《通玄真经缵义(杜道坚)》Vol. 3

Yang (yang qi) and yin qi are not fully harmonized, and the harmony of Yin-Yang still falls short of the Dao (the Way). The Dao is what is called the shape without fixed form, the image without any particular thing. Though its meaning cannot be fully conveyed in words, all things between Heaven and Earth can be nurtured, brought into being, and continually transformed by it.

The Dao itself has no fixed form; all things follow it and take shape in their own way. Observe the changes among the mountains and forests until clouds and rain form and Yin-Yang comes into harmony, and you will understand: the formless, imageless powers between Heaven and Earth can nurture all things and bring about their transformation. How wondrous the Dao truly is.

Laozi said: When sages establish teachings and issue directives, they must examine the beginnings and outcomes of things and see how they bring about benefits. Thus, when people come to depend on written records, De (Virtue/Power) declines; when they depend on counting, benevolence declines; when they depend on contracts, trust declines; and when they depend on machines, natural simplicity and genuineness decline. A se, an ancient stringed instrument, does not make music by itself: its twenty-five strings respond to one another, and only then does music arise. An axle does not turn on its own: its thirty spokes, the wooden rods connecting axle and wheel, bear force and move, and only then can the wheel turn. A zither’s strings must vary in tension to produce a melody; a wheel must sometimes bear a load and sometimes turn freely for a cart to travel far. The source of sound from strings is silence; the source of a wheel’s turning is the axle that does not turn.

When those above and below each follow their own way, a situation that was easy to govern can become disorderly. When those in high positions follow the Great Dao, the people will follow them; when their responsibilities are weighty but the Dao they uphold is shallow, danger will follow. Virtue in minor matters may obstruct great principles; small acts of goodness may obstruct the Great Dao; petty disputes may obstruct good governance; and excessive rigidity and harshness may damage De. Truly impartial governance is free of bias, so the people are easy to guide. When governance reaches its ideal, its policies are generous and unhurried, and the people below suffer no harm. Sincerity in its fullest form returns at last to natural simplicity, so the people neither feign nor conceal.

Sages establish teachings and issue directives not out of personal intent, but because circumstances leave them no choice. They must examine the course of things from beginning to end, follow the natural patterns, and refrain from unwarranted interference. If they rely too heavily on written records, counting, contracts, and machines, they become calculating in their dealings, and De, benevolence, trust, and natural simplicity decline. A ruler governs the state with the help of ministers just as strings make music and spokes carry a wheel far. By grasping the root and putting the power of the whole to use, there will be no age in which the world cannot be governed.

Laozi said: If a system of collective punishment is put into practice, the people will grow resentful; if an order is issued to reduce noble ranks, meritorious officials will defect. Thus, those who know only the clauses written in legal documents do not understand the fundamentals of governing a state and preventing disorder. Those who know only how to deploy troops and wage battles likewise do not understand the strategy of weighing gains and losses when the court deliberates on military affairs.

A sage can see the signs of fortune and misfortune in what is distant and subtle, and consider how to guard against calamity before it appears. The foolish are misled by small gains before them and forget greater dangers. They often profit in a small matter but suffer harm in a larger one; they gain in one place and forget the loss they may incur elsewhere. No virtue is greater than caring for the people, and no wisdom is more important than understanding people. Those who care for the people will not stir resentment through harsh punishments or overlook grave dangers in the long term. Those who understand people can keep government from falling into disorder.

In governing a state, it is best not to issue too many orders, and laws should not be changed too often. When government becomes complicated and laws keep changing, the people grow resentful and meritorious officials may defect. These consequences are brought on by those in power themselves. The sage can discern, from signs that have yet to appear, the fundamentals of order and disorder and the essentials of weighing circumstances in the court’s deliberations on military affairs. This is foresight.

Laozi also said: However powerful the waters of rivers may be, their flooding will not last more than three days. Even a violent wind and rainstorm that begins in daylight soon comes to an end. If one fails to build up De and gives no thought to that failure, calamity may soon be at hand. A sense of concern can lead people to prosperity, while complacent self-satisfaction may bring ruin. Those skilled in navigating the world can turn weakness into strength and misfortune into good fortune. The Great Dao seems empty, yet its workings are inexhaustible, and it is never filled up.

When a state’s harsh orders are enforced one after another, they are like rivers flooding and storms breaking out: they will not last, and calamity will soon follow. Only those who worry that their De is insufficient and know how to adapt to circumstances may still turn misfortune into good fortune and weakness into strength. This also makes clear why one must not become complacent.

Laozi says: Clarity, tranquility, simplicity, and calm are part of human nature; outward bearing and proper conduct are the standards for handling affairs. When you understand human nature, you can cultivate yourself without going against it. When you understand the standards for action, your conduct and decisions will not become confused.

To issue a command that lets everyone act without competing, and to oversee all affairs—this is called the “mind.” To see the root and infer its branches, and to hold to one principle while responding to myriad changes—this is called “method,” the way of handling affairs. To know where to settle, where action will lead, what grounds an undertaking, and where action should stop—this is called the “Dao,” the principle that guides conduct.

The mind’s function can lead others to praise you and regard you as worthy; its failing can lead them to scorn and slander you. Once words leave the mouth, you cannot prevent others from spreading them. An action may begin close at hand, yet its effects may reach far away. Affairs are often difficult to bring to completion but easy to ruin; a reputation is difficult to establish but easy to destroy. People often dismiss small misfortunes and overlook minor details, only to bring great trouble upon themselves in the end.

Misfortune often comes because people have brought it upon themselves; blessings, too, often come because people have made them possible. Misfortune and blessing issue from the same source, while benefit and harm lie side by side. Without insight into what is subtle, it is difficult to tell them apart. Thus, thought is the gateway through which misfortune and blessing arise, while action and stillness are the turning points where benefit and harm change. These must be examined with care.

Heaven’s principle and human desire reside in the same heart; the noble person and the petty person, too, are determined by one’s own choices. Do these all issue from one source yet bear different names? To hold to one principle while responding to myriad changes is called “method”; to recognize, amid changing actions, when one should stop is called the “Dao.” Words issue from the mouth, and actions arise from the heart; misfortune and blessing, benefit and harm, follow like shadows. Without insight into what is subtle, who can distinguish them? How, then, could one fail to reflect on oneself and attend carefully to the heart?

Laozi said: Everyone knows the keys to good government and disorder, yet few understand how to preserve life. Thus the sage observes the state of the world and acts accordingly; starting from particular affairs, the sage devises suitable measures.

The sage can respond to Yin and act, or respond to Yang and proceed; can be yielding or firm, weak or strong. The sage decides when to act and when to remain still according to the times, and builds achievements in keeping with the circumstances. Seeing things reach a certain stage, the sage can foresee when they will turn; facing the same matter, the sage can also discern the changes within it. When circumstances shift, the corresponding signs appear; as the times unfold, the sage responds appropriately. Thus, throughout life, the sage never falls into difficulty.

Some things can be done but are awkward to speak of; some can be spoken of but cannot be put into practice; some are easy to undertake but difficult to complete; others are hard to accomplish yet can easily ruin one’s reputation. “Can be done but is awkward to speak of” refers to choosing what to accept and what to reject. “Can be spoken of but cannot be put into practice” refers to hypocrisy and deceit. “Easy to undertake but difficult to complete” refers to practical affairs. “Hard to accomplish yet can easily ruin one’s reputation” refers to one’s good name. These four situations are matters the sage considers carefully, and insights that distinguish those who are discerning.

Times may be well governed or disorderly; the gains and failures of government depend on those in power. If they understand the keys to order and disorder but not how to preserve life, the fault lies with them, not with the times. The sage acts or remains still in keeping with the times, observes how things change, and never falls into difficulty throughout life. When those in power find themselves at the right time, how can they afford to be complacent and still fail to understand how to preserve life?

Laozi said: Those who cultivate the Dao should pay attention to small, subtle matters, act in keeping with the right moment, and remain alert to every possible risk. In this way, troubles will not keep taking root and growing. When seeking good fortune, do not look only at what you can gain in the present. When considering danger, think through every possibility. Even if frost falls on everyone on the same day, those who have shelter will not be harmed. Even a foolish person who prepares in advance can achieve what a wise person can.

Accumulating goodwill and compassion brings good fortune; accumulating resentment invites trouble. Everyone knows that when trouble arises, one should try to put things right, yet few understand that it is better to prevent trouble from arising in the first place. Preventing trouble in advance is easy; treating it after it has occurred is difficult. People today make no effort to keep trouble from arising and busy themselves only with repairing the damage after disaster strikes. Even the spirits would find it hard to devise a solution for them.

The causes of trouble take many forms and are difficult to foresee. The sage withdraws into quiet seclusion to avoid danger, speaks little, and waits for the right moment. Small-minded people do not understand how good fortune and misfortune come about. They act rashly and fall under punishment. Even if they try to guard against every danger, they may not be able to protect themselves. Thus, the wise first avoid trouble and keep clear of disgrace; only then do they seek gain and reputation. They always respond while trouble is still unseen, rather than focusing only on a situation once it has taken shape. In this way, trouble has no chance to arrive, and neither praise nor blame can touch them.

Those who cultivate the Dao attend to what is subtle and act at the right moment. This is what it means to be careful at the outset. Even a foolish person who prepares can achieve what a wise person can. If someone fails to prevent trouble in advance and seeks a remedy only afterward, even the spirits will find it hard to make a plan on their behalf. That is why the wise put avoiding trouble and keeping clear of disgrace first. They place reputation and gain second and do not force the issue. In this way, where could trouble come from? How could praise or blame touch them?

Laozi said: “In conducting oneself, one should be cautious in one’s thoughts and far-reaching in one’s aims; consider matters thoroughly and act with integrity; possess broad abilities, yet keep one’s undertakings simple.”

“Cautious in thought” means anticipating trouble before it arises, preventing small problems from growing, and not indulging one’s desires. “Far-reaching in one’s aims” means embracing the world, making room for different customs and views, and taking in conflicting opinions before discerning what matters most. “Thorough in thought” means considering matters from every angle and understanding their beginnings and ends, with a mind that moves freely and remains deep and inexhaustible. “Upright in conduct” means holding fast to integrity without yielding, keeping one’s character pure and untainted, preserving one’s principles in hardship, and not letting success lead to self-indulgence. “Broad in ability” means being equipped with both literary skill and military strategy, acting and resting in accordance with proper standards, and handling matters appropriately whether one proceeds or pauses, establishes or abandons. “Simple in one’s undertakings” means using essential principles to meet many demands, governing wide-ranging affairs with straightforward methods, and calming agitation through quiet steadiness.

Thus, those who are cautious in thought guard against danger in its earliest stages; those with far-reaching aims can embrace all things; those who think thoroughly can distinguish right from wrong; those who act with integrity know when not to act; those with broad abilities can handle all kinds of affairs; and those who keep their undertakings simple are skilled at grasping the essentials.

The sages do good without dismissing a good deed as too small to perform. When they make a mistake, they correct it even if it seems minor. They do not rely on shamans—people who seek to communicate with spirits through divination, sacrifice, and other means—to teach and transform others, and even spirits dare not take the initiative to cause trouble. This may be called a state of supreme dignity. Yet the sages remain vigilant and become more careful with each passing day. This is precisely how they preserve single-minded sincerity through the Way of Wuwei (non-action).

The foolish have limited wisdom, yet take on too much. As a result, they easily fall into difficulty as soon as they act. Teaching and transforming people by the right way, and following circumstances as they unfold, makes success easy. Teaching and transforming them by a crooked way, and forcing things forward, inevitably ends in failure. To abandon the right way, where success comes readily, and insist on doing what is difficult to accomplish—this is the result of foolishness and confusion.

Aims should be far-reaching and thought cautious; thought should be thorough and conduct upright; abilities should be broad and undertakings simple. These six qualities are what everyone should strive to attain. Far-reaching aims make it possible to embrace all things; cautious thought helps guard against hidden dangers in their earliest stages; thorough thought makes it possible to distinguish right from wrong.

Set your aspirations high, and make your thoughts careful and precise. Let your wisdom be comprehensive and your conduct upright. Your abilities may be broad, but the tasks you undertake should be few and simple. These six principles are ones everyone should strive to follow. High aspirations allow you to embrace all things; careful thought makes you alert to the smallest signs; comprehensive wisdom lets you understand many kinds of affairs; upright conduct enables you to remain honest and steadfast; broad abilities help you get things done; and simple, restrained action helps you keep to your principles. The sages do not rely on shamans and ritual officiants—people in ancient times who conducted rites to communicate with spirits and make offerings. Even ghosts and spirits dare not act first to cause trouble. The sages rely on nothing more than a single-minded sincerity.

Laozi said, “Good fortune begins in subtle ways, while disaster arises amid confusion and disorder. The signs that fortune and misfortune are changing are hidden from view. The sage can see where they begin and where they end, so he must observe them with care.”

An enlightened ruler rewards and punishes not for personal reasons, but for the sake of the state. If something pleases the ruler but brings no benefit to the state, it should not be rewarded. If something displeases the ruler but benefits the state, it should not be punished for that reason. One who acts in accordance with the Dao and handles affairs appropriately is called a gentleman; one who abandons the Dao and pursues only immediate gain is called a petty person.

Good governance gets things done without exhausting the people. The next best kind requires labor but causes no harm. The worst kind leaves people ever more weary while the list of tasks keeps growing. The ancients observed the signs of things closely and refused to dismiss them; people today often let such signs pass without examining them. When King Zhou began using ivory chopsticks, Jizi wept. When the state of Lu buried figurines—human-shaped models used in burials—Confucius sighed. Seeing the beginning of a matter makes it possible to foresee its eventual outcome.

The turning point between disaster and good fortune often has signs that appear before it becomes visible. How could these signs not deserve careful attention? Rewards and punishments are among a ruler’s chief powers for governing the state, and they must be used for the state, not for personal ends. The difference between a gentleman and a petty person lies in whether one upholds what is right or pursues only private gain. The highest achievement in governance is to get things done without exhausting the people; the next best is to require labor without causing harm. If the people are worn out while government business keeps multiplying, that is poor governance. When Jizi wept at King Zhou’s ivory chopsticks and Confucius sighed at Lu’s burial figurines, each saw in a small beginning the later ruin it might bring. There was no need to wait for events to run their course.

Laozi said, “Benevolence is what people admire; righteousness is what people respect. Yet even someone who is admired and respected may, by acting wrongly, bring about his own death and the destruction of his state. The outcome can be seen in the signs of disaster.”

Laozi said: Benevolence is what people admire, and righteousness is what they esteem. Yet even when they are admired and esteemed, if they bring about one’s death and the ruin of one’s state, that is because they are out of step with the times. To understand benevolence and righteousness alone, without knowing how to adapt to changing circumstances, is not to understand the Great Dao.

The Five Emperors governed the world through De; the Three Kings governed through righteousness; the Five Hegemons relied on force. To apply the methods of the emperors’ age in the time of the Five Hegemons would be out of step with the times. Thus, judgments of good and evil, and the spread of praise and blame, depend on prevailing customs. Whether people’s aims align or diverge, and whether their circumstances are favorable or adverse, likewise depend on the age. Only those who understand both the changes of Heaven’s Dao and the conduct of people can respond to the affairs of the world. One who understands Heaven’s Dao but not human relations cannot engage with ordinary society; one who understands human relations but not Heaven’s Dao cannot accord with the Great Dao. If one acts only from a stubborn will and passing emotion, rigid attachment will bring harm to oneself. If one drives oneself to pursue external things, the changes of Yin-Yang will wear down both body and mind.

