force to govern the world, can likewise be De. If one’s actions do not go beyond what is right, and one remains aligned with the Dao in stillness, then even weapons—though called instruments of ill omen—can, when used properly, embody the highest De.

“There are five kinds of warfare: righteous warfare, responsive warfare, wrathful warfare, greedy warfare, and arrogant warfare. Warfare brings danger and even defeat, so whether to go to war and how to wage it must be considered with care. Punishing the violent and rescuing the weak is called righteous warfare. When an enemy invades and one has no choice but to fight, this is called responsive warfare. Fighting over trivial matters and failing to master one’s anger is called wrathful warfare. Coveting another state’s land and wealth is called greedy warfare. Relying on the strength and large population of one’s own state, and boasting of its superiority over an enemy state, is called arrogant warfare.

“Righteous warfare can establish a kingly enterprise; responsive warfare can achieve victory; wrathful warfare leads to defeat; greedy warfare brings death; and arrogant warfare causes a state to perish. These are the patterns of Heaven’s Dao. A state may possess all kinds of weapons, but if it uses them recklessly, it will invite defeat and ruin. There are five causes that lead one into ruin, and reckless warfare is one of them. Heaven’s Dao rewards good and punishes evil; this principle does not fail. The benevolent should be cautious about it.”

Laozi says: If you set the Dao aside and act only by your own intelligence and skill, danger will follow. If you abandon the natural principles and patterns of things and rely solely on your personal abilities, you will fall into difficulty. If you forsake the Dao’s level and open course, relying instead on clever schemes and deceit, and forget that fortune and misfortune each follow their own patterns while constantly displaying cunning, then by slighting what is fundamental and chasing what is secondary, how could you avoid ruin?

So keep to your proper place and act in accordance with the way things are. Do not grieve when you lose something or rejoice when you gain it. Success is not achieved by deliberate pursuit, and what you receive is not something to chase single-mindedly. If gain and loss do not stir your heart, naturally there will be no grief or joy. When things come to you, accept what is given without coveting more. When they go from you, give to others without treating your generosity as a personal favor. Accept without greed, and give without putting on airs.

Follow spring as it brings all things to life, and follow autumn as it brings them to decline. To bring things to life without claiming the credit, and to let them decline without incurring resentment, is to come close to the Dao. Spring and autumn have no intention of creating or killing; each simply has its proper season. If a ruler governs through Wuwei (non-action), rewards and punishments will be fitting. If the ruler goes against this principle, they will depart from the natural patterns of things and move further from the Dao.

Wenzi says: When giving, do not be self-satisfied. Follow spring as it brings all things to life, and follow autumn as it brings them to decline. To bring things to life without claiming the credit, and to let them decline without incurring resentment, is to come close to the Dao. Spring and autumn have no intention of creating or killing; each simply has its proper season. If a ruler governs through Wuwei (non-action), rewards and punishments will be fitting. To go against this principle is to depart from what is natural and stray from the Dao.

Wenzi asked, “How can a ruler win the people’s support? What should he do to govern the world so that the people are glad to follow him?”

Laozi replied, “A ruler’s virtue should be like that of rivers and seas. It may seem plain and without flavor, yet people can draw on it without exhausting it. At first it may appear small, but in time it can gather into something vast. The virtue of a wise ruler is deep and broad like rivers and seas: it turns no one away, and its supply never runs dry. Though plain and without flavor, it nourishes and brings all things to completion. Its giving has no end, and all things depend on it to grow. Thus the ruler wins the people’s hearts, and his descendants endure for generations.

“If you wish to stand above others, be humble in your words. If you wish to go before others, hold back in your own actions. Then people throughout the world will follow his care for them and put benevolence and righteousness into practice without harshness. Though the ruler occupies a high position, the people will not feel oppressed; though he walks at the head of the crowd, they will not feel hindered. People everywhere will gladly support him and never tire of him. Even those in distant lands with different customs, and even the smallest insects, will draw near to him and cherish him. Such a person can accomplish whatever he undertakes and succeed wherever he goes, and so the world holds him in esteem.

