《太上洞玄宝元上经》

The Supreme Treasure Origin Supreme Scripture, also known as the Wondrous Secret of the Source One, is said to be the divine instruction of the Five Emperors cultivated by the Lord of Jade Dawn. It is stored in the Chamber of Great Existence and was transmitted to the Supreme Perfected One.

The Supreme One said: The Great Dao is vast and boundless, and within it lie treasures. These treasures are so subtle and refined that they cannot be measured by ordinary honors. Their radiance is profound and abundant, their worth incomparable, and their station supreme. The gate leading to them is unique, and the entrance appears on its own. If you can find them, you may enter directly with no desires; if your heart seeks something, they will be hard to reach. Those with few desires and single-minded purpose each sense and understand them at a different level.

Model yourself on the earth, follow the workings of Heaven, and hold to the Dao while letting things unfold naturally. The Way of Nature is subtle and profound, expressed in the place and function of the Three Powers: Heaven, Earth, and humanity. The source of the Three Powers is truly one: the substantial steadies the void, pattern gives form to substance, and inner and outer depend on each other, blending into one. When a person connects with the Three Powers, they can rise beyond the ordinary; when their De accords with Heaven and Earth, they can stand out from others. Recognize the source and hold fast to it without loss, and you can preserve life’s ceaseless vitality for a long time.

To cultivate this Way, enter a quiet chamber, focus your thoughts, and observe the subtle depths in stillness and calm. Then, as clearly as seeing the sun, you will perceive what is manifest and sense what is hidden, dispelling the dark Qi that brings death. As death Qi gradually recedes and life Qi steadily grows, you can live long without dying and attain constancy. If you have not yet attained constancy, continue to remain aware. Knowing constancy brings clarity of mind; failing to know it makes reckless action dangerous. Danger feeds desire, drawing greed and conflict into a cycle that thickens disordered Qi and hardens the burdens of wrongdoing. The mind and spirit become confused, and calamities gather around you.

The wise understand this and therefore restrain desire and train their nature. They use purity to dissolve turbidity and disorder, and the right Way to subdue false thoughts. Evil and danger recede, while the right Way and good fortune are renewed. A person can fulfill themselves, yet may also obscure themselves; with proper cultivation, they can unite with the Great Dao and become perfected.

The source of nature returns to the “One.” As the “One” engages with the myriad things, it unfolds into the “Three.” The myriad things continually arise and transform, driven by the “Four Qi”—the four kinds of vital energy that govern the workings of the cosmos—and the “Five Phases” (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, and Water). They circulate throughout the Six Directions, the cosmic space above, below, and in the four quarters, and ultimately all return to the same source.

The “One” is the root of the Dao; from it the “Two” arise, and from the “Two” the “Three.” Within the One, Two, and Three are contained endless transformations. Extending from One, Two, and Three to Four, Five, and Six marks stages that Dao cultivators must learn and put into practice. Cultivation calls for reducing desire and selfishness: when the heart is less grasping, the Dao can more readily flourish. Thus sages and those who have attained the Dao take the “One” as their root, the “Two” as their teacher, the “Three” as their companion, the “Four” as their friend, the “Five” as their guide, and the “Six” as their daily rule.

To take the “Six” as one’s constant rule means to remain connected with the Dao and never depart from it. To take the “Five” as one’s guide means to keep the Lord Emperor in mind and accompany him on excursions and banquets. To take the “Four” as one’s friend means to follow the order in which the Qi of the four seasons circulates. To take the “Three” as one’s companion means to shine together like the radiance of the sun and moon. To take the “Two” as one’s teacher means to model oneself on the laws of Heaven and Earth. To honor the “One” is to revere the Lord of the Dao.

The Lord of the Dao is the mother of all things and the source of the Dao. The Dao is Wuwei (non-action), pure, and enduring. This state is revealed through freedom from desire; it cannot be attained simply by deliberately practicing the reduction of desire. Practicing restraint in desire is like a mother watching over her child. Therefore, beginners should revere the Lord of the Dao. To revere the Lord of the Dao is to practice visualization and ritual observances. Visualization means quieting the mind, contemplating inwardly, and nourishing the spirit.

To model oneself on Heaven and Earth is to learn how they bring forth, nourish, and give to all things. To shine with the sun and moon is to observe and illuminate both day and night. To follow the order in which the Qi of the four seasons circulates is to act or withdraw in keeping with the proper time. To keep the Lord Emperor in mind and attend him at banquets and excursions is to follow the sovereign’s way and establish achievements. To remain continually connected with the Six Directions is to follow the Dao and establish De (Virtue/Power).

To follow the Dao and establish De means to maintain tranquility and emptiness. To follow the sovereign’s way and establish achievements means to mete out rewards and punishments in accordance with the proper time. To act or withdraw in keeping with the proper time means to speak or remain silent with due restraint. To observe by day and night means to study the scriptures and turn one’s attention inward. To learn to bring forth, nourish, and give is to carry on the transmission of the Dao. To practice visualization and ritual observances is to continue the ranks of the mysterious tradition.

Continuing the ranks of the mysterious tradition requires accumulating learning and establishing achievements, then advancing step by step through the appropriate grades. When the Dao and De are both full and complete, one can rise to the highest, most mysterious realm. Carrying on the transmission of the Dao, too, requires following the laws of the Dao.

To carry on the seed of the Dao, establish good deeds and let them continue, so that descendants can also inherit the work of the Dao. Preserve one’s original nature for a long time, and keep the ancestral rites unbroken. Those who study the scriptures and turn their gaze inward should recite sacred passages, grasp their subtle meaning, focus the mind in contemplation, and accord with the true Dao.