I know that the Great Dao is sometimes difficult to put into practice because the times differ. The Five Emperors honored De, the Three Kings employed righteousness, and the Five Hegemons relied on force. To put the governing principles of the emperors’ age into practice in the time of the Five Hegemons is to fail to adapt to the times. If one does not understand the times, one understands neither Heaven’s Dao nor human relations. How, then, could one govern the affairs of the world?

Those who have attained the Dao can adapt outwardly to changing things, while remaining inwardly unmoved. Their outward adaptability enables them to understand human relations; their inner steadiness enables them to preserve themselves. Their hearts remain settled and focused, while outwardly they can yield or stand firm, adjusting as things change and carrying out all manner of affairs without falling into difficulty. What makes the Great Dao precious is its capacity to transform with the flexibility of a dragon.

If one clings to a single principle and acts in only one way, then even if one achieves some success for a time, refusing to adapt will confine one to narrow preferences and obstruct one’s understanding of the Great Dao. The Great Dao is still and empty. It does not contrive to act upon external things, nor impose contrived action upon oneself. Thus, what is accomplished by following the Great Dao cannot be forced by those who insist on acting with intent; it comes from the Dao’s own natural movement and unfolding.

The transformations of the dragon and tiger—symbols of the union of firmness and gentleness, and of constant change—belong to the realm of those who have attained the Dao (the Way). Those who have attained the Dao can act in response to the transformations of all things without becoming lost or trapped by them. This is why Laozi was called “Like a Dragon.” One who can perceive the Dao’s emptiness claims nothing among external things as their own and does not cling to the self. The Dao acts everywhere, allowing all things under Heaven to flourish and develop.

Heaven covers and Earth supports all things; the sun and moon shine upon them; Yin-Yang (yin and yang) nourishes them; rain and dew moisten them; and De (Virtue/Power) sustains them. All of this ultimately returns to harmony. Therefore, one who can take Heaven as a canopy and Earth as a place to stand, reflect the Great Clarity and perceive its brightness, establish peace, and dwell in a vast realm can, by wandering through the deep and mysterious, shine with the same radiance as the sun and moon. The formless Dao becomes manifest through the myriad forms of the world. Thus, the True Person entrusts their mind and spirit to the Numinous Terrace, where the spirit resides, and returns to the original state of all things. They observe in the depths and listen in silence; amid darkness and remoteness, they alone discern clearly, and amid stillness and soundlessness, they alone perceive. To put the Great Dao into practice, one must understand that there are times when it should not be used. Only by avoiding its reckless use can one use it appropriately. To know the Great Dao, one must also acknowledge that some things cannot be fully grasped through ordinary understanding. Only by recognizing this can one truly know.

“Harmony” is a principle that prevails throughout the world. Heaven covers all things and Earth supports them; in the end, both rest on the same harmony. A ruler takes Heaven as a canopy and Earth as a place to stand, and establishes peace from a lofty hall. How could the ruler lose harmony? The True Person returns to the source of all things and must therefore be able to perceive what is hidden and profound. Thus, practice that includes restraint from reckless action is true practice; knowledge that includes an acknowledgment of what is unknown is true knowledge. This is “Great Harmony,” the vast and fundamental harmony.

The Dao is the fundamental principle followed by all things; De is the power that supports the growth of life; benevolence is the expression of accumulated kindness; and righteousness is the standard that accords with one’s heart and is also fitting for everyone. When the Great Dao declined, De arose; when De in turn declined, benevolence and righteousness appeared. Thus, in antiquity, people followed the Great Dao without deliberately striving to speak of De. In the middle age, they upheld De but did not truly embody it. Later generations were constantly anxious about losing benevolence and righteousness.

Without righteousness, a gentleman cannot establish himself; to lose righteousness is to lose the foundation on which he stands. Without profit, a petty person cannot survive; to lose profit is to lose the means of survival. Thus, the gentleman fears losing righteousness, while the petty person fears losing profit. What each fears losing reveals the different fortunes and calamities they bring upon themselves.

As the Dao, De, benevolence, and righteousness gradually diverged, different ways of governing—the Sovereign, Emperor, King, and Hegemon—also took shape. This was caused by the changes of the times. Use the Dao to guide, De to nurture, benevolence to bestow kindness, and righteousness to judge what is fitting. Though the forms of government in the eras of the Sovereign, Emperor, King, and Hegemon differed, they shared one thing: the hierarchy and proper distinctions between ruler and minister. The one who follows the Great Dao without deliberately striving for De is the Sovereign; the one who upholds De but cannot win people’s wholehearted allegiance is the Emperor; the one who fears losing benevolence and righteousness is the King. Once righteousness loses its proper measure, cleverness and deceit arise.

Laozi said, “Some things are meant to bring benefit, yet end up causing harm; others are meant to cause harm, yet end up bringing benefit.” For example, someone with a fever who forces themselves to eat warming foods, or someone who is thirsty and forces themselves to drink cold water: ordinary people might think these things help restore health, but a good physician would see that they worsen the illness. Things that please the eyes and delight the heart seem beneficial to fools, but those who follow the Dao avoid them. Sages often encounter the signs of events first, and only afterward join with the crowd; ordinary people first go along with others, and only afterward encounter events. Therefore, the way calamity and good fortune give rise to one another, and benefit and harm transform into one another, must be carefully observed.

Some things are meant to bring benefit, yet end up causing harm; others are meant to cause harm, yet end up bringing benefit. This cannot be guaranteed by human effort; often it results from the changes inherent in things themselves. Therefore, how calamity and good fortune arise, and how benefit and harm transform, must be carefully observed.

Some things appear beneficial yet turn out to be harmful; others appear harmful yet turn out to be beneficial. This is not something people can fully control. Often, it comes about through the changes inherent in things themselves. Thus, acting in a way that seems unsuitable at first but proves suitable later is the way of the sage; acting in a way that seems suitable at first but proves unsuitable later is the way of ordinary people. Good fortune and calamity depend on one another, and benefit and harm can transform into one another. For this reason, people must examine matters carefully.

Laozi said: If you accomplish something worthy but act contrary to benevolence and righteousness—the principles of caring for others and acting rightly—you will be met with suspicion. If you make a mistake but act in keeping with benevolence and righteousness, you will surely be trusted. Benevolence and righteousness are therefore enduring, reliable standards for dealing with affairs, and the most honored “rank” in the world—a metaphor for the highest value. Even if your plans are sound and your thinking thorough, and you can avert disaster and preserve the state, your achievements will ultimately come to nothing if you act contrary to benevolence and righteousness. Conversely, even if your words do not fit the strategy and your plans do not benefit the state, as long as your intentions are loyal to the ruler and your conduct accords with benevolence and righteousness, you will surely preserve yourself. Thus it is said: When your words and plans are always out of step with the times, rather than relentlessly pursuing profit, pause and carefully consider benevolence and righteousness.

Are benevolence and righteousness descendants of the Dao and offspring of De? These four may appear distinct, yet they have never been separate from one another. Benevolence and righteousness are therefore the world’s most honored values. Should those who prize themselves and value the world not set aside their pursuit of profit and carefully consider benevolence and righteousness?

Laozi said: Education takes the exemplary person as its foundation, and even ordinary people benefit from it. Material benefit takes ordinary people as its foundation, while exemplary people enjoy the fruits that result. If exemplary people and ordinary people each find their proper place, exchange the fruits of their labor, and share their food, society can flourish and the way of governance can run smoothly. Excessive desire harms righteousness; excessive worry harms wisdom. Thus, in a well-governed state, people take pleasure in living, and the state endures. In a tyrannically governed state, people take pleasure in destroying order, and the state perishes.

Water flows to low places, so it gathers and grows abundant. A ruler must place himself below his ministers to hear clearly and see distinctly. When the ruler does not contend with his ministers for power, the way of governing the state can run smoothly. The ruler is therefore the root, and the ministers are its branches and leaves. The root has never been unhealthy while the branches and leaves flourish.

Gentlemen and petty people are all human beings. If the ruler educates only gentlemen, but that education does not reach the petty people, by what virtue can he nourish the people? In a well-governed state, the people are glad for it to endure; in a tyrannically governed state, they hope for its downfall. When the ruler is humble and does not contend with others, his ministers will devote themselves wholeheartedly and faithfully. Only with firm foundations can the state be secure.

Laozi said: A loving father cares for his son not in order to receive anything in return, but because his heart naturally cannot let him go. A wise ruler cares for the people not to make them serve him, but because it is in his nature and he cannot help doing so. If a ruler relies only on the people’s strength and their accomplishments, while constantly calculating how to profit from them, the bond of affection between ruler and people cannot be shared. Thus, by acting in accord with what the people cherish, one can gain their support; by fulfilling what brings them joy, one can win their hearts. Seeing how something begins, one can know where it will ultimately lead.

The affection between father and son arises from nature. When a father cares for his son or a ruler nurtures the people, the moment they hope for something in return, that affection has already lost its true meaning. Therefore, by responding to the people’s interests and helping them prosper, one can gain the support of the many; by carrying out what they consider good and encouraging good conduct, one can win their hearts. In that case, how could sons fail to be filial, or ministers fail to be loyal?

Laozi said: When people care for one another in accordance with right conduct, their community grows strong through unity. Thus, the more widely Virtue is put into practice, the farther one’s authority can reach; the narrower the reach of right conduct, the smaller the area that force can control.

When the ruler keeps all under Heaven in mind, and people care for one another in accordance with right conduct, loyalty and filial devotion will arise. But if people merely form factions, gather crowds, and flaunt their strength through sheer numbers, deceitful and domineering people will seize the opportunity to emerge. The state’s security or ruin depends on this. How could one fail to examine and distinguish these matters carefully?

Laozi said: If you acquire wealth by improper means and do not use it to help others, misfortune will fall upon you. Such a person can neither benefit others nor truly find peace for himself. He may be called foolish, no different from an owl that dotes on its own young.

Better to stop before a vessel is filled to the brim. Sharpen a blade too keenly, and it will not stay sharp for long. De contains the Dao, and the Dao contains De; their transformations are without end. There is Yin within Yang and Yang within Yin. Everything in the world is like this, and the principles behind it cannot all be explained one by one.

When good fortune arrives, auspicious signs may appear; when misfortune is near, signs often appear beforehand. If you see an auspicious sign but do no good, good fortune will not come. If you see an ominous sign and strive to do good, misfortune may be averted. Benefit and harm come from the same source; misfortune and good fortune lie close beside one another. Few can see how they transform, except the wise. Thus it is said: “Misfortune—good fortune rests within it. Good fortune—misfortune lies hidden within it.” Who can know where this transformation ends?

Misfortune and good fortune depend on each other and transform into each other, like a shadow following the body. Wealth may multiply, yet it may also be lost just as quickly. To accumulate good deeds but fail to put them to proper use is like raising an owl as one’s child: in the end, it may bring harm. Benefit and harm transform into each other and alternate repeatedly; only the wise can see the key to this process.

When a person is about to fall ill, they often first become greedy for the rich taste of fish and meat. When a state is about to perish, it often first comes to resent the counsel of loyal ministers. So when illness has become critical, even a good physician may no longer be able to save the patient; when a state is nearing ruin, it may no longer heed the plans of loyal ministers. Only by cultivating yourself first can you govern the people; only by putting your household in order first can you extend this way of governing to the offices of state.

Thus, cultivate yourself, and your De becomes genuine; put your family in order, and De accumulates; govern the state, and De grows abundant and far-reaching. The people depend on clothing and food for their livelihood. If government can properly provide for these needs, it is effective; if it cannot, it is ineffective. When government is ineffective, De can scarcely endure.

If you follow the times but matters still do not succeed, do not casually alter the laws and patterns involved. The right moment will rise again; this is the guiding principle of the Dao.

A state cannot be established without its people, and people cannot survive without grain. This is an unchanging principle. When the people have enough clothing and food, they can live in peace; when they lack them, they find it hard to accomplish great deeds. Without great deeds, Virtue cannot grow.

Principles may reappear as circumstances change. This is the guiding order of the Dao.

A state cannot be established without its people, and people cannot survive without grain. This is an unchanging principle. When the people have enough clothing and food, they can live in peace; when they lack them, they find it hard to accomplish great deeds. Without great deeds, Virtue cannot grow.

An emperor who makes the people prosperous may be said to embody the royal way; a hegemon expands his territory. When a state is in danger, its officials may seize the opportunity to pursue private gain. If those who govern always feel that resources are insufficient, the state will ultimately be impoverished and its granaries emptied. Thus, when those in high positions impose fewer burdens and make fewer interventions, the people will naturally become prosperous; when they force fewer measures upon them, the people will naturally develop good customs.

Mobilizing an army of one hundred thousand consumes great wealth each day. War is often followed by famine. Weapons are therefore inauspicious instruments, not treasures a noble person cherishes. Even when deep resentment has been appeased, some bitterness remains. Why resort to an unsuitable course of action? In ancient times, those nearby were not won over by persuasion, nor were those far away summoned by commands. When people close at hand were content and willingly submitted, those farther away naturally came to join them.

When rulers and people share their wishes, they can live in harmony; when they jointly protect what they value, the state is secure. To understand the people’s feelings is to be wise. When the people contribute their labor, the state grows prosperous; when they praise their ruler, that ruler’s reputation flourishes. Actions may bring enemies, and words may invite disaster. Do not rush to argue or contend with others; follow the times and let things unfold naturally. A whisper spoken close to someone’s ear may travel a thousand miles. Words can bring calamity: the tongue is like a trigger mechanism, and once ill-chosen words have been spoken, even four swift horses cannot catch them.

In well-governed and chaotic times, both past and present, the land and its boundaries remain unchanged. Across the ages, peace and disorder have come and gone; what changes are rulers and people. An emperor who makes the people prosperous may be said to embody the royal way; a hegemon expands his territory. When a state is in danger, its officials may pursue private gain. If those who govern always feel that resources are insufficient, the state will ultimately be impoverished and its granaries emptied. Thus, in the age of Tang and Yu, the legendary sage kings of antiquity, people throughout the realm were willing to submit; by the Warring States period, no state had people who were truly prosperous.

Long ago, Zhonghuangzi said: Heaven is divided into the five directions of east, south, west, north, and center; Earth has the Five Phases of Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, and Water; sounds have the five tones of gong, shang, jue, zhi, and yu; all things have the five flavors of sour, bitter, sweet, pungent, and salty; colors are divided into green, yellow, red, white, and black; and human beings, too, are divided into five ranks. Thus, the people who live between Heaven and Earth fall into twenty-five types in all.

These twenty-five types are divided from highest to lowest into five groups. The highest are spirit people, perfected people, Daoist people, people of utmost attainment, and sages. Next are people of De (Virtue/Power), worthy people, wise people, good people, and eloquent people. The middle rank consists of public-minded people, loyal people, trustworthy people, righteous people, and courteous people. Below them are scholars, artisans, stewards of mountains, forests, rivers, and marshes, farmers, and merchants. At the lowest rank are ordinary people, slaves, fools, people ruled only by bodily desires, and petty people. The difference between those of the highest and lowest ranks is like the difference between humans and oxen or horses.