“To wish to rise above others, yet harbor the private desire to outdo them, is to make them unwilling to place themselves below you. To wish to go before others, yet harbor the private desire to make them fall behind, is to prevent people from willingly putting you at the front; they will feel harmed. If you have no such desire, people will choose to place you first without feeling wronged. If you can do this, your virtue and kindness will move Heaven and Earth—how much more so people?”

Laozi said: Clinging to the laws and institutions of a particular age in order to reject the customs of later generations is like fixing the bridges of a se (an ancient stringed instrument) in place with glue, then trying to tune it to different notes. To insist on one school’s view and treat it as a code for every age is also like gluing the bridges of a se. How could this ever make the laws comprehensive?

A sage responds flexibly to changes in the times, observes the actual circumstances, and adopts suitable measures. When conditions change, affairs change; as the times move on, customs change as well. Therefore, one should examine the age when making laws and respond to affairs in keeping with the circumstances. When an enlightened ruler rescues the age from hardship and brings benefit to the people, everyone looks up to and follows him, just as the hungry long for food and the thirsty for water. Who would not welcome such a ruler?

The laws established by rulers of antiquity differed from one another, not because they opposed one another, but because the circumstances they faced were different. So one should not copy laws already laid down, but follow the principles by which laws are made and adapt them as circumstances change. The Dao itself does not wax or wane, but the customs of the world continually change. Thus the Five Emperors governed in different ways, and the legal systems of the Three Kings—the rulers of the Xia, Shang, and Zhou dynasties—were not the same. This was not deliberate opposition; each system answered the needs of its age.

The laws established by sages can be observed and understood, but the reasons behind them cannot be grasped by examining their outward form alone. Before laws are made, people have no way of knowing them; once affairs have been properly governed, everyone can see the results. The sages’ words can be heard, but the principles behind those words are difficult to give concrete form to. Their words could be heard because they suited their own time. Yet principles that cannot be given concrete form cannot be applied to the needs of later generations simply by repeating the words of the past.

The Three Sovereigns and Five Emperors regarded the possession of the world as unimportant and did not attach excessive value to the myriad things. They saw life and death as equal and regarded the transformations of the myriad things as natural. To regard possession of the world as unimportant does not mean despising the world; to refrain from attaching excessive value to the myriad things does not mean treating them with contempt. It means that they had no deliberate desire to seize the world, yet the world came to them; they did not set out to profit from the myriad things, yet the myriad things naturally drew close to them. Seeing life and death as equal, they could not be troubled by anxiety or fear. By following transformation, they could not be shaken by strange occurrences.

They embraced the Great Dao and treated things with sincerity, like a mirror reflecting their true condition. With their spirit clear and still as a mirror, they could illuminate things without missing anything. Above, they were in communion with the Dao; below, they followed transformation and lived among the myriad things of the world.

Today, those who wish to learn their Dao but lack an enlightened sage of profound insight to guide them will surely be unable to govern the affairs of the world well if they merely cling to texts and follow laws. Preserving texts and putting legal systems into practice depends on sages who deeply understand the Dao to explain and guide them, so that later scholars learn to value this guidance: using it inwardly to cultivate themselves and outwardly to govern the state.

Wenzi asked Laozi about the way to govern a state. Laozi said: Govern the people through the Dao and nurture them through De. Do not deliberately display your worthiness or use force. Teach the people through sound principles without showing off your cleverness, and deal with them through virtuous conduct without boasting of your authority.

Practice restraint and remain focused. Do not pursue private gain or reveal greed; take stillness and emptiness as your foundation, and the desire for profit will naturally fade. Be upright without harming others, and incorruptible without compromising what is right. Do not praise yourself or claim credit.

