《通玄真经缵义(杜道坚)》Vol. 2

Things are always changing, and no change is impossible to meet.

The spirit arises in dependence on the body, while essence and vital energy are sustained by the breath. Body, Qi, essence, and spirit nourish one another and remain in balance; this is the foundation of nurturing life. If you become restless and agitated, relying on force to struggle against things around you, you will exhaust your essence and Qi and damage your spirit. Blurred vision, forgetfulness, and other ailments will often follow—signs that death is drawing near. The sage therefore keeps the body supple and does not strive to overpower others; the sage harmonizes the breath and gathers the spirit, thereby mastering the “Nine Ways of Keeping” (the Daoist methods of keeping to the Dao and nurturing life). Would the sage deceive us? Aspire to be a sage, and you can become one; aspire to be a worthy person, and you can become one.

Keeping to Simplicity: preserving one’s simple, natural nature.

Laozi said, “A perfected person is one whose original nature accords with the Dao. Though possessing things, he is as if he possessed nothing; inwardly full, he appears empty. He cultivates the inner life without deliberately governing the outer. Clear and simple in mind, he returns to his true nature through Wuwei (non-action). He understands the root, keeps his spirit whole, and wanders among the origins of all things under Heaven and Earth.

The perfected person roams freely beyond the turmoil of the world, at ease in a realm without contrivance. Cunning and schemes find no place in his heart. He sees through illusion and is not changed by external things. He witnesses things transform yet holds fast to the root; his mind remains centered within, and he sees fortune and misfortune as two sides of a single change. At rest, he does not cling to what he is doing; on a journey, he does not fixate on where he is going. He understands without studying, sees clearly without looking, accomplishes things without contriving, and brings order without governing.

When touched, he responds; when moved, he acts. He goes only when he must, like light appearing in response to things, like a shadow following its form. He follows the Dao, and when the conditions are right, things happen of themselves. His mind is open and empty, still and free of contrivance. He sees the countless cycles of arising and ceasing as a single transformation, and myriad differences as sharing one source. Though he has Jing and Qi, he does not use them recklessly; though he has spirit, he does not wield it deliberately. He preserves his undivided, simple nature and rests in the innermost realm of utmost subtlety.

In sleep, he does not dream; in wisdom, he gives rise to no deluded thoughts. His actions leave no trace, and in stillness he does not cling to form. He exists as if he did not exist, and lives as if beyond life and death. Nothing obstructs his coming and going; he can even command ghosts and spirits. This is the state in which the spirit rises to unite with the Dao: the spirit moves freely and reaches everywhere without straying from its source. Day and night pass without interruption, and wherever he dwells among things, he brings life and vitality. This is the state in which the Dao and the mind unite, and timely transformations arise from within.

Thus, though the body may decline, the spirit need not change with it. The unchanging meets the myriad changes, passing through countless transformations without end. What changes eventually returns to formlessness; the unchanging Dao endures alongside Heaven and Earth. The root that keeps all things alive is not itself born as a particular “living thing”; what it brings forth is the life and transformation of all things. The Dao itself is not changed; what it sets in motion is the transformation of all things. This is the perfected person’s roaming in the Dao, the realm of the pure Dao.

The True Person, one who has attained the Dao, preserves an undiminished and complete original nature. He roams within the source of Heaven and Earth and connects with the Great Dao. His mind is open and clear, leaving no trace. He is not attached to himself and so does not reject things outside himself. When others laugh, he laughs; when others cry, he cries. He follows the changes of all things.

The True Person preserves his original nature, roams within the source of Heaven and Earth, and connects with the Great Dao. His mind is open, with no trace to be found. He is not attached to himself and therefore does not cut himself off from the myriad things. When others laugh, he laughs; when others cry, he cries. The myriad things change in countless ways without end. After changing, they return to formlessness, yet amid change there is also an unchanging foundation. This unchanging foundation exists together with Heaven and Earth, but its existence and passing away are not as they are commonly understood. The “Nine Ways of Guarding” discussed earlier, together with “Guarding Simplicity” here, make ten: from the One, it divides into nine, then from ten it returns to the One. This is called moving in step with the transformations of creation.

End of Volume Three of Commentary and Meaning on the True Scripture of Pervading Mystery.

Textual notes:

1 The character “ai” was originally written “shou”; it has been changed according to the Juzhen edition.

2 The character “hai” was originally written “ti”; it has been changed according to the Juzhen edition.

3 The character “shi” was originally written “shi”; it has been changed according to the Juzhen edition.

4 The character “shou” was originally written “zhong”; it has been changed according to the Juzhen edition.

5 The two characters “zhidu” were originally written “xizhi”; they have been changed according to the Juzhen edition.

6 and #7 The character “ze” was originally written “ji”; it has been changed according to the Juzhen edition.

Volume Four of Commentary and Meaning on the True Scripture of Pervading Mystery, compiled by Nanguzi Du Daojian. The chapter is titled “Words of the Talisman.”

Laozi says: The Dao is so high that nothing is higher, and so deep that nothing is deeper. It is level like a measuring instrument and straight like an ink line; it is round like a circle drawn with a compass and square like a shape set out with a carpenter’s square. It contains Heaven and Earth, yet has no boundary between inside and outside. It pervades the myriad things and covers everything, yet meets no obstruction. Therefore, one who realizes the Great Dao is neither angered nor delighted by external things. Sitting quietly, he has no worries in his heart; sleeping, he does not dream. When he sees things, he can discern their names; when events arise, he responds in accordance with their course.

A tally—a token used as proof and as a sign of trust—can establish trust; words can express sincerity. The so-called Mandate Tallies, imperial seals, golden tallies, and jade tallies used in the world all rely on tokens of trust to establish credibility and express sincerity, so that one side responds to the other. This is why they are called “tally words.”

The Dao has no limits of height or depth; it reaches everywhere, near and far. It has no form or name, yet contains feeling and possesses trustworthiness. The sage embodies the Great Dao and does not act according to personal likes and dislikes. When seeing things, the sage names them; when events arise, the sage responds. Even without speaking, the sage can show trustworthiness through action. This is the “tally of trust” conveyed without words.

Laozi says: Whoever wants to monopolize fame will inevitably create trouble. Once trouble begins, one abandons public-mindedness and pursues private gain, turns away from the Dao and acts recklessly. One performs so-called good deeds to win praise and pretends to be worthy in order to build a reputation. Such governance does not accord with what is right, and such conduct is out of step with the times. Governance that does not accord with what is right invites many criticisms; conduct out of step with the times is difficult to bring to success. Acting recklessly while hoping for a fitting result is misguided: success cannot make up for the faults, while failure can bring about one’s ruin.

Fame can become a means of harming oneself, and this is what the sage is wary of. Whoever wants to monopolize fame will inevitably go against the Way of Heaven, abandon public-mindedness for private gain, seek praise and build a reputation, stir up trouble, and harm the people. Thus, when governance is misguided, achievements cannot cover up faults; when things fail, ruin follows. This explains why the sage is wary of fame. Whoever wants to monopolize fame goes against the Way of Heaven, abandons the public for private gain, seeks praise and builds a reputation, stirs up trouble, and harms the people. In the end, governance goes astray: achievements cannot make up for faults, and failure brings ruin. These words are indeed true.

Laozi says: Do not make yourself the master of fame; do not become a storehouse of schemes; do not take every matter upon yourself; do not set yourself up as the master of wisdom. Keep yourself hidden from view, and act without slackening. Do not rush ahead of good fortune, and do not be the beginning of calamity. Let things begin unseen, and act only when action becomes unavoidable. If you want good fortune to arrive first and calamity not to arise, you must first keep far from harm.

Therefore, if you force your actions while seeking peace, the loss of peace will plunge you into danger. If you govern by deliberate control, losing your hold over events will plunge you into disorder. So do not seek to shine like fine jade, nor deliberately adopt the aloof air of a rough stone. The more ornate an animal’s hide, the more readily it is stripped away; the more prized an animal’s horns, the more likely it is to be hunted. A sweet spring will eventually run dry, and a straight tree will eventually be cut down. Words that boast of one’s talents may later become grounds for blame. When jade lies in a mountain, the mountain itself may be damaged; the people’s troubles are often sown long before, when words are made conspicuous.

The reward for good and the retribution for evil follow like a shadow follows the body. Good deeds bring good fortune; evil deeds invite calamity. Evil must not be done. If it is done, can one simply shift the blame to someone else? One may seek peace, but if peace is lost, one falls into danger instead. One may seek order and good governance, but if they are mishandled, disorder follows. The more beautiful the markings on an animal’s hide, the more likely it is to be stripped away; the more splendid the horns on its head, the more likely it is to be killed for them. There is no calamity that one has not brought upon oneself.

Laozi says: When circumstances are in motion, act in accord with them. Those who do not understand the Dao often turn good fortune into calamity. Heaven covers all things like a canopy, and Earth bears all things like a carriage. Those skilled in applying the Dao can endure without end and suffer no harm. The Five Phases—Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, and Water—each have their relations of generation and overcoming. Beneath the reach of Heaven’s canopy, all things follow their corresponding order. Thus, to know what one does not know is wisdom; to not know, yet believe oneself to know, is a failing.

Heaven covers all without exception, like a canopy, and Earth carries all without exception, like a carriage. The blessings Heaven and Earth bestow upon people are vast and boundless. The sage takes Heaven and Earth as models, acts in accord with the times, and does whatever is called for in accordance with the natural patterns. It is like the Five Phases, which both generate and overcome one another. Those skilled in applying the Dao know without displaying their knowledge; this is wisdom. To not know, yet claim to know, is a failing.

Laozi says: Gold forms in mountains and jade in stone, yet for this they are mined and stripped away. Worms grow in trees, then harm the trees. People, too, may do things that end up harming themselves. Those eager to act often cannot avoid setbacks; those who vie for gain often cannot avoid hardship. Skilled swimmers may drown, and skilled riders may fall: in each case, what one excels at and loves can itself bring calamity. Whether one gains something depends on whether one acts in accord with the time, not on contention. Whether one governs well depends on whether one accords with the Dao, not on believing oneself wise.

Earth lies low and does not contend to be high, so it is steady and free from danger. Water flows downward and does not contend to be swift, so it can flow on without interruption. Thus, the sage does not cling to one side and makes no mistakes; does not act recklessly and therefore does not fail.

Heaven and Earth, human beings, and all things draw on one another’s resources to sustain their lives. When they do so properly, they can live in peace; when they do so improperly, they suffer harm. Food, therefore, can nourish people but also injure them. The people can support a ruler, but they can also turn against him. Scholars devise laws and undertake projects, thereby putting the people’s strength to use. At first, this may seem to benefit the people, but in time it often ends up harming those who set it in motion. When you understand that success depends on timing rather than contention, and that governance depends on the Dao rather than reliance on one’s own wisdom, you will avoid the fault of taking from one another.

Laozi said: “One sentence can benefit people without limit; two sentences can serve as the guiding principle of all under Heaven; three sentences can make the feudal lords dominant; four sentences can make one without rival under Heaven.” Words that are true and trustworthy can have boundless effect. Practicing virtue can make one a model for all under Heaven. Employing people of worth and virtue can make the feudal lords dominant. Loathing the wrongdoings of a few and caring for the many can make one unmatched under Heaven.

To speak with few errors and act with little cause for regret, the key lies in what you do, not what you say. If you hold fast to the “Great Image”—the overall principle of the Dao—the people of the world will turn to you. The key lies in virtue, not in cunning or deceit. A single mouth can bring about good deeds or provoke war. How, then, could one speak without care?

Laozi said: “There are three ways people die that are not decreed by fate but brought on by their own actions. If they eat without restraint and treat their bodies lightly, illness will take their lives. If they pursue pleasure without limit and seek satisfaction without end, punishment will take their lives. If they rely on a few to defy the many, using weakness to bully strength, war will take their lives.”

Everyone who lives will eventually die; who can escape it? But to die before one’s allotted years are over is truly regrettable. Those who indulge their desires die of illness; those who covet profit die by punishment; those who act with brute force die in war. These three kinds of death differ, but the cause is the same when we say people bring them upon themselves.

Laozi said: “The deeper the kindness you show, the better the return you receive. The greater the resentment you incur, the deeper the calamity that will befall you. It has never happened that someone shows little kindness yet expects a rich return, or accumulates resentment yet believes no calamity will follow. Observe what has been done in the past, and you can know what consequences it will bring.”

The principle governing kindness and its repayment is like planting melons and reaping melons, or planting fruit trees and gathering fruit. The returns brought about by kindness and resentment follow this same principle.

Laozi says: When one understands the Mandate of Heaven—the natural course and patterns of things—sets the mind right, brings one’s likes and dislikes into order, and aligns one’s emotions and nature, the Way of governance becomes clear. To understand the Mandate of Heaven is not to be confused by calamity or good fortune. To set the mind right is not to let anger or joy stir it recklessly. To bring likes and dislikes into order is not to crave what is useless. To align one’s emotions and nature is to keep desire within bounds.

When calamity and good fortune do not confuse you, action and stillness can follow the circumstances. When anger and joy do not stir you recklessly, rewards and punishments will be impartial. When you do not crave what is useless, desire will not damage your nature. When desire stays within bounds, you know how to preserve life and be content. These four things need neither be sought outside yourself nor obtained through others; reflection upon yourself is enough to find them.

The Mandate of Heaven, the workings of the mind, likes and dislikes, and emotions and nature are connected to one another, like the moon reflected in water. As the moon waxes and wanes, the image on the water changes with it. Whether the mind is upright or askew, calamity and good fortune follow accordingly.

Laozi says: Do not pursue conduct that may invite criticism, and do not resent others for failing to approve of you. Cultivate Virtue worthy of praise, but do not seek praise from others. One cannot prevent calamity from ever arriving; one can only trust that one has not actively invited it. Nor can one guarantee that good fortune will come; one can only trust that one has not turned it away. Since calamity is not brought about by oneself, one does not grieve in hardship. Since good fortune is not entirely brought about by oneself, one does not become complacent when things go well. Thus, one can be happy even in quiet solitude, and govern through Wuwei (non-action).

What, after all, is there left for oneself to pursue? Why resent what does not belong to oneself? Virtue is cultivated by oneself; praise and blame are spoken by others. So when praised, one does not strive even harder to win approval; when criticized, one is not disheartened. One lives at ease and is happy within, and in governing affairs does not impose one’s subjective will.

Laozi said, “Those who embody the Dao and put it into practice hold fast to what they already have and do not pursue what they have yet to attain. In striving for what they lack, they may lose what they already possess; when they act in keeping with the conditions at hand, what they desire may come of its own accord.

If governance is not yet secure and the realm is not truly at peace, rushing to produce visible results brings danger. If one’s conduct cannot yet be assured free of fault, hastening to seek a reputation will also end in frustration. Thus the greatest blessing is freedom from calamity, and the greatest gain is freedom from loss.