Sages see with their eyes, hear with their ears, speak with their mouths, and walk on their feet. Perfected people, by contrast, can discern clearly without using their eyes and understand without using their ears. They can accord with the way things are without walking there themselves, and handle affairs fairly without speaking. The deeds by which sages influence the world are never regarded by perfected people as having surpassed the Dao (the Way). The methods worthy people use to correct worldly customs are not even considered by sages worth contemplating. The so-called Dao has no distinctions of front and back, left and right. All things return to unity in profound mystery, beyond distinctions of right and wrong.

Perhaps Zhonghuangzi was a perfected person of ancient times. He said that people fall into five ranks, each with five types, making twenty-five in all. The highest are spirit people; the lowest are petty people. Saying that the highest and lowest are like humans and oxen or horses means that petty people go against the Dao and De (Virtue/Power): although they dress and appear like humans, they behave like oxen and horses. Sages are inferior to perfected people, and worthy people are inferior to sages, because they differ in how deeply they have realized the Great Dao, and their ranks differ accordingly.

End of juan seven of The Commentary and Explication of the True Writings on Penetrating the Mystery.

The chapter “On Naturalness” holds that quietude, stillness, emptiness, and clarity are Heaven’s way of observing things, while following nature and refraining from arbitrary action are the constant principles of governance. If one can set aside personal favors, avoid relying on one’s own presumed cleverness, refrain from deliberately promoting the worthy, avoid clinging to labels of benevolence and righteousness, create no disturbances, engage in no verbal disputes, and allow neither deceit nor hypocrisy to prevail, then both the worthy and the unworthy can return to the Dao without being treated as separate classes. A still mind can accord with the Dao; an empty mind can reach all things. Those whose De reaches its utmost govern through Wuwei, allowing all things to find a place.

The Way of emptiness and stillness endures like Heaven and Earth. It is wondrous, pervasive, and abundant, yet does not rule over the myriad things. Here, Wuwei does not mean doing nothing. It means not forcing things to conform to private intentions, so that the myriad things can follow their own patterns.

What is called naturalness is the principle of Heaven; to go against naturalness is to follow human desire. Quietude, stillness, emptiness, and clarity are Heaven’s natural principle; governing through Wuwei is the way people can manage affairs in accord with nature. By following nature, both the worthy and the unworthy can return to the Dao. Thus, the sage uses wondrous wisdom to discern the myriad things, letting the light of the Dao extend throughout the world without making himself its ruler.

The twelve months move without interruption, cycling over and over. The Five Phases—Metal, Wood, Water, Fire, and Earth—restrain and depend on one another. Extreme cold harms all things, yet cold is necessary; extreme heat harms all things, yet heat is necessary too. Thus what is acceptable and what is unacceptable each have their uses. The Great Dao leaves nothing outside its embrace; what matters is whether something accords with reason. When you see something that can be done, there is no need to rush toward it; when you see something that cannot be done, you should withdraw. The acceptable and the unacceptable work together, each supporting the other and containing the other.

The root of everything begins with the One; the four seasons—spring, summer, autumn, and winter—are the guiding order of its movement. From antiquity to the present, this principle has never changed; this is called the order of Heaven. Those above hold the root of illumination, while those below put its radiance to use. The Dao gives life to and nurtures all things, making them follow the changes of Yin-Yang, pass through the four seasons, belong to the Five Phases, and settle in their proper places. All things come and go with the seasons, while the laws governing their movement remain constant. Though those below may have limited abilities, the Great Dao followed by those above does not stray, and ministers work together in accord. The principles by which Heaven and Earth move require no deliberate action to bring everything to completion, and no deliberate seeking to obtain what is needed. From this we can know that Wuwei (non-action) can also bring benefit.

Between Heaven and Earth, the force that brings forth and transforms things and never ceases is, in the end, Qi (vital energy). It seems that some wondrous power governs this process, yet its form cannot be known. The One is the beginning of all things, and the four seasons are the guiding order of their movement; neither antiquity nor the present has seen this principle go astray. This is called the order of Heaven. The Dao gives life to and nurtures all things, and its laws remain constant. All things seem to have their own masters, yet no one knows who actually sets them in motion. This is why the Dao is honored and De (Virtue/Power) is held precious.

Laozi said: The simplest and most expansive things have no fixed shape. The Dao, vast beyond measure, cannot be gauged by any standard. Thus, although Heaven is round, it does not conform perfectly to a compass; although Earth is square, it does not conform perfectly to a carpenter’s square. Past and future are called “time,” while the four directions, above and below, are called “space.” The Dao exists between Heaven and Earth, yet no one can say precisely where it is. Those whose understanding does not reach far cannot discuss the vast principles with others; those whose knowledge is not broad cannot discuss the highest principles with them.

Those who have grasped the Dao and can connect with all things do not readily reject one another. Thus, although the laws and institutions established by the Three Sovereigns and Five Emperors, legendary rulers of high antiquity, differed, each won the people’s support. The compass, carpenter’s square, ink line, and measuring cord are tools craftsmen use to make things, but they are not the craft itself. The strings of a zither are like this too: without strings, even Shi Wen, a legendary ancient zither player, could not play a melody; yet strings alone cannot produce a mournful tune. The strings are therefore only a means of expressing sorrow, not sorrow itself.

True spiritual harmony arises between the heart and the hands. The musician opens the heart and gives expression to the spirit, bringing the transformations of the melody forth through the strings. This skill cannot be taught directly by a father to his son, or learned directly by a son from his father; it is a principle that cannot be conveyed in words. Thus, composure governs the body, while stillness is the source of sound.

The Tongxuan Zhenjing Zanyi goes on to say: The simple and expansive have no fixed shape; the Dao is boundless in its vastness and cannot be measured. Heaven is round and Earth is square, and the Dao exists within them. Thus, although the laws and institutions established by the Three Sovereigns and Five Emperors differed, each won the people’s support. The compass, carpenter’s square, set square, and measuring cord are tools that enable craftsmanship, but they are not the craft itself. The principles behind Shi Wen’s zither playing are similar.

Laozi said: In the workings of Heaven and Earth, De (Virtue/Power), the Dao as it is expressed in all things, is primary. The Dao gives each thing its own principles, and each thing follows its own pattern to attain proper order. The Dao is supremely subtle, yet it has definite standards; the way it wins people’s hearts is the same. The compass, carpenter’s square, set square, and measuring cord are only tools of the craft, not the craft itself. Shi Wen’s zither playing illustrates this perfectly.

Laozi says: The workings of Heaven and Earth take De (Virtue/Power) as their root. The Dao (the Way) gives each thing its allotted share, and all things are thereby able to set themselves in order. The Dao is exceedingly subtle and deeply hidden; it does not prize external things. Thus it is not established through achievements, exalted by rank, made manifest through fame, adorned with ritual to appear solemn, or shown to be powerful through force. Once the Dao is established, it does not impose instruction. Its brightness shines throughout all things without scrutinizing every detail. It does not impose instruction because it does not take away people’s own capacities; its light shines everywhere without scrutiny because it does not obstruct the natural course of things.

In ancient times, people were simple and their customs alike, so there was no need to instruct them specially. Later, as social ways became shallow and customs diverged, the sages worried that the Dao would no longer be clearly evident, and so they established teachings. The Dao of Heaven and Earth takes De as its root. The Dao gives each thing its allotted share, and all things set themselves in order—this happens naturally. Why, then, should the sages trouble themselves to intervene?

If teachings fail to make the Dao clear and instead establish a separate set of doctrines, they go against De and obstruct the myriad things. Yin-Yang, the four seasons, and Wood, Metal, Water, Fire, and Earth all follow the same Dao at their root, yet each has its own distinct pattern of operation. The underlying principles of all things are connected, while their forms differ. What one understands need not be passed from person to person, and one cannot directly give another person one’s own abilities. Therefore, the sages established laws to guide the people’s hearts, so that each person could follow their own nature.

In this way, things grow without anyone bestowing a favor on them; things die without anyone bearing resentment. Heaven and Earth show no favoritism: they regard all things as straw dogs used in a sacrifice and discarded afterward. The sages, too, show no partiality, regarding the people as such straw dogs. Ideas such as compassion and benevolence belong to a narrow outlook, confined to what is near at hand. With a narrow outlook, one loses one’s way upon entering a vast expanse; focused only on what is before one, one becomes confused when traveling far. The sages’ Dao enters the vast expanse without losing its way and reaches distant places without confusion. It constantly abides in emptiness and stillness, attaining the highest realm. This is called “Heavenly De”—the De that accords with the natural order of Heaven and Earth.

In ancient times, people were taught through the Dao; today, they are taught through self-interest. This is why the Dao is difficult to put into practice. The sages establish laws to guide the people, so that each person may rest in their natural place: what is meant to live grows naturally, and what is meant to die dies naturally. What favor or resentment could there be in this?

Laozi says: The sages are like Heaven covering the Earth and Earth bearing all things, like the sun and moon shining upon all things. They establish laws to guide the people, so that each person may rest in their natural place: what is meant to live grows naturally, and what is meant to die dies naturally. What favor or resentment could there be in this?

Laozi says: The sage covers all things like Heaven and bears all things like Earth, shining upon them all like the sun and moon. The sage brings Yin-Yang into harmony and sets the four seasons in motion and change, embracing the myriad things without demanding that they be alike. The sage does not favor what is old or reject what is new, nor keep anyone at a distance or draw anyone especially close. In this way, the sage can model themself on the Dao of Heaven. Heaven does not move through only one season, Earth does not produce only one kind of resource, and people do not pursue only one kind of work. Thus, occupations fall into many categories, and actions take many directions.

Among those who wage war, some are quick and decisive, while others are steady and cautious; some are eager to take what they can, while others are honest and self restrained. These four temperaments differ, so they cannot all be held to the same demands. The quick wish to attack; the steady tend toward ending the fighting. The acquisitive want to seize things; the honest refuse to take what is not theirs. Thus, the bold can be ordered to charge into battle, but should not be assigned to hold a position; the steady can be tasked with holding a position, but should not be sent to launch an attack on the enemy; the acquisitive can be tasked with seizing an objective, but should not distribute the spoils; the honest can be tasked with keeping to their proper bounds, but should not be expected to pursue gains; and the trustworthy are suited to keeping agreements, but not to adapting swiftly to changing circumstances. The sage puts all five kinds of people to use, assigning each a role suited to their abilities.

Heaven and Earth do not encompass only one kind of thing, and Yin-Yang does not give rise to only one category. Thus, the sea does not reject the rainwater and streams that flow into it, and so becomes vast; the forests do not reject crooked and bent trees, and so grow tall and dense. The sage, too, does not reject the opinions of woodcutters, and so can broaden their reputation. If one clings to a single place and abandons all others, or accepts one kind of thing while discarding the rest, then one gains little and can govern only a narrow domain.

Heaven grants all things the same foundation, but each receives Qi (vital energy) differently, and its nature also varies according to its form and substance. Things change in countless ways, and cannot all be required to be alike. The sage follows the Dao of Heaven and models themself on the Great Dao, treating differences of region and custom not as barriers, but embracing, bearing, and nurturing all things as Heaven covers them and Earth supports them. In the end, all are treated equally.

Laozi says: The myriad things covered by Heaven, supported by Earth, and illuminated by the sun and moon have different forms and dispositions, each with a suitable place and way of life. A truly admirable way of governing does not treat differences of region and custom as barriers, but embraces, supports, and nurtures all things. In the end, all are treated equally.

Laozi says: Heaven covers all things, Earth bears all things, and the sun and moon shine upon all things. All things have different forms and dispositions, and each has a way of life suited to it. What people regard as a source of happiness may also become a cause of sorrow; what they consider secure may also bring danger.

So when the sage governs the people, he lets them follow their own dispositions and settle in places suited to them, take up appropriate work, use their strengths, and find a way of life that fits them. He arranges things according to each person’s needs. In this way, all things find their proper place, and none contend with one another for superiority.

Nothing in the world is inherently noble or base. If we honor something for the reason it is valued, then all things may be honored; if we disdain something for the reason it is despised, then all things may be disdained. Thus, “not elevating the worthy” means not placing fish in trees or sinking birds into deep water: each thing has its proper place, and none should be forced into another.

Those who govern the people well do not treat everyone by the same method, because people differ in form and disposition, and each has a different way of life suited to them. To force things into place instead is to lose the principle by which all things are nurtured.

Then, when Zhuang Zhou (Zhuangzi) speaks of the “Discourse on Making All Things Equal,” does he mean that all things should be made identical? To “make all things equal” means that each thing has its own principle. Heaven gives life to all things and nurtures each according to its capacities.

In ancient times, when Yao governed the world, Shun served as Minister of Instruction, an official responsible for education and civil administration, and Xie served as Minister of Instruction.

In the time when Yao governed the realm, Shun served as Minister of Instruction, overseeing education and civil affairs; Xie served as Minister of War; Yu served as Minister of Works, overseeing construction and the management of water and land; Hou Ji managed fields and farming; and Xi Zhong served as Master of Crafts, overseeing artisans and tools. They guided people toward livelihoods suited to the conditions of each region: those living by the water fished, those living in forests gathered woodland resources, those in valleys raised livestock, and those on the plains farmed. They matched the land to the work, the work to the tools, and the tools to the materials available locally.

People by marshes and waterways wove nets; those on hillsides and plains cultivated fields. In this way, people could exchange what they had for what they lacked, and what they did well for what they did poorly. Few turned away from society, and many were willing to follow its arrangements. It was like wind passing over mugwort: all things responded, each according to its own nature, whether clear or turbid. Every being moved toward what benefited it and avoided what harmed it.

Thus, neighboring states could see one another and hear the crowing of roosters and barking of dogs, yet no tracks passed between the feudal states, and no wheel ruts crossed even over a thousand li, because people lived contentedly where they were. A disordered state may appear crowded and powerful, while a well-governed state may seem sparse. A state on the verge of ruin may always seem short of goods, while one that endures may seem to have more than enough. “Sparse” does not mean there are no people, but that each person keeps to their proper work. “Crowded and powerful” does not mean the population is large, but that people are all chasing secondary pursuits. “More than enough” does not mean there are many goods, but that desires are restrained and affairs are few. “Short of goods” does not mean there are no goods, but that the population is small while expenses are great.

The laws established by the ancient kings were not invented from nothing; they followed the principles and circumstances already in place. Nor did they create prohibitions and punishments arbitrarily; they carefully upheld the standards that already existed. This is the way of governance that honors De (Virtue/Power).

The ancient rulers who governed the realm worked little and rested much, while their ministers labored diligently; the rulers governed through Wuwei (non-action). When Yao was on the throne, Shun served as Minister of Instruction, Xie as Minister of War, and Yu as Minister of Works. Each official fulfilled their duties and applied their strengths. When offices are entrusted to the right people, the people can live in peace and affairs can be accomplished. In the end, everyone feels that it all came about naturally.