When the Dao guides governance, the people will rally to it; when De nurtures them, they will trust it. If worthiness is not displayed, the people can be content in their proper place; if force is not imposed, they will remain simple and unspoiled. Not displaying worthiness is a form of restraint; not imposing force comes from daring not to act recklessly.

Only by taking a humble position can you gather the people; only by showing them kindness can you win their hearts. Preserve yourself through restraint, and do not assume that your position is secure. If you are not humble, the people will scatter. If you do not nurture them, they will turn against you. If you display your worthiness, they will compete with one another; if you impose force, resentment will grow in their hearts. When the people scatter, the state will weaken; when they turn against you, the ruler will lose authority. Competition makes wrongdoing more likely, and resentment among the people toward their rulers puts the throne in danger.

If you can truly practice these four principles, the proper way to govern will be close at hand: preserve yourself through restraint, draw people near by nurturing them, possess worthiness without relying on it, and hold authority without acting violently. When all four are achieved, the proper way will endure.

Laozi said, “Principles commonly spoken of are rules to follow in ordinary circumstances; other teachings are expedient measures for responding to exceptional circumstances. The former are the constant Dao; the latter are adaptations to changing conditions. Only sages understand how to adapt. This is why their words are always trustworthy and what they undertake is brought to an appropriate outcome. Here, ‘words above’ refers to the constant Dao, while ‘words below’ refers to adaptation. A sage understands how to adapt and, in doing so, does not depart from the Dao. That is what it means to adapt well. If petty people fail to understand the proper measure and simply copy expedient methods, they will bring calamity upon themselves, perhaps even putting their own lives at risk. Sometimes an adaptation can win people’s trust without being explained in advance, and achieve what is fitting without being agreed upon beforehand.

What is there to praise in conduct the world calls noble—for example, reporting one’s father in order to uphold uprightness, or sacrificing one’s daughter in order to keep faith? People consider reporting one’s father virtuous and sacrificing one’s daughter faithful, so they praise such actions. But this is not so. Forcing oneself to change one’s nature in pursuit of uprightness, or deliberately restricting one’s conduct to maintain fidelity, are contrivances of a decadent age. They do not express the true meaning of the highest De, and so are not worthy of trust or praise.

Thus, when sages judge whether an action is right or wrong, they bend or extend their judgment according to circumstances; they have no fixed rule. What matters is whether an action suits the moment. There is no single way of dealing with things that applies in every case. During a sacrifice, one may address the ruler by name; when someone is drowning, one may seize one’s father to pull him to safety. In each case, circumstances demand it. Calling the ruler by name during a sacrifice may violate ritual propriety, yet in that setting it is fitting. Grabbing one’s father when he is drowning may violate ordinary conventions, yet in a rescue it is permissible. What matters in carrying out an action is that it suit the moment. Who can say that one fixed set of rites applies to every situation?

Adaptation is the sage’s distinctive insight. To depart from customary practice at first, yet ultimately accord with reason, is called adaptation. To act according to convention at first, yet thereby depart from reason in the end, is to fail to understand adaptation. Those who do not understand it can turn good into bad. Those who adapt well may at first seem to make exceptions or act contrary to convention, yet in the end they reach a fitting outcome. Those who adapt poorly may seem to proceed smoothly at first, but ultimately bring danger upon themselves.

Wenzi asked, “You have said that governing the world cannot be separated from the Dao and De. When the ancient kings took up the work of governing, did they too understand adaptation?” Those who do not understand it can turn good into bad. Those who adapt well may at first seem to make exceptions or act contrary to convention, yet in the end they reach a fitting outcome. Those who adapt poorly may seem to proceed smoothly at first, but ultimately bring danger upon themselves.”

Wenzi asked, “You say that without Dao and De, it is impossible to govern the world. Yet in ancient times, kings succeeded one another and inherited their dynasties. Some lacked Dao, but remained on the throne until the end of their lives without meeting disaster or ruin. Why was this?”