At times, something that seems beneficial ends in harm; at other times, what seems like a loss proves beneficial. The Dao cannot be used to urge people to chase profit, but it can bring peace to the mind and spirit and help one avoid harm. So remaining free of calamity is more dependable than gaining a passing blessing, and avoiding wrongdoing is more precious than earning a momentary achievement.

The Dao is vast, deep, and beyond measure. In response to the might of Heaven’s way, one observes the Qi of Heaven and Earth without imposing one’s own thoughts or making provisions in advance. One does not deliberately welcome what arrives or hold back what departs. In this way, one can avoid harm. Wherever people may be—in the east, west, south, or north—they can remain steadfast at the center; even amid winding and chaotic circumstances, they do not lose their uprightness. They flow along with all things under Heaven without straying from their proper place.

One does not make a show of being good or flee circumstances others regard as disgraceful. One follows Heaven’s way without rushing to initiate or insisting on one’s own will; one follows the natural order without planning ahead or missing the moment, acting in accord with the time. One neither grasps for what one would gain nor turns away a blessing, but acts in accordance with Heaven’s way. When the heart holds no excessive hopes for blessings, unexpected calamities are less likely to arise from outside. Misfortune and blessing find no way to take root, and external things can scarcely do one harm.

Those who attain the highest De speak in accord with the Great Dao, and their actions bring benefit and blessing. Those above and below share one purpose and do not stray onto divergent paths. If someone departs from the right way, guide them away from the crooked path and back toward what is right, so that the people, too, may move in the right direction.”

People commonly seek to gain while forgetting that they may also lose. When desire is absent, the mind can be still; this is what is meant by the “Perfected Person,” one who has reached the ideal state. The changes and developments of things in the world cannot always be determined by force. Hold fast to what you already have, and what you have not yet attained may perhaps come of its own accord. Pursue what you lack without pause, and what you already possess may be lost. Thus, those who follow the Dao do not set their hearts on extraordinary good fortune or fret over unexpected disaster. They respond to nature and accord with the Way of Heaven. How, then, could others harm them?

Laozi says that good deeds invite encouragement, while bad deeds invite scrutiny. Encouragement can lead one to prize one’s reputation; scrutiny can bring worry and trouble. For this reason, cultivating the Dao should not mean seeking fame through conspicuous effort, but withdrawing to cultivate oneself. The sage does not seek a reputation through deeds or praise through cleverness. In managing affairs, the sage follows nature and does not force intervention. Deliberate action may fail; what one seeks may not be obtained. People may fall into hardship, and the Dao may for a time be difficult to put into practice. To be clever without presuming to act is as effective as not displaying one’s cleverness; to be capable without acting rashly is like having no capacity on display. Once one understands the principles of the Dao, one’s intelligence is no longer something to flaunt. A person and the Dao cannot both strive to display themselves: if a person clings to fame, the Dao will not be put into practice; when the Dao prevails over selfish desire, fame subsides. If the Dao is no longer practiced while fame grows, one may be headed toward danger and ruin.

Those who do good do not seek blessings, yet blessings may come to them. Those who do evil do not seek calamity, yet disaster may befall them. Leaving a foul name for ages and earning lasting renown seem to be opposites, but on closer examination the distinction may not be so clear-cut. The more one prizes fame, the harder it is to embody the Dao inwardly; the more deeply one experiences the Dao, the less one seeks fame through personal effort. This is the difference between following the Way of Heaven and clinging to human affairs, profit, and reputation.

Laozi says, “Let those who keep faith divide the wealth and live…” (This line is briefly interpreted here in accordance with the original text.) Leaving a foul name for ages and earning lasting renown seem to be opposites, but on closer examination the distinction may not be so clear-cut. The more one prizes fame, the harder it is to embody the Dao inwardly; the more deeply one experiences the Dao, the less one seeks fame through personal effort. This is the difference between following the Way of Heaven and clinging to human affairs, profit, and reputation.

Laozi says: When dividing property, it is better to set each person’s share in advance and draw lots than to rely on an honest person. Why? Someone with personal motives, even when striving for fairness, is less impartial than someone without self-interest. When safeguarding property, it is better to secure the doors and seal the goods away than to rely on an incorruptible person. Someone with desires, even when trying to remain incorruptible, is less dependable than someone free of greed. People resent others for pointing out their faults; when they see their own ugliness, by contrast, they may feel they have done well. If a person can come into contact with external things without claiming them as their own, they can avoid being entangled by them.

When property is divided, drawing lots is fairer than relying on someone’s personal judgment; when it is safeguarded, sealing it away is more reliable than depending on someone’s self-restraint. People resent having their faults pointed out because they do not like hearing it. Yet when they see their own ugliness, they may feel they have done well, because they cherish themselves. Only by coming into contact with external things without drawing them into one’s own affairs or giving rise to a desire to possess them can one avoid this kind of partiality and make it difficult for others to find fault.

Laozi says: Those who serve others and seek to establish relationships with them either give costly gifts or speak humbly. Gifts will eventually run out, but the recipient’s desires will not thereby be satisfied. However humble one’s manner and words, there will eventually be nothing left to say, and the relationship may still not be firm. Even after oaths have been sworn and agreements made, the other person may break the agreement, or even go back on it before the appointed date.

Therefore, the noble person does not merely put on an outward show of benevolence and righteousness, but cultivates virtue within. They govern the affairs of their domain, make full use of its local conditions, and urge the people to uphold their duties and stand firm even at the cost of their lives. They strengthen the city walls so that those above and below are united in defending the state. In this way, the people will not attack others without cause, and those seeking profit will not compete for things that are hard to obtain. This is the way to preserve oneself and to secure lasting benefit.

Using costly gifts to serve others will exhaust the gifts, while the recipient’s desires remain difficult to satisfy. Relationships built on humble words reach a point where there is nothing left to say, and the other person may break an agreement early. Only by cultivating virtue within and uniting those above and below can one defend the state and protect the people. Such conduct preserves oneself and brings lasting benefit.

Laozi says: The sage can restrain the movements of the heart, while ordinary people cannot restrain their desires. The noble person follows upright energy; the petty person follows corrupt energy. When the heart accords with one’s nature, actions conform to what is right, follow the grain of things, and are not swayed by external objects, this is upright energy. To indulge in rich flavors, become infatuated with sights and sounds, give free rein to joy and anger, and ignore the consequences to come—this is corrupt energy.

Corrupt energy and upright energy oppose each other; desire and nature injure each other. They cannot coexist: when one rises, the other declines. So the sage reduces desire and lets the heart follow its nature. The eyes delight in beauty, the ears in pleasing sounds, the nose in fragrance, and the mouth in fine flavors. Ultimately, these sensory pleasures all depend on the pursuit of gain and desire. When the ears, eyes, nose, and mouth are governed by corrupt energy, they harm upright energy. The corrupt and the upright, desire and nature, cannot stand together: when one rises, the other declines. So the sage reduces desire and lets the heart follow its nature. The eyes, ears, nose, and mouth do not know what they ought to seek; their desires are governed by the heart. When the heart is settled in its proper place, the senses can be satisfied appropriately. From this we can see that desire is indeed difficult to restrain.

The Dao-heart and the human heart, Heaven’s principle and human desire, all refer to the distinction between Heaven’s principle and selfish desire. When Heaven’s principle prevails, one’s actions accord with the Way of Heaven; when selfish desire prevails, one acts from personal motives. This is also the distinction between the noble person and the petty person. Heaven’s principle and selfish desire contend with each other, and corrupt energy and upright energy oppose each other. The noble person would not act this way—how much less would the sage?

Laozi says: Those who care for the body and cultivate their nature should regulate their sleep and daily routine, eat and drink in moderation, balance joy and anger, and keep both movement and stillness in proper measure. When the body and mind are well cared for within, corrupt energy has no chance to enter. Focusing only on outward adornment instead damages what is within.

Laozi also says: Those who care for the body and cultivate their nature should regulate their sleep and daily routine, eat and drink in moderation, balance joy and anger, and keep both movement and stillness in proper measure. When the body and mind are well cared for within, corrupt energy has no chance to enter. Focusing only on outward adornment instead damages what is within. Giving free rein to emotions harms the spirit; clinging to outward ornament obscures what is genuine. Never forgetting, even for a moment, that one should be a worthy person can end up constraining one’s nature; never forgetting one’s appearance, even while walking a hundred paces, can exhaust the body. Thus, wings that are too splendid damage the body, and branches and leaves that grow too thick hinder the roots. There is no way under Heaven to bring both sides to their utmost.

The true Dao (the Way) nourishes the spirit, while the way of worldly people tends to focus on preserving the body. Cultivation that attends to the inner life yields what is real; pursuit of externals yields only superficial results. Keeping away from the temptations of sights and sounds, and curbing cravings for fine food, are ways to preserve the body. Putting aside distracting thoughts and guarding Qi (vital energy) and Jing (essence) are ways to nourish the spirit. Can cultivating the body and nature, attending to both inner and outer life, really be achieved through nothing more than one’s voice, smile, and appearance?

Laozi said: Heaven is bright; there is no need to worry that the people are ignorant. The earth is rich; there is no need to worry that the people are poor. One who has truly attained the Dao rests unmoving, like a hill or a clod of earth, and becomes a standard by which travelers can find their way. By setting himself straight, he also allows all things to find their proper place. He does not treat his kindness as charity, and those who benefit from his help do not feel indebted to him. Thus he is at peace and endures. Heaven and earth have nothing to give him, so there is nothing they can take away. He does not regard himself as virtuous, so he has no cause for resentment. Those who are quick to anger are bound to harbor many grievances; those eager to give are also likely to have what they give taken from them. Only by following the natural changes of heaven and earth can one act in accord with what is right. Where fame arises, slander often follows; where a good reputation arises, ill will may follow too. Gain may become the beginning of calamity, and good fortune may foreshadow disaster. Seek no gain, and there will be no calamity arising from it; seek no good fortune, and there will be no disaster arising from it. One should make self-preservation one’s constant aim; wealth and rank are merely things entrusted to one from outside.

The sage understands all under heaven, yet does not leave the people ignorant. He possesses the wealth of all under heaven, yet does not leave the people poor. He follows the natural patterns of heaven and earth, allowing all things to grow of themselves. He gives without favoritism, and so takes nothing for himself in a partial way; he does not grant rewards lightly, and so imposes no harsh punishments. By treating wealth and rank as floating clouds, he can preserve his innate nature.

Laozi said: The sage does not wear strange clothes or do bizarre things. His dress is orderly, and his conduct does not call attention to itself. In times of success he is not ostentatious; in hardship he is not alarmed. When honored, he does not boast; in retirement, he does not feel disgraced. He is unlike others without seeming strange, and acts as everyone does without being confined by any label. This is called “Great Openness,” a state of unobstructed understanding.

A gentleman does not deliberately pursue the obscure and mysterious or behave strangely. Is wearing unusual clothing and acting bizarrely really what a sage would do? One should be open and bright without showing off, upright without harming others, and live in step with ordinary people’s daily lives. This is called “Great Understanding,” the state of being attuned to the Great Dao.

Laozi said: Those who cultivate the Dao make themselves upright, follow their nature, and await the right moment. When the moment comes, they do not force themselves to seize it; when it has passed, they do not chase after it to bring it back. Thus sages do not rush ahead to claim what they seek, nor do they lose what is proper to them by yielding. Even if they wait three years and the moment has already passed, they let it pass; even if the moment passed three years ago, it still lies behind them. They neither deliberately turn away nor deliberately move toward it, but rest calmly in their proper place. Heaven’s Dao shows no partiality toward the myriad things; it responds only to those who possess De.

Good fortune arrives without deliberate seeking, so one does not boast of one’s achievements. Misfortune descends, but one may not have caused it, so one does not regret past actions. The mind remains peaceful and still, not allowing external things to damage one’s De. Even hearing a dog bark does not cause alarm. Trusting one’s own original nature, one does not seek what is beyond one’s due. Thus, those who understand the Great Dao are not confused, and those who understand destiny are not anxious.

When an emperor dies, his bones are buried in the wilderness; yet at the time of sacrifice, people worship him in the Bright Hall, the ceremonial hall where rites such as sacrifices were held in ancient times. This is because spirit is more precious than the physical form. When spirit guides the body, the body follows; when the body overpowers spirit, a person falls into distress. Even when using intelligence and skill, one must return to the inner spirit. This is called “Great Understanding.”

The Great Dao is the path followed in common by all under Heaven. Sages make themselves upright and await the right moment: when it comes, they do not force themselves to seize it; when it passes, they do not chase after it to bring it back. They establish themselves in the center and meet the four directions from there. They do not boast of their achievements or regret their actions; their minds are peaceful and still. They understand the Great Dao and know Heaven’s mandate; even when using intelligence and skill, they return to the inner spirit.

Laozi said: In ancient times, those who could preserve themselves took joy in De and did not concern themselves with poverty or low status, so reputation could not shake their resolve. They took joy in the Dao and did not regard hardship as a burden, so profit could not sway them. They did not regret their actions; their minds were peaceful and still. They understood the Great Dao and knew Heaven’s mandate; even when using intelligence and skill, they returned to the inner spirit.

Those in ancient times who cultivated themselves were content with virtue and unconcerned with low status, so fame could not sway their aspirations. They cherished the Great Dao and were unconcerned with poverty, so gain could not disturb their hearts. For this reason, they were humble and inwardly joyful, quiet and free of desire. To measure things only by the length of one’s life and worry over turmoil in the world is like fearing that a river will run dry and weeping as one pours water into it: it is of no use at all. Those who do not worry over turmoil in the world, but take joy in bringing order to themselves, are the ones with whom one may speak of the Dao.

The Dao is honored, and virtue is precious. Let the Dao and virtue bring joy to the heart, and keep them within yourself. Such a person will not be shaken by poverty or low status. Once you have brought order to yourself, there is no need to worry excessively about the affairs of the world. Why spend a life of less than a hundred years fretting too much over the whole world?

Laozi said: There are three circumstances that invite resentment. High rank makes others jealous; great office may make the ruler dislike you; generous emoluments may make others resent you. The higher your rank, the humbler your bearing should be. The greater your office, the more circumspect and restrained you should be inwardly. The more generous your emoluments, the more broadly you should give. If you achieve these three things, resentment will not arise. Thus, honor has humility as its root, and high position has low ground as its foundation.

If you are high in rank yet arrogant, others will be jealous. If you hold great office yet throw your weight around, the ruler will dislike you. If your emoluments are generous yet you refuse to give, others will resent you. When those in high and low positions contend with one another, resentment is the result. Only by being humble and willing to give, remembering lowliness when honored and remembering the low ground when in a high position, can you avoid resentment.

