《通玄真经[注](朱弁)》Vol. 2

The reach of his benevolence was also very broad, so people throughout the Central States and the lands in the four directions were all transformed by his teaching.

Laozi said, “If people can practice Wuwei, the world can be governed; when their nature is clear and still, body and mind can be at peace. Those who deliberately set out to act are mostly moved by the influence of their ruler. The sage’s heart never ceases, day or night, to seek the benefit of others, so his benevolence reaches far, and people throughout the Central States and the lands in the four directions are all transformed by his teaching.”

Here, “governing through Wuwei” means not forcing things to conform to subjective intent, but allowing them to unfold naturally. Deliberate action undermines governance through Wuwei; using cleverness and ingenuity to handle affairs also harms human nature. If one wishes to practice Wuwei but clings to an intention in the heart, one is already acting deliberately. Unable to practice Wuwei, one cannot truly act effectively either. Having lost one’s own clear and still nature, how could one govern external things?

A person’s spirit can exert its influence without relying on words. “Spirit” here refers to the mind’s spiritual activity. Only when the heart is empty and still can that activity unfold fully. If one uses words to analyze the principles of all things and becomes entangled in them, this harms the spiritual activity that does not depend on words. Deliberately holding “wordlessness” in one’s mind also harms the spirit’s natural function: if the heart retains an idea of “emptiness,” it has not yet become truly empty and still. Thus, once the mind is entangled, the spirit is inevitably harmed.

Wenzi said, “Reputation can be established through effort, and achievements can be accomplished through effort.” In the past, Nan Rongchou—feeling ashamed that the sage’s Way might be lost with him—journeyed south to visit Laozi. After receiving a single teaching, his spirit suddenly became clear, and the difficulties that had troubled him gradually opened up.

He practiced with great effort and went ten days without food, yet felt as though he were enjoying a lavish feast. This means that he understood the Way and cultivated his De, feeling inwardly fulfilled and nourished. His insight then illuminated the four directions, his reputation endured in later generations, his intelligence and strategy were far-reaching, and he could discern the subtlest details. His renown was praised and has continued to this day. This is what is meant by saying that reputation can be established through effort.

Related accounts appear in Kangcangzi.

The skilled farmer does not grow slack, and the granary will not be empty. The person who manages affairs of state will not have a pure and sincere heart without diligence. Generals and ministers cannot achieve success without exerting themselves. If rulers and nobles are idle and negligent, they will leave no reputation by the end of their lives.

The central teaching of this passage is that wholehearted sincerity is the foundation. Wenzi worried that people might speak only of sincerity while forgetting the need to study and practice diligently. So he lists these examples one by one to show that sincerity also depends on diligence.

The Perfected Person, whose cultivation has reached the highest level, acts in secret, as if hidden beneath thunder. No trace of their presence can be detected, and they leave no fame behind.

They act in response to the times and establish achievements in accordance with circumstances. They advance and withdraw with ease, meeting no obstacle they cannot overcome. They adapt to changes in the times and accord with the patterns of things.

The Perfected Person is sincere within, and this appears outwardly as De (Virtue/Power), whose blessings spread in every direction. When they see what benefits the world, they rejoice, yet do not forget that calamity still afflicts it. When they consider the world’s troubles, they feel anxious, as though they had lost something.

Their nature accords with the principles of things, so they have no sense of gain or loss. Yet their physical form responds to external things, and so these feelings of sorrow and joy still arise.

When they grieve over the people’s troubles, the people grieve over their grief. When they take joy in the people’s happiness, the people take joy in their happiness. Because their heart is in accord with everyone’s, people do not regard them as different from themselves.

Thus, never has anyone failed to achieve kingship after sharing the world’s joys and sorrows. Only one who harbors no selfish thoughts and is in accord with the world can become its support.

The Perfected Person’s way of acting cannot be seen at the outset, and in the end is difficult to surpass. They influence people through inner sincerity, so at first they leave no trace. And they leave no fixed pattern for others to imitate, so in the end they are difficult to equal.

They stand on ground that cannot collapse—that is, they take stillness as their foundation. They store their reserves in a granary that can never be exhausted—that is, they take profound De (Virtue/Power) as their foundation.

Draw upon the inexhaustible source, and make self-sufficiency the basis of life. Issue commands as water flows from its source, nourishing all things while following nature. Let the people live in an atmosphere free of contention, and govern them with humility and gentleness.

Open the gate to places that can certainly be reached. Because the way is easy to follow, one will not lose it. Do not attempt what cannot be accomplished, or force things into forms that contradict their inherent nature. Do not seek what cannot be obtained, or covet a share that is not yours. Do not occupy a position that cannot be held for long; cast off pride and complacency. Do not take a road from which there is no return; free yourself from entanglements in needless complexity.

When a person of great De issues suitable commands that people are willing to accept, no one fails to comply. Commands that accord with the times can bring great achievements gradually from small beginnings. Commands that go against the times may cause harm even when their intentions are good; even what has already been accomplished may turn to failure. The commands of a person of great De are clear and simple, and people gladly accept their instruction; the way of governance thus becomes naturally evident and far-reaching. Complicated and harsh commands have the opposite effect.

A true great person is steadfast within and clear-sighted without. Within, they are firm like Heaven and Earth; without, they are lucid like the sun and moon. Heaven and Earth cover and sustain all things, while the sun and moon illuminate everything. A person of great De sets the people an example through the good way, without altering what is fundamental or violating enduring laws. Then the people under Heaven will follow commands like grass bending in the wind.

Only by following the Dao and establishing De can one set the people an example through the good way. Only by responding to the times and following human nature can commands be carried out.

If governance in spring is out of step with the season, the planet Jupiter—the Year Star, associated with Wood—will stray from its proper course. If governance in summer is out of step, Mars—the Fire Star—will move in reverse. If governance in autumn is out of step, Venus—the Metal Star—will depart from its regular course and appear and disappear unpredictably. If governance in winter is out of step, Mercury—the Water Star—will fail to follow its usual path. If governance is out of step in all four seasons, Saturn—the Earth Star—will waver, the sun and moon will show abnormalities, the five planets will fall into disorder, and comets will appear. Only those who cultivate De will avoid bringing about such anomalies.

When governance in spring is timely, the grain and millet will flourish. This is because the seasons and human affairs are in harmony, allowing the harmonious Qi of growth to flow; thus the five grains thrive.

When governance in summer is timely, rain will fall at its proper time.

When governance in autumn is free of error, the people become prosperous and well supplied. Grain and fruit ripen, and the people naturally have enough. This is because governance follows the harmonious, flourishing energy of the season, allowing the five grains to grow abundantly.

When governance in summer is free of error, rain falls at the proper time.

When governance in autumn is free of error, the people become prosperous and well supplied. Grain and fruit ripen, and the people naturally have enough.

When governance in winter is free of error, the state enjoys peace and well-being. In winter, Yin energy grows still; governance follows the season, and so the state remains peaceful and well.

End of Volume Two of the Wenzi.

Volume Three of the Wenzi

“Chapter on the Nine Ways of Guarding”

“Guarding” means keeping the mind single-minded. When all nine practices are carried out fully and to the utmost, everything can be encompassed, and nothing is beyond accomplishment. This chapter consists of ten sections, from “Guarding Simplicity” to “Guarding Emptiness.” Most sections have titles beginning with “Guarding”; only one has a different title. Although there are ten sections, the meaning conveyed by the number nine runs through them all. Hence the title Nine Ways of Guarding, which likely draws on the significance of putting the number nine into practice.

Laozi said: Before Heaven and Earth took shape, all was deep and obscure, and the myriad things were fused as one. This means that Heaven, Earth, and the myriad things were mingled within primordial Qi.

Primordial Qi was still and clear. Its heavier, turbid part gathered to form Earth, while its subtle, light, and pure part formed Heaven. When clarity reaches its utmost, the distinction between light and heavy appears naturally.

Primordial Qi divided to form the four seasons, and further differentiated into Yin and Yang. The movement of Qi has qualities of stagnation and agitation, giving rise to Yin and Yang; the cycles of Qi have endings and beginnings, giving rise to the four seasons.

Pure primordial Qi formed human beings, while mixed and turbid Qi formed insects. Thus human beings are called the most spiritually endowed of living creatures, while insects are counted among the many kinds of life.

Hardness and softness work together, and from this the myriad things come into being. Hardness is the nature of Yang, and softness the form of Yin. When Yin and Yang energies interact, the myriad things are able to grow.

The light and clear Qi (vital energy) is received from Heaven, so it is open, bright, and unobstructed. The bones and body have their root in Earth, and receive heavy, turbid Qi; they are therefore bound and held in place.

When spirit and essence enter the gateway of the Dao (the Way), and the bones and body return to their root, what remains of me?

Birth and change are the constant course of Heaven’s principle. When things are born, body and spirit suddenly take shape; when they change, they fall silent, return to their source, and go back to their root. I cannot decide that their coming matters to me, nor do I control their departure. On what basis, then, can the view that “this matters to me” stand? The “gateway” is the path by which all things return to the root of change.

Thus the sage models himself on Heaven and follows Earth. He is not constrained by worldly conventions or led astray by others. He does not cling to what “matters to me,” but follows the natural changes of things.

He takes Heaven as father and Earth as mother, and makes following the fundamental patterns of spirit and body his guiding principle. He models himself on Heaven and Earth in their virtue of covering and carrying all things. Yin-Yang is his governing framework, and the four seasons provide his order. Without these as guiding principles, one cannot accord with the great harmony of Heaven and Earth’s movement.

Heaven is clear through stillness, and Earth is peaceful through stability. Things die when they go against the natural order and live when they follow it. If even Heaven and Earth rely on stillness to fulfill their virtue, how can restless, agitated things hope to survive?

Thus quietude and detachment are where Shen (spirit) dwells in peace, while emptiness is where the Dao resides. When spirit is unified and settled, it rests in the quietude and detachment of the Way of Heaven. The root of the Great Dao lies in a mind that is empty, still, and Wuwei (non-action).

Spirit is received from Heaven; the bones and body are received from Earth. To value spirit is to preserve the body.

Thus it is said, “The Dao gives birth to One.” The Dao itself was not produced by anything, and “One” was not established from nothing. This is simply looking back to the beginning, before the myriad things had appeared, and provisionally calling it “Dao.” At that time, number had not yet differentiated out of chaos, so it was called “One.”

“One gives birth to Two” means that the One Qi opens and divides, becoming the two Qi of Yin and Yang.

“Two gives birth to Three”…

Yang Qi is clear and light, rising upward to become Heaven; Yin Qi gathers and settles downward to become Earth. The two Qi, Yin and Yang, mingle and harmonize. The human being dwells between Heaven and Earth.

The Dao gives rise to One; One gives rise to Two; Two gives rise to Three; Three gives rise to the myriad things.

Once the Three Powers—Heaven, Earth, and humanity, the three fundamental forms of existence—are established, the transformations of the myriad things can take place. Thus, day by day, all things are continually brought forth and renewed.

All things carry Yin on their backs and embrace Yang. The two Qi, Yin and Yang, blend and harmonize, forming a balanced state.

Turning away from Yin and facing Yang is how all things grow in accordance with nature. The two Qi, Yin and Yang, clash and then harmonize; this is the foundation of life’s generation.

Laozi says: Human beings are born by receiving the transformations of Heaven and Earth.

They receive the Qi of Heaven and Earth, which undergoes transformation to form the body and spirit.

After one month in the womb, a fatty substance takes shape.

This marks the beginning of the embryo’s formation; its shape is like that of fat.

After two months in the womb, the channels take shape.

Qi and blood circulate, gradually forming the channels.

After three months in the womb, the embryo takes shape.

It is not yet firm within; only the embryo’s basic form has begun to emerge.

After four months in the womb, the fetus begins to take on a distinct shape.

After five months in the womb, the sinews begin to form.

The fetus develops over ten months, so five months is exactly halfway. The sinews connect the hard bones with the soft muscles and lie between firmness and softness; that is why they form at this stage. Jing and blood transform to produce bone and flesh. Bones are hard and muscles dense, and without the movement of Qi, they cannot function. Thus, channels run through the muscles and sinews lie between the bones, carrying vital Qi throughout the body and connecting the joints of the limbs.

After six months in the womb, the bones form.

Jing and Qi gather and transform into bones.

After seven months in the womb, the fetus develops into a formed body.

The five internal organs are complete, and the nine openings—two eyes, two ears, two nostrils, the mouth, and the front and rear openings—are all present.

After eight months in the womb, the fetus begins to move.

Its limbs are able to move.

After nine months in the womb, the fetus moves frequently.

That is, it moves more often.

After ten months in the womb, the fetus is born. Its body is fully developed, the five internal organs have taken shape, and each part is correctly positioned within and without.

The liver governs the eyes, the kidneys govern the ears, the spleen governs the tongue, the lungs govern the nose, and the gallbladder governs the mouth.

The correspondences between the organs and the sensory openings given here differ somewhat from those found in other accounts. Although each of the five organs has its own domain among the seven openings, they are interconnected and mutually linked, and each can affect the others. The heart alone is not mentioned here because it is the spirit that governs the other organs; its function cannot be fully encompassed by any single external opening.

The exterior is called the outer aspect, and the interior is called the inner aspect.

The limbs and nine openings on the outside of the body make up its exterior; the five viscera and six bowels within make up its interior. The head is round, modeled on Heaven; the feet are square, symbolizing Earth. Since Heaven is round and Earth square, the upper and lower parts of the human body respectively correspond to Heaven and Earth.

Heaven has four seasons, the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water), nine divisions—the nine gates of Heaven’s palaces—and 366 days. Humans have four limbs, five viscera, nine openings, and 360 joints. The form of the human body is modeled on Heaven.

Heaven has wind, rain, cold, and heat; humans have giving, taking, and the emotions of joy and anger. Wind can disperse, and rain can nourish; these are like human giving and taking. Cold brings withering and death, while heat makes all things warm; these are like the changes in human emotion.

The gallbladder symbolizes clouds and embodies decisiveness and authority. The lungs symbolize Qi and embody a clear, pure nature. The spleen symbolizes wind and embodies movement and activation. The kidneys symbolize rain and embody the moistening and nourishing power of Yin. The liver symbolizes thunder and embodies shock and anger.