Laozi replied, “From the Son of Heaven down to the common people, everyone must make a living, though some live in abundance and others in poverty. When countries are lost and families destroyed, the fundamental cause is a loss of Dao and De; no other disaster lies behind it. Those who possess Dao and De are never idle, day or night. They remain cautious and vigilant, always fearing that the state may fall into danger and ruin. Those without Dao and De indulge their desires and grow lazy and careless, with destruction liable to come at any moment. If people remain vigilant in times of peace as though facing imminent danger, the state will not invite further calamities. But if they forget danger when all is secure, disaster may strike without warning.

Had Jie and Zhou followed what was right and governed with De, then even the worthy Tang of Shang and King Wu of Zhou would have had no cause to establish their reputations by overthrowing them. With Dao, one can become a king; without it, one perishes. From this we can see that the rise and fall of dynasties depend on people’s own goodness or evil and on what they do. Heaven supports those who possess De: this is a natural principle, not something difficult to understand.

Dao and De are the foundation that enables all things to nourish one another, support one another’s growth, draw near to and care for one another, and hold one another in respect and regard. Even foolish animals do not harm what they cherish. If all the people under Heaven were filled with benevolence, where could disaster arise? Dao is vast and boundless. Like Heaven, it covers all things; like Earth, it bears them. It brings all things to life and helps them flourish, drawing near to them and caring for them. Dao regards nothing as unrelated to itself, but extends its care from oneself to all things. If all things could do the same, even creatures as dull as animals would feel the grace of benevolence. What disasters would there be to fear?

Some rulers lacked Dao and De yet suffered no harm for a time because benevolence and righteousness had not been entirely extinguished. But once the feudal lords began to slight their ruler, reverence disappeared from the court, and ministers gradually refused to obey. A ruler without Dao could still retain the throne and the dynastic inheritance because some benevolence and righteousness remained. Yet signs of fortune and calamity had already begun to appear, along with a growing disregard for rightful authority. King Yi of Zhou once descended from his hall to receive the feudal lords; Duke Wen of Lu once met them in an alliance at Jiantu. Both events revealed the decline of the age.

Once benevolence and righteousness were extinguished, the feudal lords rebelled and people fought for power by force. The strong oppressed the weak, great states swallowed small ones, and people made a living through warfare. Disasters and disorder followed one another, and the destruction of states was not far off. The reign of Qin Er Shi and the final rulers of the Han dynasty were such times: Dao and De had collapsed, ruler and subject had lost their proper order, high and low had been reversed, and the strong preyed upon the weak, until the state was destroyed.

Laozi said: When laws and orders are numerous and punishments severe, the people will find ways to deceive and evade them. The laws become intricate and hard to obey; when the people fail to carry them all out, the ruler punishes them with harsh penalties. If punishments are unjust, even the innocent will suffer. In time, the people will regard life lightly, risk breaking prohibitions, and even accept death rather than submit to the law. The disorder and turmoil of the world arise from this.

When there is too much administration above, those below devise many ways to respond. The more that is demanded, the less is actually achieved; the more prohibitions there are, the more readily the people break them. To set one matter in motion, then bring in another to stop it, is like repeatedly stirring a flame while hoping it will not burn. To use cunning to create troubles, then use cunning to guard against them, is like churning the water while hoping it will become clear. When human affairs multiply, the mind grows confused; when a country’s prohibitions multiply, the people grow weary. It is like a fire that cannot be stirred again and again, or water that cannot be churned repeatedly.

Laozi said: A ruler who favors benevolence may reward those who have done nothing to merit it and pardon the guilty. A ruler who favors punishment may overlook those who have earned rewards and implicate even the innocent. A ruler with neither attachment nor aversion does not provoke resentment when putting a criminal to death, and does not treat the granting of kindness as a personal virtue. When the ruler is impartial, officials will not suffer unjust punishments; those who deserve rewards will not be overlooked, and those who deserve punishment will not resent it.