Laozi says: Speech is used to convey one’s own meaning to others, and listening is used to bring the meaning of others to oneself. If a person can neither see nor hear, they cannot interact or communicate with others. Thus, people with visual or hearing impairments may find it difficult to understand the affairs of the world. But it is not only the body that can suffer from “sightlessness and deafness”: the heart, too, can become blocked and unresponsive, unable to understand where to seek clarity. This is like blindness and deafness of the mind.

The Dao is the root of all things. Everything that has form comes into being through the Dao, which is as close to it as a family member. Those who live long by eating grain and taking in the Qi of Heaven and Earth receive the Dao’s beneficence as they would a ruler’s. Those who are wise learn from the Dao, which inspires them like a teacher and helps them understand what is clear and true.

People often use seemingly useless things in ways that harm what is truly useful. As a result, their knowledge remains narrow, and each day feels too short. If they spent the time they devote to games such as chess or gambling asking about the Dao, their knowledge and experience would grow much broader. To neither listen nor ask is like losing one’s hearing and sight in the world: it makes understanding its principles difficult.

To receive a body and be born is the kindness of one’s family; to eat grain and live long is the beneficence of a ruler; to learn and come to understand is the achievement of a teacher. Once a person has grown to adulthood, their own life becomes precious. Speech is the voice that issues from the heart. To convey one’s meaning to others, one must speak; to understand others, one must listen. How wondrous the power of speech is! If we do not reject fair words because they are someone’s private opinion, and do not let useless things damage what is useful, we can hear the Great Dao deeply and avoid remaining ignorant and narrow in our understanding.

Laozi says: People’s hearts are won over by De, not by force. De depends on what one possesses oneself, not on what one demands from others. Thus, if sages wish to be held in higher regard than others, they first show respect to others; if they wish to be honored, they first honor others; if they wish to overcome others, they first overcome themselves; and if they wish others to be humble, they first make themselves humble. The relations between high and low, noble and humble, should be brought into harmony in accordance with the Dao.

The wise and enlightened rulers of antiquity spoke humbly, placing themselves below everyone else, and acted by putting themselves behind everyone else. For this reason, people throughout the realm were glad to recommend them and never grew weary of doing so; they supported them without feeling burdened. This was because their De was abundant and their breath was harmonious. Those who understand that giving first makes it possible to receive, and that taking the rear position makes it possible to lead, are close to the Great Dao.

In conducting oneself, courtesy calls for yielding to others first, while speech is best held back until others have spoken. This is human nature. A person can win others over through virtue, but cannot command their willing allegiance through force. The sages observe proper measure in advancing and withdrawing, and keep a sense of proportion in deciding what comes first and what comes later. That is why people throughout the world gladly choose and support them.

Laozi said: When one has little virtue but receives too much favor, one invites ridicule. When one has little ability but holds a high position, one is in danger. When one has achieved little but enjoys a generous stipend, one’s position is hard to secure. Thus, some things seem to increase on the surface but are actually diminished; others seem to decrease but may in fact bring gain. Everyone knows how to pursue benefit, but not how to avoid harm. Only the sage understands that harm can turn into benefit, and benefit into harm. If a tree bears fruit again and again, its roots will inevitably suffer. If a household accumulates too much wealth, it may later invite calamity. Excessive gain can become a source of harm; this is a principle of the Dao.

Virtue may be cultivated and expanded without end, but the rank and position one receives must not exceed one’s proper measure. When the water is shallow and the boat is large, the boat runs aground. When a tree’s crown is broad but its roots are shallow, the tree is uprooted. A person with little virtue and ability, who lacks benevolence yet occupies a high position, is rarely free from danger. If one understands that benefit and harm can turn into each other, does not covet or hoard too much, and can bring what is right into accord with what is advantageous, what harm could there be?

Laozi said: When petty people act, they seek only to gain through luck. When exemplary people act, they take what accords with the Dao as their measure. Those who do good do not do so to seek fame, yet fame follows. They do not deliberately chase profit, yet profit comes to them. The aims they pursue are the same, but the realms they ultimately reach are different. Thus, once an action brings benefit, harm may follow in its wake. A person who treats words as having no constant standard of right and wrong, and acts without regard for what is fitting, is petty. One who sees clearly in a single matter and masters one skill is an ordinary person. Only the sage can attend to many kinds of ability, possess a wide range of talents, and put different skills to good use.

All people have round heads and square feet, teeth in their mouths and hair on their heads. They are all human beings. They differ only because they receive different temperaments from the Qi, and so some are clever while others are dull. Petty people seek only personal gain, and their ability often exceeds their Virtue. Gentlemen follow what is right, and their Virtue often exceeds their ability. Those who can rise or fall and remain between the two are ordinary people. Those born with many talents and abilities are probably sages.

Laozi said: “Life is borrowed from Heaven and Earth for a time; death is a return to the source.” Therefore, when the age is peaceful, one should uphold oneself through the Way and what is right; when the age is chaotic, one should uphold the Way and what is right through oneself. Death marks the end of a person’s conduct throughout life. That is why the gentleman treats this life with care: what matters is how he makes use of it.

Life is received from Heaven, while one’s lot comes with the circumstances of the age. To have ability but not encounter the right time is the will of Heaven. To seek what one wants by following the right path, yet whether one attains it depends on one’s lot. A gentleman can do good, but cannot guarantee that he will receive blessings; he may be unable to bear doing wrong, yet that does not necessarily spare him misfortune. Thus, when the moment is right, the gentleman advances and obtains what he seeks through what is right; this is no stroke of luck. When the moment is wrong, he yields and gives way in accordance with ritual propriety; this is no misfortune. Even if he lives in poverty and low status without regret, it is because he has gained what he truly values.

People receive life from Heaven and, having gained a physical form, become human. Life is a temporary lodging in the world; death is a return to the source. A person’s circumstances may bring hardship or success—but which of these is not determined by one’s lot? To have ability yet find no opportunity to put it to use is the will of Heaven. Therefore, when a gentleman does good, he is not certain to receive blessings; when he avoids wrongdoing, he is not certain to escape misfortune. When the time is right, he rides out in his carriage to take up office; when it is not, he remains at ease, drifting like tumbleweed in the wind. What matters is whether he can hold fast to the principles he cherishes.

Laozi said: Within the human heart are forces that make Qi flow smoothly and forces that make it flow against its proper course. When the heart is calm and orderly, Qi flows smoothly; when the heart is unsettled, Qi becomes disordered and runs counter to its proper course. Whether the heart is calm or unsettled depends on whether it accords with the Dao. When one attains the Dao, the heart becomes calm; when one loses the Dao, it becomes unsettled. When the heart is calm, people yield to one another; when it is unsettled, they struggle against one another. Yielding to others reflects Virtue; struggle gives rise to thoughts of harming others. When Virtue is deep, Qi flows smoothly; when the intent to harm others grows, Qi becomes disordered. Those whose Qi flows smoothly restrain themselves and help others succeed; those whose Qi runs counter to its proper course harm others to satisfy themselves. The Dao can regulate and discipline Qi.

The Way of Heaven is like an echo answering a sound: accumulate Virtue, and blessings will come; accumulate misfortune, and resentment will follow. Learning is often neglected when one’s official career is going well; filial devotion often weakens because of one’s wife and children. Trouble may arise just when one thinks it has been dispelled, and illness may worsen just when one thinks it is about to be cured. Therefore, one should be as careful at the end of an undertaking as at its beginning, and then one will not fail.

The Yinfu (the Daoist classic Scripture of the Hidden Tally) says: The Five Thieves—factors within the heart that can unsettle a person—are hidden in the heart and act throughout Heaven and Earth. When Qi flows smoothly, society is at peace; when Qi runs counter to its proper course, society falls into disorder. In times of peace, people yield to one another; in times of disorder, they struggle against one another. When Qi runs counter to the human heart, it harms the self; when it runs counter to the times, it endangers the state. Only by disciplining Qi through the Dao can one restrain oneself and help others succeed. Even a flourishing official career cannot cause me to neglect my learning; a wife and children cannot diminish my filial devotion. How could trouble arise because one thinks it has been dispelled? How could illness worsen just when one thinks it is about to be cured? If one can be careful at the end of an undertaking, one will make no mistakes.

Laozi said: If crooked people and upright people are appointed together, how could there be no trouble? Appointing upright people while allowing crooked people to act as they please is the sort of situation described by those who say that one can keep company with filth without being stained by it.

Why does the text not say, “Promote crooked and wicked people, and appoint upright people,” but instead say, “Promote crooked and wicked people, and have them associate with upright people”? What is wrong with promoting a crooked person and guiding him toward the right path—in other words, leading a petty person toward the way of a gentleman? But if we reverse this and push a gentleman among petty people, he will not go. To live amid corruption without being assimilated by it: this is how one conducts oneself among petty people—associating with them without going along with the crowd.

Laozi says: sages and fools alike experience life and death. Sages can face life and death because they understand distinctions and principles; fools face them without understanding where benefit and harm truly lie. The Dao hangs in Heaven, the myriad things spread across Earth, and harmonious Qi circulates among people. If a ruler cannot bring harmony to government, the Qi of Heaven cannot descend and the Qi of Earth cannot rise. Yin and Yang fall out of balance, wind and rain arrive out of season, and disease, hunger, and hardship spread among the people.

Harmony is of the utmost importance. When Heaven has it, the sun, moon, and stars shine brightly; when Earth has it, the myriad things can grow; when people have it, all manner of affairs can be carried out. How can a ruler’s heart be without harmony? Once harmony is lost, the Qi of Heaven and Earth cannot mingle, and disease, hunger, and hardship spread among the people.

Sages and fools alike are born and die. What distinguishes them is how they regard rightness and benefit. When benefit accords with rightness, it brings harmony. Sages understand the principles and know that gaining benefit in due measure accords with rightness. Fools, by contrast, do not understand where benefit and harm lie; they may even mistake what is right for mere profit-seeking.

Laozi says: receiving an army of ten thousand is not as good as hearing one apt word; receiving the Pearl of Marquis Sui, a legendary treasure, is not as good as understanding what brought a matter about; receiving the Jade of He, a legendary gem, is not as good as understanding how a matter should be handled. Though the world is vast, a state that delights in using military force will eventually perish. Even if a state is temporarily at peace, a fondness for war will lead it into peril. Therefore, in a small state with a sparse population, even with all manner of powerful devices, people do not readily use them.

Yu heeded beneficial counsel. The army that had set out against the Miao people then withdrew and regrouped, and the Miao submitted. This shows that hearing one apt word is better than commanding a thousand troops. Receiving the Pearl of Marquis Sui or the Jade of He is no match for understanding the origins of a matter and the proper way to handle it. Therefore, even sages treat warfare with caution. In a small state with a sparse population, even with all manner of powerful devices, people do not readily use them.

After Dayu listened to Chang, he ordered the army to halt its attack and restore order to the ranks. The Miao people then submitted. This shows that one well-chosen sentence is worth more than a million troops. Even obtaining such treasures as the Marquis of Sui’s pearl and the jade of He would be less valuable than knowing how to handle matters appropriately. Thus, the sage prizes the Dao, not treasures; reveres De, and does not seek achievements. How could he risk endangering himself through war?

Laozi said: Those who can accomplish the work of kings and hegemons must surpass others in virtue and be able to win people’s hearts. Those who can defeat their enemies must be strong. The strong are surely skilled at drawing on the strength of the people; those skilled at drawing on the people’s strength must be able to win their hearts. Those who can win people’s hearts must be able to remain secure in themselves and make their inner selves full. Those who can remain secure in themselves must be humble, yielding, and free of contention. One who can defeat those weaker than oneself can make those of equal strength submit. But the outcome is hard to predict when the yielding and weak overcome those of equal strength. Thus, only the sage can achieve a great victory in a situation where the people as a whole could not have prevailed.

Surpassing others in virtue enables one to accomplish the work of kings and hegemons, because such a person can win people’s hearts. Defeating enemies shows great strength, because such a person can draw on the strength of the people. Yet without winning their hearts, one cannot draw on their strength, and so cannot speak of defeating one’s enemies. If one is not strong, how could one accomplish the work of kings and hegemons? De is expressed in the ability to remain secure in oneself; remaining secure in oneself makes it possible to overcome the hard and strong through yielding and weakness. Thus, one who can defeat those weaker than oneself can also make those of equal strength submit. This shows that their virtue is equal. If one overcomes those of equal strength through yielding and weakness, the outcome is hard to predict, because the other party’s virtue surpasses one’s own. Therefore, only the sage can achieve a great victory in a situation where the people as a whole could not have prevailed.

End of fascicle four of the Tongxuan Zhenjing Zuanyi.

Fascicle five of the Tongxuan Zhenjing Zuanyi, compiled by Du Daojian, Master of the Southern Valley. “The Way and De” chapter.

Wenzi asked about the Dao. Laozi said, “If learning and inquiry are not thorough, one cannot gain a deep understanding of the Dao. People listen to the Dao in order to increase their wisdom, put it into practice, and establish achievements and a reputation. If one’s learning is not thorough, one cannot understand; if one listens without depth, one cannot grasp the full meaning. Thus, the highest form of learning uses the spirit to comprehend; the middle level uses the mind; the shallowest relies only on the ears. When one relies only on the ears, what one learns remains on the surface. When one comprehends with the mind, what one learns reaches into the muscles. When one comprehends with the spirit, what one learns reaches into the marrow. If one listens without depth, one’s understanding will be unclear; if one’s understanding is unclear, one cannot grasp the principles fully; and if one does not grasp them fully, it is hard to succeed in putting them into practice.

“The way to listen to the Dao is to keep the mind empty, still, and clear, without letting one’s feelings and energy grow excessive or indulging in idle thoughts. Do not let the eyes wander or the ears take in whatever comes. Focus on comprehension and build it up without pause, so that the inner self becomes full and concentrated. Once you have understood, commit it firmly to memory and preserve it over the long term.”

Human nature itself is the Dao, and goodness within human nature is De. The Dao and De are originally present within each person. Thus, the sage recognizes and follows human nature without waiting to study; this is called “the Dao.” The sage then cultivates it further and teaches others; this is called “teaching.” In other words, one puts into practice with others the Dao and De one already possesses within. Whether a person’s natural abilities are above or below the average, they can be attained through sustained learning.

When people listen with their ears and comprehend with their minds, it is like polishing a mirror until its inner brightness appears. Is this brightness not something the human mind already possesses? Learning brings it into clarity; then, by using it to cultivate oneself, one’s virtue becomes manifest. By using it to govern the state, one can accomplish great things. This shows that thorough learning and inquiry can clarify the original mind.

The Dao is the source from which all things arise and the beginning of everything. Things are weak and tender at first, and only later become firm and strong. They begin small and scarce, then gradually grow and flourish. A great tree, too large for one person to wrap their arms around, grows from a tiny sapling; a terrace a hundred fathoms high is built from the earth beneath one’s feet. Such is the pattern of the Way of Heaven.