Humans and Heaven and Earth correspond to one another, and the heart governs the body. The heart is the center of sensation and response to change, and also resembles the fundamental pivot that sets the transformation of all things in motion. Other parts of the body and the internal organs each correspond to aspects of Heaven and Earth, so humans and Heaven and Earth resonate with one another. The heart, however, governs the tongue, one of the body’s openings; because it is not constrained by external things, it can direct the whole body.

The ears and eyes symbolize the sun and moon, while blood and Qi symbolize wind and rain. The eyes symbolize the sun, the ears the moon, Qi the wind, and blood the rain.

When the sun and moon move out of order, they may obscure one another in solar or lunar eclipses, and their light may weaken. When wind and rain come at the wrong time, they can destroy crops. Applied to the human body, the same principles make clear that a loss of balance can likewise bring harm.

When the Five Planets—Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, and Water—move irregularly, the provinces, commanderies, and feudal states suffer calamities.

Each of the Five Planets corresponds to a region in the sky and to a province or state on earth. Celestial phenomena and human affairs respond to one another. Thus, when a feudal state or province loses its virtue, unusual signs appear in the heavens and disasters strike on earth. This shows that human beings are connected with Heaven and Earth. The ears and eyes correspond to the sun and moon; blood and Qi correspond to wind and rain. When the breath becomes disordered, it is like the wind blowing erratically; when the flow of blood stagnates, it is like rainwater pooling. Using the ears and eyes to excess is likewise like the sun and moon moving out of their proper courses.

The principles by which Heaven and Earth operate are vast, yet they restrain the radiance of the sun and moon and cherish their own Shen—their spirit and vital force. How, then, could human ears and eyes keep seeing and hearing without cease? How could the spirit remain active forever without tiring?

Heaven and Earth are boundless, and the sun and moon shine in every direction. Yet eclipses diminish their light, limiting the full extent of their functions. The alternation of cold and heat, each in its appointed season, also preserves the vitality of Heaven and Earth. How much more, then, should human beings—whose body and mind have definite limits—use themselves with restraint?

Therefore, sages guard their inner body and mind, preventing external things from harming them.

Those who are skilled at guarding their inner selves do not let external things rob them of their composure.

Blood and Qi give a person their radiance.

Here, “radiance” refers to a person’s complexion and appearance.

The Five Viscera are where a person’s vital essences are stored.

The liver stores the Hun, the lungs the Po, the heart the Shen, the spleen intention and understanding, and the kidneys Jing and resolve. These vital essences are stored within the body; when they function, they appear as a person’s spirit and vitality.

When blood and Qi remain focused on circulating within the body and are not dissipated outward, the chest and abdomen become full, and cravings diminish.

Joy and anger show in the face; courage and timidity shift with the breath. These are all signs that blood and Qi are being dissipated outward. From this, one can readily see whether there is loss or gain. When the flow of blood is not thrown into disorder, the muscles and bones become strong; when Qi does not wander and disperse outward, desires diminish. It is only when the Qi of the Five Viscera is deficient that particular cravings arise. When it is harmonized, how could there be excessive desire?

When cravings diminish, the ears and eyes become clear: one hears distinctly and sees plainly.

Most cravings arise from contact with external things through the ears and eyes. When the muscles and bones within the body are strong, and Qi does not dissipate outward, desires naturally diminish. Only when the Qi stored within is insufficient do particular cravings arise. When body and mind are in harmony, how could intense desires remain?

As cravings diminish, the ears and eyes become clear: one hears distinctly and sees plainly. Since many desires arise through the ears and eyes, reducing desire naturally brings them clarity. Sounds no longer cause confusion, and things no longer appear blurred.

To hear distinctly and see plainly is called “clarity.” If the Shen (spirit) of the Five Viscera remains gathered in the heart and does not scatter, Qi and intention can take the lead, keeping one’s conduct from going astray. When the spirit is full, Qi does not become disordered.

Each of the Five Viscera has its own function and Shen, but only the heart governs the myriad spirits and the Five Viscera. If each is kept in its proper place and not stirred recklessly by external things, the Shen can remain whole and focused. But if the gallbladder’s Qi grows overbearing or the spleen’s Qi becomes arrogant, conduct will overstep proper bounds and defy reason. Without the heart’s restraint, how could these be brought into order?

When the heart’s Shen is whole, one can hear everything that should be heard, see everything that should be seen, and carry tasks through to completion.

Then misfortune has no chance to enter, and pernicious Qi cannot take advantage of a weakness. Pernicious Qi invades the body because there is no inner governor; misfortune comes from outside because one cannot discern the right moment. Therefore, when Qi is upright, pernicious Qi cannot attack; when the Shen is whole, blessings become manifest.

Thus, the more one seeks, the less one actually obtains; the farther one’s gaze reaches, the less one truly understands.

Only when the heart is at peace can the body and mind be brought into order, and the condition of the Five Viscera will reveal itself naturally. From this one can understand that when upright Qi is abundant, pernicious Qi cannot invade; when the Shen is whole, blessings become manifest. When the heart is settled and the Five Viscera each rest in their proper place, one can understand the principles of all things under Heaven.

The apertures of the ears, eyes, mouth, and nose are gateways through which the spirit enters and leaves. Through them, one senses external things and expresses what is within.

Qi and intention are messengers of the Five Viscera and can reveal their condition.

Therefore, when the ears and eyes become absorbed in sounds and sights, the Five Viscera are stirred and cannot remain settled. When Blood and Qi surge without cease, the spirit races along with them and cannot stay in its proper place; instead, it is burdened by the body. In this state, even if fortune and misfortune loom before one like mountains, one has no way to perceive them.

When the mind grows still, it can perceive the subtle; when thoughts are in turmoil, one is easily confused and becomes attached.

The sages cherish things, but do not go beyond due measure. They treasure and guard their bodies and spirits, and do not let sights and sounds lead them astray.

The sages keep their ears and eyes clear and open. They are not seduced by external things and do not give rise to covetous desires. When something outside tempts the eye, the mind follows after it.

As long as the mind and Qi remain calm and still, and cravings and desires are reduced, the five organs can be at peace. When the spirit stays within the body and does not stray beyond it, one can observe events of the past and signs of the future, and understand the causes of fortune and misfortune. Why worry that one cannot see clearly?

If one truly possesses the virtues described above, the mind’s far-reaching insight will not be obscured. How much less, then, when fortune and misfortune have already begun to show themselves: there is no reason they should remain unseen. Distinguish the kinds and names of things, and understand the patterns of their changes, and what lies before you can be observed. Cultivate your nature so that it accords with the root; bring the spirit to a deep and hidden state, and you can perceive what lies far off and trace back what happened in the past. “Outer” refers to events that have already appeared; “inner” refers to signs that have not yet emerged. Past events leave traces, and by following those traces one can trace them back. Future events have not yet taken shape, but can be inferred from their signs. Once you clearly discern the turning points in the changes of things, you can understand them. What, then, is so difficult to discern about the causes of fortune and misfortune?

Thus, the farther the spirit wanders outward, the less it can know. This means that the spirit must not be allowed to run wild outside. Once it does, external things lead and unsettle it, and it can no longer perceive things clearly from within itself.

The five colors disturb the eyes and make it hard to see clearly; looking at too much leaves the vision blurred. The five tones fill the ears and make it hard to hear clearly; when sounds grow jumbled, hearing becomes confused. The five flavors disturb the mouth and tongue, making one lose the ability to distinguish true flavor. Fixation on advancing or retreating, choosing or rejecting, unsettles the mind, and one’s conduct becomes frivolous and unstable. Once the mind is in disarray, it is difficult to sustain one’s work.

Therefore, cravings and desires draw a person’s Qi toward external things, while feelings of love and aversion exhaust the spirit.

If these desires cannot be swiftly cast aside, Jing and Qi will be depleted day by day.

If things continue this way, how could life possibly last?

People fail to live out the full span allotted to them because they place too much importance on preserving life, then pursue nourishment and pleasure to excess, thereby harming their lives.

Only those who do not make the preservation or pursuit of life into an obsession can thereby attain longevity.

Forget delight and craving, and joy within will become abundant. By not clinging to life, the body can instead be kept whole.

The transformations of Heaven and Earth move in mutual connection. Though the myriad things each have their own form, at root they are one. Yin and Yang Qi circulate and interact, allowing all things in Heaven and Earth to connect. The flourishing growth of the myriad things all springs from the same great Dao.

Only those who do not cling to the pursuit of life can thereby attain longevity. Forget delight and craving, and joy within will become abundant. By not clinging to life, the body can instead be kept whole.

The transformations of Heaven and Earth move in mutual connection. Though the myriad things each have their own form, at root they are one. Yin and Yang Qi circulate and interact, allowing all things in Heaven and Earth to connect. The flourishing growth of the myriad things all springs from the same great Dao.

Understand that all things come from “the One,” their common source, and nothing will be beyond your understanding. Grasp the Dao embodied in this source, and you will understand the principles governing all things in Heaven and Earth.

Without understanding this One, there is nothing one can truly understand. If you leave behind the Dao, the root of all things, and turn to particular matters, you will be bewildered by them all.

I live between Heaven and Earth and am one of the myriad things; each of the myriad things is itself one thing among them. Since we are all born between Heaven and Earth, my body is naturally just one among the myriad things.

What grounds do one thing and another have for regarding each other as absolutely different and opposed? Since they come from the same source, there is no need to cling to distinctions between them or to divide self from other.

Wanting life cannot make it happen by force. Life arises naturally when its time comes; people cannot command it into being.

Nor can one refuse death by hating it. When death arrives, hatred cannot turn it away.

There is no need to despise a lowly position, nor to rejoice in an honored one. One does not gain honor by loving it, nor escape lowliness by loathing it; these things simply follow their natural course.

Rest content with the conditions you have, and do not dare to pursue too much. By not striving to the utmost, you can attain the greatest joy. Here, “guarding emptiness” means keeping the heart-mind still and open, unfilled by desires.

Rest content with the conditions you have, and do not dare to pursue too much. By not striving to the utmost, you can attain the greatest joy.

Allowing all things to follow their own course, and letting yourself and all things each find their own ease, enables each to fulfill its proper nature. If you deliberately try to control them or force them to reach some extreme, that is not the true extreme. Letting all things unfold naturally to their conclusion—is this not joy in itself?

Preserving Emptiness

Not letting external things bewilder or burden you is what is meant by “emptiness.”

Laozi said: “A sage is one who follows the times and is at ease in the place where they find themselves. Living in the present age, they are also at ease in their work.”

To follow the times one encounters and be at ease in one’s place, without distress whether the world is peaceful or turbulent, whether one lives in retirement or serves in public life: this is what it means to accept Heaven’s mandate and be content with one’s proper role.

Grief and joy cause Virtue to stray from its proper course, because they are not proper expressions of the Dao.

Liking and disliking become burdens on the mind. When the mind cannot be empty and still, or let go of its attachments, it is bound by the things it cares about.

Delight and anger are signs of straying from the Dao, because they go beyond the way of harmony.

Therefore, while alive, follow the workings of the Dao of Heaven; when dead, go along with the transformations of all things. The Dao of Heaven is always at work, bringing forth change. One who abides in Wuwei follows the times: when the moment calls for it, so it is.

Even if the mind is still, it is not empty and still if it remains bound by attachments. Delight and anger are signs of straying from the Dao, because they go beyond the way of harmony.

Therefore, while alive, follow the workings of the Dao of Heaven; when dead, go along with the transformations of all things. The Dao of Heaven is always at work, bringing forth change. One who abides in Wuwei follows the times: when the moment calls for it, so it is.

In stillness, one accords with Yin Qi; in action, one changes along with Yang Qi. Thus the mind is the ruler of the body, and Shen (spirit)—the wondrous functioning of the spirit—is its most precious part.

If the body labors without rest, it will wear out; if Shen is expended without cease, it will be depleted. So the sage follows these principles and dares not go beyond them. Responding to all things with an unselfish mind makes it possible to fully understand their principles; receiving what is real with an empty and still mind makes it possible to discern the proper measure of each thing.

When the mind is calm and joyful, empty and peaceful, one can pass through life in accordance with nature. Let these four virtues work freely, following change until life comes to an end.

By neither keeping anyone at a distance nor showing anyone special closeness, one avoids the partiality that comes from favoring some over others.

Maintain a quiet and peaceful character, nurture a gentle, growing vitality, and thereby follow nature.

Be attuned to the Dao and close to De. Those who understand emptiness and follow the myriad things accord with the Dao wherever they go. Those who guide particular things and move with the way circumstances unfold embody De at every turn.

Do not actively summon good fortune or rush to invite calamity. Good fortune is not always truly good fortune; only a settled heart can be called fortunate. Nor is calamity always truly calamity; agitation and unrest are what make it a calamity. If you remain at ease amid adversity, why distinguish it from good fortune? If you possess good fortune but cannot live with it peacefully, it may turn into calamity. The nature of fortune and calamity depends not on whether circumstances go smoothly, but on whether the heart is agitated or tranquil. The word “rush” implies acting on one’s own initiative. Here it means that calamity often arises from reckless action, and that the transformation of fortune into calamity is already latent in one’s actions. Thus the sage practices Wuwei (non-action): he neither invites calamity nor seeks good fortune, but comes and goes in peace. Though the outward signs of fortune and calamity may appear, hardship and success cannot disturb his heart.

Neither death nor life can change him. By deeply following transformation, he remains constant at all times. In this sense, he has never truly been changed by life and death.

This is therefore called “the utmost spirit,” the attainment of the deepest and most subtle state. Put this state into practice, and nothing sought remains unattained, nothing undertaken remains unaccomplished.

Its application has no fixed method.

Remain in Wuwei, roaming among the myriad things without being bound by them. Then you will cling neither to “self” nor to external things.

The Laozi says, “When you regard the world lightly, your spirit is free of burdens.” With a spacious and peaceful heart, the spirit is not troubled, because worldly splendor is not regarded as precious.

“When you regard the myriad things as small, your heart will not be confused.” If the heart stands beyond external things, Mount Tai can seem no larger than a fine hair. You can calmly accept differences in size, without being led about by the scale of things. What, then, is there to confuse you?

“When you regard death and life as equal, your will will not fear.”

A dream ends when one awakens, and awakening also reveals that one had been dreaming. Life and death, movement and stillness, are like the coming apart and joining together of spring: different states within change. Understand this, and you can accord with the Dao, with nothing left to fear.