Laozi says: Governing the world through the Dao (the Way) does not mean changing people’s nature. It means guiding them in accordance with the conditions they already possess, so that things can flow freely and reach their full potential. When we follow what is natural, things are easy to accomplish; when we force them, we only make them smaller and harder.

The ancients dug channels to carry water by following its course. They planted crops according to what the land was suited for. They waged war against their enemies in accordance with the people’s wishes. Those who can act with the prevailing circumstances will be invincible in the world. All things have their own natural patterns; only by following these patterns can human affairs be well governed.

For this reason, the sage kings of old established laws based on human nature, setting out rules and rites accordingly. Without the corresponding nature, people cannot be made to follow instruction; even when they have that nature, lacking the proper conditions, they cannot be made to follow the right path. People naturally have the foundations of benevolence and righteousness, but without guidance from sages, laws and standards are needed to help them find their way. The sage prohibits wrongdoing by drawing on what people themselves abhor. In this way, punishments need not be used excessively, and commands can be effective as if backed by divine power. When people’s nature is followed, the whole world will heed the ruler; when it is opposed, even strict laws are difficult to enforce.

The sage carries out instruction in accordance with human nature and governs society by observing its customs. What the people welcome, the sage also approves; what they abhor, the sage also forbids. When the people’s hearts are won, the ruler can be invincible in the world.

Dao and De are the foundation of merit and reputation, and what the people look to for guidance. When the people turn toward Dao and De, accomplishments and renown can take shape.

The rulers of ancient times who were skilled at governing followed the example of rivers and seas. Rivers and seas follow their natural course, and so attain great breadth. They dwell in low places, gathering all streams and becoming the valleys of the world. They do not act deliberately, yet can receive all the rivers; they do not actively seek, yet gain something; they do not set out with intent, yet reach their destination. Thus they can govern the world without disturbing the people.

A ruler does not regard himself as noble, and so becomes prosperous; he does not show himself off, and so becomes clear-sighted; he does not boast, and so endures. By remaining in a position of not possessing and not contending, he can become ruler of the world. When he does not contend, no one can contend with him. He never considers himself great, and so, in the end, achieves greatness.

Rivers and seas are close to the Dao, and so endure as long as Heaven and Earth. When lords and princes cultivate the Dao, they do not claim ownership of their achievements once the work is done. By not claiming ownership, they make their foundations firm. Though their foundations are firm, they do not use force to oppress others. The more deeply one understands the Dao, the more profound one’s De becomes; when De is profound, merit and reputation arise naturally. This is called “Mysterious De”—a deep and subtle virtue that is hard to fathom, seeming to run counter to what the world commonly values.

Dao and De are not tools for fishing for fame, yet fame follows in their wake. The rulers of ancient times who were skilled at governing upheld the De of Wuwei (non-action) and remained in a position of non-contention. Once their achievements were complete, they did not claim ownership of them, and so they could endure as long as Heaven and Earth.

Everything in the world has a beginning, yet no one knows the principle behind it. Only the sage can understand its cause. It is neither male nor female, neither father nor mother; it brings forth life without end and does not die. Heaven and Earth take shape from it, Yin-Yang emerges from it, and the myriad things grow from it. Thus Yin and Yang have roundness and squareness, shortness and length, existence and extinction. The Dao orders all these changes.

The Dao is deep and still, revealing no action. Within the heart it is subtle to the utmost and accords closely with principle. It regards life and death as governed by the same principle, bringing the transformations of the myriad things back to the One Great Dao. If you take life and death lightly and follow Wuwei (non-action), what could fail to endure? Put aside the turmoil of affairs and words, and follow Wuwei: the heart will grow subtle and still, and accord with the Dao. Hold firmly to the Dao in its entirety, yet do not rule over the myriad things. The Dao is supremely subtle and has no form.

Heaven and Earth began from the Dao. The myriad things move within the Dao, yet each has a different form. The Dao is so subtle that nothing can be seen; therefore, it encompasses all. It is so vast that it has no boundaries; therefore, it can be the root of the myriad things. It is also so subtle that it has no inner limit; therefore, the myriad things all hold it precious. The Dao preserves life, while De (Virtue/Power) steadies the body. To follow the standards of the utmost Dao, one must let go of likes and dislikes and judge without preconceptions. When the mind is at peace, it can accord with the Dao.

Heaven and Earth first return to the One, then divide into the two poles of Yin and Yang, and finally return to unity once more. Above and below each settle into their proper places; first there is unity, then differentiation into five kinds, and in the end all return to unity. This must accord with the established pattern. The Dao is most intimate and cannot be estranged; it is also nearest and cannot be far away. If you seek it in distant places, at the end of your journey you will still return to its side.

To know the root of antiquity is called grasping the guiding principle of the Dao. Is the Dao perhaps the beginning of everything under Heaven? It has no form, yet is vast without limit; it does not speak, yet is trustworthy. Its transformations have no fixed manner, and no one can understand their principle—only the sage can know it. Therefore, the sage responds to all kinds of affairs each day without violating the Dao; again and again, he returns to the Dao. This is what it means to grasp the guiding principle of the Dao.

Laozi says: Although those called “Emperors” held exalted titles, no one knows the particulars of how they governed the realm. Emperors prized virtue; kings upheld right conduct; overlords concerned themselves with practical affairs. The sages governed the myriad things without imposing action upon them. Only when affairs of state met with obstruction did they resort to strategy; only when the influence of virtue had grown weak did they use punishments; only when instruction failed to make matters clear did they rely on surveillance. Rule through strategy throws the people into confusion. Rule through punishment breeds resentment between rulers and subjects. Rule through surveillance becomes corrupt when people do not serve those above them through good conduct.

Therefore, the sages guided the people through the transformation of virtue in keeping with the changes of Heaven and Earth, like Heaven covering all things and Earth bearing them, and led the people in accordance with the seasons. In this way, the people received deep and generous care, and when that care was deep, the realm could be at peace. Even those endowed with divine insight and sage wisdom could not change this principle. Remove clever schemes, reduce punishments, and return to stillness and Wuwei (non-action); then the myriad things will naturally return to what is right.

When Heaven and Earth first opened and the myriad things began to grow, who were the ones called “Emperors”? In the era of the Three Sovereigns of high antiquity, the people were like infants: they breathed the harmonious, unified Qi (vital energy) between Heaven and Earth, without thought or deliberate action. In the era of the Three Sovereigns of early antiquity, the people were like toddlers: they held food in their mouths and patted their bellies, living in contentment without contrivance. In the era of the Three Sovereigns of later antiquity, the people had grown somewhat older. Their simplicity gradually faded, methods of the Dao began to be put into practice, and people took deliberate action. Fuxi, a legendary ancient ruler, taught people to cook food and eat grain, and the people of the realm drew close to him.

The Five Emperors prized virtue, and the people of the realm praised them. The Three Kings upheld right conduct, and the people feared them. The Five Overlords lost sight of what was proper, and the people looked down on them. The Mysterious Sage did not appear, so the Uncrowned King—a person with the virtue of a sage ruler but without the throne—set down teachings, established doctrines, and transmitted instruction, becoming a teacher for all ages. Even if a sage were to appear again, these teachings could not be changed.

Those who govern a state should be as solemn and still as the ancestral tablets, maintaining a quiet, far-reaching composure so that all the people under Heaven may receive its blessings. When one person receives a blessing, it is not excessive; when ten thousand receive blessings, it is not insufficient. Therefore, granting favors too lavishly and imposing punishments too freely both violate the right way.

A favor is improperly granted when rewards are handed out arbitrarily: someone without merit receives a generous reward, while someone without achievement is given a high rank. Then those who faithfully keep to their duties grow lax, while those who idle without responsibility hurry to seek promotion. A punishment is improperly imposed when people are put to death wantonly: even the innocent may die, while those who serve the public are punished. Then those who cultivate themselves and do good are no longer encouraged, while those who act wickedly dare to flout the law. Misplaced favors breed treachery; misplaced punishments bring disorder. A climate of treachery and disorder is a sign that a state is on the verge of ruin.

Therefore, when the state carries out punishments, the ruler should not act from personal anger. When the court grants rewards, the ruler should not regard them as private favors. Those who are punished do not resent it because the punishment matches the offense they committed. Those who are rewarded do not regard the ruler as their benefactor because the reward recognizes their achievements. When the people understand that punishment and reward alike follow from their own conduct, they will strive to earn merit and fulfill their duties without relying on others to show them favor. The court then need not leave behind a tangle of policies, while the fields are cultivated and thrive, with none lying waste. In this way, the finest pattern of governance from antiquity can be restored.

Spring brings forth the growth of all things, and autumn brings about their decline: this is the Dao (the Way) of Heaven. The ruler should model the governance of the state on the Dao of Heaven, making clear to officials which actions will be punished and which deserve encouragement. When reward and punishment alike depend on each person’s conduct, people will strive to earn merit and fulfill their duties without hoping for a lucky break. The court will be in order, the fields will be cultivated and thrive, and the finest pattern of governance from antiquity may be restored.

The kingly way—the right path of governing the world through benevolence and righteousness—lies in handling affairs through Wuwei (non-action) and in teaching without relying on elaborate words. The ruler remains still and self-possessed; each person devotes themselves to their own duties, without hoping for a lucky break. Then the court will be in order, the fields will be cultivated and thrive, and the finest pattern of governance from antiquity may be restored.

A ruler governing all under Heaven should take Wuwei (non-action) as his guiding principle. He does not personally intervene in every matter, but instructs through few words. His mind remains calm; he does not act rashly, and he holds firm to his position without wavering. He follows the circumstances inherent in things, gives his officials room to act, and assesses only their results, sparing himself needless labor. Thus his plans rarely go awry, and his work is free of error. He does not dress up his words or put on airs in his conduct. He advances and withdraws at the proper time, and both action and stillness accord with what is right. He neither favors nor detests things because of their beauty or ugliness, nor determines rewards and punishments according to his likes and dislikes. Each title has its own established meaning, and each thing belongs to its proper category. Affairs unfold according to their natural patterns, rather than being forced by the ruler’s personal will. If he tries to confine things too narrowly, he will only make them stray from their nature; if he tries to embellish them deliberately, he will only damage them.

The Qi (vital energy) of Heaven forms the hun, or ethereal soul; the Qi of Earth forms the po, or corporeal soul. If the hun and po return to the subtle, mysterious realm, each settled in its proper place and held fast without being lost, they can reach upward to Taichi (the Supreme One, understood in Daoism as the highest source or fundamental body of the Dao). The refined Qi of Taichi communicates and unites with Heaven. The Way of Heaven is silent and still, without fixed traces or standards. It is so vast that it cannot be exhausted, so deep that it cannot be fathomed, and it is always changing together with people and all things. Human wisdom cannot fully grasp it. Its movement has no fixed endpoint, and its transformations are wondrous and unfathomable. It is empty, still, and Wuwei, following nature; it habitually stays behind and does not contend to be first.

When hearing reports on affairs of state, the ruler should remain open-minded, restrain his own intentions, and stay clear-sighted rather than clouded. Then his ministers will gather to him like the spokes of a wheel converging at its hub, each presenting their views. Whether dull or clever, capable or mediocre, each will be able to put their strengths to use. In this way the ruler learns how to direct his ministers, and the ministers can fulfill their duty in serving him. This is why the governance of the state can be clear and well ordered.

A ruler who possesses all under Heaven need not worry that the state cannot be governed; what he should truly worry about is failing to find the right people. Once he has found capable people, he can govern from above through Wuwei, holding fast to the right Way without losing it, and connecting with Taichi. The state will then continue to move and transform wondrously, like the Way of Heaven, while the ministers work together, each contributing their abilities. From this we can see that the key to good or poor governance lies in the choice of people.

Laozi says: A knowledgeable person who enjoys seeking advice from others may be called wise; a courageous person who is willing to ask for advice will readily succeed in what they undertake. One who is skilled at gathering the wisdom of many can handle any task; one who is skilled at drawing on the strength of many can overcome any challenge. Even a warrior as formidable as Niao Huo is not enough to rely on alone. By aligning with the strength of the people and the circumstances, there is no resource under Heaven that cannot be put to use.

If one fails to judge the circumstances or follow the way things develop, even a divine sage cannot guarantee success. So when the sage undertakes a task, they appoint people according to their particular circumstances and strengths: someone with a notable achievement is placed in a fitting position; someone with a particular ability is entrusted with a suitable responsibility. When a person’s strength is sufficient for the task, it does not feel burdensome; when their ability matches the work, it poses no difficulty. The sage considers everyone’s circumstances and puts them to use accordingly, leaving no one idle and wasting no resources.

Wisdom, benevolence, and courage are virtues found throughout the world. A willingness to seek advice broadens one’s understanding. By gathering the wisdom of many and making use of their strength, there is no opponent under Heaven. Those with notable achievements hold fitting positions; those with particular abilities take on suitable responsibilities. The sage is skilled at making use of each person, so no talent is cast aside and no resource is wasted.

Laozi said: “Wuwei (non-action) does not mean that when someone beckons, you refuse to come; when someone pushes you, you refuse to move; when someone presses you, you do not respond; when something stirs you, you remain unmoved; that you stubbornly stand still and refuse to flow; or that you grip tightly and refuse to let go.

“Wuwei means that personal desires do not obstruct the impartial Way, and appetites and cravings do not interfere with sound principles. It means acting in accordance with how things work, building on the conditions at hand, following the natural course of events, and allowing no clever schemes or private distortions to intrude. When something is accomplished, you do not boast of yourself; when a task is completed, you do not claim its renown.

“It is like using water to travel by boat, sandy ground to walk across, muddy ground to ride in a carriage, or mountain paths to travel by sedan chair. In summer, river channels are cleared; in winter, embankments are built. Hills are formed where the land rises, and ponds gather water where it lies low. These are not things I force into being; they take shape by following the terrain and the conditions.

“The sage is not ashamed of holding a low position; what troubles him is that the Great Way cannot be put into practice. He does not worry that his own life may be short; what troubles him is that the people are mired in hardship. Therefore, he remains empty and still, does not act recklessly, holds fast to his unadorned nature, and does not become entangled with external things.

“Wuwei does not mean making the mind like wood or stone, unmoved by anything. The sage responds to the myriad things without acting ahead of them. He follows the natural tendencies of things, allowing each to find its proper place. What deliberate contrivance is there in this?”

Laozi said: In ancient times, emperors were established not to satisfy their personal desires. Sages ascended to the throne not to enjoy comfort and pleasure, but to serve the people under Heaven. Among the people, the strong oppressed the weak, the many bullied the few, the crafty deceived the dull-witted, and the brave harmed the timid. Some had knowledge but would not share it; others accumulated wealth but would not give any away. For this reason, the Son of Heaven was established to govern the world as one.

One person’s intelligence and ability could not attend to every part of the world, so the Three Dukes and Nine Ministers—senior officials who assisted the Son of Heaven—were appointed to help govern. Remote states and places with different customs could not receive the court’s benevolence, so feudal lords were appointed to instruct them. In this way, the effects of the movements of Heaven and Earth and the changing seasons could all be met with an appropriate response; the government had no affairs to conceal, and no benefit to the state was overlooked. People were thus provided with food and clothing, the elderly and vulnerable were cared for, the weary could rest, and all affairs could be properly arranged.