The sage models themself on the Way of Heaven. They place themself below others so they can willingly remain beneath them; they yield so they do not contend to be first; they practice frugality so they do not crave expansion; they reduce so they do not seek abundance. By staying below, they earn respect; by yielding, they come to the fore; by practicing frugality, they find themselves with enough; by knowing how to reduce, they achieve results. This is precisely how the Way of Heaven brings things to completion.

Are Qi and form the substance and function of the Dao and De? Qi is formless, while all things are Qi made manifest in form. Because Qi is formless, it is yielding and weak; because all things have form, they are firm and strong. From this we can see that Qi is the beginning of form. The Dao gives life to and nourishes all things; De stores up and nurtures them. Things gradually emerge from the subtle. The sage models themself on this pattern, establishing the root and putting its function into practice. In this way, the Way of Heaven is fulfilled.

Dao is the foundation of De (Virtue and Power, expressed in conduct aligned with the Dao), the source of Heaven and Earth, and the gateway to well-being. All things depend on the Dao to grow and flourish, and depend on it to find stability.

The Dao is Wuwei (non-action) and formless, yet through inward cultivation one can cultivate oneself, and through outward action govern others. It brings achievements to completion and affairs to a successful end, drawing one close to Heaven and Earth. The Dao follows its natural course, yet nothing lies beyond what it can accomplish. People cannot see through its workings or fully fathom its true form, but within it lies a truth that can be trusted.

When the Son of Heaven follows the Dao, all under Heaven will submit, and the state can endure. When dukes and marquises follow the Dao, the people will live in harmony, and the state will remain secure. When scholars and commoners follow the Dao, they can preserve themselves and protect their families. The strong can prevail without fighting; the weak can obtain what they seek without contending. Those who act in accord with the Dao can accomplish their aims and receive its blessings.

When ruler and minister follow the Dao, they will be loyal and benevolent; when father and son follow the Dao, they will be loving and filial; when scholars and commoners follow the Dao, they will care for one another. Thus, where there is the Dao, there is harmony; where the Dao is absent, there is harshness. From this we can see that the Dao applies to everyone and everything in the world.

De takes root in the heart, while spirit is revealed in outward conduct. When achievements are completed and affairs brought to a successful end, one can draw close to Heaven and Earth. From the Son of Heaven to the common people, those who follow the Dao find their way clear and unhindered; those who do not encounter hardship and obstruction.

By following the Dao (the Way), one can receive a small blessing through modest accomplishments and a great blessing through great accomplishments. By putting the Great Dao fully into practice, one can bring the people of the world into willing submission. Once they submit, they will draw near and offer their support. Thus, an emperor is one toward whom the people of the world turn, and a king is one to whom they come and pledge their allegiance. Without the people’s allegiance, one cannot be called an emperor or king. If rulers fail to win the people’s hearts, they cannot accomplish great things; even if they win those hearts, they cannot hold on to their achievements for long if they lose the Dao.

Those who have lost the Dao are often extravagant and unrestrained, arrogant and lax, conceited, and eager to show their strength at every turn. They display their talents to attract attention, consider themselves wise, and insist on besting others. Such people are stubborn and overbearing: they invite disaster, incur resentment, and eventually provoke war, becoming a source of turmoil. When ordinary people act this way, they bring great calamity upon themselves; when those in high office do so, they bring about the fall of the state. The consequences may be slight, affecting only the person, or severe, extending to their descendants. Therefore, no offense is greater than violating the Great Dao, and no resentment runs deeper than the absence of De (Virtue/Power). This is the law of Heaven.

The foundation of human life is De, and the foundation of De is the Dao. Whatever the scale of an undertaking, putting the Great Dao into practice brings results and wins the allegiance of the people of the world. Once they submit, they will draw near and offer their support. An emperor is one toward whom the people of the world turn; a king is one to whom they come and pledge their allegiance. Only those to whom the people willingly turn and pledge allegiance deserve to be called emperor or king. Yet accomplishing a great undertaking depends on winning the people’s hearts, while preserving it depends on remaining in accord with the Dao. Do not become the instigator of war or the source of turmoil. Losing the Dao leads to disorder; losing De brings resentment. This is the way of Heaven.

Laozi said: Following the Great Dao can make people refrain from assassination even when they are fierce, and from attacking even when they are cunning. Preventing an assassination or making an attack miss still leaves someone humiliated. It is better to let people have the ability to kill or attack but not dare to act. Yet this is still not as good as making them have no desire to act at all. To do that, they must no longer harbor the wish to harm others. If men and women throughout the world can be made glad to care for one another and help one another, then a person can govern a territory without owning land and become a leader without holding office. Everyone in the world will willingly help that person settle in peace.

The Dao does not deliberately care for anyone, yet men and women alike gladly seek to draw near to it and receive its benefit. A person like this, even without a fief, would be regarded as a ruler; even without an official post, people would regard him as a leader. All under Heaven would willingly bring him peace and benefit.

The Dao does not deliberately respond to external things, yet they respond to it naturally. Even being struck by a blade without injury is less than having people gladly feel drawn to you and wish to help you. A person like this, though without a fief, would still be honored as a ruler; though without an official post, would still be honored as a leader. All under Heaven would willingly bring him peace and benefit. In ancient times there was a man named Gengsangzi whose De (Virtue) was much like this.

Wenzi asked what De is. Laozi said: De nourishes all things and helps them grow. It benefits everyone equally, without choosing among them, and so accords with Heaven and Earth. This is called De.

What is benevolence? Laozi said: When in a high position, do not boast of your achievements; when in a low position, do not be ashamed of your hardship. Do not grow complacent about great matters or neglect small ones. Care for others widely and without selfishness, and persist without wavering. This is called benevolence.

What is righteousness? Laozi said: When in a high position, support the weak; when in a low position, hold fast to your integrity. When successful, do not indulge yourself; when in hardship, do not abandon your principles. Always follow what is right, and do not distort or undermine fairness for selfish ends. This is called righteousness.

What is propriety? Laozi said: When in a high position, remain respectful and dignified; when in a low position, be humble and respectful. Yield and remain gentle, like the female of the world, taking the yielding position. Stand where you do not dare act rashly, and do not rely on your own ability when you act. This is called propriety.

Thus, when a ruler cultivates De, those below will obey orders; when a ruler cultivates benevolence, those below will not fight; when a ruler cultivates righteousness, those below will be fair and impartial; when a ruler cultivates propriety, those below will respect their superiors. When all four—De, benevolence, righteousness, and propriety—are cultivated, the state can be at peace.

All things are brought into being through the Dao. They grow through De, are cared for through benevolence, corrected through righteousness, and honored through propriety. Without nourishment, they cannot grow; without kindness, they cannot flourish; without correction and guidance, they cannot endure; without respect and esteem, they cannot be regarded as precious. Thus, the people cherish De, are grateful for benevolence, stand in awe of righteousness, and respect propriety. These four are the foundations that keep human relations in good order and the principles by which sages govern all things.

If a ruler lacks De, the people will resent him; without benevolence, they will fight; without righteousness, they will rebel; without propriety, they will fall into disorder. When these four fundamental principles—De, benevolence, righteousness, and propriety—are not established, this is called being without the Dao. No one has ever lacked the Dao and escaped ruin.

“De” (Virtue or Power) is a general term for the five constant virtues: benevolence, righteousness, propriety, wisdom, and trustworthiness. A person of De embodies all five: benevolence appears as loving-kindness, righteousness as what is fitting, propriety as respect, wisdom as clear understanding, and trustworthiness as honesty. Together, these virtues are called the Five Constants, or the Five Virtues. Without virtue, a gentleman cannot govern a state. When Wenzi raises this question, he speaks on behalf of people throughout the world and across generations. The meaning of virtue he discusses is exceptionally broad.

Laozi said: “When the Dao and De prevail, merchants prosper in the marketplace, farmers live in comfort in the fields, officials serve at ease, scholars cultivate the Dao, and ordinary people gladly pursue their livelihoods. As a result, wind and rain do not destroy crops and plants, and vegetation does not wither before its time. The Yellow River produces the River Chart, and the Luo River produces the Luo Writing; these are regarded as auspicious signs. When the age declines, taxes are imposed without limit and killing has no end. Those who remonstrate are punished, and worthy people are put to death. Then mountains collapse and rivers run dry; insects and beasts find no peace, and the fields yield no vegetables.”

Thus, when the age is at peace, a fool cannot disrupt the world through his own efforts alone; when the age is in chaos, even a worthy person cannot bring peace to the world through his own efforts alone. The sage’s calm and ease accord with the Dao of life; the realization of one’s aims and the practice of the Dao depend on destiny. A person must first encounter a fitting time to put their abilities to use; only when destiny accords with the moment can their virtue shine forth. A suitable age must come first for a person capable of accomplishing something to appear.

Heaven regards the people as a father regards his children, caring for them without partiality. The ruler is Heaven’s eldest son, while the people are Heaven’s innocent children, under its protection. If those in power fail to care for the people, Heaven will surely send warnings. When the Dao and De prevail, rulers and people care for one another, in accord with Heaven’s will. All things flourish, and the people live in peace and pursue their livelihoods. When the age declines, oppressive rule destroys harmony. Heaven grows angry, disasters appear on earth, the state is beset by troubles, and calamity spreads to the people. Only when the sage is calm and at ease, and their aims are realized and the Dao put into practice, can the people and all things flourish in due course. This means that a fitting age must come first; only then will the people suited to it appear.

Wenzi asked what defines the wisdom of a sage. Laozi replied, “One who understands upon hearing is a sage; one who understands only after seeing is wise.” A sage can often hear and discern the causes of events before misfortune or good fortune has taken shape, and choose an appropriate course accordingly. A wise person, by contrast, usually sees what is happening only after signs of misfortune or good fortune have emerged, and then chooses how to act. Sages understand the patterns of change between good and ill fortune in the Dao of Heaven, and can therefore foresee their causes. Wise people can first see the signs as events become apparent, and so identify what has brought about good or ill fortune. To discern and know through hearing before misfortune or good fortune occurs is sagehood; to foresee events as soon as signs appear is wisdom. Those who neither hear nor see are ignorant and confused.

Why are sages not called “innately knowing,” but instead “knowing through hearing”? “Innately knowing” means that knowledge comes from within oneself, while “knowing through hearing” means gaining understanding from things outside oneself. Sages can hear and discern changes in signs before they arise, and thus know in advance the causes of good and ill fortune. Wise people often have to wait until events become visible before they can recognize them. The ignorant, meanwhile, are immersed in what they hear and see, yet never truly understand how things work, and so become even more deeply confused.

Laozi said, “When a ruler single-mindedly pursues cleverness, he puts his faith in circumstances, acts as he pleases, abandons enduring principles and patterns, and instead relies on personal favors. The affairs of the world are numerous, but human intelligence is limited. No one has ever succeeded by trying to use limited understanding to manage complicated affairs. Acting on one’s own cleverness alone is bound to lead to many mistakes. Greed for clever devices eventually exhausts one’s schemes; delight in displaying one’s strength is a path toward danger and ruin. If a ruler enjoys handing out rewards, there will be no fixed standard for distributing wealth. When the standards above are unsettled, the expectations below have no limit. If the people are heavily taxed and the proceeds are then given out as rewards, this practice becomes an established precedent. When little is collected and much is given, there is no end to the wealth required. Thus, a love of generosity can instead bring resentment. From this, it is clear that wealth is not a reliable basis for governing; one should follow the Dao and its laws.”

A wise person does not attempt what lies beyond their abilities. To force oneself to do what one cannot do is not wisdom. So is it worth pursuing cleverness single-mindedly? Pursuing cleverness can easily exhaust one’s schemes; delighting in rewards makes standards of distribution difficult to keep steady. Excessive taxation of the people brings resentment and becomes a means of provoking it.

Wenzi asked Laozi, “When the ancient kings governed the world in accordance with the Dao, how should they have acted?” Laozi replied, “They held to the root and did not act rashly, governing in accordance with the changes of Heaven and Earth. The world is like an immense vessel: it cannot be forcibly controlled or handled as one pleases. Rash action leads to failure; insistence on control leads to loss. To hold to the root is to attend to what is subtle. Precisely because they valued the subtle, they could accomplish great things. Not acting rashly means remaining still; only by remaining still can one become a standard for the world.

Amid abundance, they did not overflow; in a high position, they did not grow arrogant. Thus their fullness was not diminished, and their elevation did not bring danger. Only by being full without depletion could they retain their wealth over time; only by occupying a high position without danger could they retain their honor. Wealth and nobility remained with them, and blessings and prosperity extended to their descendants. These were the aims of the ancient kings’ Way of governance.”

To govern the world in accordance with the Dao means to hold to the root and not act rashly. Why is this so? Because when the root is kept secure, both the mind and the state can be at peace. The ancient kings governed in accordance with the changes of Heaven and Earth, without acting rashly. They did not overlook what was subtle, and they remained still rather than acting without restraint. In this way, the state, that “great vessel,” was brought to stability, and the world had a standard to follow. Thus, though they occupied the highest position, they were not self-satisfied; though they stood above others, they were not arrogant. Their wealth and nobility endured, and their descendants continued to receive blessings.

Laozi said, “The people share principles to follow and rules to uphold, but moral duty cannot make everyone restrain one another, and authority cannot ensure that everyone obeys. Therefore, a ruler is established to govern all as one. When the ruler holds to the root, the state is at peace; without constant standards, the state falls into disorder. The ruler’s Way is not a means of acting as one pleases; it is a matter of not acting rashly.

The wise do not use virtue as a means of competing for victory; the brave do not use their strength to commit violence; the benevolent do not use their office to dispense favors. These may all be called holding to the root. What is meant by ‘the One’ is the Dao, which takes no side; it is the root of all things. If a ruler repeatedly changes the laws, and the state repeatedly changes its rulers, the people will speculate about the ruler’s likes and dislikes. Subordinates, too, will become anxious and fearful, making government difficult. Thus, when a ruler loses the root, the resulting disorder can be worse than having no ruler at all. The ruler must hold to the root in order to unite the people as a community.”

Though the realm is vast, a ruler can govern it by means of the One: a unified principle and standard. By holding to this principle, the ruler can govern the realm through the Dao without forcing action at every turn. The people will follow the Dao together, without the need for frequent changes in the laws, and they will observe them together. The ruler does not boast of personal cleverness, flaunt military strength, or win people over by dispensing favors, but instead brings all these things into unity. This is the way a ruler governs the state. If a ruler repeatedly changes the laws and the state frequently changes rulers, the resulting disorder may be worse even than having no ruler at all. The ruler must therefore hold to the One in order to lead the people.