I, too, am one among the myriad things, changing along with them. Once I understand this, I am no longer bewildered by the shifting light and darkness of Heaven’s Way.

The Perfected Person takes unwavering De as a pillar and travels an unobstructed path.

When De is the guiding principle, one does not falter. Walking within the Dao, one remains open and unhindered throughout.

They draw upon a source of wisdom that never runs dry, and take the immortal Dao as their teacher.

They have the ability to deal with all the affairs of the world, yet this never troubles their mind. They investigate the Dao at its root, yet never lose their own nature.

Wherever they go, things proceed smoothly; whatever their circumstances, they find a way through. Whether bowing or rising, lowering their head or looking up, they hold fast to their heavenly allotment without becoming confused, and go along with the changes of fortune and misfortune. Gain and loss, advantage and harm, are not enough to cause them distress.

They accept and bear their heavenly allotment, turning with the changes of the times. Even when fortune or misfortune comes, it cannot become a source of inner distress.

Those who hold to righteousness can be guided through the principle of benevolence, but they cannot be forced by violence.

Those who receive their charge from Heaven and possess unwavering resolve will not abandon their principles, even when facing a blade. They can be guided only by being shown benevolence; they cannot be compelled.

They can be set right through principle, but cannot be enticed with profit.

People can be set right through principle, but not lured by profit, because they value righteousness more highly than gain.

A noble person would rather die for righteousness than change their resolve for wealth and status.

Bo Yi and Shu Qi were such people.

To uphold what is right, they would not yield even in the face of death; fear could not make them submit.

Chen Buzhan, a minister of Qi, was such a person.

How much more so, then, for a person of Wuwei (non-action)!

If someone can uphold a single principle of righteousness, even at the cost of their life, how could a person with an expansive heart, who follows Wuwei, be confined by the burdens of the body?

A person of Wuwei is free of burdens. One who is free of burdens regards the world as something outside the self, like a pillar to which a shadow clings.

Though the shadow pillar stands there, it does not prevent things from existing in their own right. The Perfected Person (one whose virtue is lofty and who accords with the Great Dao) makes no display of himself to the world, and all things can settle naturally and stand on their own. When the heart is not burdened by the things one seeks, the world opens up in every direction.

Look upward at the conduct of the Perfected Person and probe deeply into the true meaning of the Dao and De; look downward at the behavior of ordinary people, and the principle becomes clear.

Thus, this principle can be explained in this way.

One who does not keep the affairs of the world in mind is like a scholar trying to find a child by beating a drum. Learning is meant to restore our original nature, yet ordinary scholars are still unable to keep from being burdened by the affairs of the world. Searching for a child with a drum shows that the child has already gone far ahead; the sound cannot catch up with him. If learning clings to external affairs, it too becomes difficult to return to one’s original nature.

Keeping to Equanimity

When artificial contrivances are removed, the Way is naturally level.

Laozi said: exalted power and abundant gain are things people covet; compared with one’s own person, they are not worth much.

The value of the human body lies in calmness, ease, and freedom from harm. Ordinary people know only how to elevate themselves through power and nourish themselves through gain, but they do not realize that becoming absorbed in these things harms the body’s innate calm and ease. Therefore, the sage regards lightly what the crowd esteems and guards the root of life.

The sage eats only enough to satisfy hunger and sustain the original Qi. The sage wears only enough to cover the body and ward off the cold, and is content with a way of life suited to their needs, seeking no excess.

Once hunger is satisfied, one can be at ease; once adequately clothed, one has enough. What exceeds these needs may instead become a burden on life, so the sage leaves excess things outside.

Do not covet what you might gain, and do not accumulate too much.

What accords with principle comes of its own accord; it is not gained by coveting. Things gather through changing circumstances, not through deliberate stockpiling.

When you do not deliberately pursue sights and colors, your vision becomes clear; when you do not deliberately pursue sounds, your hearing becomes quiet.

Do not use words to assert your superiority. Respond only when moved to do so. Do not plan and scheme in advance; settle only after responding.

Set aside cleverness and return to your unadorned nature.

Do not let the senses of eye and ear lead you about; return instead to life’s original, unadorned state.

Let the spirit rest, and release your attachment to and manipulation of past events. “Past” refers to what has already happened; “rest” means keeping the spirit from rushing outward and allowing it to settle.

Set aside cleverness and return to your unadorned nature: do not let the senses of eye and ear lead you about, but return to life’s original, unadorned state.

Gather the spirit and mind, and do not let them be pulled along by past events.

Here, “the past” means old and bygone events. “Rest” means settling the spirit and not letting it rush outward; “remove” means keeping the heart from being confused by the past.

To favor nothing and resent nothing is called openness.

Treating all things equally makes one open.

To cleanse oneself of defilement and cast off burdens, it is best to return to the state before things appeared, when their roots were still undivided. In that state, what could one fail to accomplish?

If one can abide in this fundamental Dao, defilement will be cleared from the heart, burdens will dissipate, and the heart will become tranquil.

Thus, those who understand how to nourish life through the Way of tranquility are not constrained by profit.

Profit should be grounded in tranquility and goodness; those who understand how to nourish life know this. The character “xian” is interchangeable with “xuan,” meaning to be hung up on or attached to something. Clinging to profit leads one down a path that erodes life’s true nature.

Those who are inwardly and outwardly in accord are not seduced by power and status.

“Fu” means to correspond or be in accord. If I follow the principles of nature in responding to things outside me, then their own principles are present within me, and the two are in accord. How could power and status seduce such a person?

That which lies “beyond” external boundaries is vast without limit; that which lies “beyond” internal boundaries is supremely noble.

When there is no obstruction in coming and going, and a person is wholly united with all things, this is the vastness of having no external boundary and the nobility of having no inner limit. One should not cling to either vastness or nobility, but simply follow the Dao.

One who understands this Dao of utmost vastness and nobility—where could they go and not find a way through?

Keeping to the Simple

Understand and abide by the natural course of things, and actions become easy.

Laozi said: Those who cultivated the Dao in ancient times regulated their dispositions and put their minds in order.

When desires do not exceed proper bounds, one can follow the life patterns inherent in one’s nature. When one does not give free rein to anger or delight, thoughts can shed confusion and return to order.

Nourish life through tranquility and preserve one’s nature through moderation.

Nourish life with tranquility and settle one’s disposition through moderation.

Take joy in the Dao, and one will not feel lowly; rest content in De, and one will not feel poor.

The Dao makes one inwardly fulfilled, so one does not belittle oneself because of external circumstances. De makes the spirit abundant, so one does not consider oneself poor because of material scarcity.

Human nature contains things one does not desire; if one can be free of greed, one will lack nothing.

Those who understand contentment can always find satisfaction in their circumstances.

There are things one does not take pleasure in; even without taking pleasure in them, one need not therefore refuse to do them.

Only by not being limited to a single kind of pleasure can one take on the joys of all under Heaven.

Anything that does not benefit one’s nature should not be allowed to deplete one’s De (Virtue/Power). If desire does not benefit one’s nature, De is fulfilled through stillness and purity.

Anything harmful to life should not be allowed to disturb the peace of body and mind. When the mind is still, life can be at ease; desire, by contrast, disrupts this peace. Whoever can maintain this state becomes a source of joy for all under Heaven.

Even if one indulges body and mind and acts freely, one can still become a model for all under Heaven, provided one observes measure and restraint. Those of the highest De never overstep the proper bounds in their every gesture and movement. Though they let body and mind unfold and act according to their nature, all they do can serve as a standard.

Eat according to one’s appetite, dress according to the body’s needs, live in a place suited to sheltering oneself, and act in accordance with reason: this is the simple, practicable Way upheld by the sages.

Possess all under Heaven without claiming it as one’s own; care for the myriad things without seeking profit from them. How could such a person let wealth or poverty, high or low status, alter their nature and life? The myriad things each have their own true form, yet not all know how to preserve themselves. To achieve this is to understand and put the Dao into practice.

Preserving Stillness

By remaining still and undisturbed, one can see through the emptiness of cravings and desires.

Laozi said: People receive Qi (vital energy) from Heaven. Their ears and eyes perceive sounds and colors; their mouths and noses perceive fragrances and odors; their skin perceives cold and warmth. These sensations are alike in themselves. Some people meet their death through them, while others preserve themselves; some become exemplary people, while others become petty ones. The difference lies in how each person restrains and responds to these sensations.

By nature, life seeks comfort through all six kinds of sensation. If external pleasures do not exceed due measure, and the heart does not depart from peace, one can follow the span of life allotted by Heaven, preserve body and mind, and return to the myriad things. But if sounds and colors unsettle the will, or the body is subjected to extremes like ice and fire, a person moves toward death and their conduct becomes aberrant. Is this not because human nature has been damaged, and people differ in how they practice restraint?

The spirit is the deep source of wisdom. When the spirit is profound and still, the use of wisdom will not run dry.

When the spirit is clear, wisdom too becomes bright.

As long as the mind is not disturbed by external things, one can handle affairs with clarity and care.

Wisdom is the mind’s means of discernment. When the mind inclines in a particular direction, wisdom analyzes and judges the things it encounters. When wisdom is clear and far-reaching, the mind can remain balanced and upright. The mind can issue commands, and wisdom can make plans; whether the mind is empty and still, and responds appropriately, reveals whether it is upright.

People do not use flowing water as a mirror, but use still water, because it is clear and calm. When the mind does not admit disturbances from outside, it becomes clear; when the inner heart is undisturbed, it becomes still. In this way, one can observe things and naturally understand them.

Thus, only when the spirit is clear and thoughts are calm can the true state of things appear. Only a tranquil mind can reveal things as they really are. Deliberate action inevitably leads to oversights; exhaustion and agitation deprive the mind of its ability to see clearly. When the mind is clear and still like water, the true state of things appears naturally as soon as they arrive.

The mind can function precisely because it is not occupied by distracting thoughts. To exhaust the mind and spirit is to wear them out; to observe things with a clear and still mind is “the use of non-use”: it seems to involve no deliberate action, yet it is effective.

A bright mirror is not obscured by dust. When the spirit is clear, it is not misled by cravings and desires. A clear spirit brings clarity of wisdom; clear wisdom keeps one from losing one’s nature, and so one is not burdened.

When the mind’s attention settles on something, the spirit goes there too. When the mind turns directly toward one thing, the spirit works there in subtle ways: when thought moves, the spirit follows; when thought subsides, the spirit comes to rest. In light of this, how could one fail to let the mind become clear and still?

When the mind returns to emptiness and stillness, restlessness fades and turmoil subsides. Emptiness is where the spirit comes to rest. To return to emptiness and stillness is to set aside self-interest and let the spirit act naturally; only by forgetting desire can one observe things clearly. Then changes in Yin-Yang, Water and Fire, and the like no longer pull at or disturb oneself.

This is the state in which sages move freely amid change: the spirit responds and moves in accord with the transformations of all things.

Therefore, anyone who governs the world must first understand the true nature of life; only then can they govern the world well. All living things depend on their nature and Heaven’s mandate. To understand what life shares in common, recognize the different kinds of things, and respond to change, one must rely on the spirit’s clear perception.

Human life contains only nature and life: Xing and Ming. People cherish life alike, but their constitutions differ. Without understanding the subtle principles at work, one cannot truly grasp these differences; without following the Great Dao, one cannot govern well.

Preserving the True

When one follows the body’s needs and keeps it at ease, the mind becomes settled and free from other troubles. When one acts in accord with one’s nature, one does not stray from the right path wherever one goes. Yet lofty renown and profound attainment arise from this as well.

Laozi said, “A sage simply follows his nature.” Eat according to your appetite and dress according to the body’s needs. Restrain your desires, and greedy, impure thoughts will have no chance to arise.

The things people cannot live without are food and clothing. Once the body and belly are provided for, everything else lies outside oneself. When neither one’s thoughts nor one’s conduct is impure, one may be called a sage.

Thus, one who can possess all under Heaven will never treat it as a means to satisfy personal desires. A sage does not make all under Heaven serve his appetites and desires, yet neither does he abandon it. For this reason, he can govern all under Heaven, and his renown rests upon it.

One who gains a good name will never seek renown through conduct that defies what is natural. True renown does not depend on false display or contrived behavior; petty calculation and deliberate self-promotion are, instead, empty and false.

When one truly understands the principles of nature and life, benevolence and righteousness follow of themselves. For one who understands Xing and Ming, reputation and benevolent conduct take shape naturally, without the need for deliberate embellishment. Calculated and affected behavior, by contrast, is empty and false.

When the spirit is unobstructed and the mind has no burdens, one can comprehend all things and move through them without hindrance. The mind is calm and does not force action. This is a mind free of burdens, empty, still, and open.

Power and profit cannot tempt such a person: he has no greed. Sensual pleasures cannot confuse him: he remains unstained. The eloquent cannot persuade him: he is not misled. The clever cannot sway him: he does not change lightly. Even the brave cannot make him afraid: he has no fear.

This is the Dao of the True Person, the utmost state of purity, depth, and refinement.

The Dao that keeps all things alive does not die; the Dao that continually transforms all things does not itself change. The Dao endures and can bring all things to life. Thus, one who follows the Way of Heaven leaves no trace of contrivance, while one who accords with the Dao never exhausts its mysteries.

Those who do not understand this Dao (the Way) may possess wisdom that reaches across Heaven and Earth, insight as clear as the sun and moon, and debating skill as deft as untying a chain of interlocking rings.

The Zhuangzi says, “Huishi was skilled at debate and could untie interlocking rings.” Yet however skillfully things may be made to change, the true Dao itself does not change along with them.

The Dao is ever-present and brings all things into transformation. Thus, following the Way of Heaven often goes unnoticed; being in accord with the Dao has no end.

Those who do not understand this Dao may possess wisdom that reaches across Heaven and Earth, insight as clear as the sun and moon, and debating skill as deft as untying a chain of interlocking rings.

The Zhuangzi says, “Huishi’s eloquence was such that he could even untie interlocking rings.”

Even words as splendid as gold and stone are of no use in governing the world.

By inwardly following the Way of Heaven and mysteriously joining with all things, one can discern the patterns of transformation and understand the principles of nature and life. Once this is achieved, one can act effectively whether at home or in governing the state. To govern through strategy, keen observation, argument, and the bestowal of favors yields only partial results; it is not the way to govern in full.