Were emperors the ones entrusted with the intentions of Heaven and Earth? The land is vast and its people numerous. Without a ruler to direct its governance, the strong would oppress the weak, the many would bully the few, and the clever and crafty would deceive the dull-witted; the people would have nowhere to live in peace. That is why the Son of Heaven was established and the Three Dukes appointed, as parents to the people, to comfort and nourish them. The Book of Changes says: “The ruler shapes the patterns of Heaven and Earth, assists their fitting transformations, and thereby guides the people.” From this, we can discern the intentions of Heaven and Earth.

Shennong labored for the people until his body grew haggard; Yao became emaciated; smoke from the cooking fires darkened Shun’s skin; and Yu the Great worked until thick calluses covered his legs. Yi Yin once carried a cooking cauldron on his back and prepared food. These worthy rulers and ministers of antiquity all personally labored for the people, comforting and nourishing them. The Book of Changes says: “The ruler shapes the patterns of Heaven and Earth, assists their fitting transformations, and thereby guides the people.” From this, we can discern the intentions of Heaven and Earth.

Shennong, the ancient ruler said to have taught people to farm and to have tasted the hundred herbs, looked haggard; Yao was thin; Shun was darkened by smoke; and Yu the Great had thick calluses all over his legs. Yi Yin carried a cauldron on his back to seek an audience with Tang of Shang. Lü Wang, known as Jiang Taigong, once butchered livestock with a knife before later assisting the Zhou dynasty. Baili Xi had been sold from one person to another, and Guan Zhong had been bound. Confucius traveled from place to place, with little smoke rising from his cooking stove, while Mozi was so busy that he had no time even to warm his seat. They did these things not out of greed for stipends or envy of high rank, but because they wanted to benefit all under Heaven and rid the people of harm. From the Son of Heaven down to ordinary people, no one has ever heard of anyone who, without physical exertion or careful thought, could accomplish their aims and live in abundance.

The ears, eyes, mouths, and noses of the ancient sages were the same as those of ordinary people; when hungry they ate, and when thirsty they drank, just as ordinary people did. What set them apart was their inner nature. They established standards for the people of their own time and for generations to come. Among those counted as sages, few failed to first toil in mind and will before achieving their great deeds; once their work was done, they did not claim the credit for themselves. That is why they became sages.

Laozi said: “A Son of Heaven is one who follows the Way of Heaven in governing all under Heaven. The foundation of governing all under Heaven lies in grasping the One as one’s support: returning to the origin, following what is natural, and not acting recklessly; remaining empty and still, without clinging to either being or nonbeing. The Great Way is elusive and boundless, stretching far into the distance without end. Look for it, and no form can be seen; listen for it, and no sound can be heard. This is called the classic principle of the Great Way.”

Heaven and Earth are humanity’s great parents. All beings endowed with blood and breath are born of Heaven and Earth. The ruler is their elder, nurturing the people on Heaven’s behalf; hence the title “Son of Heaven.” The Son of Heaven should care for the people as for newborn infants, never ceasing to provide for them and tend to them. In this way, Heaven’s seeing and hearing are expressed through the ruler’s De, and Heaven, Earth, and humanity respond to one another. This is the classic principle of the Great Way.

Laozi says: The Dao (the fundamental pattern underlying all things) is whole and rounded in its nature, yet operates according to the principle of squareness. It bears Yin Qi and embraces Yang Qi; it is gentle on the left and firm on the right, with darkness beneath its feet and brightness above its head. The Dao’s transformations have no fixed pattern. Those who grasp it can respond to circumstances as they arise—this is what is called the mysterious and wondrous. Heaven is round and without bounds, so its form cannot be seen; Earth is vast and limitless, so no one can investigate its borders. Heaven brings forth and nurtures all things without having a fixed form; Earth gives birth to and nourishes all things beyond measure.

Each thing has something in which it surpasses others. Only the Dao encompasses everything, and nothing can surpass it. The Dao is unmatched because it has no fixed form or direction. It moves in cycles without end, like the courses of the sun and moon, the turning of spring and autumn, and the alternation of day and night: each ending gives rise to a new beginning, and brightness turns once more to darkness. The Dao governs and shapes things that have form, while itself having no fixed shape; thus it can accomplish its work. It brings forth all things without being constrained by them, and so can take the leading place without being overcome.

The Dao brings forth Heaven and Earth, and Heaven and Earth bring forth humankind, just as ancestors give birth to fathers, and fathers in turn to children. Qi (vital energy) and Shen (spirit) respond to one another and transform, giving rise to myriad things of different forms, yet their source still returns to the Dao. The Dao has no form, while the human body does. That which can govern form is itself formless; that which can command all things is itself not commanded by them. Perhaps this is what is meant by the mysterious and wondrous?

Those who win the allegiance of all under Heaven by planning for war in the ancestral temple are called emperors; those who transform all under Heaven through marvelous instruction are called kings. “Temple strategy” means modeling oneself on the Way of Heaven, devising a plan for victory before war begins. “Marvelous transformation” means discerning the changes of the four seasons, putting affairs of state in good order within one’s domain, and moving people in distant lands through the memory of one’s Virtue until they come to submit. In this way, one secures victory before battle and brings the feudal lords to submission.

In ancient times, those who had attained the Way modeled themselves on Heaven and Earth when at rest, and followed the courses of the sun and moon when in action. Their shifts of joy and anger followed the four seasons; their commands carried the authority of thunder; their voices and breath did not run counter to the influences of the eight directions; and their bending and extending, advancing and withdrawing, never departed from the five measures. They followed the people’s wishes, drew on the people’s strength, and rid them of tyranny and harm. Those who shared interests were willing to sacrifice for one another; those whose feelings were in accord helped one another flourish; those who shared a purpose supported one another. If people act only according to their own desires, all under Heaven becomes a place of strife. Thus, skilled commanders can win people’s willing service; the unskilled can only treat people as tools to do their bidding. If people serve willingly, there is no one under Heaven who cannot be united with or put to use. If they are treated only as tools, no one is truly of use.

When the light of the sun or moon is obscured, a solar or lunar eclipse follows; when Yin and Yang lose harmony, war breaks out. Once war begins, all things must suffer harm. “Temple strategy” means that an emperor rules without taking up arms, governing with his robes hanging loose, and thereby brings peace to all under Heaven. “Marvelous transformation” means that a king halts punitive campaigns and puts the military in order, thereby bringing the Miao people to submission. If Jie had cultivated his Virtue, how could the battles of Muye and Mingtiao have taken place? And why would it have been necessary to follow the people’s wishes and draw on their strength to overthrow their ruler? It was because the people all hoped for Jie’s downfall that the text does not say “killing the ruler,” but instead says “ridding them of tyranny and eliminating harm.” How lamentable.

End of juan eight of The Commentary and Meaning of the True Writings of Penetrating Mystery.

Laozi said: In cultivating oneself, the finest approach is to nourish the spirit; only after that comes the care of the body. When the spirit is clear and the mind at peace, every joint in the body rests in harmony. This is the root of health cultivation. Filling out the flesh and filling the belly, while indulging one’s appetites and desires, belong only to its lesser details.

In governing the state, the finest approach is to nourish the people’s hearts through instruction; only after that comes the correction of laws and regulations. The people yield to one another, striving to take the lower position. They compete to take less of the wealth and benefits, and to shoulder the burdensome tasks. Each day, the people are transformed by those above them and gradually turn toward goodness, without knowing why. This is the root of governance. Encouraging good conduct with benefits and rewards, and making the people fear punishment so they dare not do wrong: when the laws above are strict and the people below obey, this is only the lesser detail of governance. In ancient times, people valued the root; later generations, by contrast, busied themselves with the lesser details.

What is called “lower De” is clinging to a particular form of virtue. The finest approach is to nourish the spirit; this is the root of self-cultivation. Next comes care of the body; this is its lesser detail. The finest approach to governing the state is to guide the people through instruction; this is the root of governance. Next comes the correction of laws and regulations; this is its lesser detail. As later generations gradually declined, they came to focus ever more on these lesser details.

Laozi said: Rulers capable of governing all under Heaven well are not found in every age, and ministers able to assist such rulers are rarer still. To seek a minister of extraordinary worth under a ruler who appears only once in a great while is why sound governance throughout the realm may not be seen even once in a thousand years. Achieving the work of a hegemon is not something that can be done at any time, either. Follow the people’s inclination toward goodness and prevent wicked thoughts from taking root. When ruler and people follow the same right path, the people can turn toward goodness and customs can become pure and refined.

The worth of a sage lies not in laying down punishments only after crimes have been committed, but in recognizing where disorder first takes shape. If people are allowed to compete for power and ability, and left to stray into crooked and unrestrained ways, then handing matters over to the law and imposing punishments only after trouble has arisen cannot put an end to wrongdoing, even if it brings suffering upon all under Heaven.

It is rare for a wise ruler and a capable minister to meet, perhaps once in a thousand years. A wise ruler does not appear in every age, and a worthy minister is rarer still. Such a ruler and minister have seldom come together: since the time of Tang Yao and Yu Shun, few pairings have been as remarkable as King Tang of Shang with Yi Yin, or King Wen of Zhou with Lü Wang. Duke Huan of Qi, too, was fortunate to have Guan Zhong as his aide. Thus, days of peace under Heaven are few, while days of turmoil are many. Perhaps this is because there are few noble people and many petty ones.

Laozi said: To live among rivers and lakes, far from court and among the common people, yet keep one’s heart attached to the lofty gates of the palace—that is to value life. One who values life will think less of fame and profit. If you still cannot restrain yourself, follow your own inclination so that your spirit is not harmed. To know that you cannot restrain yourself, yet force yourself to suppress what you want to do, is called “severe injury”—inflicting still deeper harm on body and mind. Those who suffer such injury will find it difficult to live long. Thus, knowing how to harmonize is called “constancy”; knowing the constant Way is called “illumination.” Trying to prolong life by accumulation instead brings calamity, while letting one’s inclinations drive the breath is an act of force. In this way one can attain “mysterious unity,” accord with the deep and obscure Dao. Use your own light, then return to inner clarity.

People may choose between serving in office and living in retirement, but the Dao has no distinction between bending and extending, advancing and withdrawing. Even if one lives among rivers and lakes, one may still keep one’s heart bound to the court, just as one may live in the fields and still remain mindful of all under Heaven. Thus, a person of the Dao follows it in retirement and follows it while serving in office. When the time is right to stop, one stops; when the time is right to act, one acts. This is called “mysterious unity.”

Laozi said: “There is nothing in the world easier than doing good, and nothing harder than doing evil.” Doing good is easy because it means being quiet and practicing Wuwei (non-action), following what is reasonable, giving up excessive desires, and not being tempted by external things. It means following one’s nature and preserving one’s true nature, without changing oneself in response to shifts in the outside world. That is why doing good is easy. Doing evil is hard because seizing power, committing murder, acting arrogantly, indulging in sexual excess, and being impatient and greedy are all contrary to human nature. That is why doing evil is hard.

People today suffer great calamities because their desires have no limits and they lack restraint. So when benefits and harms are entangled, or fortune turns into misfortune, we must discern the situation carefully. The sage neither covets nor deliberately avoids things. The more some things are sought, the more likely they are to be lost; the more others are avoided, the more likely they are to be encountered. Once the mind becomes fixed on what it desires, it forgets what it originally intended to do. Therefore, the sage observes the changes between movement and stillness, keeps the right measure in giving and receiving, regulates feelings of liking and dislike, and balances the intensity of joy and anger. When movement and stillness are handled properly, calamity will not intrude. When giving and receiving are kept in due measure, blame will not attach. When likes and dislikes are regulated, worry will not draw near. When joy and anger are balanced, resentment will not arise.

Good and evil take different forms, yet both arise from the heart. There is nothing in the world easier than doing good, and nothing harder than doing evil. The arrival of misfortune and fortune is hard to predict: what one hopes to gain may instead be lost, and what one hopes to avoid may instead be encountered. Therefore, the sage observes the changes between movement and stillness and balances the intensity of joy and anger. In this way, one can act in accord with the good Way. What is there to worry about or resent?

Those who realize the Great Dao do not opportunistically seek profit, nor do they deliberately shirk misfortune. Therefore, the sage observes the changes between movement and stillness and balances the intensity of joy and anger. In this way, one can act in accord with the good Way. What is there to worry about or resent?

Those who understand the Great Dao do not covet what they have no right to obtain, nor do they evade responsibility when misfortune approaches. They do not lightly abandon what they ought to preserve, and they do not forcibly claim what is not theirs. They are often inwardly fulfilled without becoming complacent. By remaining humble and tranquil, they find contentment more readily. So they follow the methods of the Dao, knowing how to measure and restrain themselves: they eat only to satisfy their hunger and dress only to ward off the cold, enough to warm and sustain their seven-foot bodies. Those who know no such methods and exercise no restraint may possess a high position—even rule a great state with ten thousand chariots—yet still feel no joy. They may possess all the world’s wealth and still feel unsatisfied. The sage, therefore, is even-tempered and modest in ambition, keeping the spirit within and remaining undeluded by external things.

There are methods for cultivating oneself and principles for conducting oneself in the world. Those who understand the Great Dao preserve the constant way bestowed by nature and accept their allotted place and duties. They eat only to ease hunger and wear clothes only to ward off cold. They do not covet what they obtain, nor lightly cast aside what they already have. When misfortune comes, they do not insist on escaping it; when good fortune comes, they do not grasp at it. In success they are not arrogant, and in hardship they do not abandon their principles. They rest in their natural nature and remain in harmony with the Dao over time.

Laozi said, “To overcome others shows strength; to overcome oneself is true power.” To exercise power, one must rely on the strength of others; to make use of their strength, one must win their hearts; and to win their hearts, one must first be settled and self-sufficient. There has never been anyone who was settled within yet lost the people’s hearts, nor anyone who had lost their own foundation yet won the people’s hearts. Thus, the foundation of governing a state is to bring stability to its people. The foundation of stabilizing the people is to ensure that their material needs are met. To ensure sufficient supplies, one must begin by not disrupting the agricultural seasons. To avoid disrupting the seasons, one must begin by reducing government business and corvée labor. To reduce these, one must begin by cutting expenses. To cut expenses, one must begin by eliminating arrogance and extravagance. And to eliminate arrogance and extravagance, one must begin by quieting the mind and emptying it of desires.

Those who understand the realities of life do not demand what life cannot possibly provide. Those who understand the realities of fate do not persist in probing what human effort cannot change. When the eyes crave the five colors, the mouth pursues delicacies, the ears are absorbed in the five tones, and the senses compete with one another, a person’s nature is harmed. Perverse desires grow ever stronger, exhausting the natural Qi of equanimity. If people cannot govern themselves, how can they govern the world?

If you want to surpass others, first overcome yourself. If you cannot overcome yourself, how could you possibly surpass others? Surpassing others shows strength; but if you seek to prevail over them through desire alone, you win only by force. To overcome yourself is true strength, because it means letting principle prevail over desire. When principle prevails, you win people’s hearts, and they freely contribute their strength. When desire prevails, you can only compel others to lend their strength, and their hearts will already have turned away. This is the difference between Heaven’s principle and human desire.