Wenzi asked, “How many kinds of the kingly way are there?” Laozi replied, “There is only one.” Wenzi then asked, “Some of the ancients governed the realm through the Dao, while others became kings through military force. Why do they appear so different?” Laozi said, “To become king through the Dao is De (Virtue/Power). To become king through military force, too, one must take De as the foundation.”

There are five kinds of military action: righteous campaigns, responsive campaigns, anger-driven campaigns, greedy campaigns, and arrogant campaigns. To punish the violent and help the weak is called a righteous campaign. When an enemy invades and one has no choice but to raise an army in resistance, it is called a responsive campaign. To fight over a minor matter because one cannot contain one’s anger is called an anger-driven campaign. To make war out of greed for another state’s land and wealth is called a greedy campaign. To rely on the strength of one’s state and the size of its population, seeking to flaunt one’s might before an enemy, is called an arrogant campaign. A righteous campaign can establish kingly rule; a responsive campaign can win victory; an anger-driven campaign will fail; a greedy campaign will bring ruin; and an arrogant campaign will lead to the state’s destruction. These are the patterns of the Way of Heaven.

The Dao is the foundation of governing a state. When a ruler governs by the Dao, the loss of that foundation brings disorder, and warfare follows. Some of the ancients governed through the Dao, while others became kings through military force. Though they seemed different, in the end all had to return to De. Thus, of the five kinds of military action, only a righteous campaign can establish kingly rule. Though it employs force, a righteous campaign still accords with the Dao. This is what Laozi meant by saying, “There is only one.” The claims that a responsive campaign can win, an anger-driven campaign will fail, a greedy campaign will bring ruin, and an arrogant campaign will destroy the state describe the use of military force during the Warring States period; they do not describe the military way that a true king ought to follow.

Laozi said, “Abandon the Great Dao and rely only on clever schemes, and danger will follow. Discard the principles of things and act solely on one’s own abilities, and one will fall into difficulty. So keep to your proper place and follow the way things work: if you lose something, do not grieve; if you gain something, do not rejoice. Success is not the result of deliberate pursuit, and what one receives is not obtained by single-minded striving. Whatever comes to you, accept it without seizing it by force; whatever leaves you, give it without demanding anything in return. Follow spring as it brings all things to life, and follow autumn as it lets them wither. Help things grow without claiming credit, and let them wither without incurring resentment. In this way, one comes close to the Great Dao.”

The Great Dao concerns the ordering of the realm, while the principles of things are bound up with timing. To rely on clever schemes while abandoning the Great Dao, or to rely on personal ability while going against those principles, is the root of danger and hardship. Only by keeping to one’s proper place and following the way things work can one receive without rejoicing, succeed without boasting, and lose without grieving or shrinking back. Accept what comes to you without claiming it as your own; give what leaves you without asking anything in return. Act in accord with the times: help all things grow without taking credit, and let them wither without incurring resentment. In this way, one comes close to the Great Dao.

Wenzi asked, “How can a ruler win the people’s love?” Laozi said, “Be like the rivers and seas. They are plain and tasteless, yet people draw from them and they never run dry. At first they lie in low places, but in time their force gathers and becomes immense. If you wish to stand above others, make your words humble; if you wish to go before others, place yourself behind them. Then the people will naturally follow your benevolence and strengthen the spirit of humaneness and righteousness, without feeling oppressed. When he holds the highest position, the people do not feel burdened; when he leads the others, they do not feel hindered. The people are glad to uphold him and do not grow weary of him. Even distant lands with different customs, as well as flying and crawling creatures, will draw near to him and cherish him. Wherever he goes, there is no passage he cannot open; whatever he undertakes, nothing fails to go smoothly. Thus he is honored throughout the realm.”

The rivers and seas are good at staying low, and they can contain all things; for this reason, all streams flow into them. A ruler who takes the rivers and seas as a model in governing the realm embraces the people and nurtures them. In this way, he wins their affection, and the people are glad to choose and support him together. Even plants and insects willingly draw near to him, showing the extent of the reverence he commands.

Laozi says: If one clings to the laws and institutions of a particular age and uses them to reject the customs of later generations, it is like fixing the bridges of a zither before tuning its strings: it cannot adapt to change. A sage can respond to the times and act flexibly, choosing what is appropriate to the circumstances. When the course of the world changes, affairs change; as the age moves on, customs change too. Laws should therefore be made to suit the times, and affairs handled as they arise.

The systems established by the rulers of antiquity differed from one another. They did not deliberately oppose one another; they faced different conditions and different affairs. One should not simply copy institutions already established, but follow the principles that underlie their creation and adjust them as circumstances change. The standards set by sages can be observed, but the fundamental reasoning behind them cannot be traced in full. Their words can be heard, but the principles behind them cannot be wholly conveyed through concrete images.

The Three Sovereigns and Five Emperors held worldly authority lightly and did not regard the myriad things as precious. They treated life and death as equal and adapted to change. Embracing the Dao, they contemplated the true conditions of all things with sincerity: above, they accorded with the Dao; below, they governed the people by adapting to change. Anyone who now seeks to learn their way of governing, but lacks their clear and elevated De, will surely fail to govern the world well if they merely cling to old codes and follow established rules.

The primordial Qi moves, and the four seasons take their turn; within this lies an inalterable order, the Way of Heaven. The ways in which the Yellow Emperor, the emperors, and the hegemonic rulers governed were all different. They may seem to have been shaped by human choice, but they too were determined by the turning of Heaven’s seasons. One therefore cannot govern later generations by clinging to the laws and institutions of a single age. Only by acting in keeping with the times and responding as affairs change can one establish laws suited to the course of the world. It is like wearing hemp cloth in winter or fur in summer: only those who understand the Way of Heaven can act in harmony with the seasons.

Wenzi asked how to govern a state. Laozi replied: “Govern by the Dao (the Way) and nurture the people through De (Virtue/Power). Do not make a show of your own worthiness or use force arbitrarily. Reduce burdensome rules and hold to what is fundamental. Do not make profit the aim of governance, or display things that would stir up greed. Act with integrity without harming others; be upright without pressing people harshly. Do not boast or claim credit.

“When you govern by the Dao, the people will draw close to you. When you nurture them through De, they will willingly submit. When you do not flaunt your worthiness, the people can be content in their proper roles; when you do not use force recklessly, customs will remain simple and honest. Not flaunting your worthiness means keeping your sharpness in check; not using force means refraining from imposing your will. To bring the people together, rely on them to make governance succeed. Preserve yourself through simplicity and frugality, and do not presume that you are safe and free from worry.

“If you show no concern for the people, they will scatter; if you do not nurture them, they will turn away. If you make a show of your worthiness, the people will compete with one another; if you use force arbitrarily, they will grow resentful. When the people scatter, the state will weaken; when they turn away, the ruler will lose authority. When people compete, they are more likely to act wrongly; when they resent those in power, the ruler’s position is endangered. If you can truly carry out these four principles, your governance will be close to the right path.

“In ancient times, people governed states through Dao and De. Later generations governed through achievements and force. When a state is governed through Dao and De, the people willingly submit and customs are generous and sincere. When it is governed through achievement and force, the people grow resentful and warfare arises. Therefore, govern by the Dao, nurture the people through De, do not flaunt your worthiness, and do not use force recklessly: then the world will be settled without undue interference.”

Laozi said: “When a state is governed through Dao and De, the people submit and customs are generous and sincere. When it is governed through achievement and force, the people grow resentful and warfare arises. Therefore, govern by the Dao, nurture the people through De, do not flaunt your worthiness, and do not use force recklessly: then the world will be settled without undue interference.”

Laozi said, “The way of constancy is for those in subordinate positions to follow; the way of expedience is for those in positions of authority to put into practice. The way of constancy can be observed at all times, while expedience must be adapted to the circumstances. Only sages understand expedience. Their words are always trustworthy, and their agreements always appropriate. There are actions praised as noble in the world, such as giving frank testimony and identifying one’s own father, or dying to keep faith and identifying one’s own daughter. Who, in the end, would value someone for doing these things? So when sages judge what is right and wrong, they adjust their advance and retreat to the situation rather than clinging to fixed rules. For example, one may honor the ruler as divine during a sacrifice, yet seize one’s father to save him from drowning: each response is compelled by the circumstances. Only sages can grasp expedience with true insight. When an action first seems contrary to reason but later proves consistent with it, that is expedience. When it first seems reasonable but later leads to an unsuitable result, that is a failure to understand expedience. Those who do not understand it often turn good intentions into bad outcomes.

“The way of constancy is for those in subordinate positions to follow, and it is the foundation of expedience. The way of expedience is for those in positions of authority to put into practice, and it is the flexible application of constancy. Constancy and expedience complement each other, allowing matters to be handled appropriately. Only sages understand expedience: their words are trustworthy, their actions suitable, and they can discern when an action may seem to depart from the norm and when it accords with reason. If one merely clings to the middle way without understanding expedience, one cannot respond to the times or adapt to change. It is like fixing the bridge of a zither in place and then trying to play it: the result can only be to turn good intentions into bad outcomes.”

Wenzi asked Laozi, “You say that governing the world cannot be separated from the Dao and De. Yet some ancient rulers inherited their ancestors’ throne without practicing De, and still remained in power for their whole lives without meeting disaster or ruin. Why?”

Laozi said, “From the Son of Heaven down to ordinary people, everyone must make a living, though some live in better conditions than others. When a state falls and a family is ruined, the cause is the absence of De. A ruler who has De will work diligently day and night, remain cautious and alert, and often fear that the state may fall into danger and ruin. A ruler without De will indulge in desires and grow lazy, and ruin may come at any moment.

“If Jie and Zhou had cultivated the Dao and practiced De, then even if King Tang and King Wu, who overthrew them, had been wise and worthy, they would have had no chance to achieve their great deeds. De enables people to nurture one another, help one another grow, care for one another, and show one another respect.

“Even foolish animals do not harm those they care for. If all the people under Heaven held benevolence in their hearts, where could disaster arise? Some rulers who lack the Dao do not immediately suffer calamity because benevolence has not yet been extinguished and right conduct has not yet vanished.

“Yet even before benevolence and right conduct have entirely disappeared, the feudal lords already look down on their ruler. When they do, the court loses its respectfulness, and commands go unheeded. Once benevolence and right conduct are extinguished, the feudal lords rebel. People fight one another with weapons; the strong oppress the weak, great states seize from small ones, and the people make war their livelihood. Calamities and disorder follow, and the state soon perishes. How, then, can anyone say that disaster will not come?”

Those who governed the world in ancient times believed that when Dao and De declined, benevolence and righteousness took their place as lesser principles. When benevolence and righteousness declined in turn, disorder arose and wars followed. During the reigns of rulers such as Jie of Xia and Zhou of Shang, their states had not yet fallen, but the feudal lords already held their rulers in contempt. This showed that Dao and De had been lost and that benevolence and righteousness had withered. So Tang of Shang and King Wu of Zhou raised their armies, and the Xia and Shang dynasties fell one after another. King You and King Li of Zhou were little different from Jie and Zhou, and so the Zhou dynasty, too, could not escape disaster: King You died in the battle at Mount Li, while King Li was driven out by the people of the capital. After that, the feudal lords waged war against one another; the strong oppressed the weak, and the great states swallowed the small. During the Warring States period, the Six States formed alliances and shifted their allegiances, yet in the end they fell just as the Zhou dynasty had. Is this not cause for vigilance?

Laozi said: When laws and decrees become complicated and punishments severe, the people turn to deceit. The more affairs a ruler takes on, the more ways the people find to cope with them. The more a ruler demands, the less is actually gained. The more prohibitions there are, the more readily people break them. To create trouble through government and then use government to suppress it is like raising a flame and expecting it not to burn. To create calamity through clever schemes and then use clever schemes to guard against it is like stirring water and expecting it to become clear.

Laws and decrees are meant to bring about good government, yet when they become too cumbersome, they create disorder. Punishments are meant to prohibit wrongdoing, yet when they become too harsh, they breed deceit. The ruler constantly stirs up trouble himself, yet demands that the people remain free of it. This is like forcing someone to drink and then blaming them for getting drunk: in truth, it is deceiving the people. How can this be called good government?

Laozi said: If a ruler favors acts of benevolence, he may reward people who have done nothing to merit it and pardon the guilty. If he favors harsh punishments, he may overlook those who deserve merit and implicate even the innocent. When a ruler does not act according to personal likes and dislikes, punishing people does not bring resentment, and granting favors does not make him claim virtue for himself.

A ruler should follow standards as one uses a straightedge, without mixing personal wishes into the affairs of government. Like Heaven and Earth, he should embrace and nourish all things. It is the ruler’s responsibility to bring people into accord and harmony; it is the role of laws and standards to distinguish right from wrong and punish according to the law. When the people suffer punishment without resentment, this is called Dao and De.

To favor kindness without understanding how to govern is to reward people who have done nothing to deserve it and pardon those who are guilty. This, too, harms the administration. To favor the use of punishments without understanding how to act according to the law is to dismiss people who have done good work and punish the innocent, causing even greater harm. Only when one is utterly impartial and selfless, treats all sides fairly, acts in accordance with virtue, gives rewards without excess, and imposes punishments without cruelty can officials each fulfill their duties, the people attend to their livelihoods in peace, and the realm become stable and prosperous.

Laozi said: Right and wrong in the world have no fixed standard. Everyone believes that what they like is right and what they dislike is wrong. When people pursue what they call “right,” they are often not seeking what is reasonable, but what accords with their own wishes. And when they reject what they call “wrong,” they may not be rejecting evil, but merely what does not suit them. Now I wish to select what is called right and put it into practice, and cast aside what is called wrong, yet I do not know what people in the world mean by right and wrong. Governing a great state is like cooking a small fish: it is enough not to stir it about. Hastening to please others may win their favor for a time and bring you closer, but if you are already distant from them, even a sound plan may at once arouse suspicion. Now I wish to set myself right and meet all things calmly, but how can I know by what standards the people of the world will judge me? If I rush about after popular opinion, it is like trying to escape the rain: wherever I run, I will get wet.

The heart may wish for emptiness and stillness, yet it cannot force itself to become truly empty and still. If one does not deliberately pursue stillness, it comes of itself; then there is nothing one seeks that cannot be accomplished. One who understands the Great Dao is like an axle that does not turn of itself, yet carries the wheel hub—the wheel’s center—and lets the wheel travel a thousand miles, moving along an endless road. The sage embodies the Dao and returns to the root. Without imposing personal will to change the myriad things, the sage follows their transformations: acting, yet not acting recklessly.

Names and laws are meant to clarify right and wrong and distinguish good from evil. If one does not seek fairness but clings only to one’s own views, one will call what is right wrong and what is evil good. It will then be difficult to set names aright and make the principles of law clear. Only by setting oneself right, treating all things equally, and not abandoning impartiality can one move everywhere freely, like a cart traveling on land or a boat sailing on water. How, then, could one fall into injustice?