Therefore, the sage does not depart from the root to which he holds fast.

This means guarding the source from which life is nurtured and transformed, and not governing through harsh scrutiny. Then all beneath Heaven rests in ease, and the people believe that everything happens of itself.

Remain still.

The sage rests in this state and takes it as a way of nourishing life.

This means guarding the source from which life is nurtured and transformed, and not governing through harsh scrutiny. Then all beneath Heaven rests in ease, and the people believe that everything happens of itself.

Remain still.

The sage rests in this state and takes it as the foundation of life and the source of De (Virtue/Power).

Laozi says, “Clarity, stillness, simplicity, and freedom from desire are the means of nourishing life.”

Only by fully realizing the limits and endowments inherent in one’s life can one be said to nourish life.

Calm delight, emptiness, stillness, and Wuwei (non-action) provide the foundation for settling De.

By welcoming all things with an empty and still mind, and meeting affairs with calmness, one settles and fulfills De.

When the outside world does not disturb the heart, one’s nature can remain in proper balance.

Only when one is not burdened by sights and sounds can one’s nature remain whole.

When the heart does not disturb the vital energy of calmness, De can remain in its proper place.

When one does not let partiality burden oneself or damage the calmness with which one engages with others, De can rest securely where it belongs.

To govern affairs in accordance with the way of nourishing life, and to hold fast to De until the end of one’s years—this may be called truly perceiving and putting the Dao into practice.

When human nature has not yet been fully cultivated, people are pulled along by their desires and cannot deal properly with the affairs of the world. Virtue is on the verge of decline when one is burdened by external things; such a person can scarcely enjoy the full span of life. When external things disturb the heart, one’s inner nature changes with them. Even if one wishes to remain free of distress, how could one manage it? Only by remaining quiet and free of attachment can one nourish life and respond to the turmoil of the world. A heart that is harmonious and content makes it possible to pass one’s life in peace. This is the state meant by one who has truly realized the Great Dao.

When this state is attained, the blood and Qi will not become stagnant, and the Five Viscera will not accumulate pent-up Qi.

When the body is balanced and nature at peace, where could illness arise? Stagnation of the blood and Qi often comes from excessive nourishment, while the accumulation of Qi in the Five Viscera is linked to shifts in emotion, such as joy and anger.

Neither good fortune nor misfortune can disturb the spirit, and neither praise nor criticism can cloud the heart.

Those who disturb their nature and destroy their inner peace, seeking good fortune by trading on their reputations, are damaging their lives.

If the times are not right, who can accomplish the work of bringing order to the world?

This uses the words of sages and the Great Dao to make its point. The sages’ way of remaining quiet and true to themselves accords with times of stable rule and conflicts with times of turmoil. Thus, without an enlightened ruler, even the means of preserving oneself may not be secure.

Even a capable person who does not meet the right moment cannot escape danger; how much less can anyone do so when living in an age without the Dao?

These are the sages’ words of counsel, urging people to cultivate the Dao and remain still. Even one with the ability to take responsibility will struggle to escape in turbulent times if they cannot adapt to the circumstances and respond flexibly. How much harder, then, for someone who does not know how to remain still and finds themselves in danger?

The eyes may discern the fine tips of an autumn animal’s fur, yet the ears cannot hear a peal of thunder. When the ears concentrate on distinguishing sounds as delicate as those made by jade, the eyes cannot see the form of Mount Tai. Thus, those who fix their attention on small matters often overlook the great ones.

Once people become absorbed in the pleasures of sound and sight, they stray far from their nature.

All things crowd around us, consuming our lives and draining our Jing and Qi, like a spring that flows without pause. Temptations of every kind, through sound and sight, are everywhere and beyond counting, so living inevitably wears down our strength. Even if we wished to refuse their influence, how could we? They are right before our eyes and ears, acting on us at every moment.

When a basin of water is clear, after a day it can reflect even one’s eyebrows and eyelashes. Stir it and muddy it, and at once it can no longer show what is round or square. The human mind, too, is like a mirror that reflects things: only when it grows still can it see them clearly. Once a person is caught up in desires, even calamities as great as mountains may go unseen. The spirit is hard to keep clear, yet easily muddied, like water in a basin.

Keeping to the Way

The highest principle is to model oneself on the Dao of Heaven. To model oneself on the Dao of Heaven is to follow its course, bringing oneself into accord with the Great Way of nature.

Laozi said, “The highest sages model themselves on Heaven.” The sage rulers of antiquity followed the Dao of Heaven. They issued no commands, yet the people changed of their own accord; they used no clever contrivances, yet things were accomplished. Their abundant De renewed itself day by day, but there was nothing to praise; their mysterious achievements left no trace, so people did not sense that they had come from the ruler’s power.

The next best course is to honor the virtuous and make the way of the worthy one’s highest guide. Below that is to rely on ministers; to rely on them alone is to take the road to ruin.

Honoring the worthy can also become a source of folly and strife: elevating the worthy can provoke rivalry, and rivalry is the root of disorder. Modeling oneself on the Dao of Heaven is the principle for governing all affairs between Heaven and Earth. Following the natural Dao allows the Yin-Yang forces of Heaven and Earth to flow in harmony.

Governance takes emptiness and stillness as its foundation. Emptiness and stillness are Heaven’s nature: empty, it rejects nothing; still, it can order the turmoil of the myriad things. Only by understanding the way of emptiness and stillness can one grasp the beginning and end of things.

Do not forcefully restrain the myriad things. Let them unfold according to their nature and reach their end, like the changing seasons, cycling without cease. Thus the sage governs through stillness, while rash action brings disorder. When the mind becomes still, the myriad things each find their place, following their own nature and destiny.

So do not disturb or bind the myriad things, and they will naturally become clear and ordered. Do not startle or frighten them, and they will naturally settle. This is how the Dao of Heaven operates.

The sage governs the world through stillness and clarity; reckless action brings disorder. When government is quiet, the myriad things each find their own stability and follow their nature and life. “Tugging at the reins” refers to frequent edicts and interference at every turn; “startling” refers to enforcing harsh edicts.

Preserving Weakness

By occupying a position that others find difficult to match, one can instead fulfill the way of great victory.

Laozi says: The Son of Heaven and the lords take the world or a state as their household, and use the myriad things as livestock to be put to work. Possessing the vastness of the world and the abundance of the myriad things makes it easy to indulge in comfort and grow proud. As the saying goes, if the eminent do not guard against pride, pride will come sooner or later.

Powerful states wage war on weaker ones and invade them, as Jin destroyed Yu and Chu attacked Sui. Weaker rulers, meanwhile, may act arrogantly and disrespectfully, bullying their ministers, as did Duke Gong of Cao and Marquis Xian of Wei.

An extravagant mind and expanding desires are like violent winds and rain: they cannot last. Even Heaven and Earth cannot sustain their powerful force forever, much less a ruler whose extravagance exceeds his station.

Therefore, the sage uses the Dao to bring stability to the world. What could make the world secure if not the way of emptiness, stillness, and softness? Devote yourself to the Great Dao and follow Wuwei (non-action), diminishing the restless, agitated energy within. “Emptiness” refers to a state of inner balance and quietude. Notice subtle changes and hold firmly to softness, without striving to possess. By perceiving what is subtle, one can gradually accomplish what is great; by holding to softness, one can restrain what is hard.

Follow the way of the rivers and seas: they do not act deliberately, yet their achievements arise naturally. The rivers and seas lie low, so all waters flow toward them. The sage humbly welcomes counsel and embraces the myriad things. Thus, without deliberately seeking fame, the sage’s reputation is established; without contending with others for merit, the sage’s accomplishments are completed.

Only by refusing to assert strength can one accomplish kingship. When people are won over through De (Virtue/Power), they are at peace; when they are subdued by force, they will eventually rebel.

By becoming the soft and yielding one in the world, one’s spirit can endure. “The female” refers to softness and weakness. The sage follows the way of softness and weakness in order to preserve the spirit.

Cherish yourself, and you can attain honor.

To attain an honored position, the key is to cherish oneself. Thus, only by using the Dao to overcome oneself can one preserve life for the long term. If life is preserved, how could an honored position be lost?

One who holds the power to rule a state with ten thousand chariots must make the governance of all things and the accomplishment of great deeds the source of their renown. The scale of one’s achievements depends on one’s position. When the power and responsibility one bears are immense, one must not treat oneself lightly. The Zhuangzi says, “Treat yourself lightly, and you will bring the state to ruin.” If you treat yourself lightly, you cannot accomplish great deeds. No one can govern a state well without first finding ease within oneself and keeping one’s own affairs in order.

The Dao brings the great into being from the subtle and gives rise to the many from the few. The foundation of what is great begins with no more than a single hair; what gathers the many begins with no more than a tiny hairpin. The sages govern the world by following the Dao. They are gentle and subtle because they value what is small; they are frugal, restrained, and do not seek completeness because they value what is little. By valuing what is small, they can accomplish what is great; by valuing what is little, they can bring about what is beautiful. The Dao regards subtlety as greatness, and De regards restraint and the refusal to seek completeness as beauty.

Heaven’s Way checks what is high and supports what is low; it reduces what is in excess and replenishes what is insufficient, adjusting high and low like a drawn bow so that its force is balanced. Rivers and seas lie in low places, so all the waters of the world flow toward them and gather there. Therefore, sages are humble, quiet, and yielding because they are content to remain below; they are open and never self-satisfied because they consider themselves insufficient. They take as their model the way rivers and seas occupy low places. By being content to remain below, they can reach the heights; by considering themselves insufficient, they can attain virtue. When the heart stays low, one’s De grows ever nobler; when one is willing to yield, one’s actions advance all the more.

Those who boast of themselves find it hard to establish themselves; those who live extravagantly find it hard to endure. Those who rely on force and brutality move toward death, while excess and fullness invite loss. A fierce wind cannot blow for a whole day, nor can a torrential rain fall for a whole day; the water in a small valley cannot fill up all at once.

A small valley is narrow. If a great volume of water pours into it all at once, it will soon overflow.

Violent winds and torrential rain carry fierce, forceful momentum, so they cannot last; they quickly disperse. The small valley lies where powerful things hold sway and is therefore bound to suffer encroachment. Take back what belongs to it, then return it to the person of De (Virtue/Power).

Thus the sage maintains a yielding, humble stance, casts aside pride and extravagance, and dares not wield a domineering, forceful might. This is following the laws of Heaven and Earth. By maintaining softness, one can establish strength; by refusing extravagance and excess, one can endure. Only those who remain yielding can build firm De.

Laozi says: when the Way of Heaven reaches its peak, it turns; when something is full, it begins to diminish. The sun and moon are like this. Once the sun reaches its zenith, it begins to sink westward; once the moon is full, it begins to wane.

Therefore, the sage diminishes desire day by day, keeping the heart-mind empty, still, and free of self-satisfaction. Day by day, the sage cultivates greater gentleness and humility, so that merit and De do not decline. This is precisely the pattern of the Way of Heaven. To increase softness day by day is to respond gently to all things. The Way of Heaven diminishes what is full and augments what is humble. The sage can take this as a model, so abundant De is renewed day after day and does not decline.

People generally prefer high places to low ones, gain to loss, benefit to harm, and honor to lowliness. Everyone pursues these things, and so often fails to accomplish anything. Clinging to such desires also makes it difficult to truly obtain what one seeks.

All things naturally change and transform, while circumstances and forces tend toward balance. If one insists that a particular outcome must be achieved, one may end up with nothing at all. Even those who hold positions of authority should be content with their proper place. How could anyone obtain what they want by clinging to personal likes and dislikes?

Thus the sage takes the Way of Heaven as a model: without forcing things, the sage accomplishes them; without grasping, the sage gains. By following what is natural, the sage accomplishes things in step with the times and gains from all things. Though the sage shares the same feelings as other people, the sage follows a different path—and so can endure.

When relating to others, one should recognize the feelings one shares with them while also seeing that each person follows a different path. Only by restraining private likes and dislikes can one cultivate lasting De (Virtue).

For this reason, the Three Sovereigns and Five Emperors all kept a vessel as a warning. It was called the youzhi, a wine vessel meant to remind people to remain moderate. When it held little water, it stood upright; when filled to the brim, it overturned. The related account appears in the Zhouyu.

When things reach their height, they begin to decline: the sun starts moving west once it reaches its noon zenith; the moon wanes after becoming full; and joy turns to sorrow when it reaches its peak. Thus, those who are clever and broadly learned should restrain themselves with simplicity and humility. Observe too closely, and you may lose your companions, so temper your sharpness and get along with others. Those with wide learning and a gift for debate should practice restraint. If they rely on their own abilities, they invite disgrace; by acting modestly and willingly taking a lower place, they avoid fault.

Those with military strength, courage, and resolve should keep themselves in check through reverence and caution. Underestimating an enemy invites defeat; careful vigilance helps preserve victory. Those who are wealthy, eminent, and possess a vast estate should maintain a modest and humble bearing. Pride and complacency deepen danger day by day, while humility and yielding increase good fortune day by day. Those who bestow their kindness throughout the realm should know how to yield. Self-praise brings harm; giving others credit for one’s achievements is what preserves oneself.

These five forms of conduct were the principles by which the former kings safeguarded the realm. To possess the realm is already to stand at the peak of power. If one gives free rein to desire while occupying the highest position, one will be brought down. Without relying on these five forms of conduct, what else could safeguard the realm?

Those who follow this way do not seek fullness. Instead, they accord with the way of balance and measure, like the warning vessel, the youzhi. Precisely because they do not seek fullness, worn-out things can be renewed. With humility as their foundation, they can turn old deficiencies into the means for renewing their De.

Laozi said, “The sage closes and stores with Yin, and opens with Yang.” This is what is called “Great Accord”: following the changes of Yin-Yang.

If one can reach a state of not clinging to joy, anything can become a source of joy. If one does not insist on what is “acceptable” or “unacceptable,” one can respond appropriately in every situation. By not clinging to any particular joy, one can remain joyful at all times. This freedom from attachment is the highest form of joy. Wherever joy is found, sorrow follows as circumstances change. Only by letting go of one’s attachment to joy can one escape the limits imposed by external things, so that nothing is beyond the reach of the highest joy.