To “obtain All Under Heaven” does not mean occupying a position of power or holding an honored title. It means aligning with the hearts of the people under Heaven and gaining their strength. If you bear the title of ruler of All Under Heaven but no one praises you, then you have lost All Under Heaven. Thus, although Jie and Zhou held the royal office and its exalted titles, they did not win the people’s hearts. Tang and Wu, though they overthrew them, cannot therefore be called usurpers who murdered their lords.

When the Son of Heaven follows the Dao, the realm’s defenses lie at its borders. When the Son of Heaven strays from the Dao, those defenses retreat to the feudal lords. When a feudal lord follows the Dao, his defenses lie at the borders of his domain; when he strays from the Dao, they shrink to the trusted attendants at his side. So do not rely on others’ inability to seize your realm. Rely instead on your De (Virtue/Power) to make the realm impossible to seize. If you take a path that leaves your realm open to seizure, hoping nonetheless to avoid usurpation and the killing of your lord, you will do nothing to preserve it.

Treat the people well, and they will uphold you as their ruler; abuse them, and they will regard you as an enemy. The sage can align with the hearts of the people under Heaven and gain their strength, and so bring order to the realm. As for Jie and Zhou, though they bore the title of rulers of All Under Heaven, not a single person praised them. That is why Tang and Wu refused to serve as their subjects. When the realm strays from the Dao and the feudal lords become its defenses, whose fault is that?

Laozi said: Those who are skilled at governing a state do not lightly alter its established institutions or casually change its longstanding customs. Anger goes against De (Virtue); weapons are instruments of ill omen, and conflict plunges people into disorder. To scheme in secret, act against De, and delight in using weapons to quell disorder only drives events toward deeper calamity. Unless one first brings calamity upon others, it is difficult to bring calamity upon oneself; therefore, it is better to restrain one’s sharpness, resolve disputes, dim one’s radiance, and mingle with the common world.

Most people wish to surpass others and dislike being inferior to them. The wish to surpass others gives rise to a competitive spirit; resentment at being outdone gives rise to grievance and conflict. Once grievance and conflict arise, the mind and spirit fall into disorder, and the breath no longer flows smoothly. Thus the sage kings of antiquity dispelled rivalry and resentment. When these did not arise, the mind was at peace and the breath flowed freely. Hence the saying: “If the worthy are not held up for esteem, the people will not compete to outdo one another.”

Rather than struggle over too little, it is better to yield some ground; this is the way to preserve both oneself and others. Anger goes against De, weapons are instruments of ill omen, and conflict brings disorder. To scheme in secret, act against De, and delight in wielding weapons to quell disorder only makes the situation more chaotic. Wenzi, a Daoist figure, passed these words on to Fan Li, a minister of Yue. When Yue was preparing to attack Wu, Fan Li cited them in his remonstrance. Goujian did not heed him and was defeated at Fujiao. From this we can see that anyone who seeks to bring disaster upon others will ultimately bring disaster upon himself as well. Would a wise person be willing to do such a thing?

Laozi says: To govern things, one must not rely solely on manipulating them, but bring them into harmony. To govern harmonious relationships, one cannot rely on harmony alone; one must also take people’s circumstances into account. To govern people, one cannot rely on people’s strength alone; the ruler must also guide them. To govern the ruler, one must first restrain his desires. To govern desire, one must follow human nature. To guide human nature, one must use De (Virtue/Power). To govern De, one must follow the Dao (the Way).

Use the Dao to understand human nature, so that it is not affected by evil and corruption. When people remain immersed in worldly affairs for a long time, they forget that they are human, and also forget these principles: that the ruler must govern desire, desire must accord with nature, nature must be guided by De, and De must follow the Dao. If one can understand human nature through the Dao and keep it free from evil and corruption, then by observing all things over time, one can forget artificial distinctions, return to what is genuine, and accord with one’s nature. Clothing, food, ritual, and customs are not part of human nature; they are acquired from the outside. Human nature originally seeks peace and balance, but is harmed by appetites and desires. Only a person who has the Dao can cast off the burdens of external things and return to the self. If one takes oneself as a mirror, one will not lose sight of the true state of things; without a means of self-examination, any action can easily lead to confusion and disorder.

Indulging desire causes one to lose one’s nature, making it difficult to act rightly. Seeking a livelihood in this way harms oneself; governing a state in this way corrupts its customs. Therefore, those who do not understand the Dao cannot return to their nature.

Nature and desire are distinct from the outset. This is true of everyone, and especially of rulers. To govern things not by forcibly manipulating them but by bringing them into harmony, one must first understand one’s own nature; only then can one understand the nature of all things. When one understands the nature of all things, one can assist Heaven and Earth in nurturing and transforming them, and join Heaven and Earth in bringing creation to completion.

The sages of antiquity could establish the foundation through self-cultivation, and so their commands could be carried out and their prohibitions observed. Whenever one undertakes something, one must first bring the mind to peace and balance; this is especially true of rulers. To govern things not by forcibly manipulating them but by bringing them into harmony, one must first understand one’s own nature; only then can one understand the nature of all things. When one understands the nature of all things, one can assist Heaven and Earth in nurturing and transforming them, and join Heaven and Earth in bringing creation to completion.

The sages of antiquity drew their foundation from self-cultivation. Once they issued an order, people followed it; whatever they prohibited, people refrained from doing. Before undertaking any task, they first quieted the mind and clarified the spirit. Only with a clear spirit and a calm mind can one judge things correctly. If one heeds false praise or slander, and lets the eyes be dazzled by vivid colors, it becomes difficult to handle matters well. What matters, then, is to preserve emptiness and stillness, keeping the mind undisturbed by external things.

When water is struck violently, waves rise on its surface; when the breath is disordered, the mind grows clouded. A clouded mind cannot judge fairly, just as a rippling surface cannot remain still. Thus the sage king holds fast to the One—the fundamental, undivided principle—and uses it to bring order to the circumstances and nature of all things. The One is supremely precious; nothing under Heaven can rival it. The sage king relies on the Way of emptiness and stillness, without bias or attachment, and so becomes a model for all under Heaven.

In ancient times, those who sought learning first cultivated themselves. Only after establishing themselves did they put into practice the way of helping others. The sage draws his foundation from self-cultivation; his body and mind are therefore clear, enabling him to perceive what lies far away. He also understands the circumstances and nature of all things, and so his directives can be carried out throughout the world.

When Yin and Yang change and harmonize, all things come into being; they all rely on the same primordial Qi. When those above and below are divided in purpose, the Qi of Yin and Yang rises and churns. When ruler and ministers are at odds, the five grains cannot ripen abundantly. Spring turns deadly and autumn flourishes; thunder comes in winter and frost falls in summer. Such anomalies are caused by going against and disrupting the primordial Qi.

The space between Heaven and Earth is like a person’s body; within the Six Directions—above, below, and the four quarters—is like a person’s form. Thus, one who understands their own nature is not compelled by changes in Heaven and Earth, and one who clearly recognizes the signs of things is not bewildered by strange phenomena. The sage infers the distant from what is near and sees the myriad differences as fundamentally one. When the primordial Qi between Heaven and Earth flows in harmony, the people do not harm or oppress one another, even without the establishment of ritual, righteousness, integrity, and a sense of shame. This is because they remain in a state of undivided simplicity.

Later, integrity and a sense of shame gradually declined, and the ways of the world declined with them. People’s desires multiplied while goods grew scarce. Labor became heavy, yet provisions remained insufficient. The people fell into poverty and distress, and resentment and strife arose. Only then was benevolence exalted. People’s intentions diverged; they formed factions for private gain, each favoring their own, and harbored cunning and deceit. Only then was righteousness exalted. Men and women mingled without distinction. Only then was ritual exalted. People’s dispositions and desires ran unchecked, pressing upon one another, often out of sheer necessity; relations consequently fell into discord. Only then was music exalted. Benevolence, righteousness, ritual, and music are remedies for a decaying world. They are not the fundamental principles that connect Heaven and Earth and bring natural order to all under Heaven.

Heaven and Earth are like a single body, and all under Heaven share one Qi. Through the changes of Yin and Yang, all things are shaped and formed; they all depend on the same primordial Qi to come into being. The sage cherishes and nurtures the people, treating them as one family, and so peace can prevail throughout the world. When desires are excessive and goods insufficient, and labor is heavy while provisions fall short, the people sink into poverty and distress, and resentment and strife follow. This is no way to connect all under Heaven and bring order to society.

If the spirits of all the people under Heaven can truly be brought to rest, and their hearts returned to their original state, the people’s nature will be good. When their nature is good, Yin-Yang in Heaven and Earth will accord with them and embrace them. Then goods will be plentiful and everyone will live in abundance, while thoughts of greed, baseness, anger, and strife will not arise. There will be no need to impose benevolence and righteousness deliberately; De (Virtue/Power) will be settled throughout the world, and the people will not become enthralled by brilliant colors.

Only after De has declined is it necessary to proclaim benevolence and righteousness. Only after harmony has been disrupted is it necessary to regulate sounds. Only after ritual has become ostentatious is it necessary to embellish one’s appearance. Thus, those who understand De know that benevolence and righteousness need not be deliberately put into practice; those who understand benevolence and righteousness know that ritual and music need not be deliberately embellished.

The sage understands this sincerely and returns people to their original nature; the people can then return to goodness. When their nature is good, Yin-Yang in Heaven and Earth will accord with them and embrace them. Goods will be plentiful and everyone will live in abundance; thoughts of greed and baseness will no longer arise, and anger and strife will subside. In this way, benevolence and righteousness need not be deliberately put into practice, and De can be settled throughout the world.

Laozi said: Quiet governance brings society to peace and stillness through gentle, harmonious means. It allows people to remain genuine and simple, natural and unadorned, at ease and calm rather than impatient. Inwardly, one accords with the Dao; outwardly, one acts in accordance with righteousness. One’s words are spare and follow sound reasoning; one’s actions are joyful and responsive to human feelings. One’s heart is peaceful and free of deceit, and one’s conduct is plain and unembellished. One does not plan in advance how things should begin or deliberately discuss how they should end. When things are settled, one rests; when stirred to action, one acts.

Such a person’s body and mind communicate with Heaven and Earth, their vital essence and Qi harmonize with Yin-Yang, and they move in accord with the four seasons. Clear as the sun and moon, they live in step with the transformations of the Dao. Craftiness, deception, and falsehood find no place in their heart. Heaven, therefore, covers all things with its De, and Earth bears all things in comfort. The four seasons proceed without losing their order; wind and rain bring no calamity; the sun and moon shine with clear, tranquil light; and the five planets follow their proper courses. This is the scene that appears when the way of quietude is manifest.

The sky is clear and bright, and the earth is still; therefore they can endure. The sage governs all under Heaven through the way of stillness and purity, taking Heaven and Earth as models. When the heart is clear, it can accord with the Dao (the Way); when body and mind are still, one can live in harmony with others. Thus, even without leaving the gates, the sage can bring education into effect.

Laozi said: In an age of peace, offices are easy to uphold, affairs are easy to manage, rites are easy to observe, and duties are easy to fulfill. One person therefore does not hold several offices, and one office does not oversee many kinds of affairs. Farmers, scholars, artisans, and merchants each have their own occupations, while villages and prefectures each have their own divisions of responsibility. Farmers discuss storing grain, scholars discuss conduct, artisans discuss their craft, and merchants discuss reckoning and trade. Thus scholars do not lose their integrity, artisans make no shoddy wares, farmers do not neglect their work, and merchants do not suffer losses from their goods. Everyone can rest content in their own nature. People differ in appearance and kind, yet each can do their work without conflict. Those who have lost their proper occupation are held in low regard, while those able to put their abilities to use are respected.

In ancient times, families served in the same office from generation to generation, and each office was responsible for only one kind of affair. Thus, in an age of peace, ministers’ duties were easy to uphold and affairs were easy to manage. Later, a system arose in which one person held several offices and many people jointly managed a single matter. Officials grew ever more numerous, clerks and paperwork ever more tangled, and orders came from multiple departments. The result was to obstruct government and undermine good rule.

Those who can discern things in advance and see far ahead possess exceptional intelligence. Yet in governing the state, what matters most is clearly defined duties and simple affairs. Thus, in an age of peace, ministers’ duties were easy to uphold and affairs were easy to manage. Later, a system arose in which officials held several posts and handled affairs jointly. Officials became increasingly superfluous, clerks and paperwork continued to multiply, and orders came from multiple departments, obstructing government and undermining good rule.

Those who can foresee the future and see far ahead have outstanding intelligence, but when governing a state, these abilities should not be made a standard for the people. Those with broad learning, powerful memories, and exceptional eloquence surpass ordinary people in knowledge and expression, yet a wise ruler does not expect every subject to be like them. Holding the world in contempt, caring little for external things, and refusing to follow common ways are noble and unbending qualities in a scholar, but they cannot serve as standards for educating the people.

Therefore, standards beyond ordinary reach should not be used to measure everyone, and conduct that ordinary people find difficult should not be demanded as the custom of an entire state. People should not be judged or employed according to a single standard, while the Daoist arts—the principles and methods of governing the world and cultivating oneself—can be passed down through generations. The laws of the state should be ones that ordinary people can obey, and the army’s actions should follow shared rules. There is no need to wait for outstanding figures from antiquity to appear: if people’s existing abilities are taken into account and each person’s strengths are put to use, the work can be done well.

The laws of a declining age often set standards too high for people to meet, impose responsibilities too heavy for them to bear, and make tasks so perilous that those who dare not take them on are then punished. Driven by these three kinds of harsh demands, the people pretend to be clever, deceive those above them, act against the proper way, and take reckless risks. Even severe laws and harsh punishments cannot stop them from committing wrongdoing. When beasts are driven into a corner, they charge; when birds are driven into a corner, they peck; when people are driven into a corner, they deceive. This is precisely the situation being described.

Intelligence should not surpass De (Virtue/Power), and words should not exceed deeds. Those who are intelligent and can foresee how things will unfold should not be expected to have these abilities by everyone when governing the world. Nor does a wise ruler demand that every subordinate have broad experience and eloquent speech. If one holds the world in contempt, insists on lofty conduct, and then imposes heavy, difficult standards on others, forcing them to do what lies beyond their abilities, how can one avoid driving them into a corner and causing them to turn to deception?

Laozi said: The sound of thunder can be imitated with bells and drums; the changes of wind and rain can be grasped through musical tones. Anything with a visible form, however large, can be measured. Whatever shines brightly and can be seen may be obscured. A sound that can be heard can be adjusted; a color that can be discerned can be distinguished.

Yet things of immense vastness cannot be contained even by Heaven and Earth, while things of extreme subtlety cannot be fully understood even by the spirits. Later, people established calendars, classified the five colors, distinguished clear from turbid, and tasted sweetness and bitterness. In doing so, they broke apart the originally whole and undivided Dao of uncarved simplicity, or “the Uncarved Block,” turning it into particular objects and things. They also established benevolence and righteousness and cultivated ritual and music, all of which could be arranged and regulated. But in this process, original Virtue shifted and changed, becoming artificial adornment. The people flaunted their cleverness to bewilder the foolish and devised deceptions to deal with those above them. Though people in the world tried to keep things in order, no one could truly govern it well. The more cleverness there was, the more Virtue declined. Therefore, the Perfected One, a person who has attained the Dao and profound Virtue, preserves unadulterated simplicity and does not let their nature become scattered.