Laozi said: Only by setting oneself right, treating all things equally, and not abandoning impartiality can one move everywhere freely, like a cart traveling on land or a boat sailing on water. How, then, could one fall into injustice?

Laozi says: “If a state repeatedly wages war and wins again and again, it is bound to perish. Frequent warfare exhausts the people, while repeated victories make the ruler prone to arrogance. It is rare for a state to survive when an arrogant ruler makes an exhausted people serve him. The ruler’s arrogance leads him to indulge his desires, and indulgence leads to excess. The people’s exhaustion gives rise to resentment, and resentment deepens their distress. When ruler and ministers, high and low, have all reached extremes, the state has never failed to perish. Thus, once one’s achievements are complete, to step back and withdraw is in accord with the Dao.

“An army cannot win forever; defeat will follow in turn. This is the way things repeatedly change. How, then, can one wage war again and again, intent only on winning? When a ruler grows arrogant through victory and forces the exhausted people to fight, he is as if taking up an axe to chop down his own state. War is like a flame: if it is not put out in time, it will eventually burn the one who kindled it. Is this not the point?”

King Ping asked Wenzi: “I have heard that you received the Dao from Lao Dan. Today, even if a worthy person understands the Dao, when he is born into an age of disorder and indulgence, can one person truly transform a people long sunk in chaos?”

Wenzi replied: “De can correct what is crooked and bring it back to the right path; it can quell disorder and restore order, and change a corrupt, indulgent way of life so that people return to simplicity. When pure and honest De flourishes again, the world will be at peace. The key lies with the ruler alone. The ruler is the people’s teacher, and those above are examples for those below. Whatever the people above esteem, those below will follow. When the ruler has De, the people below will develop benevolence and righteousness. When the people are benevolent and righteous, an age of indulgence and disorder will not arise.

“Accumulate De, and you can establish royal rule; accumulate resentment, and you will move toward ruin. Stones gather to form a mountain, and water collects to form a sea. Nothing is ever accomplished without accumulation. Those who accumulate De receive gifts from Heaven, support from Earth, and protection from the spirits. Phoenixes will fly through their courtyards, qilin will roam their fields, and dragons will dwell in their ponds. The ancients used these images to describe signs that the world was at peace and the transformation wrought by De was flourishing.

“To govern the world through the Dao is the world’s De; to govern it without the Dao is the world’s calamity. One who makes an enemy of the people cannot rule for long, however much he may wish to. This is why Yao and Shun flourished, and Jie and Zhou perished.”

King Ping said: “I respectfully accept your instruction.”

Wenzi lived in the state of Sui, near the state of Bo. He studied with Laozi for many years and thus acquired broad learning. King Ping of Zhou summoned him and asked about the way to govern a state. Wenzi replied, “By steadily accumulating De, one can achieve the work of kingship; by steadily accumulating resentment, one will head toward ruin. This is why Yao and Shun flourished, while Jie and Zhou fell.” King Ping said, “I will keep your teaching firmly in mind.”

From this, King Ping seems to have had some desire to govern his state well. But why did he fail to cultivate De and dispel resentment, choosing instead to heed slander, harbor suspicion, and repeatedly execute the Wu clan? This was precisely why Wenzi left Chu and went to Yue. Wu Zixu urged Wu to attack Chu, and in the end brought upon himself the shame of having King Ping’s corpse whipped. It is truly heartbreaking. How can those who govern a state fail to dispel resentment?

End of Tongxuan Zhenjing Zuanyi, scroll five.

Textual notes: #1. The Juzhen edition adds after this sentence: “Thus, those who are bold enough to take risks will be killed, while those who are bold enough to avoid risks can preserve their lives.” #2. “Zhide” reads “zhide” in the Juzhen edition. #3. “One who holds to the One sees what is small; because he sees what is small, he can accomplish what is great” reads in the Juzhen edition: “One who holds sees what is small; because he sees what is small, he cannot accomplish what is great.” #4. “Qi” reads “ju” in the Juzhen edition. #5. The original reads “fan”; amended to “fan” on the basis of the Juzhen edition. #6. The original reads “zong”; amended to “xi” on the basis of the Juzhen edition. #7. The original reads “shijun”; amended to “xuansheng” on the basis of the Juzhen edition. #8. The original reads “bu”; amended to “bi” on the basis of the Juzhen edition.

Tongxuan Zhenjing Zuanyi, scroll six, compiled by NanguzI Du Daojian.

“Supreme De” chapter.

A ruler who commands a state is like its heart. When the heart is steady, every part of the body is at ease; when it is disturbed, every part falls out of balance. Thus, when the body is well regulated, its parts can work together in harmony. When the state is well governed, ruler and ministers can live together in peace, without having to suspect one another at every turn.

De (Virtue/Power) has one root but takes two forms: nurturing all things is Heaven’s De; caring for the people is the ruler’s De. The ruler is the heart of the state. When the ruler has De, the heart is open and the body and mind are at ease. The breath does not become disordered, and the state settles of its own accord. Governing a state is like tending the body. When ruler and ministers live together in harmony, how could the state fail to be well governed? Hence it is said that the highest De does not make a show of possessing De. Such a person truly has De, but does not keep De in mind; that is why it is genuine De.

Laozi said: “I once learned from Changcong, a legendary sage of antiquity. I looked at his tongue and grasped the principle of softness and weakness. Then I looked up at the eaves and trees, and stepped back to observe the flowing water. From the changes in their shadows, I understood the principle of taking a position behind.” Thus the sage is empty, still, and Wuwei (non-action), responding to things as they are. The sage often places himself behind and does not strive to be first. It is like a pile of firewood: the pieces added last end up on top.

Changcong was a sage of ancient times. Laozi learned from him, just as Confucius once learned from Laozi. Through direct observation, Laozi grasped the underlying principles and brought his spirit into harmony with them. From the tongue, he understood the value of softness and weakness. From the changing shadows, he learned the way of taking a position behind. The sage therefore responds to things and remains empty and still, without forcing himself or striving to win, and without rushing to take the lead. This is what is called “Superior De,” the highest De.

Laozi said: “A bell is damaged because it rings; a candle burns itself away because it gives light. Tigers and leopards are hunted for their patterned coats, and monkeys are captured for their agility. So those who show off their courage and strength die through their own aggression, while those who display their eloquence and cleverness become trapped by their own ingenuity. One may use wisdom to understand things, yet still be unable to use it to recognize what one does not know. Therefore, a person skilled in only one craft or versed in only one way of speaking may discuss particular matters with you, but cannot be expected to deal with affairs in all their breadth.”

People should value De and conduct rather than wisdom alone. Too much cleverness often makes a person concerned only with displaying it, and that very cleverness can bring harm. Tigers and leopards are hunted for their patterned coats, monkeys are captured for their agility, the strong die from showing off their strength, and the eloquent become trapped by their own ingenuity. It is the same principle. If one relies on wisdom only to understand what is already known, yet cannot recognize what lies beyond wisdom…

What makes a person worthy is virtue, not an abundance of cleverness. Too much cleverness often shows itself outwardly and eventually turns back to harm its possessor; few people escape being harmed by it. Tigers and leopards are hunted for their conspicuous markings, while monkeys are captured for their agility. Warriors die from displaying their strength, and the wise become trapped in disputes. This is only natural. Those who do not seek knowledge through cleverness, but use their cleverness to recognize what they do not know, are not confined to a single perspective and can respond to a wider range of things.

Laozi said, “The Dao takes the formless and imageless as its essence. Look for it and you cannot see its shape; listen for it and you cannot hear its sound. This is called the profound and mysterious. ‘Profound and mysterious’ is a way of speaking about the Dao, not the Dao itself.” The Dao means looking inward and reflecting on oneself. Thus, a person is neither excessively alert to minor matters nor lost when faced with major ones; neither convinced of their own cleverness nor excessively confused.

Still water is better than flowing water for reflecting a person, because it remains calm and does not ripple outward. When the moon is full, its light eclipses the stars; Yin cannot withstand Yang, and once the sun rises, the stars disappear, unable to rival its brilliance. The tips of branches cannot be stronger than the roots, nor can the branches grow thicker than the trunk. When the top is heavy and the bottom light, a tree is easily overturned. A deep pool cannot contain two flood dragons, and a female cannot have two males. With only one, things remain stable; with two, they struggle.

Jade hidden in a mountain makes the plants flourish; pearls born in deep water keep the shore from drying out. Earthworms have neither strong muscles and bones nor sharp claws and teeth, yet they can eat dry soil above and drink from the Yellow Springs below. This is because they are single-minded.

The Dao takes the formless and imageless as its essence, so things can proceed side by side without obstructing one another. Concrete things act through their physical forms, so they cannot occupy the same place at the same time. Taking the formless and imageless as one’s essence brings focus and stability; when there are two physical things, conflict can easily arise. Yet things differ in size, and ruler and subject each have their proper place. If a ruler keeps the Dao in mind and holds to De, without treating the world as private property, this is precisely why the Dao is vast and De endures. Who in the world would still dare to act out of a desire to outdo others and win?

When water is clear, it can reflect images; when the mind is clear, it can discern things. This is because the mind is bright. When the mind grows murky, judgment becomes confused. Orchids and white angelica need no one to pick them and wear them to give off their fragrance; they release it naturally. A boat floats on rivers and seas without sinking simply because no one is aboard. A noble person follows the right path and does not stop just because no one recognizes it. This is their nature.

A pure and upright person living in a corrupt environment will inevitably face hardship and humiliation; a corrupt person entering a clear and upright environment will be overturned and destroyed. When two kinds of Qi in the sky meet, they form a rainbow; when two kinds of Qi on earth meet, hidden things are revealed. When the Yin-Yang Qi within the human body falls out of balance, illness arises. Yin and Yang cannot remain in one state forever: there is winter and there is summer. The moon knows nothing of daytime, and the sun nothing of night. In a broad river, fish grow large; on a high mountain, trees grow tall. Where the land is vast, De can also grow deep and expansive.

One cannot fish without bait, nor summon wild beasts with an empty vessel alone. Where fierce beasts dwell in the mountains, trees are not cut down indiscriminately; where stinging, poisonous insects live in a garden, sunflowers and bean leaves are not picked indiscriminately. If a state has capable ministers, it can repel an enemy’s attack from a thousand miles away.

One who understands the Great Dao is like an axle turning in the hub—the part at the center of a wheel that holds the axle. The axle does not move by itself, yet it carries the vehicle a thousand miles, turning again and again without end. If crooked people are appointed to assist the upright, the effort will often fail; if upright people are appointed to assist the crooked, they should not let the crooked act as they please.

Only clear water can reflect images, and only a clear mind can weigh things; because the mind is bright, it can discern. When the mind is murky, it becomes confused. The noble and the petty cannot coexist, just as winter’s cold and summer’s heat do not occur at the same time. When cold and heat arrive out of season, calamity and pestilence arise; when noble and petty people contend for power at the same time, disaster follows. Even so, would a noble person really refuse to enter public service forever just because petty people hold high office and the right path is difficult to put into practice?

When a bird is about to fly in, one spreads a net and waits for it. A bird is caught by one mesh in the net; if the whole net were reduced to a single mesh, no bird could ever be caught. Thus, some matters cannot be arranged in advance according to past experience, and some things cannot be foreseen. The sage therefore nurtures the Great Dao and waits for the right moment.

To draw fish together, first clear the ravines so that water can flow in and collect. To attract birds, first plant trees. When water gathers in abundance, fish assemble; when trees grow thick, birds settle there. Catching a fish does not mean carrying it into deep water, and obtaining an ape does not mean carrying it up a tree. Rather, one provides for them in the surroundings they favor and waits for the right moment. To draw fish together, first clear the ravines; to attract birds, first plant trees. When water gathers in abundance, fish assemble; when trees grow thick, birds settle there. Catching a fish does not mean carrying it into deep water, and obtaining an ape does not mean carrying it up a tree. One acts by following the conditions that suit them.

The ground directly beneath one’s feet is shallow, yet one must wait for a path to form over the ground one has not stepped on before continuing onward. The range of what the mind already knows is limited, yet one must draw on what one does not yet know to understand more deeply. When rivers run dry, valleys become empty; when hills are leveled, deep pools become blocked. Without lips, the teeth grow cold; the soil in the depths of a river is also connected to the soil on the mountains. When water settles, it becomes clear; when clear, it can reflect things evenly. When its surface is still, the shapes of things are easy to see. Since different shapes cannot be merged into one, they can be used to distinguish and set things right.

If one knows only the uses of useful things, but not that useless things also have their uses, one cannot discuss governing a state with such a person. The key to governing a state is finding the right person, but without the support of others, it cannot be governed well. If one hopes to find worthy people, how can one do so without first cultivating scholars? The sage therefore nurtures the Great Dao and waits for the right moment. Once the right people are found, the undertaking can flourish, and nothing cannot be put to use.

What makes leaves fall is the wind shaking them; what makes water turbid is the disturbance of outside things. A jade disc is made smooth through the work of polishing tools; the sword Moye, famed in antiquity, can cut through things thanks also to the whetstone. Both a gadfly and a fine steed can carry a person to distant places. Nothing cannot be put to use.

Leaves fall because the wind shakes them; water becomes muddy because something stirs it. Jade can be shaped into objects through the work of grinding and polishing; the ancient sword Moye can cut through things because it has been honed on a whetstone. The gadfly and the fine steed can both reach a thousand li away, though neither does so by flying; nor do they go hungry for lack of food carried with them. When the crafty rabbits are all caught, the hounds are boiled for food; when the high-flying birds are all shot, the fine bows are put away. To withdraw promptly once one’s achievements are complete and one’s name established: this is the way of Heaven. Anger arises from not being angered; action arises from not acting recklessly. By observing what has no form, one can see; by listening where there is no sound, one can hear. Birds return to their homeland, rabbits run back to their burrows, foxes turn their heads toward the hill where they were born when they die, and cicadas settle in trees: all things return to the place where they grew.

The Dao can be followed alone, but affairs cannot be decided and carried out by one person acting arbitrarily. A person walking briskly cannot go a hundred li before becoming tired; with a fine horse, one can reach a thousand li away. Anger arising from not being angered was how Kings Wen and Wu brought peace to the people under Heaven; action arising from not acting recklessly was how Yao and Shun put Wuwei (non-action) governance into practice. If those who govern a state are skilled at employing people, who among the people will not come to them?

Water and fire counteract one another, but with a ding and a li—ancient vessels for cooking food—between them to bring them into balance, and the Five Flavors added, food can be prepared that brings a family together in harmony. If slanderous words come between them, even father and son may become suspicious of one another and fall into danger. Dogs and pigs are not particular about their utensils; they eat whatever is available. They grow ever fatter, yet draw closer to death.