Therefore, one should meet external things with joy within the heart, rather than rely on external things to please the heart. Meeting things with joy within means that I can remain free of their sway. If I let external things please my heart, then when they change, my mood changes with them. Those who no longer cling to gain or loss can still gain something even when they lose something.

When the heart is content in itself, a firm aspiration arises. One then truly values oneself above all the splendors of the world. Standing apart from the myriad things, one’s own person is what is truly precious.

This is because the key to governing the world lies in oneself, not in others: it lies with me. Gain and loss, too, do not depend on external things but on oneself. The key is not other people, but one’s own body and mind. When the body and mind are cultivated, the principles of the myriad things are all present within them. For one who finds fulfillment in the Dao, what in Heaven and Earth and among the myriad things could remain beyond understanding?

Those who understand the laws of the heart set their desires, preferences, and aversions outside it, regarding them all as things unworthy of attachment. They are therefore neither pleased nor angered by the myriad things, nor made joyful or sorrowful by gain and loss. In their view, the myriad things return to a deep sameness, with no absolute right or wrong. Disputes over right and wrong arise from likes and dislikes. When the heart no longer clings, the myriad things are naturally one, and there is no need to deliberately cast anything aside; disputes over right and wrong then fade away.

Thus, a scholar can hold to an unwavering conviction, and a woman can uphold an unchanging integrity. Even if they have not yet let go entirely of what binds their hearts, they can already be at ease with themselves and act in accordance with their nature.

One can maintain self-respect without relying on power, be wealthy without relying on money, and be strong without depending on force. One does not covet wealth, power, or fame, nor feel secure because of high status or endangered because of low status. If one settles into one’s proper place, what need is there to depend on external things?

The body, spirit, Qi, and will each rest in their proper place. When all four are within the person and each is at ease, the way to settle oneself is fulfilled, and they do not conflict with one another. If a scholar and a woman can uphold such integrity, how much more so can a sage whose De is complete?

The body is the dwelling in which life resides; Qi is the root of life; and spirit is the ruler that governs life.

When spirit, body, and Qi (vital energy) depart from the places proper to them, all three are harmed.

If we cannot hold to the place where we should care for ourselves, all three suffer together. When spirit takes the lead, the body benefits; when we restrain the body and keep it from unbridled behavior, the body also benefits. Conversely, if we let the body govern everything, spirit is harmed. Indulging the body and craving the pleasures of food and drink also damages spirit.

Those who are greedy and full of desire become absorbed in power and profit, pursuing fame and status and always seeking to rise above others through superior ability. In this way, spirit is gradually depleted. Immersed in such pursuits for a long time, they cannot turn back; the body, too, becomes obstructed, its inner harmony blocked, and spirit can no longer return to a settled state.

When the body is rigid and stubborn, it gives rise to obstruction. A lack of harmonizing Qi within the heart-mind also becomes a barrier. As a result, people often suffer confusion, forgetfulness, and a loss of their sense of self.

External things continually entice us, while the heart-mind continually chases after them; over time, we grow dull and clouded. If we only rush outward and do not know how to return to our original nature, we fall into confusion and forgetfulness.

Spirit, will, and breath grow fuller and stronger day by day when they are still, but are depleted and weakened day by day when they are agitated. When spirit is complete, we can meet external things with ease; this is because the heart-mind is still. When the body is exhausted, it needs support; this is because it has been overactive. How can we fail to understand the need to keep a proper measure between flourishing and decline?

Therefore, the sage holds fast to and nurtures spirit, softens and eases the breath, and keeps the body balanced and at rest, following the movement of the Great Dao. As external things come and go and change, the sage responds to them in accord with what is right.

In this way, the transformations of the myriad things can all accord with the sage, and every change in circumstance can receive a response. The sage can accord with change and understand its course.

“Preserving the Uncarved Simplicity” means not adding desires beyond the proper limits of one’s nature and life, but keeping wholly to the root of transformation. This is what is called “simplicity.”

Laozi says that a “Realized Person” is someone whose nature accords with the Dao. Such a person does not act on impulse, but follows the workings of creation and becomes one with them. Thus, though possessing things, they seem to possess nothing; though full, they seem empty.

“Preserving the Uncarved Simplicity” means not adding desires beyond the proper limits of one’s nature and life, but keeping wholly to the root of transformation. This is what is called “simplicity.”

Laozi says: A “Realized Person”—one who has awakened to the Dao and follows it—is someone whose nature accords with the Dao. He does not deliberately issue commands, but follows the workings of transformation. He seems to possess things, yet appears to have nothing; he seems full, yet appears utterly empty. Though the things before him truly exist, he does not cling to them, so his true nature seems to leave no trace.

The Realized Person cultivates what is within and does not deliberately adorn what is without. Someone whose heart is truly at peace does not covet external things. Understanding the original simplicity and purity of all things, he does not act recklessly but returns to what is genuine. Wuwei (non-action) is itself a kind of simplicity. Thus, whether at rest or in motion, one who has awakened to the true Dao acts from a state of emptiness, stillness, and purity.

He takes the original substance as his foundation and holds fast to spirit, roaming among the origins of Heaven and Earth. He observes the source of primordial Qi and embraces the wonders of transformation, dwelling before particular forms come into being. At ease and untroubled, he seems to transcend the turmoil of the world and wander freely in a life without contrivance. His nature remains untouched by external things; he takes doing nothing and acting without effort as his ordinary state.

He gives no place in his heart to clever schemes or worldly cunning. His mind is careful and without flaw, and it does not shift with changes in external things. Since he does not keep such things in his heart, where could any flaw remain? External things change of themselves; why should he flow along with them? Consider this: things exist only at a particular moment. If the past is not the present, then the principle by which things change cannot be discussed. Even those who debate and judge the affairs of the world can steady themselves and stop wavering with delusive thoughts. How much less would someone whose nature accords with the Dao be drawn along with the current?

He sees things change, yet holds fast to the root. Not shifting with external things means keeping himself upright and no longer pursuing delusive thoughts.

His attention is turned inward, open and clear, and united with all things. He devotes himself to nourishing Qi without mixing in other thoughts; though he is attuned to all things, he is never separate from them.

When dwelling, he does not cling to what he is doing; when walking, he does not decide in advance where he is going. This is Wuwei: acting without contrivance.

He understands without studying and perceives without looking with his eyes because he lives in harmony with all things, which then appear before him of their own accord.

He does not act deliberately, yet things are accomplished. He does not govern by force, yet each matter finds its proper order. Following the world, he allows all affairs to unfold naturally; following the many kinds of things, he allows each to reveal its own distinctions.

When met with a response, he responds; when moved, he acts. He goes only when there is no other choice and never takes the initiative. He is like light that shines of itself, while shadows appear in keeping with the forms that cast them.

Its pure essence is clear and bright, able to illuminate all things; empty and still, it is able to respond to all things.

To treat the Dao (the Way) as a guiding principle and say that it needs some support in order to function—

this is to say that following the Dao is like waiting for certain conditions. It is only a metaphorical way of speaking.

It is vast and unobstructed, still and without action.

This is its true essence.

Regard the myriad forms of life as arising from a single transformation, and their countless differences as sharing one source.

Rest in the origin, and all things can be brought together as one.

Though there is Jing (essence) and Qi (vital energy), do not put them to use; though there are wondrous spiritual powers, do not deliberately display them.

To refrain from deliberate action yet be one with all things may be called the utmost subtlety; to refrain from initiating action yet reach everywhere may be called the utmost mystery.

Hold fast to undivided simplicity and stand in the realm of utmost purity. In sleep, have no dreams;

in the heart, have no thoughts or imaginings.

This may be called the utmost subtlety; to refrain from initiating action yet reach everywhere may be called the utmost mystery.

Hold fast to undivided simplicity and stand in the realm of utmost purity. In sleep, have no dreams;

in the heart, have no thoughts or imaginings.

Wisdom gives rise to no thoughts.

Do not act ahead of things.

When you act, leave no trace.

The subtle workings of hidden resonance cannot be seen.

In stillness, there is no fixed form,

and tranquility does not depend on anything external.

Existing, yet seeming not to exist; living, yet seeming to be dead—

this is neither a deliberate effort to preserve oneself nor an absence of wondrous efficacy.

There is no obstruction in coming and going;

even metal and stone cannot bar the way.

One can command spirits and ghosts

only because the heart clings to nothing and accords with the Way of emptiness.

Can the spirit ascend to the Dao

because one has cultivated noble De (Virtue/Power), and so reach the highest Way?

To make the spirit open and free without losing its source

means holding fast to the root with which one was endowed.

Uninterrupted by day or night, one brings vitality wherever one meets the myriad things.

Respond to all things with harmonious Qi, and let De never cease, even for a moment.

This is the heart attuning itself to the moment and transforming accordingly.

The heart does not give rise to things on its own; it responds to the moment, and only then does anything arise.

Thus the body decays and perishes, while the spirit remains unchanged.

The body is like external things, and so it changes; the spirit accords with the Dao, and so it can endure.

Respond to change through what does not change: undergo ten thousand transformations, yet never reach an end.

The function of water and fire is not something they can control by themselves. If things change along with transformations, as water and fire do, they cannot bring about change in other things. Only what remains unchanged can transform the myriad things. When an unchanging substance transforms things without limit, its operation has no end.

Things that undergo change ultimately return to formlessness; once the myriad things have come into being, each returns to its source. What does not change comes into being together with Heaven and Earth, while the Dao precedes every form.

Thus, the source that keeps the myriad things continually alive has never died, though the things it generates will ultimately perish. The source that transforms the myriad things has never itself changed, though the things it transforms will ultimately change.

Things that undergo change ultimately return to formlessness; once the myriad things have come into being, each returns to its source. What does not change comes into being together with Heaven and Earth, while the Dao precedes every form.

Thus, the source that keeps the myriad things continually alive has never died, though the things it generates will ultimately perish. The source that transforms the myriad things has never itself changed, though the things it transforms will ultimately change.

These principles have already been discussed above.

This is the realm in which the perfected person who has attained the Dao (one who has realized the Great Dao) roams, and it is the pure, unmixed Great Dao.

End of Volume Three of the Tongxuan Zhenjing.

Volume Four of the Tongxuan Zhenjing

Commentary on “Correct Conduct” by Zhu Bian, a Song dynasty commentator

“Matching Words”

“Matching” means accord; “words” means principles. To use words to accord with subtle principles, then, after realizing the Great Dao, to forget the words—this may be called true accord.

Laozi said: The Great Dao is higher than anything else, and deeper than anything else.

It is above what has no summit and below what has no bottom; thus it can be high or deep, above or below.

It is as level as a water level and as straight as an ink line, yet it does not depend on a water level to be level, and there is nowhere it is not level; it does not depend on an ink line to be straight, and there is nowhere it is not true.

It is as round as a compass and as square as a carpenter’s square, yet it does not rely on a compass to be round or on a carpenter’s square to be square.

It encompasses Heaven and Earth, yet has no division between inner and outer. It is so vast that it has no outer boundary, and so subtle that it has no inner boundary.

The Great Dao penetrates everywhere without obstruction, vast and boundless, flowing freely without hindrance.

Thus, those who realize the Great Dao are not angered or pleased by external things. Sitting, they have no worries in their hearts; sleeping, they are undisturbed by dreams. When they see things, they can name them aptly; when events arise, they respond in keeping with the circumstances.

This has been explained above.

Laozi says: “Those who want to make reputation their chief pursuit will surely stir up many complications. When complications multiply, they abandon the public good and turn toward private gain.”

Those who make the pursuit of fame their duty are bound to cause trouble. Once trouble arises, people find it difficult to live in harmony. So one should rid oneself of the desire for fame and return to an impartial, selfless position.

Turning away from the Dao, one acts according to one’s own wishes; to win praise, one pretends to do good; to build a reputation, one declares oneself worthy.

Here, “bei” means “to turn away from.” Turning away from the Dao and seeking praise is not genuine goodness; conforming to worldly opinion and chasing fame is not genuine wisdom.

Acting this way makes governance contrary to reason and makes one’s work ill-timed. Governance that goes against reason invites many criticisms; work undertaken at the wrong time is unlikely to succeed.

Follow the natural order, and little effort can bring great results. Act against the times, and great effort may yield little.

Those who recklessly seek fame and rush to achieve results may, even if they succeed, fail to make up for their faults. If they fail, they may instead invite disaster and even endanger themselves.

Those who devote themselves to winning praise and hasten to establish achievements in order to please those in power may find that their failures have already brought harm upon them before their accomplishments can benefit the people. Even when they do achieve something, the results are often limited.

Those who recklessly seek fame and rush to achieve results may, even if they succeed, fail to make up for their faults. If they fail, they may instead invite disaster and even endanger themselves.

Those who devote themselves to winning praise and hasten to establish achievements in order to please those in power may find that their failures have already brought harm upon them before their accomplishments can benefit the people.

Laozi says: “Do not make reputation your chief concern, nor treat plans as the storehouse of your heart. Do not make affairs your burden, or cleverness your master. Keep yourself concealed from view, and act without ever growing slack. Do not act ahead of good fortune, and do not begin anything that invites disaster.”

If you act without claiming to lead, your traces will not show. If your traces do not show, you will not become entangled when good fortune arrives. Respond only when a matter begins to arise, and your actions will not grow slack. By remaining diligent, you can avoid future misfortune.

Address matters before any signs of them appear, and act only when there is no other choice. To let good fortune arrive first and prevent disaster from arising, first seek what is beneficial and keep away from harm.

Deal with matters before they show signs, and this will bring benefit. Cut off unusual and improper gains, and disaster will not be invited.

Therefore, those who preserve peace through Wuwei (non-action) will fall into danger if they lose the foundation of peace. Those who govern through Wuwei will bring disorder to the world if they lose the foundation of good governance.

To lose the foundation of peace is to abandon inner calm and seek peace outside oneself, a course that is inherently unreliable. To lose the foundation of good governance is to neglect one’s own cultivation while devoting oneself to governing others—a misguided approach.

Thus, one should not wish to be coveted like jade, nor scorned like stone. The point is that when jade and stone are treated as different, rivalry arises.

Animals with beautiful fur or markings often have their coats stripped from them; animals with fine horns often lose their lives because of them. Sweet springs eventually run dry, and straight trees are often felled. When things possess something beautiful, they are more likely to suffer harm on its account. People who crave fame, too, invite misfortune.