The sage breaks apart the vast Dao of uncarved simplicity, takes Heaven and Earth as a model, and observes the signs of nature in order to make implements. Thunder and bells and drums, wind and rain and musical tones: all are created by taking forms from nature as models. As for the vastness of Heaven and Earth and the hidden subtlety of the spirits, there are, in the end, things that cannot be investigated completely. Only the Perfected One preserves unadulterated simplicity and does not let their nature become scattered; only such a person is fit to be a teacher for all generations.

Laozi says: The way in which a sage who has attained the Dao governs lies in emptiness, stillness, and serenity. He does not display things that might stir people’s greed. He lets mind and spirit settle and abide together, bringing the body into harmony with its nature. In stillness, he can grasp the root of things; in action, he can understand their principles. He follows the Way of Nature and acts only when there is no alternative. Through such Wuwei (non-action), the world is brought into harmony. When people are unassuming and free of desire, they naturally become simple and sincere; they do not struggle against one another, and material goods are plentiful. Those who give do not claim kindness as their own merit, and those who receive do not refuse. The benefit of De (Virtue/Power) thus returns to everyone, yet no one claims to be its benefactor.

An argument expressed without words, a Dao (the Way) set forth without speech: if someone can understand it, it is called the “Heavenly Treasury,” like a storehouse in which all things are held. One may draw from it without diminishing it, and draw nourishment from it without exhausting it. No one knows where it wells up from. This is called “Yaoguang,” a star in the Northern Dipper. Yaoguang is the provision that sustains all things.

The Northern Pole Star is the heaven’s honored ruler. It dwells at the center of the sky, with the stars circling around it. A sage who has attained the Dao models this way of governing the world: he keeps mind and spirit settled and does not act recklessly, and so the world is brought into harmony. Yaoguang lies at the handle of the Northern Dipper, sustaining all things as it turns leftward with the heavens, completing one circuit each day. The Northern Dipper does not directly bestow blessings and rewards, yet the people each obtain what they need to live. Shun observed the Xuanji, an ancient instrument for tracking celestial phenomena, to correct the movements of the Seven Regulators—the sun, moon, and five planets. Perhaps he understood the Way of Heaven.

Laozi says: Heaven cherishes its essence, Earth cherishes its evenness, and people cherish their own feelings and nature. Heaven’s essence is the sun, moon, and stars, along with thunder, lightning, wind, and rain. Earth’s evenness is embodied in the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, and Water). Human feelings and nature appear as reflection, intelligence, and emotions such as joy and anger.

Therefore, close the four gates—the openings of the senses and the activities of the mind, such as the eyes, ears, mouth, and heart—and set the five pathways in order, the channels through which the Five Phases move, so that body and mind accord with the Dao (the Way). Let Shen (spirit) dwell in the formless and let Jing and Qi (essence and vital energy) return to their original state. Let the eyes be bright without clinging to sight, the ears keen without clinging to sound, speech apt without speaking carelessly, and the mind clear without being led by thoughts. Follow what is natural and do not act recklessly; understand without boasting; preserve nature and life in their original condition. Then outward cleverness cannot harm you.

When Jing and Qi reside in the eyes, sight is clear; when they reside in the ears, hearing is keen; when they remain in the mouth, speech is apt; when they gather in the heart, thought is clear. Therefore, if you close these four gates, you will suffer few troubles throughout your life. When the limbs and nine apertures—the body’s openings, including the eyes, ears, nose, and mouth—are not swayed by the changes of life and death, this is called being a True Person. The earth gives birth to and nourishes material things, and their foundations lie entirely within the Five Phases. When sages regulate the movement of the Five Phases, governance does not fall into disorder.

People have five innate dispositions that correspond to Heaven; the five planets correspond to Earth. When the Five Phases and the five dispositions are set in motion, the seven emotions—joy, anger, sorrow, fear, love, aversion, and desire—come forth. How could people fail to cherish their own feelings and nature? Shen is stored in the heart, Jing in the kidneys, the hun soul in the liver, the po soul in the lungs, and intention in the spleen. The numinous spirit dwells in the formless. To be unbound by life and death is called being a True Person.

Laozi says: A scale weighs the goods on either side without favoring either in their weight, and so it can be fair. A carpenter’s line measures what is inside and outside without favoring either in its straightness or crookedness, and so it can determine what is true and proper. A ruler acts according to the laws without loving or hating anyone, and so the laws can be put into effect. There is no place for partiality in benevolence, and nowhere for resentment to hide. This is to follow the Great Dao and accord with the human heart. Therefore, those who govern a state should not interfere through their own cleverness.

When water surges against a boat, the boat breaks; when wood strikes a cart, its axle snaps. People do not blame the wood or the stone; they examine whether the boatman or driver used the proper skill. In this way, faults have nowhere to hide. This, too, is to follow the Great Dao and accord with the human heart. Therefore, those who govern a state should not interfere through their own cleverness. If they impose their own clever judgments, they cannot bear the Dao. When cleverness is mixed into the Dao, it becomes confused; when self-interest is mixed into De, it becomes precarious; when the mind clings to making distinctions, it becomes deluded. Once scales and measuring tools are set, they do not change. They remain consistent and impartial, and their standards can be applied without obstruction. Once established, they can be handed down for ten thousand generations. This is accomplishing things through Wuwei (non-action).

When people harbor selfish intentions, they invariably harm the Dao. When a ruler has no selfish intentions, the laws remain consistent and government orders can be carried out. Thus it is said: when self-interest is mixed into De, it becomes precarious; when the mind clings to making distinctions, it becomes deluded. Understand that once scales and measuring tools are set, they do not change, and you will see that holding to consistent standards without acting rashly is precisely what it means to “accomplish things through Wuwei.” Rulers of every age can follow this principle, and it can be handed down for ten thousand generations.

Laozi says: We often hear it said that a country may lose its ruler, but the world will never lose the Dao; people may find themselves in difficulty, yet the principles of things never become wholly unworkable. Thus Wuwei (non-action) is the foundation of the Dao. Once you grasp this foundation, you can respond to change without limit. If you fail to follow the patterns of things and act only on your own abilities, you will soon find yourself in difficulty.

A ruler can understand the world without leaving his gates because he knows things through their foundations and understands people through their actual circumstances. Therefore, when many people pool their strength to accomplish a task, no difficulty cannot be overcome; when they pool their wisdom, nothing cannot be achieved. An army of a thousand will not run out of provisions, and a community of ten thousand will not neglect its work. Craftspeople need not master one another’s different skills, and scholars need not hold several offices at once. Each keeps to their own duties without interfering with others. Everyone does what suits them, and everything finds its proper place. As a result, tools are not poorly made, and duties are not neglected.

When there are few tasks, they are easy to complete; when there are few duties, they are easy to uphold; when responsibilities are light, people can devote themselves to them. Those in higher positions bear duties that are simple and few, while those below complete tasks that are easy to accomplish. Thus ruler and subjects do not grow weary of one another.

Heaven did not become heaven by itself; some power brought it into being. Earth did not become earth by itself; some power brought it into being as well. What is this power at work? A country may lose its ruler, but the world will never lose the Dao.

Yi Yin went to serve Xia Jie five times, yet was never appointed. This was because he relied only on his own abilities and did not understand the principle of adapting to others. So Yi Yin stopped serving the Xia and turned instead to assist Tang of Shang. Could the Xia fail to fall, and could Tang of Shang fail to rise?

Laozi says: The emperor takes the Great One (Taiyi), the fundamental Dao that unites all things in the cosmos, as his guiding principle. The king models himself on the transformations of Yin-Yang; the hegemon follows the movements of the four seasons; and the ruler governs by means of the Six Pitch Standards, the ancient standards for tuning musical notes, also used to refer to the rules for administering affairs.

Those who take the Great One as their guiding principle can understand the conditions of Heaven and Earth and grasp the patterns of Dao and De. Their wisdom shines as brightly as the sun and moon, and their spirit communicates with all things. In movement and stillness alike, they follow Yin-Yang; their joy and anger accord with the rhythms of the seasons. They practice the Dao as Heaven and Earth shelter and nourish all things, giving universally without favoritism. No creature, whether flying or creeping, lives without depending on their De. Their beneficence reaches beyond the four quarters, and their reputation endures in later generations.

Those who model themselves on Yin-Yang can harmonize with the four seasons. Like Heaven and Earth, they shelter and nourish all things, giving universally without favoritism. No creature, whether flying or creeping, lives without depending on their De. Their beneficence reaches beyond the four quarters, and their reputation endures in later generations.

Those who follow the four seasons accord with the pattern of spring bringing forth life, summer fostering growth, autumn gathering the harvest, and winter storing away. They give and take in moderation, and keep expenditure and income within set bounds. Their joy and anger, firmness and gentleness, never go against what is right: they are gentle without being frail, firm without being forceful; generous without being indulgent, and stern without violating what is proper. They are mild and accommodating, nurturing living beings. Their De embraces the ignorant and the unworthy, without favoring either side.

Those who govern by means of the Six Pitch Standards understand how to nurture and punish, reward and penalize, give and take away. Without these means of governance, there is no way to put the right path into practice. They suppress rebellion and curb violence, while remaining mild and accommodating in nurturing living beings. Their De embraces the ignorant and the unworthy, without favoring either side. They punish disorder and forbid violence, promote the worthy and dismiss the unfit, set the crooked straight, level the difficult ground, and straighten what is bent. They understand when to give and take, when to open and close; by responding to the moment and acting according to the situation, they win the people’s willing obedience.

If an emperor fails to observe Yin-Yang, he will suffer harm; if a king fails to model himself on the four seasons, he will decline; if a hegemon fails to use the Six Pitch Standards, he will be humiliated; and if a ruler loses his guiding standard, he will be deposed. Thus, those of low rank who undertake great enterprises will become thwarted and isolated, unable to win others’ closeness; those of high rank who concern themselves only with small matters will appear narrow and be unable to accommodate the people.

Why is the title “Emperor” not used, while “Di,” “King,” “Hegemon,” and “Ruler” are used instead? This is to honor the “Emperor.” A Di speaks of De only after losing the Dao; a King speaks of benevolence only after losing De; a Hegemon speaks of righteousness only after losing benevolence; and a Ruler speaks of ritual only after losing righteousness. When the great principles are established, the lesser principles are already included within them. Once lesser principles are established on their own, the great principles are lost.

Laozi said: A vast territory and a large population are not enough to make a state strong. Strong armor and sharp weapons cannot guarantee victory. High walls and deep moats cannot ensure stability. Harsh punishments and severe laws cannot establish authority. When government policies accord with the Dao of long-term survival, even a small state can endure. When they depart from that Dao, even a powerful state will eventually perish. Thus, those skilled at defending cannot be overcome, and those skilled at warfare cannot be matched. They govern by following the times and the people’s wishes, and so are able to win all under Heaven.

Those skilled at governing a state continually accumulate De. Those skilled at using troops store up their anger. When De has grown abundant, the people can be put to use; when anger is held in reserve, authority can be established. The farther the civil influence of De extends, the wider the reach of the power that brings people into submission. The more widely De’s beneficence is spread, the broader the scope of the authority that can restrain them. When its reach is broad, one’s own strength grows while the enemy’s weakens. Those skilled at warfare first put the enemy at a disadvantage, then engage in battle. Thus, they spend less than half as much while achieving ten times the effect.

A state with a thousand war chariots can become a kingly power if it practices civil virtue. A great state with ten thousand war chariots will eventually perish if it delights in warfare. An army that accords with the Way of kingship first secures the conditions for victory, then goes to war. An army doomed to defeat rushes into battle first and only afterward seeks a way to win. This is a failure to understand the Way.

Through civil virtue, even a small state can endure; through a passion for warfare, even a great state will perish. Those skilled at governing a state accumulate De; those skilled at using troops store up their anger. Only those who understand that the foundation of warfare is to quell disorder and then seek victory can be said to understand the Dao.

Those who promote civil virtue should persevere even when their strength is slight. Those who delight in deploying military force, however powerful they may be, will ultimately meet with ruin. Those skilled in governing a state continually accumulate De (Virtue/Power); those skilled in warfare, by contrast, accumulate anger. Only by understanding that the root purpose of military force is to quell disorder, not to create it, can the people be spared harm and the state endure in peace.

End of Volume Nine of Commentary on the Meaning of the True Writings of the Mysterious Way.

Note on textual variants: The text lists variant readings among editions and the grounds for emendations. For example, in “Those who practice civil virtue,” the character cun is written as gong in the Juzhen edition; in “Those who delight in using military force,” the character li has been changed to chu on the basis of the Juzhen edition. The remaining entries likewise record differences in wording among editions and characters or phrases added, removed, or altered on the basis of the Juzhen edition.

Laozi says: A gentleman’s way of conducting himself is to cultivate himself through quietude and preserve body and mind through frugality. When those who govern are quiet, the people below them are not disturbed; when those who govern are frugal, the people do not harbor resentment. If the people below are disturbed, affairs of state fall into disorder; if the people harbor resentment, the ruler’s Virtue grows weak. When affairs of state are disordered, worthy and capable people will not be willing to advise the ruler; when his Virtue is weak, brave warriors will not be willing to fight for him.

A deluded and chaotic ruler acts otherwise. With the wealth of the state and the power of the throne at his disposal, he exhausts the people’s strength to gratify his eyes and ears. He devotes himself to building palaces and towers, gardens and ponds, and collecting rare beasts and birds. While the people are poor and hungry, tigers, wolves, and other fierce animals feast on fine meat; while the people suffer from cold, palaces are decked with luxurious silks. When a ruler keeps such useless things, the people throughout the realm cannot live in peace.

A ruler of profound benevolence and Virtue remains quiet and self-contained, and uses frugality to care for the people. This is what a gentleman ought to do. Disturbing the people throws the affairs of state into disorder; inciting resentment weakens Virtue. A gentleman does not act this way. How could one damage what is beneficial for the sake of what brings no benefit, or nurture useless things at the expense of what is useful?

Laozi says: If the mind is not free of desire, Virtue cannot be brought to light; if the heart is not tranquil, one cannot attain far-reaching aims; if one’s outlook is not broad, one cannot make sound judgments. A ruler should gather the eyes of all under Heaven to observe, the ears of all under Heaven to listen, and the wisdom of all under Heaven to deliberate; he should draw on the strength of all under Heaven to get things done. In this way, his commands can reach the local level, the true state of affairs among his officials can be reported upward, and every official can fulfill their duties. The ministers, too, will gather around the ruler like the spokes of a wheel meeting at its hub.

A ruler does not grant rewards at will out of personal pleasure, nor impose punishment at will out of personal anger. Laws and ordinances can urge people to comply without being harsh; the ruler’s eyes and ears can reach in every direction without being deceived. The facts about good and evil, right and wrong, are reported before him each day, and he does not reject them. Then the worthy and capable can fully exercise their wisdom, while those less capable can still do their utmost; those close to the ruler are content in their positions, and those far away cherish his kindness. This is the way to make good use of people.