The phoenix flies high in the sky, and no one can lure it down; a hammerhead is firmly fixed to its handle, yet cannot strike itself. The eyes can see a hundred paces away, but cannot see their own corners. Build a mountain by rising upward, and it will stand secure and without danger; follow the low ground to form a deep pool, and fish and turtles will gather there. Ditches and ponds fill when rain falls and dry up in drought; rivers and seas have distant sources, and so do not run dry. Though deaf people cannot hear, their eyes cannot be deceived, because their sight is especially focused; though blind people cannot see, their ears cannot be deceived, because their hearing is especially acute.

Muddy water can be used to wash the feet; clear water can be used to wash a hat cord. White silk may be made into either a hat or a pair of shoes: the hat is worn on the head, while the shoes are trodden underfoot.

No one is right forever, and nothing is absolutely wrong. When Qi (vital energy) flows smoothly, things can come together; clear, cool water can be used to wash the cords of a hat. White silk has many uses: it can be made into a hat or a shoe. A hat is worn on the head, while a shoe is trodden underfoot.

No one is right forever, and nothing is absolutely wrong. When Qi flows smoothly, things can come together; when it runs against itself, they part. Fire rises and water sinks. By blending them in a ding or li, ancient vessels for cooking, one can achieve the effect of water and fire in harmony, with Yin-Yang working together. A father is loving and a son is filial; if slanderous words come between them, father and son may fall into the resentment of Shen and Shang, stars said never to meet. Dogs and pigs raised to be fat and strong are often close to death; the phoenix soars high, beyond the reach of just anyone. When water is clear, wash the hat cords; when it is muddy, wash your feet. If you cannot keep yourself clean and instead let outside things defile you, how can you fail to examine the matter carefully?

Though Metal’s force can overcome Wood, a single knife cannot destroy an entire forest. Though Earth’s force can overcome Water, a handful of soil cannot block a river. Though Water’s force can overcome Fire, a cup of water cannot save a cartload of firewood. Thunder in winter and hail in summer both defy the seasons; even heavy frost and snow melt as soon as the sun appears. Things that lean are easily toppled, things that rest against something are easily overturned, and things perched at the edge of danger are easily pushed by outside forces. Damp places are prone to rain. Though orchids and angelica are fragrant, they cannot withstand frost and cold. The toad can ward off blades, it is said, and lives until the fifteenth day of the fifth month. Those who exhaust their vital essence are prone to bodily harm; flowers that bloom out of season are also unfit to eat.

Growth, overcoming, restraint, and subduing each follow their own fixed patterns. When something of little strength takes on a heavy burden, it will inevitably end up being controlled in turn. Wood can overcome Metal, Water can overcome Earth, and Fire can overcome Water, but such acts of overcoming are ultimately not the natural character of things. Thunder in winter and hail in summer, too, are out of season. These abnormal conditions are often fleeting and cannot last. How can people fail to measure their own strength?

Compared with teeth, which is damaged first—the tongue or the teeth? Compared with a rope, which breaks first—the rope or the arrow? The body must be crooked before its shadow bends; the sound must be muddled before its echo becomes unclear. When you suffer the same illness as someone who is dying, it is hard to be a good physician to them. When you follow the same path as a country doomed to perish, you cannot offer it loyal counsel.

Have entertainers play bamboo pipes while musicians cover the holes to perform. Even if the rhythm is right, they cannot truly bring the melody to life, because the ruler has already lost his foundation. The deaf cannot hear songs and so cannot take pleasure in them; the blind cannot see things and so cannot make contact with the world through sight. A person walking through a forest cannot follow a straight path; on treacherous ground, one cannot walk along a carpenter’s line as if crossing a level plain. The realm seems vast because all its resources can be put to use.

When you are in the wrong place and depend on the wrong people, things become difficult. Teeth are hard, yet are all the more likely to chip first; an arrow shaft that is too rigid is all the more likely to snap first. When you suffer the same illness as someone who is dying, it is hard to become a good physician. When you follow the same path as a country on the brink of ruin, you cannot offer it frank counsel. If a ruler does not act in accordance with the Dao, yet his ministers press him with their advice while pursuing plans of their own, can they achieve anything?

The sun never appears as two suns at once; a fox does not have two male heads; divine dragons do not come in matched pairs; fierce beasts do not live together in herds, and birds of prey do not come in pairs. Without supports, a carriage canopy cannot shield you from the sun; without an axle, a wheel cannot turn swiftly. The canopy or the wheel alone is not enough to ensure that a carriage can do its work.

A bow cannot shoot without a bowstring, and shooting an arrow accounts for only one part of the process. A hungry horse stands quietly in its stall at first; place fodder beside it, and the urge to compete for food arises. A pipe three inches long, open at both ends, cannot be filled even with all the water under Heaven; if something blocks the pipe, a hundred dou of water will be enough to fill it.

Cutting along a carpenter’s line keeps the result within the proper dimensions; weighing with a suspended balance ensures an accurate result. Measuring things against the standards of antiquity gives judgment a basis to follow. What accords with reason sometimes needs to be carried forward in keeping with the circumstances; even methods such as caning or fighting may be appropriate at times. To do what is right and put it into practice is called decisiveness; to do what is wrong and put it into practice is called disorder.

Two suns do not appear in the sky at once; divine dragons are not paired off; fierce beasts do not gather in herds—how much less so with people. The ridgepole supports the canopy, and the axle turns the wheels: this shows how ruler and minister depend on and assist one another. Hungry horses compete for fodder, so rewards must be given in moderation. Decisions made by the rule remain true to the standard. In ancient times, beatings with a staff and punishments with instruments of restraint were timed to suit the occasion; what mattered was the person enforcing the law.

Farmers labor diligently so that gentlemen may be provided for; fools offer opinions, and the wise decide which to accept. When things are clear, handle them well, as one distinguishes jade from stone. When they are obscure, leave room for doubt and consider the matter carefully. The light of a hundred stars is no match for a single bright moon; opening ten windows does not bring as much light as opening one. A viper cannot simply grow legs, and a tiger cannot simply grow wings. Suppose there is a mat six feet long: stepping over it while lying down is not difficult for someone of ordinary ability, but stepping over it while standing is hard even for someone exceptionally gifted, because the circumstances are different. Those who help with a sacrifice can share in its offerings; those who try to stop a fight may instead get hurt. Take shelter beneath an unlucky tree, and lightning may strike you.

The sun and moon would illuminate the earth, but floating clouds obscure them; the river would stay clear, but silt and sand muddy it. Orchids would flourish, but autumn winds destroy them. Human nature would remain calm, but appetites and desires damage it. If you are covered in dust, you cannot keep it from clouding your eyes and remain clean. A tortoise-shaped gold seal knob is something a worthy person will wear; to someone with ability, even earth spread across the ground can become wealth. Thus, giving gold and jade to the weak is not as useful as giving them a length of white silk, from which they can cut and make clothes.

If farmers do not work, gentlemen have nothing to rely on for their livelihood. If gentlemen do not govern, how can farmers live in security? A snake has no legs, and a tiger has no wings; one cannot demand that either possess both. When floating clouds obscure the sun, the fault does not lie with the sun itself. When desires damage human nature, the harm does not come from other people.

The hub of a wheel is hollow at its center, yet it depends on thirty spokes to support it. Each spoke plays its part, and only then can the cart move. If just one spoke were fitted and all the others discarded, how far could the cart travel? Orange and pomelo trees each have places suited to their growth, and reeds, too, grow together in their own patches. Beasts with the same kind of feet keep one another company; birds with the same kind of wings fly together. If you wish to see all the Nine Provinces—the lands of the world—but lack the strength to travel a thousand miles, how could you do it? Without the foundations of laws and instruction, it is difficult to rule above the people. Those who compete fiercely invite misfortune, while those who are frivolous and rash are easily shot down. Thus, what is perfectly white may seem stained, and great Virtue may seem deficient. A gentleman has wine, while a petty man lashes the earthenware wine jar with a whip. This may not be admirable, but it serves as an example of ugliness.

The emperor stands at the center and depends on ministers from the eight directions to establish order in governing the state. The wheel’s hollow hub relies on its many spokes for the cart to travel. The Son of Heaven occupies the center of the realm and stands above the people. Without the foundations of laws and instruction, he is like someone who wishes to see all the Nine Provinces but lacks the strength to travel a thousand miles: by what means could he succeed? Only by setting the ruler’s position in order and remaining calmly in place, while allowing the officials to carry out their respective duties, can one govern the realm without leaving the hall.

People are accustomed to wearing light silk garments. At times, when hunting, they put on armor. Though this goes against their usual habits, it suits the needs of the moment. The thirty spokes each fit into a separate mortise; they cannot crowd into the same place. So it is with ministers, each of whom must keep to their own duties. A skilled user of people enables each person to exercise their abilities without harming others. It is like the many legs of an ant, which do not hinder one another, or like the tongue and teeth: hard and soft work together and rub against each other without causing injury.

Stone is naturally hard, and angelica is naturally fragrant. These qualities are present from the beginning and become more evident as they mature. To support and to be supported, to decline and to yield, to gain and to lose, to agree and to act on one’s own initiative—these are separated by great differences.

When there is a suitable method for doing things, nothing is beyond success. When people are assigned in a suitable way, everyone can put their abilities to use. The holes in the hubs of wheels, where the axles fit, show that different affairs each have someone suited to oversee them. Though the qian is a many-legged insect, its legs do not hinder one another, because each has its proper function. Stone is hard, and bai zhi is fragrant. When each is used according to its nature, the capable can exercise their intelligence and ordinary people can contribute their strength; in the end, all can help bring things to completion.

A second growth of crops yields less than the first, and flowers that bloom too early wither before the frost arrives. Soiling the measuring line and powdering the forehead is like placing a rotten rat on the steps or burning incense in the hall. To enter the water yet resent getting wet, or to carry a foul smell while seeking fragrance, would defeat even the most skilled craftsperson. Ice can be cut in winter, and trees can be woven together in summer. The right moment is hard to come by and easy to miss.

While trees are flourishing, they will grow back even if they are cut all day long. But when autumn winds blow and frost falls, they may wither in a single night. Once a target is set up, arrows gather upon it; once a forest grows dense, axes cut into it. No one deliberately brings this about; it follows naturally from the circumstances. A puppy bites a tiger, and a crouching hen lunges at a wildcat: they are driven by feeling and do not weigh their own strength. One who boards a ship about to sink for the sake of profit will ultimately drown because of that same greed. A ship can both float and sink, but the foolish do not know how to adapt to the circumstances and protect themselves. A fine horse will neither move when urged nor stop when pulled, so a ruler should not use it for travel.

The right moment is hard to come by and easy to lose. The people can easily fall into hardship, but find it difficult to recover. Thus a second growth of crops bears less fruit than the first, and flowers that bloom too early wither before the frost arrives: the season is wrong. A target set up draws arrows, and a dense forest draws axes: this is the consequence of the circumstances. A puppy bites a tiger, and a crouching hen lunges at a wildcat: feeling drives them. If a rotten ship is made to carry cargo, it will sink; if an exhausted fine horse is driven, it will collapse and die. Can the people be allowed to fall into hardship again and again?

Even a perfectly level water surface can still have waves. A balance beam may be straight, yet its measurements can still be inaccurate; a ruler may look regular, yet it can still give a faulty reading in use. Without a compass and a carpenter’s square, one cannot establish circles and squares; without an ink line and a plumb line, one cannot correct what is crooked or straight. Those who use these tools must also have a mind attuned to following standards.

Mount Tai is very high, yet even if its height were doubled, the eye might not notice. The tip of an autumn hair is exceedingly fine, yet it can be seen clearly. Fire is hidden in bamboo and wood, but it will not kindle unless they are drilled. Water is hidden in the earth, but it will not flow unless the ground is dug. However swiftly an arrow flies, it cannot travel more than two li; if it keeps taking steps without stopping, even a lame turtle can go a thousand li. Keep piling up earth, and a small mound will eventually become a hill. If you go to the river hoping to catch fish, you would do better to return home and weave a net. A bow must first be adjusted before it can be made powerful; a horse must first be tamed before it can be called a fine steed; a person must first be trustworthy before their abilities can come to fruition.

Even the most skilled smelter cannot melt wood, and even an excellent carpenter cannot chop ice. Each thing has something it cannot do. How could a noble person fail to keep this in mind? You can stop a person from crossing a river, but you cannot stop the river from making waves. Do not complain that you have done nothing wrong: a pot may still fall into a well.

If even calm water can make waves, and even a straight balance beam can yield inaccurate measurements, should the human heart not be all the more careful? A noble person’s ritual propriety, righteousness, integrity, and sense of shame are like the compass, square, ink line, and plumb line used by artisans. A bow must first be adjusted before it can be made powerful; a horse must first be tamed before it can become good. If you do not first treat others with sincerity, how can you win the allegiance of capable people? Therefore, a noble person does only what they are able to do and does not attempt what lies beyond their power to change.

Those who mock my conduct wish to associate with me; those who disparage my goods wish to buy them. One move in a game of go cannot reveal a person’s skill at the game; a single note cannot express sorrow. There is a piece of burning charcoal: one can reach out and take it, but one should not. If one insists on doing so, one will burn one’s fingers. This shows that a noble person should do what is within their power and appropriate, and should not force what cannot be helped.

Those who mock my conduct wish to associate with me; those who disparage my goods wish to buy them. One move in a game of go cannot reveal a person’s skill at the game; a single note cannot express sorrow. If one picks up a burning piece of charcoal, one will burn one’s fingers. If many pieces of charcoal are piled together, even approaching them will bring scorching heat; step ten paces away, and one will not be burned. Things may belong to the same category, yet differ in the degree to which they accumulate. Whatever flourishes and shines will eventually wither and decline; where there is silk and brocade above, there must be hemp cloth below. The taller a tree grows, the more twisted and massive its roots become; the higher a mountain rises, the broader and deeper its base must be.

Though honest advice may sound harsh, it can help correct one’s conduct. Though bitter medicine is difficult to swallow, it can cure illness. To criticize my conduct is to seek friendship with me; this is how the noble person acts in accordance with the Way. To criticize my possessions is to seek business with me; this is how the petty person pursues profit. A person’s good fortune should not be excessive, and clothing need not be extravagant. The taller a tree grows, the deeper its roots must reach; the higher a mountain rises, the firmer its foundation must be. When the people are prosperous, the state flourishes.

Laozi said: A drum does not conceal sound, so it sounds when struck; a mirror does not hide images, so it reflects them. Metal and stone instruments such as bells and chimes can make sounds, but they remain silent unless struck. Pipes and flutes can make notes, but they produce no sound unless played. So the sage keeps his intentions within and does not rush to issue commands. He acts when matters arise and responds when things appear. The Way of Heaven moves without ceasing, completing one cycle after another, and so endures. A wheel can turn and travel far only when all its parts are properly arranged. The Way of Heaven proceeds without error, and so it does not go astray.