Those who speak and act with restraint act in response to the circumstances and stop when they encounter another person’s taboo. Even in hardship, they hold to the right path and cultivate their nature, bringing it back to what is upright. Those who can reward and punish in keeping with the moment punish evil, support what is right, illuminate the Great Dao, and aid the world. They act with measured flexibility, without clinging to any single method.

Those who preserve stillness and emptiness act according to the moment through Wuwei (non-action). Their non-action meets no obstruction; it lets the Three Palaces—the inner palaces associated with the body and cultivation—remain peaceful and tranquil, and the Five Spirits, corresponding to the five organs, remain settled and harmonious. Those who establish De (Virtue/Power) in accord with the Dao adapt freely to change between “nonbeing” and “being.” They wash away self-centered distinctions and disputation, and use subtle contemplation to examine all things. Their coming and going are not governed by their own will, but follow only the Dao. They enter and emerge in response to things, yet their merit and virtue are not diminished.

One who understands these six points can comprehend the three kinds of Dao described in the scriptures. The three scriptures each explain the Dao of Heaven, Earth, and humanity; together, these are called the “Three Powers.” “Power” here also means the ability to regulate and set things right: to correct what is biased or improper and bring it into balance, and to turn back from the branches to the source. The source is the Dao, the fundamental and supreme. It is the foremost guide for human beings and the ground to which the accumulation of good deeds returns; it can reopen roads that have been blocked. In sum, the roots of the three Daos of Heaven, Earth, and humanity are originally one.

The Dao changes with the times and takes on different forms. Clear and open above, it is called high; settled and harmonious below, it is called noble; joining the two in the middle, it is called honored. High, noble, and honored are different names, but in reality they return to one. This unity is neither born nor dead; it is neither the fundamental nor existence.

Although the names differ, what covers all things above neither supports them nor simply covers them. Viewed from the middle, it seems to extend everywhere, yet it too neither covers nor supports. These descriptions all arise from the time when all things lay concealed in darkness, before there was any beginning. They naturally divide into three kinds and cannot be brought together as one all at once. Beings of these three kinds cling to “existence,” depend on the original source, and insist that things are neither existent nor nonexistent. Thus differences emerge between the intelligent, the dull, and the ordinary. They understand things at three levels: those of the lowest level sink below and seek stability; those of the middle level float in between and seek deliverance; those of the highest level rise aloft and hope to find peace. In this way, the various groups take shape and gather.

Within every group, there are differences between the intelligent, the dull, and the ordinary, and the Great Dao cannot forcibly change them. It therefore guides each according to its own responses, in a fitting way: rising aloft, floating, or sinking, each proceeds according to its kind. Thus the Dao of Qian is shown to guide those who rise aloft, the Dao of Kun to receive those who sink, and rulers are established to govern those who float.

The virtue of a sage ruler accords with Heaven and Earth, and the ruler is skilled at dividing the work of governance into the Three Origins: Heaven, Earth, and humanity. Each of the Three Origins has its own object of veneration, and each title has its own grounds: Heaven is called Emperor, Earth is called Sovereign, and humanity is called King. A “king” is one toward whom beings go to offer their reverence. Rulers are established to govern those who float. The virtue of a sage ruler accords with Heaven and Earth, and the ruler is skilled at dividing the work of governance into the Three Origins. Each of the Three Origins has its own object of veneration, and each title has its own grounds: Heaven is called Emperor, Earth is called Sovereign, and humanity is called King. A “king” is one toward whom beings go to offer their reverence.

A “Sovereign” is the object of veneration for the dark, concealing Qi within all things; an “Emperor” is the object whom all things venerate together. Later, beings responded in different ways, and different forms of teaching consequently appeared: among those who sink there are some who float, and among those who float there are some who rise aloft. The titles of Emperor and Sovereign for those who rise aloft, along with the titles of kings in the Nine Provinces (the nine lands), are names that apply to different domains. Whether the Sovereign is mentioned before the Emperor, or Emperor and King are combined in a single title, these usages wax and wane with the times. They arise from the actual needs of beings and are expedient teachings applied as circumstances require. To seek out the fundamental intent behind them, one must understand them clearly.

To understand the Way of Heaven, refer to my Upper Scripture; to understand the Way of Earth, refer to my Lower Scripture; to understand the Way of humanity, refer to my Middle Scripture. The Middle Scripture enables one to understand the Ways of Heaven and Earth. Understanding the Way of Earth and the Way of Heaven does not yet mean understanding the Way of humanity; to understand the Way of humanity, one must begin with the Middle Scripture.

The human body may stand several feet tall, and a person may practice benevolence in daily life, fully cultivating propriety, righteousness, wisdom, and trustworthiness, and be able to model themselves on Heaven and Earth. Yet this alone does not make them a person in the fullest sense. To “become complete as a person” means to understand thoroughly the body’s inner channels and the Middle Way; the “Center” lies within the channels.

Within the channels, the True Spirit descends and unites with one’s own spirit. Though it is said that one body has two spirits, and that the two spirits are one body, they blend together without distinction. They endure without change; only then does one become a person of clear understanding.

The True Spirit is the Dao’s mysterious Qi. When summoned through resonance, it descends and unites with one’s own spirit; once united, they never separate. This spirit was already present within oneself and has been so from time without beginning. Now, when one’s cultivation and merit are complete, this spirit meets the Dao. The Dao unites with the spirit, and the body, in turn, responds to the Dao. Their union is wondrous and unfathomable, beyond the sight of ordinary eyes. This is why it is called “formless,” though that does not mean it lacks a mysterious substance. Sages can perceive it. To “perceive” it means to unite with it; the word also conveys clear and thorough understanding.