A ruler should act by the measure, keeping personal desires out of government, and be like Heaven and Earth, which embrace and sustain all things. Bringing things into harmony is the ruler’s responsibility; distinguishing right from wrong and punishing according to law is the responsibility of the legal order. Even when the people are punished without resentment, this is called being in accord with virtue. When conduct follows the law, De (Virtue) accords with Heaven and Earth. When the ruler is wise, no matter is beyond clear understanding; when the law is fair, the people will not suffer unjustly.

Laozi said: There is no fixed standard for right and wrong in the world. People each regard what they like as right and what they dislike as wrong. In seeking what they call “right,” people are often not trying to discover how things truly stand; they are looking for an argument that suits their own wishes.

Laozi says: Right and wrong in the world have no fixed standard. Each person takes whatever they like as right and whatever they dislike as wrong. When people pursue what they call “right,” they are not seeking principle but something that accords with their wishes. And when they reject what they call “evil,” they are often merely rejecting what does not suit them.

Now I want to follow what the world calls “right” and abandon what it calls “wrong,” but I do not know what people mean by right and wrong. People approve of what they themselves accept and dislike what others do not accept. Others, in turn, may dislike what I approve of and deny what I regard as right. Since what is “right” may not truly be right, and what people approve of may not truly be good, if good and evil have no fixed standard, where can right and wrong be found?

As long as something accords with one’s wishes, even a bad thing may be treated as good. People approve of what they approve of not because it can prevent decline. Conversely, even when something is reasonable, it may be judged unreasonable if it goes against one’s wishes. If we do not cling to “right,” we will not keep judging others as “wrong”; when we no longer cling to “wrong,” so-called wrong has no basis. Then there is no fixed right and wrong, good and evil. Thus, the clear-sighted are not bound by ideas of good and evil, nor do they cling to judgments of right and wrong.

Governing a great state is like cooking a small fish: the key is not to turn it over and disturb it too often. If governing a great state means constantly issuing orders that trouble the people, how could things not fall into disorder? And how could a small fish withstand being turned over again and again?

Those who deliberately seek to please a ruler may win the ruler’s greater favor if their words happen to suit his wishes. But if they are personally kept at a distance even though their plans are sound, the ruler may instead grow suspicious. Here, “seeking to please” means that their words happen, by chance, to strike the ruler’s fancy. If someone speaks appropriately but is not trusted, the ruler may suspect him.

Now I want to put myself in order and respond to things as they are. How can I know by what standards the world will judge me? If I rush about trying to follow worldly ways, it is like hurrying to escape the rain: wherever I run, I am bound to get wet. Now I want to set a standard for others, but others will become my teachers and judges in turn. This is like hurrying to find shelter from the rain: my body is already exhausted, yet I still cannot avoid getting wet.

If one deliberately seeks emptiness and stillness, one cannot truly attain them. Without deliberately trying to create emptiness and stillness, one reaches them naturally, and what one seeks then goes smoothly. Emptiness and stillness mean having no desires; with something to seek, one is not truly empty and still. When the mind clings to nothing, there is nowhere it cannot reach.

One who understands the Great Dao is like an axle: it does not turn by itself, yet it drives the hub—the center of the wheel—and carries the carriage a thousand miles, traveling along endless roads. For one who understands the Great Dao, the body is like the hub and the spirit like the axle. The body blends into worldly life and remains at ease; the mind rests at the center and preserves its stillness. Such a person does not chase after words or wear himself out, and so can travel along endless roads and roam in unfathomable depths.

Thus, the sage understands the Great Dao and returns to what is most true. He does not impose changes on things but responds to their transformations; he acts, yet does not deliberately force his way. The sage returns inward to his true nature and responds outwardly to change. He encounters worldly affairs without being stained by them, and in every action and use follows things as they naturally are.