A calm and detached state of mind, together with treating others generously and fairly, is the foundation of benevolent government. The way to employ people is to use the eyes and ears of all under Heaven, so that one can see and hear more widely; to bring together everyone’s wisdom and strength in planning, so that one’s undertaking can grow. In this way, the worthy and capable contribute their wisdom, while ordinary people also do their utmost. Those nearby are grateful for the ruler’s kindness, and those far away admire his virtue. This is why the Xia, Shang, and Zhou dynasties were able to maintain their rule for so long, while later generations could not equal them.

A person riding in a carriage need not walk to reach a thousand li away; a person traveling by boat need not wade through the water to cross rivers and seas. The same principle applies to employing people. If someone speaks wisely, then even if that person is merely a merchant, a grass cutter, or someone holding an umbrella, their advice should not be rejected for that reason. If what they say is unsound, then even if they are a ruler or a high minister, it should not be accepted. Right and wrong must not be judged by a person’s rank or status. If a plan is useful, it should not be dismissed because its proposer is low in status; if a recommendation is practicable, it should not be scorned because the speaker lacks eloquence.

Foolish rulers do not act this way. They refuse to employ their ministers, with the result that few of them can serve with wholehearted loyalty. Those they know and favor are often crooked, while the worthy go undiscovered. Even when people of low rank and little standing devote themselves to loyal service, their views never reach the ruler’s ears. When someone offers an opinion, the ruler uses words to cross-examine and confound them; when someone remonstrates, the ruler punishes them on some charge. To hope in this way to bring peace to the realm and preserve the four quarters is to stray far from the way of governing through broad consultation.

The transforming power of nature lends something to me, and only then do I possess it; when it takes it back, I lose it. Knowing how to draw on external things is immensely useful. Carriages and horses carry people along; boats help them cross water. They enable people to travel a thousand li without exertion because people draw on their power. A ruler relies on ministers to govern the state, and ministers rely on the ruler to fulfill their ambitions. If they do not understand how to help one another, the ruler will be left isolated and without support. Only a wise ruler can truly understand and put to use this principle of mutual reliance.

Laozi said: “Those who know how to cherish life will not indulge in pleasure at the cost of their bodies, even when they are wealthy and honored; even when poor and lowly, they will not burden themselves for the sake of gain. If one now holds a noble title inherited from one’s ancestors, one should cherish it all the more. Life has come down to us from a distant past; to lose it carelessly would be foolish, would it not? Only someone who governs the world as carefully as they cherish their own life can be entrusted with it. Only someone who cares for the world as they care for themselves can be given the weighty responsibility of governing it.”

Nothing matters more to a person than life, so life should be cherished. To cherish life is to avoid the harms that arise when appetites and desires injure the body and endanger one’s life. People receive the blessings passed down by their parents and ancestors, yet fail to preserve themselves. Instead, they greedily seek sustenance and pleasure, bringing about death and the ruin of their families. This is all the more foolish.

Wenzi asked about the foundation of governing a state. Laozi replied: “The foundation lies in governing oneself well. I have never heard of a state falling into disorder when its ruler has put himself in order, or of a state being well governed when its ruler is in disorder.” Thus, cultivate yourself, and your De (Virtue/Power) can become genuine. The Dao (the Way) is so subtle because a father cannot teach it to his son, nor can a son acquire it simply through his father’s instruction. Hence the saying: “A Dao that can be spoken is not the constant Dao; a name that can be named is not the constant name.”

The foundation of the state lies in the family, and the foundation of the family lies in oneself. When Wenzi asked about the foundation of governing a state, Laozi replied that it lay in putting oneself in order. In other words, only after oneself is put in order can the family be settled; only after the family is settled can the state be well governed. Oneself is like a state, and a state is like oneself. The Classic of Poetry says: “Taking an axe handle to cut an axe handle—the proper pattern is right before you.” This means that governing others can begin with the nearby standard of oneself.

Wenzi asked: “What should be done so that the people will feel close to their ruler?” Laozi replied: “Make demands on the people in accordance with the seasons of farming.” In this way, the family can be settled; only after the family is settled can the state be well governed. Oneself is like a state, and a state is like oneself. The Classic of Poetry says: “Taking an axe handle to cut an axe handle—the proper pattern is right before you.” This means that governing the state can begin close at hand, by putting oneself in order and bringing stability to the family.

How should a ruler act so that the people feel close to him? Wenzi asked Laozi for guidance. Laozi replied: “Put the people to work at the proper times, and act with reverence and care, as cautiously as if standing at the edge of an abyss or treading on thin ice. Among the people of the realm, treat with kindness and care those who do good; those who do evil will become enemies. In the past, the people of the Shang and Xia dynasties turned away from Jie and Zhou and rallied to Tang and Wu. The people of the Shusha clan attacked their own ruler and joined Shennong. Thus, the power that the people hold in awe is something a ruler must also hold in awe.”

Shun acted with virtue, and people throughout the realm looked up to him. When Wenzi asked how a ruler could make the people feel close to him, Laozi said that the people should be put to work at the proper times and matters handled with reverence and care. Treat the people well, and they will rally to you; treat them harshly, and they will become your enemies. If a ruler treats his subjects like dogs and horses, they will regard him as an enemy in turn. The people can both support a ruler and overthrow him; this is what a ruler must fear.

Laozi said: “The larger the realm under your governance, the less you should confine the principles of ruling to trivial matters. The broader the territory, the less narrow your institutions and measures should be. The higher your position, the less complicated the handling of public affairs should be. The greater the population, the less harsh your instruction should be. Complicated affairs are difficult to govern; harsh laws are difficult to enforce; excessive demands are difficult to meet.

“Measure in inches, and when you reach ten feet, errors are likely. Weigh in zhu, a very small ancient unit, and when you reach a shi, a much larger unit of weight, the result is likely to be inaccurate. Measuring length directly in feet and weight in shi is simpler and less prone to error. Grasping the broad principles makes wisdom easy to see; getting caught up in minor details is hardly wise. Therefore, the sage does not do what brings no benefit to governance but instead encourages disorder. The wise person does not do what serves no practical purpose but only adds to the expense.

“Achievement need not be grand, government need not be elaborate, and one need not seek much. Clear aims are easy to accomplish; simple affairs are easy to govern; modest needs are easy to meet. When a task is shared among many people, it is easier to complete well. Thus, petty disputes damage what is essential, and rigid attention to small details obstructs the Dao. Principles that are too narrow cannot be put into practice. Truly comprehensive principles must be simple.”

People differ in the breadth of their capacities and the depth of their wisdom. A place with vast territory and a large population cannot be governed well by someone of shallow wisdom and narrow capacity. How much less can great responsibilities and major affairs of governance be handled through petty, convoluted, lazy, and slack methods? Clinging to minor arguments harms righteousness; clinging to minor notions of righteousness obstructs the Great Dao. This is how petty people behave, but a noble person does not.

Rivers flow far because they wind and bend; mountains appear lofty because their slopes rise and fall in layers; the Dao transforms and nurtures the myriad things because it is broad and unhurried. Those who know only one craft, are familiar with just one matter, or excel at a single ability may make sense of particular problems, but they cannot respond broadly to affairs of every kind.

When tuning a musical instrument, the thin strings must be tightened and the thick strings loosened. In assigning tasks, those of lower status should bear more of the labor, while those of higher status may remain at ease. The ancients spoke of the Dao this way: Heaven and Earth are vast and profound, and people should follow Heaven’s power. Those who share Heaven’s Qi can become emperors; those who share Heaven’s righteousness can become kings; those who share Heaven’s achievements can attain hegemony. Those who possess none of these will ultimately perish.

Thus, some need not speak for people to trust them; need not bestow favors for people to feel their benevolence; need not grow angry for people to fear and respect them. This is because they accord with Heaven’s intent and naturally transform those around them. Others must bestow favors to display benevolence, speak to gain trust, and grow angry to establish authority. They achieve this through inner sincerity. Still others bestow favors but show no benevolence, speak but cannot be trusted, and grow angry without commanding respect. They are merely putting on a show.

Therefore, when governance is sound, even a few laws suffice to bring peace to the realm. When governance is misguided, even many laws will only create disorder.

People of small capacity are easily satisfied with themselves and are unlikely to endure. Those of great ability often achieve success later, yet can hold their position for a long time. Those who share Heaven’s Qi can become emperors; those who share Heaven’s righteousness can become kings; those who share Heaven’s achievements can attain hegemony. Those who possess none of these will ultimately perish. Thus, when governance follows the Dao, laws are clear and affairs are easy to manage; when governance departs from the Dao, laws are cumbersome and the political order easily falls into disorder.

Laozi said: When a whale leaves the water, it becomes prey to ants. When a ruler abandons the duties that should be his to uphold and competes with his ministers to handle particular affairs, he too becomes subject to others and may even meet his ruin. Therefore, when governance follows the Dao, laws are clear and affairs are easy to manage; when governance departs from the Dao, laws are cumbersome and the political order easily falls into disorder.

Laozi said: When a whale leaves the water, even ants can subdue it. When a ruler abandons the duties he should uphold and competes with his ministers to handle government affairs, he becomes constrained by the officials in charge. If the ruler personally takes charge and interferes in everything, officials who should attend to their own duties will merely obey and flatter him. Ministers will hide their abilities instead of putting them to use, leaving the ruler to shoulder every task himself. A ruler who does not appoint capable people but insists on doing everything personally will find his abilities increasingly strained, while every responsibility falls on him.

When those below repeatedly fail in their duties, the ruler’s policies cannot be carried out. When those in office behave improperly, they cannot maintain order. If a ruler lacks the ability to govern the state and the authority to enforce punishments, he cannot govern the realm effectively. When his likes and dislikes show in his moods, and his desires are plain to see, officials charged with their duties will stray from the proper course and cater to him. Those in charge will disregard the law and act according to the ruler’s expression. When rewards do not match merit and punishments do not match offenses, ruler and subjects become alienated, and ministers and ruler blame one another. The work of the officials falls into disorder, and the ruler lacks the ability to set it right. Accusations and praise come one after another, but the ruler cannot discern the truth. He takes responsibility for faults that are not his, and so grows ever more burdened while his ministers grow ever more idle. This is like taking the place of a skilled carpenter to chop wood: few who do the work in his stead avoid injuring their hands.

When a ruler loses the proper way and becomes constrained by his ministers, he is like a whale stranded out of water and subdued by ants. The essentials of rulership lie simply in appointing worthy and capable people and choosing a good prime minister. If the prime minister is wise and worthy, the officials will naturally conduct themselves properly, and the realm can be governed well. Once a ruler abandons his own duties and competes with his ministers to prove who is more capable, he will have trapped himself before they even have a chance to constrain him.

Running after a horse on foot leaves one exhausted and still unable to catch it. But climb into a carriage, take the reins, and let the horse draw it beneath the shafts. Bo Le, who is skilled at judging horses, identifies the horse; Wang Liang, who is skilled at driving, drives it. A wise ruler can travel by carriage without personally laboring to judge or drive the horse, and still reach a destination a thousand miles away. This is about making good use of other people’s abilities.

In governing the state, a ruler should allow things to follow their natural course while bringing them to completion and establishing what is needed, without displaying personal preferences. When a ruler takes action, ministers will speculate and discuss it; when the ruler reveals what he favors, ministers will flatter and fawn. Such speculation can mislead and constrain the ruler, while flattery can lead him astray.

A state cannot be governed well by using one’s personal will to force others into line. Thus, those who establish lasting achievements build on foundations that are not easily shaken. “Establishing through the unseen” means acting without displaying one’s personal intentions or imposing them by force. Only by reaching a state of subtle transformation can one enable all things to find what is right for them, beyond the power of anything to overcome.

Keeping inner desires from showing outward is called “barring” (jiong), like shutting a door to contain what is within. Preventing external falsehoods and disturbances from entering is called “closing” (bi), like shutting a door against what comes from outside. If the inner self is contained and external evils kept out, how could one’s actions lose their proper measure? If one maintains due measure both inwardly and outwardly, what could not be accomplished?

Therefore, a ruler need not personally attend to every matter for government to function; nor need he force things through his own actions for them to be accomplished. The ruler does not boast of his own words or take over the duties of his ministers. Instead, he assesses actual results according to each person’s title and role, allowing every office to fulfill its responsibilities. He makes governing without personally knowing every detail the guiding principle, and preventing burdensome interference with the people the chief concern. In this way, officials each perform their own duties, and the work they do can all be evaluated.

Running after a horse is like a ruler and ministers competing to do everything themselves. Traveling by carriage means appointing ministers to bring order to the state. When a ruler takes action, ministers speculate; when he reveals what he favors, they accommodate him. Only by reaching a state of subtle, natural governance can one bring proper measure to every government affair, put an end to private solicitation, ensure that officials fulfill their duties, and make all public affairs subject to review.

Laozi said: Food is the foundation of the people’s survival, and the people are the foundation of the state. Therefore, when a ruler governs the state, they must follow the seasons, make full use of the land’s produce, and put human effort to good use. Then living things can grow unhindered, and all things can flourish.

In spring, cut down dead trees; in summer, gather the various fruits; in autumn, store vegetables and grain; and in winter, use firewood and brush. These provisions sustain the people, so they do not lack the necessities of daily life. When the ruler follows the seasons, makes use of the land’s advantages, and puts human effort to good use, all things can grow in abundance, and the people have enough to live on. When people die, they can also be buried without being deprived of what they need.

The laws laid down by the former kings did not allow entire herds to be caught in a single net, fish to be taken from lakes and marshes when their waters were low, or forests to be burned for hunting. Before jackals and wolves began feeding on sacrificial animals, hunting nets were not spread across the countryside. Before otters began feeding on sacrificial fish, fishing nets were not put into the water. Before hawks and falcons began to hunt, nets were not set in the valleys. While plants and trees had not yet withered, people were not allowed to cut them in the mountains. Before insects had burrowed into the earth to hibernate, fields were not burned. Pregnant birds and animals were not killed, nor were eggs taken from nests. Fish shorter than one foot were not caught, and dogs and pigs younger than one year were not slaughtered.

Thus, all things grew and flourished, as if vital energy were continually rising and surging forth. This was how the former kings followed the seasons and arranged their stores, enriching the state and benefiting the people. Such governance did not depend only on what the eyes could see or what people’s hands and feet could do. As long as the ruler kept the people’s welfare in mind, the people would naturally make their own preparations for daily needs.

The state is made prosperous through the people’s contributions; whether the people can eat their fill is the foundation of the state. By following the seasons, making full use of the land’s advantages, and putting human effort to good use, the conditions of Heaven, Earth, and humanity are all brought together. Only then can living things grow unhindered, all things flourish, the people obtain their food, and the state prosper. Is this not the great way to create wealth?

Laozi said: In ancient times, wise rulers placed limits on how much they took from the people and on how much they spent supporting themselves. They first calculated the year’s harvest, assessed the people’s stores, and determined whether there was enough grain left over before deciding how much to collect. In this way, rulers could shoulder the responsibilities entrusted to them by Heaven and Earth without leaving the people to suffer from hunger and cold.

Rulers felt compassion for the people and cared about their hardship. If anyone in the country went hungry, they themselves would not eat a variety of delicacies; if anyone among the people suffered from the cold, then in winter they would not…