In inner observation, the mind makes no distinction between inside and outside. It is not like standing outside the body and looking within. To perceive this mystery, one must begin by having no desires; when desires are gone, even words can be forgotten. Keeping the precepts and reducing desire is the practice of “daily diminution.” One who attains the Dao is a True Person; those who are sparing in desire follow this path back to the right way.

Look up and observe the patterns of Heaven, then look down and examine the features of Earth; afterward, turn inward, and you will perceive the Dao within the body. To perceive the Dao within the body is to contemplate the “Three Ones”—the triune spirits spoken of in Daoist inner observation. In contemplating the Three Ones, first observe the patterns of Heaven, then examine the features of Earth.

Those who observe celestial phenomena should follow the Upper Classic I have described. “Celestial phenomena” refers to the three luminous bodies: the sun, the moon, and the stars. “Observation” means watching and divining from the movements of these three lights.

The three lights move along their own courses. To calculate the positions of celestial bodies, people use the armillary sphere, an ancient instrument for observing the heavens and determining the positions of the stars, to measure the sun and moon as they travel and cycle without end. The planets known as Jupiter, Mars, Venus, Mercury, and Saturn each follow regular patterns. Their movements can serve as warning signs, revealing calamity or good fortune. The Northern Dipper has nine stars: two remain hidden from view, while seven shine openly; light and darkness reflect one another. It weighs the mysteries of the heavenly Dao, nourishing all things so that life may continue without end.

“Songs for Observing Spring” comprises sixteen pieces. The yang pitch pipes and the yin pitch pipes, which correspond to the yang and yin tones in ancient music, answer one another, bringing the notes into harmony and sustaining good fortune. The twelve months follow in succession, beginning with the revival of all things. The eight solar terms—Beginning of Spring, Spring Equinox, Beginning of Summer, Summer Solstice, Beginning of Autumn, Autumn Equinox, Beginning of Winter, and Winter Solstice—converge with one another and correspond to the eight tones, supporting one another and taking turns in their work.

“Songs for Observing Summer” comprises twenty pieces, with themes that unfold freely and fully. Fire depends on wood to arise; this is wood’s courtesy toward fire. Wood can give rise to fire; this is wood’s benevolence. Spring takes the nurturing of new growth as its De, while summer’s work is to help all things flourish. When the pitch pipes are in accord, the eight tones are harmonious as well; when the sun, moon, and stars move steadily, the order of the seasons is clear. The cycle that governs these solar terms is called a year: this is the order that belongs to Heaven.

In the first chapter, Heaven divides into two, signifying that before all things can be nurtured abundantly, life must first be guided and cultivated. In the eighty-first chapter, Earth joins as one, signifying that once all things have withdrawn and lain dormant, punishment and killing should be avoided. Advance and retreat are both essential. The text uses this to distinguish the higher from the lower: the wise follow these principles, while the foolish go against them. It is written this way to move people’s hearts and awaken those who are confused. Those who understand can discern the subtle workings of the sun and moon. Withdrawal and concealment can return to the source; the nurturing of all things can return to unity. From the One, the many unfold, giving all things their names.

Yet the Dao itself cannot be directly portrayed by a name, nor confined by numbers. Thus it is both within “five-nine” and beyond “four-nine”; its name has been passed down from antiquity to the present. For this reason, the Upper Classic has thirty-seven chapters.

In observing geography, one should follow the lower scripture I have described. Geography refers to three kinds of forms: earth, mountains, and water. To “observe” means to examine these three kinds of forms.

Survey the five directions and their positions in the Heavenly Stems and Earthly Branches, listing in order Jia and Yi, Bing and Ding, Wu and Ji, Geng and Xin, Ren and Gui, followed by Zi and Chou, Yin and Mao, Chen and Si, Wu and Wei, Shen and You, and Xu and Hai—a total of twenty-two entries. Divide them accordingly to form the chapters for autumn. The boundaries must be clear, with no parts mixed together. Next, list the nine provinces—Yu, Yan, Qing, Xu, Yang, Jing, Liang, Yong, and Ji; the Five Sacred Mountains—Mount Tai, Mount Heng, Mount Hua, Mount Heng, and Mount Song; and the four great rivers—the Yangtze, Yellow, Huai, and Ji. The Four Seas surround them, with the provinces, earth, mountains, and rivers distributed within. Then divide them again according to the Heavenly Stems and Earthly Branches into twenty-two branches, forming twenty-two chapters for winter. Kunlun stands at the center, guarding the turning point between the four seasons. These make forty-five chapters in all, belonging to the Earth. Attribute the merit to Heaven, perform the rites with deference, and honor Heaven as supreme; then forty-four chapters belong to the realm below.

The original source divides into two, forming the two modes of Heaven and Earth, also called “the two halves.” Among the two halves, the order of the black is divided into four categories. The first category is Heaven. If one performs the rites with deference and honors Heaven as supreme, then forty-four chapters belong to the realm below.

The source of the Dao (the Way) divides into the two aspects of Heaven and Earth, Yin and Yang, known as “the two halves.” Within these two halves are four sequences of Yin-Yang Qi (vital energy). First is pure Yang, symbolizing the energy of spring’s rising and renewal. Second is Yang containing Yin, symbolizing the energy of summer’s growth. Third is pure Yin, symbolizing autumn’s withering and decline. Fourth is Yin containing Yang, symbolizing winter’s closure and storage. As the four seasons turn, the work of the year is completed; through the movements of the sun, moon, and stars, Heaven’s De (Virtue/Power) is revealed.