When the qi of Heaven descends and the qi of Earth rises, Yin and Yang mingle, and all things can grow together. When the noble person is able to govern and the petty person withdraws, this is the ordinary course of Heaven and Earth. If the qi of Heaven does not descend and the qi of Earth does not rise, Yin and Yang cannot connect, and all things cannot flourish. When petty people gain power and noble people withdraw, the grains cannot be planted and virtue is buried. The Way of Heaven reduces what is excessive and adds to what is insufficient. The Way of Earth lowers what is high and fills what is low. The way of spirits suppresses arrogance and excess, and supports the humble. Common human dealings, by contrast, often refuse to help those who already have much. The sage’s way is to remain humble; therefore, no one can rise above him.

Only by keeping the mind free of fixed opinions can one respond to things. A drum does not hold back sound, and so it sounds when struck. If it sounds by itself without being struck, that is an anomaly. Thus the sage keeps his intentions within and does not take the lead; he responds only as circumstances require.

The mingling of Heaven and Earth and the growth of all things together show that the time has come for an enlightened ruler to meet worthy ministers and for noble people to govern. When circumstances are reversed, it is the time for petty people to gain power. Though the sage occupies a high position, he listens to those below him and does not become complacent or arrogant; therefore, no one can surpass him.

The sky is bright and the sun shines clearly; only then can they illuminate the four directions. When the ruler is wise and the ministers are wise, the state can be at peace. A state can endure only when these four forms of clarity are present. To understand how to put the principle of illumination into practice is to understand how to transform all things.

The Way of Heaven appears in patterns and order; the Way of Earth takes shape in its regularities. Heaven and Earth harmonize, the four seasons set change in motion, and all things come into being. This is called the Dao. The Great Dao is broad and open, never far from people. Cultivate yourself through the Dao, and your Virtue becomes genuine; cultivate all things through the Dao, and Virtue continues without end.

Heaven covers all things, bestowing favor and nurturing them, yet gives without asking anything in return. Thus the spirits of all things turn toward it. To give without asking in return is the highest Virtue; only this deserves to be called Virtue. Nothing is higher than Heaven, and nothing is lower than Earth. Heaven is high and Earth is low; the sage follows this order, giving rank and station their proper place, and the world is brought to peace.

Earth bears and nurtures all things, yet also draws upon them for its own use, so in the end all things return to Earth. To give while also taking is a lesser form of Virtue. It is still Virtue, but it cannot be called true Virtue. Earth receives the Way of Heaven and is therefore stable; when Earth is stable, all things can take shape. Earth is vast and deep, allowing all things to gather upon it. Steady, it can bear all things; generous, it can contain them. Because the terrain is deep, springs and sources of water gather there; because the Way of Earth is broad, it can endure. The sage follows the example of Earth, and so their Virtue can embrace all things.

The ruler follows the Way of Heaven, and the ministers follow the Way of Earth. Heaven is honored and Earth is humble; thus the distinction between ruler and minister is established. When the ruler is wise and the ministers are wise, their radiance shines in all directions. Is this not like the benevolent rule of Yao, whose Virtue reached throughout the world, bringing clarity and understanding to all the people? Thus, following Heaven and taking Earth as one’s model to bring all things to fulfillment is the Dao. Nurturing and giving to all things without asking anything in return is the highest Virtue; giving while also asking something in return is a lesser Virtue.

When Yin-Qi follows Yang-Qi, all things flourish; when Yang-Qi subdues Yin-Qi, all things stagnate. When all things flourish, nothing goes without nourishment; when all things are at peace, nothing is without joy. When all things are joyful, governing them presents no difficulty. This is how the Dao governs all things: nurturing and giving without asking in return is the highest Virtue; giving while also asking something in return is a lesser Virtue.

When Yin energy is in harmony and nourishes Yang energy, all things flourish. When Yang energy restrains Yin energy, all things fall silent. When all things flourish, none go without nourishment; when they are at peace, none are unhappy. When all things are content, the realm is easy to govern.

When Yin energy harms all things, Yang energy withdraws of its own accord. As Yin rises and Yang recedes, petty people gain power while noble people avoid harm. This, too, is how the Dao of Heaven operates. When Yang energy stirs, all things grow gently and each finds its proper place. Thus the sage follows the path of Yang. When one follows the patterns of all things, they respond in accord; when one goes against those patterns, they resist. In this way, one does not violate their nature.

When low-lying marshes fill with water, all things grow and ripen in their proper season; when the marshes dry up, all things wither in their proper season. If rain does not fall, the realm becomes barren and life perishes. Yang energy rises and then descends again, and so becomes the ruler of all things. It does not remain forever in one place, and so can complete its cycle again and again. Because it cycles without end, it endures; because it endures, it becomes the root of all things under Heaven.

Yang energy must accumulate before it can act; Yin energy must gather before it can bring forth change. Nothing can come into being without first accumulating. Therefore, the sage is careful about accumulation. When Yang energy grows and diminishes Yin energy, all things become robust; when Yin energy prevails over Yang, all things decline. Thus, when rulers and nobles honor the path of Yang, all things flourish; when they esteem the path of Yin, the realm falls into decline.

If Yang energy does not descend to join with Yin energy, all things cannot come into being. If a ruler does not humble himself before his ministers, virtuous governance and teaching cannot be carried out. By humbling himself before his ministers, a ruler can hear and see clearly; if he refuses to do so, he becomes benighted and closed off.

Yang energy governs life, while Yin energy governs death. Thus, noble people cherish nurturing life, while petty people delight in killing. When rulers and nobles honor the path of Yang, all things flourish; when they esteem the path of Yin, the realm falls into decline. Yang energy is valued for joining with Yin energy from a lowly position. Therefore, when a ruler humbles himself before his ministers, he can judge matters clearly and govern the state well; if he refuses to do so, he becomes benighted and closed off, and virtuous governance and teaching cannot be carried out.

When the sun rises above the horizon, all things flourish and grow. When princes and nobles stand above the people, they can make Dao and De shine forth. When the sun sinks below the horizon, all things rest and grow still. If petty men occupy the high offices, all things hide themselves away. Thunder shakes the earth, and all things sprout; rain nourishes them, and all things unfold. A great person who issues commands should likewise act in accord with the times, allowing all things to grow.

When Yin energy sinks into the earth, all things rest. If petty men occupy the high offices, all things hide themselves away. Yin and Yang each follow a fixed rhythm in their movement, and a great person does not let events develop to extremes. Thunder shakes the earth, and all things unfold; wind stirs the trees, and plants and trees are harmed. When a great person casts off evil conduct and turns toward the good, the people will not leave and migrate elsewhere. The people always leave one place and attach themselves to another: they tend to abandon places where troubles are severe and gather where things are better ordered. Without wind to stir it, fire will not flare up; if a great person does not speak, petty people have nothing to pass on. For fire to burn, it must depend on kindling; for a great person to speak, the foundation must be trustworthiness. When words are trustworthy and true, what cannot be accomplished?

The river runs deep, and earth gathers upon the mountains; hills rise high, while low places open into abysses. When Yang energy reaches its height, it turns into Yin energy; when Yin energy reaches its height, it turns into Yang energy. Therefore, desire must not be allowed to reach fullness, and joy must not be allowed to go to excess. To refrain from hurtful words when angry, and from showing anger when provoked, is called knowing how to keep things in balance. Fire rises upward and water flows downward. The Way of the sages works through the mutual resonance of things belonging to the same kind. When sages accord with Yang energy, the world lives in harmony; when they accord with Yin energy, the world sinks into hardship.

Is the sun in the heavens perhaps like a ruler among people? When the sun rises, princes and nobles stand above the people, and all things flourish and grow; when it sets, petty men stand above the people, and all things hide themselves away. Yin and Yang move according to a fixed rhythm, so the seasons do not fall into disorder. A great person does not let events go to extremes, so the people do not leave and migrate elsewhere. When things reach their limit, they change; desire must not be allowed to reach fullness. Changes in Yin and Yang belong to the timing of Heaven, while political order and disorder depend on human actions.

Laozi said: Little by little, what is meager can become abundant; step by step, one can rise from a low place to a great height. The noble person works diligently without slackening each day, gradually cultivating a bright character. The petty person seeks only immediate pleasure each day and in the end comes to disgrace. These changes may not be visible at first, but they will eventually appear. So when you see a good deed, pursue it eagerly, as though you fear you cannot catch up; regard past wrongdoing with the same vigilance you would show before an ill omen. If you are willing to turn toward goodness, there is no need to blame yourself even if you have made mistakes. But if you refuse to turn toward goodness, even outward loyalty will invite disdain. Thus, it is better to examine yourself than to blame others, and better to seek the cause within yourself than to strive to obtain something from others.

A person’s reputation is brought about by that person, and things naturally gravitate toward what is like themselves. One’s name is determined by oneself, and one’s standing is also connected to oneself; in the end, neither lies beyond one’s own responsibility. If you take something sharp and stab another, or attack someone with a blade, what grounds do you have for blaming them? Thus the noble person is cautious even about the smallest things.

All things turn their backs to Yin and face Yang. When the two Qi mingle, they form harmonious Qi. This harmony dwells between Heaven and Earth. That is why the fruits of trees develop at the center of their branches, the fruits of plants grow inside pods, and the embryos and eggs of birds and beasts form within them. Some creatures neither lay eggs nor bear young, yet their lives still require a proper season in which to grow. When the ground is level, water does not rush along; when weights are balanced, the beam of a scale does not tilt. The growth and transformation of all things take shape through resonance.

Only when Yin and Yang interact can the Qi of harmony and balance arise. This allows all things to grow; when the relationship between ruler and minister accords with the Middle Way, the people can live in peace. The noble person brings their own intentions into harmony and diligently cultivates them each day, so that their character grows ever brighter. The petty person disrupts their innate harmony, seeks only immediate pleasure each day, and ultimately brings disgrace upon themselves. Thus the noble person is cautious even about the smallest things, sets their heart right, and seeks the cause within themselves. When they do not resent others, others have no reason to resent them.

Laozi said: Where mountains rise high, clouds and rain gather; where water runs deep, dragons dwell. When the noble person cultivates the Dao to a profound depth, their benevolence spreads widely. Those who cultivate De in secret will surely receive a public reward; those who do good quietly will in time gain an honored reputation. Sow millet and you will not reap panicled millet; sow resentment and you will not receive benevolence.

Only when good deeds are kept hidden from others can they be called the highest good; to do evil while keeping it hidden is the deepest evil. Clouds gather in the mountains and become rain and dew; water collects in marshes and gives rise to dragons. A noble person keeps the Dao in his heart, and its beneficence then flows out into the world. Those who accumulate the hidden virtue of good deeds will surely receive an evident reward: Heaven is protecting them. Those who quietly practice goodness will eventually earn a distinguished reputation: people hold them in high esteem. Only one who possesses the De of Heaven can truly understand this principle.

End of juan six of Collected Explanations of the True Man Who Pervades the Mystery.

Chapter on Subtle Illumination

Laozi said: The Dao can be yielding or strong, gentle or hard, hidden in Yin or manifest in Yang, obscure or bright. It can encompass Heaven and Earth and respond to the myriad affairs; its transformations follow no fixed pattern.

To know the Dao only superficially is not yet to have penetrated it; to know only what is external is not yet to understand what is within; to know only its broad outlines is not yet to grasp its subtleties. One who truly understands the Dao knows that it can be yielding or strong, hidden in Yin or manifest in Yang, obscure yet bright, encompassing Heaven and Earth while responding to the myriad affairs. Shallow knowledge is not true knowledge. To recognize what one does not know is to draw near to true understanding. Who can see that what is called knowing may sometimes be not knowing, and that not knowing may contain genuine knowledge?

The Dao cannot be heard with the ears; what is heard and claimed to be the Dao is not the true Dao. The Dao cannot be seen with the eyes; what is seen and claimed to be the Dao is not the true Dao. Nor can the Dao be fully expressed in words; what is put into words is not the true Dao. Who can understand the principle that form is not true form? Thus, when everyone in the world agrees that a certain thing is good, that very judgment may give rise to what is not good. Those who understand do not speak readily; those who speak at length may not truly understand.

The Dao is vast and subtle. To grasp it, one does not rely on the eyes to see or the ears to hear. One receives it from one’s innate nature and establishes it in the heart, thereby encompassing Heaven and Earth and responding to all kinds of change. The Dao cannot be understood through cleverness and talent, nor can it be forced through strength. To know what one does not know, and to refrain from reckless action and excessive speech, is to have truly attained the Dao.

Wenzi asked, “Can the Dao be expressed in subtle and refined words?” Laozi replied, “Why not? But understanding the true meaning of speech does not depend on the words themselves. Those who compete to catch fish get their clothes wet; those who chase wild animals have to run. These are not things they enjoy, but what they do to reach their aims. The finest words do not cling to wording; the finest deeds do not cling to deliberate action. Those with shallow understanding argue over mere details. Words have their source, and affairs have their guiding principle. Because I do not understand things through ordinary knowledge, others do not understand me.”

The Dao cannot be fully expressed in words. Once spoken, what is described is a particular thing, not the Dao itself. Yet without words, the Dao is also difficult to make clear. When Wenzi asked whether subtle words could express the Dao, Laozi answered that the key lies in knowing how to speak: one may speak without clinging to speech, or convey meaning without speaking. Those who compete to catch fish or chase beasts do not understand the true meaning of speech. They cling to words and fixate on particular things, so their arguments concern only trivial details. If one cannot let go of words and deliberate action, how can one speak with them about the Dao?

Wenzi asked, “Does governing a state also have principles?” Laozi replied, “Those pulling a cart call out at the front, and those behind answer in turn. This is a work song that rallies people and helps them exert their strength. Even the music of Zheng, Wei, Hu, or Chu cannot match its practical effect. In governing a state, what matters is observing ritual propriety, not ornate rhetoric or clever argument. The more numerous and severe the laws and decrees, the more thieves there are.”

Governing a country is like the workings of Heaven and Earth. Heaven does not speak, yet the four seasons follow one another in turn; Earth does not speak, yet all things grow naturally. When Wenzi asked Laozi about the way to govern, Laozi answered with the songs of cart drivers, one calling out and another responding. This also expresses how sages follow the Dao of Heaven, do not go against the patterns of nature, and act in season.

Governing a country should accord with ritual and law. The key does not lie in ornate language or clever argument. If one does not understand the foundations of good governance yet keeps adding ever more intricate laws, one instead gives thieves and those who harm the people opportunities to exploit.

Laozi said, “The Dao has no fixed form, yet it can serve as a standard. A mountain forest, for example, can provide timber, but timber is not as great as the forest; the forest is not as great as clouds and rain; clouds and rain are not as great as Yin-Yang; Yin-Yang is not as great as harmony. Harmony falls short of the Dao. The Dao is what is called the form of the formless, the image of what has no concrete thing.”