Ornate words may later become a fault; showing off one’s elegant speech may bring calamity upon oneself. Jade hidden in stone can damage a mountain; a person who speaks without caution will likewise invite trouble.

Misfortune often begins with words. In the past, the people suffered calamity because they spoke recklessly about the state’s laws and institutions. A gentleman is wary of this, as though his mouth were sealed three times over. A petty person, by contrast, speaks without restraint—how could such a person avoid inviting trouble?

Laozi said: “To act in accordance with the times is the proper course. Those who fail to understand this may find that good fortune turns into calamity. When one acts in accordance with the times, one’s actions are fitting; those who fail to understand this will, through good fortune, meet their ruin.”

When a sage governs affairs, they first understand the principles of survival and ruin and weigh gain against loss. Thus they can advance or withdraw with composure, remain calm and unmoved, and feel no alarm at favor or disgrace. In the end, they attain good fortune and preserve themselves. The confused often receive good fortune and then throw their weight around. When fortune reaches its peak, calamity follows. This does not mean that fortune and calamity contend with each other; rather, it is because one’s actions have gone beyond their proper measure.

Heaven is like a canopy, covering all things; Earth is like a carriage, bearing all things. Those skilled in using the Dao (the Way) will never be trapped or harmed throughout their lives. When Heaven is taken as a boundless canopy, all things can be treated well; when Earth is taken as a carriage that travels without end, no thing will be injured.

The Five Phases—Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, and Water—each have relations of overcoming and restraint. Metal and Fire, for example, counteract one another, with their strength and decline taking turns. Nothing among the myriad things covered by Heaven and Earth fails to respond to them.

The Dao of Heaven is vast and boundless, and it is called by many different names.

Knowing what one does not know is the highest wisdom. Not knowing, yet believing oneself to know, is a failing. Knowing that some things cannot be fully known is wise. Not knowing, yet insisting that one does know, is a failing.

Laozi said: Gold forms in the mountains, and jade forms in stone, yet they end up harming one another. Trees breed worms, and the worms turn around and gnaw at the trees. People stir up trouble, only to have it return and harm them in the end.

Chasing fame causes the Great Dao to be lost; when affairs arise in profusion, calamities follow. Those who like to stir up trouble will always meet with setbacks; those who struggle for profit will, in the end, inevitably fall into hardship. No one can cross water without getting their feet wet, nor walk through dust without dirtying their body.

A skilled swimmer may drown, and a skilled horseman may fall. Each relies on a skill they love, only to bring calamity upon themselves. Boasting of one’s abilities can undermine one’s achievements; showing off one’s skills may put one in danger.

The key to gaining something lies in seizing the right moment, not in competing for it. Crossing water inevitably wets the feet, and walking inevitably stirs up dust, but one must know how to avoid becoming trapped by these things. A skilled swimmer may drown, and a skilled horseman may fall. Each relies on a skill they love, only to bring calamity upon themselves. Boasting of one’s abilities can undermine one’s achievements; showing off one’s skills may put one in danger.

Gaining something depends on following the right moment, not on scrambling for it. Governing a state depends on following the Dao, not on thinking oneself wise. When the moment comes, something will be gained naturally, without any need to struggle for it. The Dao lies in keeping to oneself inwardly—why boast of one’s wisdom?

Earth rests in low places. Because it does not contend to be high, it is secure and not in danger. Water flows toward low places. Because it does not compete to flow quickly, it continues onward without slowing. What the Dao values and what De esteems is to occupy a high position without contention, and to be swift without haste.

Therefore, the sage is not attached, and so suffers no loss; does not act recklessly, and so causes no ruin. The Dao has no form and cannot be grasped; insist on holding it, and it will be lost. The Dao is not a tangible thing to be shaped by human artifice; forcing things through deliberate action only spoils them.

Laozi said: A single saying can be inexhaustible; two sayings can become a standard for all under Heaven; three sayings can make a feudal lord a hegemon; four sayings can make someone unrivaled under Heaven. Only by upholding uprightness and trustworthiness can one make a principle inexhaustible; only by embodying virtue can one become a standard for all under Heaven; by appointing the virtuous and worthy, a feudal lord can become a hegemon; by detesting the private gain of a few and caring for the many, one can become unrivaled under Heaven.

One who can fulfill all four sayings can become emperor. One who fulfills only one can become a hegemon or an assistant to a ruler.

Laozi said: A person’s three kinds of death are not decreed by fate; they are brought upon oneself. Here, “not decreed by fate” means that people bring death upon themselves through their own actions.

Practicing moderation in one’s diet is a virtue; a feudal lord possesses formidable strength; one who dislikes the young but favors the many; and no one under Heaven can rival him.

Possessing all four advantages described in these statements allows one to rise to the highest position and become emperor. Possessing just one can still make one a hegemon or a minister who assists the ruler.

Laozi said, “There are three ways people meet their deaths. They are not decreed by fate; people bring them upon themselves.”

What is meant by “not decreed by fate” is that people cause their own misfortunes. If they eat without restraint and neglect their bodies, illness will take their lives. If they indulge in pleasure without satisfaction and let their desires run without limit, punishment will take their lives. If they pit a few against the many, or a weak force against a strong one, war will take their lives.

Thus, life and death depend on oneself; good fortune and misfortune do not come from nowhere. They do not descend from Heaven. In fact, people bring them upon themselves through their own pursuits and struggles.

Laozi said, “When a kindness is generous, the return is beautiful; when resentment runs deep, the calamity it brings is grave. To give little yet hope for much in return, or to harbor resentment yet believe no calamity will follow—such things have never happened. Examine how things begin, and you can know how they will unfold.”

Great merit brings a generous reward; deep resentment brings great calamity. The consequences of kindness and resentment change according to their degree.

Laozi said, “Examine the decrees of Heaven, govern the mind, regulate likes and dislikes, and keep one’s nature and emotions in due measure: then the Way of governance will be clear. To examine the decrees of Heaven is to remain undeluded by good fortune and misfortune. To govern the mind is to avoid giving free rein to joy and anger. To regulate likes and dislikes is to refrain from craving useless things. To keep one’s nature and emotions in due measure is to keep desire from becoming excessive. In this way, movement and stillness accord with what is appropriate, rewards and punishments are impartial, one does not harm one’s nature through greed, and one learns to restrain desire, nourish life, and be content. None of these four things needs to be sought outside oneself or depends on other people; all can be achieved by reflecting on oneself.”

To understand these four things is to be said to have grasped the Great Dao. One need not rely on others; one need only examine oneself.

Laozi said, “Do not do things that readily invite criticism, and do not resent others for criticizing you.”

If I do nothing deceitful or devious, what grounds would others have to criticize me? If I hold kindness and forgiveness in my heart, I will not be harsh in judging others.

Cultivate virtue worthy of praise, but do not seek praise from others.

A person need only cultivate their own De (Virtue/Power), without seeking praise from others.

One cannot guarantee that calamity will never come, but one can trust oneself not to invite it deliberately. Nor can one guarantee that good fortune will surely arrive, but one can trust oneself not to reject it when it does.

One cannot ward off unexpected calamities; one can only trust that fate will not overlook them. Nor can one force the good fortune that is bound to come: when it arrives, accept it.

Calamity does not come because one has brought it upon oneself, so there is no need for sorrow in times of hardship. Good fortune does not come because one has made it happen, so there is no need for pride when things go well.

If calamity was not brought on by oneself, then even when it strikes, what is there to worry about? If good fortune was not brought about by oneself, then even when it comes, what is there to rely on?

Thus, one can be happy in quiet solitude and bring order to things without acting recklessly. It is enough to remain tranquil and free of desire, and to live with ease and composure.

Laozi said, “Those who have attained the Dao (the Way) hold fast to what they already possess and do not pursue what they have yet to obtain. Pursuing what has not yet been obtained causes what is already possessed to stagnate. Follow what you already have, and what you desire will come of its own accord.”

What one already possesses is one’s own spirit; what one does not yet possess is the whole array of techniques and methods. Today, people abandon their own spirit and turn instead to seeking arts they have not yet acquired. As a result, they may fail to obtain those arts, while losing the spirit they already had. If they do not hold to the principle of remaining single-minded and keeping to the root, they will find it hard to escape the regret of losing on both fronts. Therefore, those who have attained the Dao hold fast to the root rather than chase after the branches. They value what they gain within and do not try to obtain it by force from external things.

If governance is not yet secure enough to prevent disorder, yet one busies oneself with governing, one is bound to fall into danger. If one’s conduct is not yet free from error, yet one hastens to seek fame, one is bound to suffer setbacks.

When the root is secure, the state can be at peace. When one acts in accordance with the Dao, one will not suffer disgrace.

Thus, the greatest good fortune is to have no calamity, and the greatest benefit is to suffer no loss.

When the heart is free of calamity, it will not be ruled by external things.

If governance is not yet secure enough to prevent disorder, yet one busies oneself with governing, one is bound to fall into danger. If one’s conduct is not yet free from error, yet one hastens to seek fame, one is bound to suffer setbacks.

When the root is secure, the state can be at peace. When one acts in accordance with the Dao, one will not suffer disgrace.

Thus, the greatest good fortune is to have no calamity, and the greatest benefit is to suffer no loss.

Having no calamity is itself good fortune, and profound good fortune at that. Suffering no loss is itself a benefit, and the greatest benefit of all.

Things sometimes bring benefit and yet cause harm; sometimes they involve loss and yet bring gain. Only by keeping neither disaster nor good fortune at heart can one avoid reckoning over gain and loss.

The Dao cannot be obtained through persuasion in exchange for profit, but it can settle the spirit and help one avoid harm. Those who cultivate the Dao should not be lured by profit. With no greedy desires, they meet with fewer troubles. In this way, the spirit naturally grows calm, and the Dao naturally becomes manifest.

One neither suffers disaster nor treats blessings as something owed; one claims neither innocence nor pride in one’s achievements. To reckon neither with disaster and blessing nor with guilt and merit is called “great pervasion,” a state of unobstructed understanding.

The Dao is deep and subtle. It accords with Heaven’s power and shares Heaven’s Qi, without thought or advance planning and provision. The Dao is also the Way that governs the myriad things. It is obscure and hard to perceive, and never claims credit for its achievements. People should model themselves on Heaven’s emptiness and stillness: let the body follow its nature and let the mind be free of thought. Without laboring to manage things, the myriad things can gather of themselves.

Welcome nothing that comes, and send off nothing that leaves; let things come and go of their own accord. Though a person’s body may be among the four directions, the mind stands alone at the center. The body responds to things and adapts without limit, while the Dao operates from the center and naturally governs all.

Thus, even amid countless twists and turns, one does not lose one’s uprightness. By bending with circumstances, one preserves oneself and thereby achieves greater breadth.

Flow together with all things under Heaven, yet do not depart from the Dao one holds to. Original Qi circulates, while true Jing—the subtle essence of life—remains.

Do not make a point of proclaiming goodness, nor deliberately avoid what is ugly; follow the Way of Heaven. Do not force new beginnings or cling stubbornly to your own views; accord with the natural order. Make no plans in advance, but do not let an opportunity pass; respond to Heaven’s timing. Seek nothing deliberately, and refuse no blessing; let all follow Heaven’s laws.

Heaven has no private aims and speaks no words, yet all things grow through it. If people can practice Wuwei—refraining from forcing things through their own intentions—and make no plans in advance, many things will also come about of themselves.

When the heart harbors no desire for extraordinary blessings, the outside world no longer treats extraordinary misfortune as misfortune. Neither blessing nor calamity arises from this, so what harm could there be?

Blessing is often accompanied by calamity. Now that both have dissolved in the heart, what could still become a calamity that harms people?

Thus, a person whose De is complete speaks in accord with the right way alongside everyone else, and acts together with them to bring about blessings and goodness. Those above and below are of one mind, with no divergence in their path. Words and actions that stray from the right way are clarified and corrected; practices that accord with the good way are encouraged and guided, and the people turn toward the right course.

Biased views cannot change social customs; only sound principles can guide the people.

Laozi said, “Those who do good should be encouraged; those who do what is not good should be observed.” Encouragement can make people anxious to demand things of themselves, while observation can make them feel troubled.

Here, “encourage” means to urge oneself onward, and “observe” means to examine. When people do good, they should encourage themselves each day. When they discover something unworthy in themselves, they should examine it and recognize their own fault. In this way, they can follow the right path without needing others to urge them to do good. But if they believe themselves to be doing good and then focus on finding and condemning the faults of others, they will invite trouble. Thus, urging people to do good without restraint may actually lead them away from the good way.

The Dao should not be pursued through striving for fame; one should instead withdraw and cultivate oneself. Therefore, the sage does not seek fame through action or praise through cleverness and talent. In governing, the sage follows what is natural and does not impose personal intentions.

In striving forward, one does not flaunt cleverness to gain a name; in withdrawing, one cultivates and governs oneself. Everything follows its natural course. How could this be done in expectation of praise from others?

Through purposeful action, one may fail to succeed; through seeking, one may fail to obtain. People can become trapped, but the Dao itself meets no obstruction.

People may seek and fail to obtain; the Dao, through Wuwei (non-action), naturally extends everywhere without obstruction.

Having intelligence but not deliberately displaying it has the same effect as having no intelligence; having ability but not acting recklessly has the same effect as having no ability. Though intelligent, one is as if unintelligent; though capable, one is as if incapable. Once the principle is understood, deliberate action falls away, and the Dao encounters no obstruction.

A person’s heart is full of aspiration and De (Virtue), yet these qualities do not show outwardly. They may therefore seem lacking, though in truth they are richly endowed.

A person’s reputation and the Dao (the Way) cannot both shine at once. One who clings to reputation will not devote himself to following the Dao. When the Dao prevails, reputation fades; when the Dao declines and reputation flourishes, danger follows.

Following the Dao requires single-mindedness; one cannot expect to attend fully to both.

Laozi said: If honest people are asked to divide up property, why decide the shares by drawing lots instead of setting them in advance? Because a person with selfish motives is less able to handle a matter fairly than one without them. And when entrusting property to an upright person, it is still better to lock it away and seal it up. Even an upright person who has desires is less trustworthy than one who has none.

Drawing lots can dispel suspicion when no one has selfish motives. But if an upright person harbors selfish motives, others will still suspect him.

When people point out our faults, we resent them; when a mirror reveals our ugliness, we accept it gladly.