Accordingly, the Upper Scripture corresponds to spring and summer, benevolence and ritual, Wood and Fire, and harmony and brightness. The Lower Scripture corresponds to autumn and winter, righteousness and wisdom, Metal and Water, and obedience, sincerity, and trustworthiness. Earth Qi runs through all four directions, bringing the Five Phases together as one. The two scriptures each have chapters that mark the seasons and explain the transformations and functions of the Five Phases, allowing the myriad things to keep growing and multiplying and to fulfill their work. The count reaches its limit at nine: the four seasons follow the timing of Heaven, and their number is derived by multiplication; four times nine is thirty-six, so the Dao Scripture has thirty-six chapters. The Five Phases depend on Earth, and their number is derived according to the number of Heaven; five times nine is forty-five, so the De Scripture has forty-five chapters. The Yin-Yang Qi of Heaven and Earth mingles, and multiplying nine by nine gives eighty-one. The two scriptures therefore contain eighty-one chapters in all.

Heaven has eighty-one palaces, Earth has eighty-one regions, and the human body has eighty-one parts, each governed by its own spirit. By bringing these spirits into communication, one can attain the Dao; having attained the Dao, one can communicate with the spirits. This requires following the laws of Earth and modeling oneself on the movements of Heaven. Heaven follows its own nature and takes no action, yet nothing remains unaccomplished. Yang Qi acts first, and Yin responds in harmony. Earth does not claim credit for its achievements, but attributes to Heaven the merit of nurturing the myriad things. The Upper Scripture begins with Heaven and explains the purpose of assisting the myriad things to fulfill their potential. It teaches people to be free of desire and practice Wuwei (non-action), thereby opening the path to long life and immortality. The Lower Scripture brings its teaching to completion through Earth and explains the way of humility: giving benefit without causing harm, and spreading the teaching that “the highest De does not call itself De.”

Those who have no selfish desires and are naturally upright, who do good without competing for fame or profit, bring their good deeds to completion. Such accomplishments arise from subtle assistance, and that assistance should be given humbly. By understanding the details of things while holding fast to their roots, and by keeping the mind clear and free of flaws, one can reach the highest state. Thus, all who cultivate and study these principles are called “Supreme Perfected Ones,” those who have attained a lofty state through cultivating the Dao.

Anyone who studies the supreme Dao must look up to observe the celestial patterns and look down to examine the earth. The foundations of Heaven and Earth originally have no form; what is formless is the Dao. The Dao responds to the myriad things and appears as “being,” and so form and names come into existence. Heaven and Earth are descendants of the Dao, children of the One.

The Dao gives birth to the One, which is primordial Qi. The One gives birth to Two: inwardly, this is Yin and Yang; outwardly, it is Heaven and Earth. Two gives birth to Three: inwardly, this is harmonious Qi; outwardly, it is humanity. Three gives birth to the myriad things. Yin and Yang unite, and the three kinds of Qi spread and circulate, each nurturing and transforming the myriad things, which then appear in profusion. Human beings receive harmonious Qi, which is also primordial Qi.

The One gives birth to Two: inwardly, this is Yin and Yang; outwardly, it is Heaven and Earth. Two gives birth to Three: inwardly, this is harmonious Qi; outwardly, it is humanity. Three gives birth to the myriad things: Yin and Yang unite, and the three Qi spread, each nurturing and transforming the myriad things, which then appear. Human beings receive a greater share of harmonious Qi, which is why it is said that “Two gives birth to Three.” The three Qi are vast and abundant, yet human beings cannot become the parents of the myriad things. Thus, human beings and Heaven and Earth are said to share parenthood. The human ruler is the most honored and is called the “Son of Heaven.” The Son of Heaven is a descendant of the One and a great-grandchild of the Dao. Those who possess Dao and De are fit to serve as teachers of the state. The Son of Heaven honors them and calls himself their “great-grandchild.”

The form of Heaven is founded on “nonbeing” and comes into continuous existence through the One. Nothing in form is greater than Heaven. Heaven holds fast to the One and never departs from it; for this reason, the character for “Heaven” is composed of “great” and “one.” The formless gives rise to form, and form begins in the formless: the formless is the beginning, so it is called the father; it nurtures the myriad things, so it is called the mother. The mother’s De endures and accords with the myriad things; when Qi joins, things take shape. Once formed, the myriad things rise upward, and Heaven receives, draws them in, and embraces them widely, as though they were Heaven itself. “Heaven” may also be interpreted as “first,” as “summit,” or as “mysterious.” “Mysterious” means suspended high in the emptiness, shining with lucid light. Heaven stands above the myriad things and is the beginning of all beings; therefore it is called Heaven.

The word tu, “earth,” carries the sense of “spouting forth” or “producing.” It appears between the vertical and horizontal directions and gives birth to the myriad things, as though spouting them forth. For this reason, tu is also called di, “earth,” with the gloss “to see the earth.” It is also called li, and also qi. The earth is vast and deep. It complements Heaven and has a virtue corresponding to Heaven. It bears the myriad things and receives Heaven above, allowing all things to grow. The myriad things are born from the earth, as though spouting forth from within it.

The myriad things should take the earth’s qualities as their model: yielding and still, harmonious and uncontentious, humble and lowly. They accomplish their work without claiming ownership of it. Each has its proper place, whether high or low, before or behind; the distinctions are clear and not confused. They are upright, not crooked, and thereby bring disorder to rest and aid the world. As the myriad things gradually return to Heaven, the earth is called “Earth.”