Laozi said, “A state that wages war repeatedly and wins again and again is bound to perish. Frequent warfare exhausts the people; too many victories make the ruler proud. It is rare for a state to survive when a proud ruler drives an exhausted people. Pride leads the ruler to indulge himself, and indulgence brings an endless pursuit of wealth. Exhaustion breeds resentment among the people, and resentment leads them to scheme repeatedly and grow anxious. When both ruler and people have gone to extremes, no state can avoid perishing. Thus, once an achievement is complete, withdrawing from it accords with the Dao of Heaven. Warfare should not be frequent, the ruler should not be proud, the people should not be exhausted, and the pursuit of wealth should not be without limit. Whatever reaches an extreme will turn back. If one still does not know when to stop, no state has ever escaped destruction.”

King Ping of Zhou asked Wenzi, a Daoist figure, “I have heard that you attained the Dao from Lao Dan (Laozi). Although a worthy person may possess the Dao, what can be done when the age is chaotic and disordered? How could one person’s authority alone teach a people long sunk in disorder?”

Note: King Ping of Zhou uses “one person” to refer to himself. He means that even though power now rests in the hands of a single ruler, it is difficult to transform the people. What principle, then, could Wenzi rely on to govern the state well?

Wenzi said: What is meant by Dao and De? They set wrongs right and bring them back to the proper way; put disorder in order; and change lax, corrupt customs so that people return to simplicity. When steadfast virtue rises again, the world will be at peace. The crucial factor is the ruler alone. Whether the ruler holds to the proper way in his heart determines whether the state moves from disorder to good government, or from good government to disorder. When the ruler declines, the state declines; when the ruler governs well, the state can be at peace. Thus the rise and fall of a state are not determined by Heaven’s decree. Success and failure lie with people themselves, depend on no external thing, and rest above all on following the Dao.

If the ruler can use the Dao to discipline himself, lax customs can be changed and steadfast virtue can rise again. Why worry, then, that the world cannot be governed well? The ruler is the people’s teacher, and those above serve as examples for those below. Whatever the people above favor, those below will adopt in turn. When those above possess De, those below will uphold benevolence and righteousness. When the people have benevolence and righteousness, society will not fall into laxity and disorder. Thus everyone in the world looks up to the ruler and takes him as a model, just as water rushes down from high mountain streams and invariably gathers in low places.

When virtue accumulates without end, it can bring about the work of kingship; when resentment accumulates without end, it leads to ruin. Stones piled up become a mountain, and water gathered together becomes a sea. Nothing great has ever been accomplished without accumulation. If virtue has not accumulated enough, one cannot earn a reputation; if wrongdoing has not accumulated enough, it cannot bring a person to ruin. Thus both the achievement of kingship and the path to destruction depend on long accumulation.

Those who accumulate De receive Heaven’s gifts, Earth’s aid, and the support of spirits and gods. Phoenixes fly above the courtyard, qilin appear in the countryside, and dragons dwell in the pools. This means that when De resonates with Heaven and Earth, auspicious signs appear and all things can pursue their own livelihoods in peace. Governing the world through the Dao is the world’s blessing; governing it without following the Dao is the world’s calamity. If a ruler makes an enemy of the people, he cannot maintain his rule for long, however much he wishes to. Here, “presiding over” means governing and leading: when a ruler governs the world through the Dao, the people support him together without feeling burdened; when a ruler lacks the Dao, the people resent him and his rule cannot last. This is why Yao and Shun prospered, and Jie and Zhou perished. By observing good and evil, one can see whether a state will endure or fall.

King Ping said, “I have respectfully heard that governing the world in accord with the Dao (the Way) will cause the people to resent you, and the dynasty will not endure. Yao and Shun prospered through this kind of governance, while Jie and Zhou perished through it. By observing whether a ruler’s policies are good or bad, one can see whether a state will survive or fall.”

King Ping said, “I have respectfully received your instruction.” King Ping was a wise ruler of the Zhou dynasty, troubled by the state of the world in his time.