When a wise person hears someone point out a fault, he thinks about correcting it. A foolish person, by contrast, boasts of himself and assumes he has done well.

If a person can get along with others and handle affairs without making everything about himself, he can avoid much trouble and fatigue.

Put others first and yourself last in all things, and you will live without fault.

Laozi said: Those who serve others either offer precious gifts or speak humbly. Gifts are limited, but human desires are hard to satisfy.

A gentleman does not give precious objects as gifts; he offers things such as clothing to express humility and respect. If he can do this, even a long association will not make others weary of him.

With humility and respect, there is no need to argue forcefully. When speech is gentle and agreeable, relationships need not be sustained by elaborate rules and oaths.

A gentleman does not give precious objects as gifts; he offers gifts to express humility and respect. If he can do this, even a long association will not make others weary of him.

A gentleman’s relationships do not rely on sworn agreements. A single word can settle their understanding, which remains unchanged for life. Petty people, by contrast, need oaths and alliances to bind their relationships; within ten days, they have broken their original promises.

Thus, a gentleman does not adorn himself outwardly with benevolence and righteousness, but cultivates the arts of the Dao within. He holds to sincerity and simplicity inwardly and makes no false show outwardly.

Govern affairs within the realm well and develop the region fully. Make the people willing to give their lives to protect their homeland, fortify its walls, and unite those above and below in guarding the state. One who seeks reputation will not attack the innocent without cause; one who seeks profit will not attack a place that is difficult to conquer. This is the way to preserve oneself and the principle for gaining benefit.

Share benefits with the people, and they will be willing to give their lives for a common cause. Be of one mind with them, and they will protect it together. Those who pursue fame do not covet excessive wealth or prestige; those who seek gain do not keep all the benefits for themselves. In this way, the state can be preserved, with the court and the people jointly protecting the altars of soil and grain—the state—and together strengthening its borders.

Laozi said: The sage can restrain the heart, but ordinary people cannot restrain their desires.

Restrain selfish thoughts, and the Dao can be preserved. Indulge desire, and the body and life will be put in danger.

The noble person acts with upright Qi (vital energy); the petty person acts with deviant Qi. When the heart accords with one’s nature, conduct conforms to what is right, actions follow the principles of things, and one is not led astray by external objects, this is upright Qi. To be absorbed in fine foods, sights, and sounds, to let joy and anger run unchecked, and to disregard the consequences—this is deviant Qi. Deviant and upright Qi conflict with each other, just as desire and nature harm one another; they cannot coexist. When one rises, the other declines. Therefore, the sage reduces desire and follows nature. The eyes delight in beautiful sights, the ears in pleasing sounds, the nose in fragrant scents, and the mouth in delicious flavors. These preferences all involve gain and loss, benefit, and desire. The ears, eyes, nose, and mouth cannot decide for themselves what they want; they are all governed by the heart. When each is kept within its proper bounds, it becomes clear that desire must not be allowed to overwhelm nature.

The desires stirred by the six senses are all governed by the one heart. When the inner Qi remains upright, desire cannot harm one’s nature. When the spirit scatters outward and declines, delusion obscures what is real. Thus, the flourishing or decline of upright Qi depends entirely on oneself, and the choice to accept or reject rests within the heart. If the heart remains upright, how can external things become a burden?

Laozi said: Those who nourish the body and cultivate their nature should regulate their sleep and daily routine, eat and drink in moderation, temper joy and anger, and keep both activity and repose in due measure. Inner cultivation depends on oneself; one does not seek it outside.

Then deviant Qi has no way to enter. To polish the outward appearance while harming the inner self, or to indulge one’s passions, damages the spirit. To focus only on outward refinement obscures what is real. Even forgetting to cultivate one’s nature for only a moment will inevitably harm it.

If people cannot keep the teachings of the wise constantly in mind, then even a brief departure from them will surely bring hardship and disgrace.

After walking a hundred paces, if they have forgotten their bearing and conduct, they will inevitably bring harm upon themselves.

To care for the body and govern the mind, one should moderate one’s diet and keep body and mind calm, allowing the breath to circulate steadily within and preserving clarity of spirit. A noble person is cautious about the slightest details, for danger does not lie only at a distance. Even over a mere ten paces, one must guard against calamity from a decayed tree stump; in a brief moment, something unexpected may suddenly occur. How can one afford to be heedless?

Thus, when feathers and wings grow splendid, the body’s bones are more easily injured; when branches and leaves grow luxuriant, the roots are more easily damaged. Nothing under Heaven can preserve two kinds of excellence at once.

The kingfisher meets disaster because of the beautiful patterns in its feathers; spring blossoms are plucked because of their abundant fragrance. There has never been a case in which a thing possesses two kinds of excellence and everything ends well.

Laozi said, “Heaven has light; there is no need to worry that the people are in darkness. Earth has resources; there is no need to worry that the people are poor.”

The light of Heaven’s Way shines across vast spaces and can perceive even the most shadowed places. Earth’s resources are contained in all things and nourish living beings far and wide, without limit.

A person of lofty De (Virtue/Power) is like a hill or a great stone, secure and unmoving. People take this person as their model: by setting themselves straight, they also help all things find their proper place. They do not treat their kindness as a reward bestowed on others, and those who receive their help do not feel indebted to them. Thus they remain settled and endure; even Heaven and Earth cannot contend with them. They have nothing that can be taken away, and they do not pride themselves on their De, so they incur no resentment.

A perfected person is not swayed by power or fame, nor brought down by desire or injury. They live at ease in solitude, firm as a high mountain. Always content, they accept no gifts from others; even when they give up what they possess, they do not consider it an act of modesty. So when something is given to them, they do not think they have received a favor; when something is taken from them, they feel no resentment. In this way, they endure.

Those who are quick to anger will surely harbor much resentment; those who are always giving are also likely to have things taken from them. Only by following the natural course of Heaven and Earth can one accord with reason and remain undefeated.

Rise beyond joy and anger, forget the feelings associated with giving and taking, and let things come and go of themselves. Even when something is gained, do not regard it as the result of one’s own modest yielding. So when something is given to them, they do not think they have received a favor; when something is taken from them, they feel no resentment. In this way, they endure.

Those who are easily angered are sure to incur much resentment; those who give often may also be asked to give often. Only by following the natural patterns of Heaven and Earth can one accord with the Way.

Rise beyond the bounds of joy and anger, let go of the fixation on giving and receiving, and allow things to unfold naturally, each finding its proper place. Only then can the natural order be preserved.

Thus, when a reputation arises, criticism often follows; when a good name becomes prominent, ill will may follow as well. Gain is the beginning of harm, and good fortune may foreshadow disaster. If you do not deliberately pursue gain, you will suffer less harm; if you do not deliberately pursue good fortune, you will face fewer disasters. Preserving oneself is the constant Way; wealth and status are merely things lodged outside oneself.

Reputation is what people praise and admire, but one should not make a point of displaying it. Once displayed, it may invite criticism and resentment. This does not mean abandoning every good deed. Simply avoid boasting or proclaiming your own virtue, and you will naturally attract fewer troubles. Do not cling to good fortune, and your virtue can be preserved. Preserving oneself is the constant Way; wealth and status are like temporary lodgings.

Laozi says: The sage does not wear strange clothes or perform bizarre and eccentric acts. His dress is orderly, and his conduct does not deliberately draw attention.

His clothes do not startle others, and his conduct does not deliberately set him apart from ordinary people.

When successful, he is not ostentatious; when in difficulty, he is not afraid. When prominent, he does not show off; when withdrawn, he is not distressed. Even when he differs from others, he does not violate what is ordinary.

Hardship and success are arranged by fate, so he is neither ostentatious nor afraid. Prominence and withdrawal are changes in circumstance, so he does not show off or feel humiliated when he withdraws. Even if he differs from others, what is there to find strange?

To regard things as the same and no longer confine them with distinguishing names is called “great penetration,” a state of unobstructed understanding.

When one acts without clinging to any particular thing, one encounters no obstruction. This is great penetration.

Laozi says: Those who follow the Way set themselves aright and await their fate. When the time comes, one cannot meet it and turn it back; when the time has passed, one cannot chase after it and bring it back. Thus the sage does not rush forward to contend for what lies ahead, nor deliberately retreat to avoid it.

To set oneself aright and await one’s fate is great penetration.

Laozi says: Those who follow the Way set themselves aright and await their fate. When the time comes, one cannot meet it and turn it back; when the time has passed, one cannot chase after it and bring it back. Thus the sage does not rush forward to contend for what lies ahead, nor deliberately retreat to avoid it.

Set yourself aright and await your fate, following the right Way and adapting to the circumstances of the time. Do not deliberately accommodate, and do not deliberately resist.

For three years, I acted in accord with the times. When the times had passed, I left with them. For three years, the times moved on without me, and I remained behind. I neither deliberately walked away nor chased after them to catch up. I simply rested peacefully in my own place.

This means that if you move ahead of the times, you will go too far; if you lag behind, you will fail to keep up. Only by neither rushing ahead to meet the times nor chasing after them from behind, but resting peacefully within them, can you hold to your proper place.

Heaven’s Dao shows no partiality; it helps only those who possess De. When good fortune arrives, it was not something you sought for yourself, so do not boast of your merit. When calamity strikes, it may not have been caused by you, so do not regret what you did in the past.

This was explained earlier.

Keep the mind calm and still, and do not let external things damage your De. The praise or criticism of others cannot stain you; favor or disgrace cannot make you anxious.

Be like someone who is not startled by a dog’s bark. Trust your own heart: you know that you have no improper desires. When you understand that you have done no wrong, you will naturally have nothing to fear.

Thus, a clear-minded and tranquil person does not let external things damage their De. The praise or criticism of others cannot stain them; favor or disgrace cannot make them anxious. Like someone who is not startled by a dog’s bark, they trust their own heart and know they have no improper desires. When they understand that they have done no wrong, they will naturally have nothing to fear.

Therefore, those who understand the Great Dao are not confused, and those who understand Heaven’s mandate do not grieve.

Once you understand the principles and know Heaven’s mandate, what is there to grieve or fear?

When ancient emperors died, their bodies were buried in the open countryside. At sacrificial rites, their spirits were honored in the Bright Hall, the palace where ceremonies and court audiences were held. This was because the spirit was held in greater esteem than the body.

After an ancient emperor died, his body was returned to the wilderness. No grand tomb was built, and no trees were planted as markers, so that the people might understand that everyone must die. His spirit was honored in the Bright Hall, without flattery or excessive sacrifice, so that the people might learn reverence.

Thus, when the spirit governs the body, the body follows. When the body overcomes the spirit, life falls into distress. Even when employing intelligence and skill, one must return to one’s spiritual nature. This is called “Great Comprehension,” the state of penetrating the Great Dao.

By following one’s spiritual nature, the body can be preserved; by indulging desire, the spirit departs. Few can hold to this unless they are clear-minded and understand the Way.

Laozi said: “In ancient times, those skilled at preserving themselves took joy in De and forgot their low status, so reputation could not sway their resolve. They took joy in the Dao and forgot their poverty, so gain could not sway their hearts. Thus they were humble and content, tranquil and detached.”

When the Dao and De are complete within oneself, poverty and low status bring no shame. One’s resolve remains undamaged, and one is not confused by fame or profit. In this way, one can be humble and content, quietly joyful, tranquil and detached.

Human life is finite, yet people worry about turmoil throughout the world. This is like fearing that a river will run dry and trying to fill it with one’s tears. Those who do not fret over turmoil in the world, but instead take joy in cultivating themselves, are fit to speak of the Great Dao.

Advising people not to worry that their own lives are nearing their end, yet to worry that the river is drying up and weep in the hope that their tears will replenish it, is utterly useless. So those who do not fret over turmoil in the world, but take pleasure in putting themselves in order, are the ones with whom one can discuss the Dao.

Advising people not to worry that their own lives are nearing their end, yet to worry that the world is poorly governed, is like shedding a few tears in the hope of increasing the waters of a great river: it does no good. Only those who do not cling to governing others, but instead turn to cultivating themselves, are fit to discuss the Dao.

Laozi said: There are three circumstances that invite resentment. If one’s rank is high, others grow jealous; if one’s office is powerful, the ruler grows displeased; if one’s stipend is generous, others become resentful.

One can preserve oneself and attain great good fortune by remaining humble toward others despite high status, and by sharing one’s wealth despite having plenty.

The higher one’s rank, the humbler one’s attitude should be; the greater one’s office, the more cautious one’s mind; the more generous one’s stipend, the more widely one should give. If one does these three things, resentment will not arise. Thus, nobility must take lowliness as its root, and high position must rest on a lowly foundation.

If one fails to cultivate these two principles, calamity will befall oneself.

Laozi said: We speak in order to convey our thoughts to others; we listen in order to receive the thoughts of others.

Only by expressing our own thoughts can we understand the thoughts of others; only by grasping what others mean can we make our own meaning understood.

Those who are both blind and deaf cannot communicate with others. People with impaired sight or hearing often struggle to understand how things connect. In truth, blindness and deafness are not confined to the body; the mind, too, can be obstructed.

To be unable to see Mount Tai, or to hear thunder, is bodily blindness and deafness. To mistake a deer for a horse, or to be unable to distinguish beans from wheat, is confusion in one’s understanding. If one cannot discern what is right before one’s eyes, how much less can one comprehend the Great Dao?

Failing to understand how things connect is a form of blindness and deafness of this kind. The Dao is the root of all things. Everything that has form comes into being through the Dao, so the Dao is most closely connected to all things. All living beings that eat the five grains and take in primordial Qi are nourished by it; thus the Dao is like their ruler, whose beneficence is profound. All who possess wisdom learn from the Dao, so the Dao is also a wise teacher.

Life takes the Dao (the Way) as its root. Though formless and without shape, the Dao can give rise to countless forms, and its nurturing care for life is truly profound. Qi (vital energy) governs the valleys. Though Qi is not life itself, it enables all things to grow and endure; its gift, too, is profound. Learning serves as the teacher of wisdom. Even without a specific teacher, one can gain insight through study; only the understanding gained in this way can be called truly penetrating.

People often harm what is genuinely useful by pursuing what is of no benefit. They busy themselves with useless things and drain their limited mental energy.

Thus, if one’s knowledge is not broad enough, each day seems too short. A gentleman often feels that his understanding has not reached far enough, so he is always short of time and uses this feeling to spur himself on.