The signs of Heaven are clear and bright, and the earth’s terrain is calm and stable: this is the normal state of Heaven and Earth. When the signs of Heaven grow obscure, calamities and anomalies appear; what is unclear also manifests as strange phenomena. These are not normal. Such omens are not deliberately caused by Heaven and Earth. They serve instead to warn people and make clear the principle that good is rewarded and evil punished. Abnormal signs arise when people lose their proper standards: when they fail to model themselves on the earth, act recklessly, and violate the Way of Heaven, Heaven and Earth issue warnings through calamities and strange manifestations. People should look up to observe the signs of Heaven and look down to examine the terrain, divining the strange and discerning the omens of calamity. Each kind of apparition and anomaly has its own significance. If people cultivate virtue and establish worthy achievements, the anomalies will subside. Once they recognize their errors, they should abandon evil and turn toward good.

Therefore, one should model oneself on the earth and remain single-minded and still. When the time is ripe and action is called for, one should act; in acting, one should model oneself on Heaven. Only by acting in accord with Heaven’s movement can one enter the Dao. The way into the Dao lies in holding fast to the One. Holding fast to the One does not mean striving forcefully or contending. By understanding that Heaven, Earth, and humanity each have their own One, one can grasp the Three Ones and unite with the Dao in truth. A perfected person who cultivates the Dao studies these principles and steadfastly upholds the Three Ones.

The Three Ones are the One of Heaven, the One of Earth, and the One of humanity. They are also called the One of the upper, middle, and lower origins, and the Mysterious, Primordial, and Beginning Great One. The One of Heaven is found in the Wu Shang Jing, the One of Earth in the Wu Xia Jing, and the One of humanity in the Wu Zhong Jing. The Middle Scripture discusses methods of inner observation and contains other scriptures as well.

The scriptures are divided into three parts, formed from the three Qi (vital energies that constitute all things between Heaven and Earth) that arise naturally. The wondrous Qi of the Great Dao (the subtle and mysterious energy) already contains the number three: the union of Yin and Yang, the Mysterious, the Primordial, and the Beginning, and the upper, middle, and lower. These all arise of themselves. No force can make them this way, and no force can make them otherwise; hence they are called the “three natural Qi.”

The upper and lower parts of the scriptures also have explanations in writing. The scriptures contain five thousand words because the Dao gives rise to the three Qi, and the three Qi give rise to all things. All things ultimately return to the One Dao, and at their origin they are also united in the three Qi; thus the number five is established. The One Qi of the Dao is not the Qi formed by the union of Yin and Yang; it lies above the three Qi. The One Qi of all things is likewise not the Qi formed by the union of Yin and Yang; it lies below the three Qi. Beneath the three Qi are three further levels, which are coarser and more manifest; above them are also three levels, which are more subtle and wondrous. The wondrous Qi has no color, yet all the colors of things receive it and take shape. Coarse Qi has form and color; its colors intermingle, making it dim and indistinct. Dim things must await the descent of wondrous Qi before they can become luminous. Brightness and obscurity alternate, set in motion through the three Qi; within this movement, things are hidden and revealed, and so the five positions take shape.

The two forms of Heaven and Earth (the two primary forms, Heaven and Earth) make use of the three Qi: when one transformation reaches its limit, it is called ten; when ten transformations reach their limit, they are called a hundred; when a hundred transformations reach their limit, they are called a thousand. Numbers multiply and grow obscure, and obscure things must await the descent of wondrous Qi before they become clear. Brightness and obscurity alternate, set in motion through the three Qi; within this movement, things are hidden and revealed, and so the five positions take shape. The two forms of Heaven and Earth make use of the three Qi: when one transformation reaches its limit, it is called ten; when ten transformations reach their limit, they are called a hundred; when a hundred transformations reach their limit, they are called a thousand. When numbers reach their limit, they change, and their changes are of three kinds. The subtle principles of these three kinds belong to the Dao; beyond them lies the realm of all things. As things change and become coarser and more manifest, anyone seeking what is subtle should return to the three Qi. The three Qi transform to nurture all things, thereby giving rise to the Five Natures (the five attributes that constitute all things). Thus the scriptures contain five thousand words, and their meaning is complete and all-encompassing.

All matters have a beginning and an end, and writings likewise have an order. Placing “The Dao that can be spoken” at the beginning of the chapter establishes the foundation and brings the discussion that follows under its guidance.

The scripture discusses “desirelessness” and “having desires,” as well as good and evil, in separate passages. Without desires, one can experience the mysterious and move toward longevity; with desires, one remains confined to what is shallow and invites death. Life and death depend on one’s original mind, and people’s awareness differs in its level. This is the broad distinction. The discussion then turns to particular details, with a focus on good and evil. Good and evil can be brought to rest by beginning with one’s original mind. The scripture makes this point repeatedly: in broad terms, discern the differences in awareness; in specific terms, examine good and evil.

To open the way of cultivation for those who are still attached to the mind, a heart full of desires cannot be quieted all at once; before one has become desireless, one cannot immediately ascend to the Great Dao. To reach desirelessness, one must reduce desires and seek less knowledge. Once one understands what is good, one must sometimes also let go of attachment to goodness in order to quiet desire. The first step in quieting desire is to reduce trivial concerns. The key to reducing them is to embrace what is genuine, discard what is showy, and remove what is false. The text therefore next speaks of “not esteeming the worthy”—that is, not deliberately promoting the reputation of the capable.

Removing the custom of esteeming reputation is meant to save the common world, so the text next says, “The Dao is empty, yet in use it is never exhausted.” All things change ceaselessly; each is born and dies, and none can endure. Cultivation should honor the constant, unchanging Dao. The constant Dao has no ancestor and no beginning; it responds to circumstances at every moment and is inexhaustible.

In ancient times, when customs were simple and sincere, people followed the teaching that needs no words. Only later, as customs grew shallow, did people repeatedly explain principles through words and images. People are often constrained by the logic of what is immediately before them and cannot grasp far-reaching meanings; they are frequently bound by words and images and sink into confusion. The first chapter therefore begins by dispelling attachment to words and names, so that people may understand that the constant Dao cannot be fully expressed in language. Words can help people recognize the constant Dao, but words themselves are not the substance of the constant Dao.

The substance of the Dao is originally still, yet it can respond and set things in motion. Expedient means and truth are distinct, but the many mysterious principles all emerge from the Mysterious Gate, the deep and hidden portal of the Dao. Since time without beginning, living beings have had awareness. The consciousness spirit, the mental activity associated with awareness, does not disappear when the body dies; the body has its own birth and death. The suffering of birth and death intertwines with the troubled mind: at times its elements mix together, at times they disperse, in an endless turmoil. If one cannot sever afflictions and attachments, advance with courageous diligence, increase the seeds of goodness, and accumulate merit through sustained effort, one cannot escape the suffering of the cycle of birth and death.

The suffering of life and death arises from passing from nonexistence into existence, and entering the life of the world. The stronger one’s desires, the deeper one’s karmic burden and entanglements. Strive to lessen desire and reach a state without desire: even the smallest accumulation of good deeds can bring renewal. Yet in life people crave pleasure and cling to what they cannot bear to relinquish; their desires and attachments continue one after another and are difficult to sever. Even if they perform many good deeds, when they grow lax and negligent or harbor doubts, the roots of evil continue to grow and their efforts are hard to bring to completion. Then comes the suffering of death. Human life is brief, yet sorrow and fear stretch on without end; all of this arises from desire. For this reason, the opening of the text first discusses desire and freedom from desire.

The key to the harm caused by desire lies in discerning good from evil. Different things captivate different people, and excessive attachment brings disaster. One may wish to abandon evil and follow good, yet still fail to see clearly what is good and what is evil; wavering between choices can instead turn everything upside down and lead to confusion. What one considers beautiful and good may not truly be good. Even if one accepts only what one has judged to be good, one may still go against the Dao-centered mind. The Dao-centered mind lies in releasing attachment, holding to what is genuine, and following things as they are. It does not indulge in fantasies or grasp after lofty ideals, and it puts an end to rivalry. Observe in silence and devote oneself to practice, without being startled or unsettled by external things. Trust and follow the Three Treasures—the three fundamental supports revered in Daoism—restrain cleverness, and make no claim to merit. Those who can do this may set out on a path in accord with the Dao.

Thus, after discussing the “three transformations,” this chapter goes on to explain “the Dao is empty, yet in use”: the Dao seems empty, yet it can function. The Dao has no fixed form and can only be approached through words and images. Since it is said to be empty yet able to function, it is not in fact a concrete, visible thing. This formless reality existed before the Celestial Emperor appeared. Practitioners who came after the Celestial Emperor should emulate the sages of later times and then return to the Dao of the primordial state. The text therefore next explains that Heaven and the sage can serve as models.

Heaven and the sage take the Dao as their model, and ordinary people should take the sage as their model. But emulating the sage cannot be achieved through outward appearance or strength. One must focus the spirit, practice diligently, and make progress day by day to reach the mysterious realm. The spirit must not be disturbed, so the text next discusses the “Valley Spirit”—a spirit that is empty and still like a valley, able to nourish all things. The aim of nourishing the spirit is to attain deathlessness; its subtle wonder lies in enabling a person to unite with the Dao. United with the Dao, one becomes the root of Heaven and Earth; as the root of Heaven and Earth, one can also unite with them. In union with Heaven and Earth, one can aid all things in the proper way and reach the state of gaining things naturally, without seeking them. The text therefore next discusses “Heaven and Earth endure forever.”

The source of enduring life is gentleness and yielding, so the text next says, “The highest good is like water.” When more is added to water, it overflows; when it is allowed to settle and clear, it becomes pure and bright. The text therefore next discusses “holding and filling it.”

What is attained naturally without deliberate pursuit is followed by “Heaven is long-lasting and Earth endures.” Lasting results come from gentleness and responsive yielding, so this is followed by “The highest good is like water.” When water increases, it overflows; once clarified, it becomes clear and reflective. So this is followed by “Hold it and fill it.” To avoid fullness, one should withdraw after one’s achievements are complete. The place in which one settles after stepping back lies in neither taking sides nor clinging to anything. So this is followed by “Carry the corporeal soul and embrace the One” (let body and spirit remain together, single-minded and undivided).

Embracing the One brings about “Mysterious De” (profound and natural Virtue). Mysterious De nurtures all things without claiming credit, and all things then turn to it of their own accord. So this is followed by “Thirty spokes” (using the thirty spokes of a wheel as a metaphor). All things take the One as their root, while the usefulness of a vessel lies in its empty space. Emptiness is precious because it is not confined to any particular shape or form. People find it hard to rid themselves of desires for colors and external things, so this is followed by “The five colors.” Only by casting off outward splendor can one attain inner truth. One should know when to stop and when to act, take advancing and withdrawing as one’s guide, and still hold a position in the world; therefore one must discern clearly when to advance, withdraw, accept, or relinquish. So this is followed by “Favor and disgrace.”