If the time spent playing chess and games of chance were devoted to seeking the Dao, what one hears and sees of its teachings would become deeper. If the effort spent on games were redirected to the dedicated study of virtue, one might reach a profound and subtle understanding.

The difference between being willing and unwilling to ask questions is like the difference between a deaf or blind person and someone with ordinary hearing and sight. Those who neither listen nor ask are like the deaf and blind.

Laozi said: People’s hearts are sure to be moved by virtue; brute force cannot truly bring them into submission. Virtue can make people willing to follow, but force cannot win a contest with them.

Whether virtue is present does not depend on whether others come to repay it. Show kindness to others without expecting anything in return.

Therefore, if a sage wishes to rise above others, he first honors them; if he wishes to be respected, he first respects them; if he wishes to overcome others, he first overcomes himself; if he wishes to place others beneath him, he first lowers his own position. Nobility and lowliness, high and low positions, can all be brought into balance by following the Dao. The sage kings of old spoke humbly to others and placed themselves behind them in action. For this reason, people throughout the realm gladly supported them without growing weary, and honored them without feeling burdened. This was because their virtue was deep and abundant, and their breath was calm and unimpeded. Understanding that giving is the way to fulfill what one receives, and that placing oneself behind can make one a leader, brings one close to the Dao.

Respecting others does not mean doing so in order to gain their respect in return. By acting this way, one can be supported gladly without wearing people out, and honored without making them feel burdened. This is because virtue is deep and abundant, and the breath is calm and unimpeded. Understanding that giving is the way to fulfill what one receives, and that placing oneself behind can make one a leader, brings one close to the Dao.

Respecting others is not done to earn reverence for oneself; putting others first is not done to seize an advantage. It is done because one’s own Qi follows the Dao, and De rests within oneself. Thus, even when one recommends others, one feels no weariness; even when one honors others, one feels no burden.

Laozi said: “When one of shallow De receives excessive favor, ridicule will follow. When one lacking ability holds a high position, danger will follow. When one has no great achievements yet enjoys generous emoluments, one’s position cannot remain secure for long.” Thus, what appears to be a gain may instead bring loss, while what appears to be a loss may instead bring benefit.

When one’s ability does not match one’s position, ridicule and danger follow. Loss and gain often accompany one another, and fortune and misfortune emerge from this relationship.

Everyone knows to regard what is beneficial as a gain, but few know to regard what is harmful as a danger. Only the sage understands that gain may become danger, and danger may in turn become gain.

Thus, if a tree bears fruit many times in a single year, its roots will surely suffer. Those who dig up buried treasures and amass wealth may later bring disaster upon themselves. Great gain often becomes a source of harm: this is a law of the Dao.

Laozi said: “The petty person acts each day seeking only immediate gain; the gentleman acts each day seeking only what accords with the Way. Those who do good do not seek fame, yet fame follows. Fame makes no prior agreement with gain, yet gain, too, attaches itself to them. The petty person and the gentleman may receive the same gain, but their paths ultimately diverge.”

The petty person acts only for immediate profit, and once it is obtained, harm often follows. The gentleman acts in accordance with the right Way and does not make gain the aim; fame instead comes to rest with them. So even when both receive gain, the fortune and misfortune they ultimately encounter differ. Whenever an action brings benefit, loss may follow as well.

Therefore, an action that brings benefit may also bring loss in its wake. Words have no constant right or wrong, and what one gains may not always be fitting: such a person is petty. If one cannot sustain one’s virtue, one may invite disgrace.

Someone who can see one matter clearly and master one skill is an ordinary person; their understanding may be incomplete, leaving them confined to a narrow sphere. A sage, by contrast, can embrace many things, possesses a range of abilities, and knows how to put them to use. Quietly removing treachery and dispelling troubles, appointing the worthy, and enabling the able to make full use of their talents: these are the works of a sage.

Laozi said, “Life is borrowed from Heaven and Earth; death is a return to the source. Thus, when the world is at peace, protect yourself through the Way of right conduct; when the world is in disorder, offer yourself in its defense. The day of death marks the end of a lifetime’s deeds.”

When the world is at peace, preserve yourself through the Way of right conduct; when it is in disorder, give your life for that Way. A noble person therefore has no regrets about sacrificing himself if doing so benefits others. He regards death as a homecoming and remains as composed as he was in life. This means that a noble person values the Way of right conduct he upholds and does not let life or death, gain or loss, alter his principles.

A noble person need only take care to grasp and apply this principle: by following the Way, his conduct will not stray from what is right. Life is bestowed by Heaven, while one’s fate is shaped by the times. Thus, a person may have talent yet never encounter an era suited to it; this is due to the timing of Heaven. To seek something by proper means is within one’s power, but whether one obtains it depends on fate.

To encounter the right opportunity depends on the times; to miss it is no fault of one’s own. One does not become complacently pleased when one gains something, nor resentful when one loses it.

A noble person may do good without necessarily receiving blessings, and may be unable to bear doing wrong without thereby avoiding calamity. Even so, a noble person will never abandon the Way of right conduct in pursuit of blessings. If one seeks only ease and tries to evade calamity, why persist in upholding the Way? It is because human nature cannot be changed at will; only a heart without divided intentions can hold firm in this way.

Therefore, when the time is right, a noble person advances and takes what is rightfully his in accordance with the Way; this is no stroke of luck. When the time is wrong, he withdraws and yields his opportunity according to ritual propriety; this is no misfortune. Even in poverty and lowliness, he does not change inwardly or regret his choice, for he has held fast to what he truly values.

When a gentleman is appointed to office, he does not regard it as luck, for his appointment comes through justice and virtue. If he is not appointed, he feels no shame; what, then, is there to regret? So long as he preserves righteousness in his heart, why should poverty and low status trouble him?

Laozi says: People possess two kinds of Qi (vital energy), one harmonious and one contrary, and both arise from the heart. When the heart is at peace, Qi flows harmoniously; when the heart is unsettled, Qi becomes contrary. Whether the heart is at peace or unsettled depends on whether one follows the Way and virtue. When one attains the Way, the heart is at peace; when one loses it, the heart is unsettled. When people’s hearts are at peace, they yield to one another; when their hearts are unsettled, they fight. Yielding builds virtue, while fighting invites calamity. As virtue grows, Qi flows freely; as calamity takes root, Qi turns contrary and disordered.

When the heart is single-minded, Qi is harmonious and upright; when thoughts are scattered, Qi becomes contrary and crooked. Uprightness brings the Great Way to flourishing, while crookedness gives rise to calamity. When the Way endures, the spirit is clear; when the spirit is clear, society is harmonious and stable. When calamity takes root, Qi becomes impure; once Qi is impure, conflict and disorder follow. When impurity and disorder take hold together, ruin is not far off.

Those whose Qi is harmonious would rather accept a loss themselves than fail to provide for others. Those whose Qi is contrary harm others to satisfy themselves. The Way can regulate and govern these two kinds of Qi.

Problems that cannot be resolved through specific measures can be regulated through the Way.

Heaven’s Way responds like an echo to a sound: as virtue accumulates, blessings arrive; as misdeeds accumulate, resentment follows. When people practice virtue, Heaven can see it clearly. Good and evil arise from the heart, and their consequences follow like a shadow after a body or an echo after a sound.

Corruption in public office often begins when an official rises to prominence. The decline of filial conduct often lies hidden in the private attachments between spouses and children. Even when worries seem to have passed, calamity may arise again. And even when an illness is nearly cured, recovery still requires careful tending. Therefore, be as cautious at the end of a task as at its beginning, and you will not fail.

Corruption in public office often begins with a departure from the proper law; the decline of filial conduct is often hidden in private family attachments. Even when anxiety temporarily subsides, remain alert to the possibility of calamity; even when illness is nearly cured, continue to restrain your desires. Thus, if you remain as cautious throughout as you were at the beginning, you will not mishandle things.

Laozi says: If you appoint upright people, what harm is there in having crooked people around them? If you appoint crooked people, even if upright people stand nearby, do not let the crooked gain power and press on. This is what it means to dwell amid filth without being stained by the mud.

It is not easy to understand a person, so selecting talent requires clear discernment. Yet today, crooked people are treated as upright and the foolish as worthy. How, then, can one remain amid filth without being stained by it?

Laozi said: The sage can regard death and life as one; the fool also experiences life and death, but does not understand their underlying principles. The sage can take life and death lightly because he understands that everything has its proper limits and patterns. Though the fool too faces life and death, he does not know what benefits him and what harms him.

The sage sees birth and death as a single process. He neither favors life nor despises death, and so rises above thoughts of life and death. The fool, by contrast, sees life and death as entirely different things and is always calculating gains and losses, remaining bound by them.

The Dao runs through Heaven, and the myriad things are spread across Earth. The task of harmonizing Heaven and Earth falls to human beings. If a ruler cannot bring harmony to the myriad things, Heaven’s Qi cannot descend and Earth’s Qi cannot rise. Yin and Yang fall out of balance, winds and rains come at the wrong times, and the people fall ill and go hungry.

The Dao is linked with Heaven, and the myriad things are born from Earth. The harmonious Qi of Heaven and Earth must be regulated by human beings. People are the concentrated essence of Heaven and Earth and the embodiment of Earth’s numinous power. A ruler must therefore harmonize the flow of Qi and bring the myriad things to rest. Then winds and rains will come in due season, and disasters will not occur.

Laozi said: Gaining an army of ten thousand is not as valuable as hearing one fitting word; obtaining the Marquis of Sui’s Pearl, a legendary precious gem, is not as valuable as understanding the roots of a matter; acquiring the He family’s jade, a famous precious stone, is not as valuable as knowing the course a matter ought to follow.

If a word is beneficial, an army of ten thousand is no treasure. If something is worthy of respect, the He family’s jade is no precious object.

Though the world is vast, a ruler who delights in using force will ultimately bring about his own ruin. Even if a state is peaceful for a time, forgetting to prepare for war will put it in danger. Thus, in a small state with few people, even when all kinds of weapons are available, they are not lightly used.

A great state should above all cultivate De (Virtue/Power). A small state should above all accommodate a great state and maintain good relations with it. In this way, campaigns of conquest will not arise, and rulers, ministers, and people will all live in peace.

Laozi said: Those who can achieve the work of a hegemon must be able to win victories. Yet if doing so goes against the Dao, they should not wage war.

Those who can defeat their enemies must possess De. Without De, they cannot prevail.

Those who can put the strength of the people to use must have won their hearts. By appointing worthy and capable people, they can gain the people’s support.

Those who can win the hearts of the people must first know how to settle their own hearts. Those who can settle their own hearts must know how to remain gentle and humble. One can defeat those who are weaker, but meeting someone of equal strength brings difficulty. If the power of weakness can overcome an equal, its effect is immeasurable. Thus, only a sage can achieve the greatest victory through the Way of weakness, which no one can overcome.

By remaining humble and gentle, one cannot be defeated by the people; in this way, one can achieve victory.

This concludes Book Four of the Wenzi: True Classic of the Profound Mystery.

Book Five of the Wenzi: True Classic of the Profound Mystery

The Way and Virtue

The “Way” is the constant principle that runs through the distinct roles of all things. “Virtue” is the collective name for what each thing receives and possesses. The Wenzi has twelve chapters, each with a different title. Why, then, does the theme of “the Way and Virtue” appear again on its own? Here, “the Way and Virtue” means the Way that all things can follow and that can be spoken of, and the Virtue formed in accordance with it, which can serve as a basis for action. It does not refer to the supreme Great Way or the mysterious, subtle Mysterious Virtue. The chapter before this, “Origin of the Way,” discusses the foundation of the Way, while the chapter after this, “Supreme Virtue,” discusses the highest expression of Virtue. Only “Origin of the Way” and “Supreme Virtue” explain the foundations and highest reaches of the Way and Virtue; this chapter discusses how they operate in human society. The substance of the Way and Virtue belongs wholly to nature. No chapter explains more clearly how to put the Way into practice and establish Virtue in the human world, cultivate oneself and verify that name and reality accord, and give life its proper order while leaving an enduring name after death.

Wenzi asked about the Way.

The Way lies beyond ordinary learning, and the highest principles need not be questioned. What is asked about here is perhaps the principle that can be drawn from particular things.

Laozi said: “If learning and inquiry are not thorough, one cannot grasp the Way deeply.”

People learn in order to recover their own nature. They begin by asking questions out of interest, then develop a desire to know more, and finally use the study of learning to reach a state in which they no longer depend on it. If they do not pursue learning with ever greater care, how can they fathom its profound meaning?

All who hear the Way hope that it will lead them to wisdom—

that is, to become wise and discerning.

They also hope it will help them attain Virtue—

that is, to embody benevolence and righteousness.

The purpose of learning is to achieve merit and renown: to establish accomplishments while joining with others in supporting a cause.

Without careful understanding, one cannot comprehend; without thorough inquiry, one cannot attain full insight. Only careful study leads to comprehension, and only thorough inquiry leads to insight. The highest level of learning, then, is directed both toward cultivating the virtues of benevolence and righteousness and toward achieving merit and renown.

Learning has different levels. Those at the highest level grasp things through Shen (spirit); those in the middle understand them through the heart and mind; those at the lowest level rely only on hearing. The highest perceive the Dao (the Way), the fundamental principle underlying all things, and thereby attain wisdom. Those in the middle cherish the Dao and so cultivate their character. Those at the lowest level merely encounter the Dao and use it to gain renown. When one learns only by hearing, learning remains on the surface; when one understands through the heart and mind, it reaches into the flesh; when one grasps through Shen, it penetrates to the marrow. This is a metaphor for shallow and deep understanding.

Thus, if listening does not go deep, understanding will not be clear. Without clear understanding, one cannot fully grasp the essential meaning; without fully grasping it, one cannot practice with sincerity. If one does not listen deeply to the principles of things, one cannot gain clear understanding; this shows that one has not yet reached the utmost in understanding those principles. It has never been heard of that someone whose heart and mind are still unclear can nevertheless act with sincerity.

The essentials of listening and understanding are to keep the mind open and still, and to gather in one’s breath so it does not grow excessive—in other words, to gather one’s breath and bring it into accord with the Dao. One should have no thoughts or concerns in the heart and mind, let the eyes wander nowhere, and not listen carelessly with the ears; inwardly and outwardly…