Both receiving favor and suffering disgrace call for vigilance. Then, whether in a high or low position, one can advance or withdraw with composure. If one guards against calamity without slackening, blessings will continually renew themselves. Rising from a low position, one will be entrusted with all under Heaven. To be entrusted with all under Heaven, one must have realized the Dao. The mystery of the Dao is formless, so this is followed by “Look at it, and you do not see it.”

One who understands the “Three Ones” (the teaching of the Dao’s threefold unity) can hold fast to the ancient Dao and govern the present. By applying the ancient Dao in this way, one may be a sage ruler above, a sage minister in the middle, or a sage among the people below. Sage De is formed by accumulating good deeds, so this is followed by “Those who are good at being shi.” “Shi” carries the sense of undertaking a responsibility; people at every level take doing good as their charge. The good shi understand the ancient Dao and diligently study it in the present. What they learn today accords with the ancient Dao, and the principle of keeping still does not change. So this is followed by “Attain the utmost emptiness.”

One who understands the constant Dao can be on the left or the right, below or above; can serve as a king or a lord; and can accord with the Way of Heaven, preserving oneself for a long time. In retirement, one is in no danger; in prominence, one is not at risk either. When this Dao is lost, De comes to differ in degree and worth, so this is followed by “The highest.”

The chapter “The Highest” marks the end of the portion recited in spring. In arranging the text, the passage above was separated from what follows, and the chapters were shifted in sequence. “The Highest” was moved to the beginning of the portion recited in summer, and “Settling into utmost emptiness” was designated the conclusion of Chapter Sixteen.

The pattern manifested by the “Supreme One” (the highest Dao) brings forth all things and nurtures them. Having been nurtured, they grow and mature. Maturity leads to the next stage, as the order and cycles of things continually unfold and shift. Beginning with the “Supreme One,” the time of summer singing marks the start of one stage; becoming one with “Utmost Emptiness” (the ultimate stillness of emptiness) marks the end of the number sixteen.

The “Supreme One” brings forth and nurtures all things, helping them grow and mature until they reach the marker of the yearly cycle. The Kun node and the Shuo tally appear with the changing light and shadow of the sun and moon; body and spirit depend on Kunlun. Here, “Lun” means turning and transforming, guiding all things, so it is placed in the chapter on nurture. “Kun” means blending and returning to one’s original nature, so it belongs in the chapter on the source of life. When what is within lies deep and what is without is at peace, danger will not befall you. What is stable and enduring, and what is hidden and manifest, all depend on this. Yet few people in the world can maintain this state, so the next topic is “When the Great Dao is abandoned.”

When people lose the Dao, they strive to outdo one another and compete to esteem immediate, external gains. People must therefore be led back to inner cultivation, so the next topic is “Abandon sagehood.” Cultivate the inner and preserve the original mind: let your light shine without dazzling. Teachers and students alike should be humble and quiet, dispelling troubles and warding off calamity. Thus the next topic is “Abandon learning.” When outward rivalry comes to an end, there is no conflict within, and the Great Dao becomes vast and all-encompassing. Thus the next topic is “The bearing of great De.”

To endure humiliation, accept a low position, and make no complaint is to hold fast to the Dao in one’s heart. Thus the next topic is “Bent, yet whole.” To bend and thereby remain whole is a principle of nature: it can be understood inwardly, but is difficult to explain in words. When one’s allotted Qi is nearly spent, danger can be avoided; by keeping still and silent, the Dao can expand. Thus the next topic is “Few words.” Quietly understanding without saying much can put an end to deluded, grasping desires. Thus the next topic is “The crooked do not stand.”

Only those who do not boast or claim credit for their achievements can be called people of the Dao. The Dao of those who follow the Dao existed before Heaven and Earth, so the next topic is “There is a thing formed in chaos”: the Dao is undivided and indistinct, existing before all things; the transformations in which things appear come afterward. It divides into the “Four Greats” (four fundamental forces or categories), each with its own direction, setting forth its principles in turn. Because it takes reverence for stillness as its foundation, the next topic is “Heaviness is the root.”

Only those who do not boast or claim credit for their achievements can be called people of the Dao. The Dao of those who follow the Dao existed before Heaven and Earth, so the next topic is “There is a thing formed in chaos.”

All things first exist in a state of undivided chaos, and only later do their various transformations appear. They divide into the four directions, each in turn revealing its laws. Cultivation takes clarity and stillness as its foundation, so the discussion next turns to “the heavy as the root of the light”: by keeping to what is weighty, one attains clarity and stillness and can remain centered and upright. When the heart leaves no trace, when one aids and rescues without abandoning anyone, and when teacher and disciple live in harmony, the discussion turns to skill in practicing the Dao. Teacher and disciple uphold a single Way and understand both firmness and softness; they bring the two into harmony, then return to simplicity.

Simplicity does not remain forever undivided. When the movement of Qi opens, it disperses; after dispersing, it gathers again. Thus the discussion turns to “knowing the strong, yet holding to the soft.” Only by being both firm and yielding can one respond to affairs, be entrusted with duties, and fulfill one’s responsibilities. By acting with balance, avoiding extravagance, and resting calmly in the Way of Wuwei (non-action), one comes to “wishing to take possession of all under Heaven.”

Once simplicity has dispersed, affairs in the world gradually fall into disorder, and they must be governed when there is no alternative. Governance cannot rely on force, so the discussion turns to assisting the ruler through the Dao. Even when action is unavoidable and one has achieved results, one should withdraw once the work is done and not claim credit. Hence the discussion turns to “weapons are not auspicious instruments”: seeing clearly the misfortune that comes from warfare and abandoning displays of force is what accords with the Dao. The Dao’s essence is hidden and withdrawn; it stays in its place without hesitation. Once doubt and stagnation have been cleared away, all under Heaven can no longer make one its servant.

Those who occupy the position of kings and lords do not exalt themselves or cling to power and profit. All things naturally gather around them, so the discussion turns to “the Dao is forever nameless.” One who allows all things to gather naturally is in accord with the virtue of Heaven and Earth. Sweet dew descends, and peace prevails under Heaven. This state arises from knowing oneself. To know oneself is to know contentment; with contentment, one can endure without loss.

The discussion then turns to how a person’s death does not mean true extinction. One may entrust oneself to transformation and withdraw from sight; the spirit joins with the Dao, moving freely in and out and responding to whatever it encounters. The Great Dao is vast and boundless, answering the myriad things without any fixed manner. Although each thing has its own place of return, its source lies in what is profound and mysterious. The mystery’s subtlety has no form, yet within the formless lies its wondrous function.

Thus the discussion turns to holding fast to the “Great Image”—the Dao as it appears in its totality. All things take it as their refuge. One who grasps this subtle principle can guide living beings, acting and withdrawing in every circumstance according to the proper measure. Hence the discussion turns to “if you wish to draw something in, first let it expand”: expansion and contraction must both be kept within measure, and sharp tools should be put away. Though one acts, one does not cling to action, and ultimately one joins with the Dao.

Thus the discussion turns to the Dao’s constant Wuwei, through which nothing is left undone. When the myriad things arise, simplicity is used to settle them. Simplicity has no desires, and all under Heaven naturally becomes upright. Once upright, things remain joined with the Dao for a long time; once joined, words too can be forgotten. Even in forgetting words, one must accord with the right Way, using it to correct what is deviant.

In this way, the functions of the seasons are fulfilled, and the cycles of the solar terms and months turn and begin again. The Qi of the four seasons and the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water) multiply together, making twenty. The movements of Heaven and Earth follow their own order. Merit and virtue return to Heaven, and one chapter corresponds to one year. Spring has twenty-one days; the four seasonal Qi multiply of themselves, displaying how the virtue that takes the lead becomes unified. Within this unity the four Qi are contained, so sixteen comes first, encompassing autumn and winter.

This means that inwardly one should accord with growth and nurture, while outwardly regulating the forces of killing and storing. One humbles oneself, casts aside partiality toward Yin, and returns to Yang harmony; both sides thereby come to upright balance. The force of severity should be subdued, and what is coarse should be brought into harmony. As gentleness becomes free flowing, the subtle mystery forms the order by which the year runs its course.

Those in higher positions should be accommodating toward those below; this is the highest expression of virtue for those below, and the final result is called “the highest.” A person of high virtue can guide transformation, turning the forces of killing and storing back toward generation and giving. They humble themselves and lead others by example. If those below can discard what is coarse, take up what is refined, and return to the subtle principle, they can accord with high virtue.

The earth is the differentiated manifestation of the forms of Heaven. De (Virtue/Power) is the way the Dao manifests outwardly and responds to the myriad things. The myriad things each have levels that range from shallow to profound, and appear in forms like those of human beings. If people can awaken to and cultivate this highest De, they can bring their own De into communion with Heaven and eventually return to the Dao. This is why the text is called the “Classic of De,” and begins with “Highest De.” The opening introduces what follows: how people today may attain the Dao. Once attained, the Dao is no longer lost; this state is called “De.”

De has higher and lower forms, divided into three grades: upper, middle, and lower. The classic broadly explains their principles, unfolding them in sequence and linking one to the next. Each step beyond the ordinary and toward deeper cultivation has its corresponding method. Following the order established by the ancients, we now turn to “In ancient times, those who attained the One.” The One governs how the myriad things respond and return: it gathers them all under itself, and each finds refuge in it. Therefore, one should hold fast to the One and remain unmoved. Movement and gradual progress each have their own methods. Following the order established by the ancients, we now turn to “In ancient times, those who attained the One”... The One gathers the myriad things, and they return to the One; therefore, one should hold fast to it, undisturbed by external things. To act, one must reverse conventional practice, turning away from worldly custom and returning to the Dao. Thus the text continues with “Reversal is the movement of the Dao.” Reversal is the course along which the Dao operates. Once the path leading to the Dao is clear and easy to follow, the text next says, “When the highest kind of person hears of the Dao”: such a person diligently puts its teachings into practice and will surely reach the root.

The root must be understood, so the text next says, “The Dao gives birth to the One.” Once the source is understood, one must preserve harmony in order to accord with the Dao. Thus the text next says, “Nothing in the world is softer than water.” To be utterly soft is to yield humbly and refrain from contention. Those who pursue fame and status may lose their lives and scatter their spirit, so the text next asks, “Which is dearer, reputation or oneself?” Yet in the vast world, keeping to the Dao often conflicts with worldly pursuits. Thus the text next says, “Great perfection seems flawed”: what appears deficient in fact removes the false and preserves the true, avoiding misfortune and welcoming good fortune.

The Dao is present everywhere. By turning inward and seeking within oneself, one can experience the Dao in the heart. Thus the text next says, “Without going out the door.” Seeking gain outside oneself often leads to superficiality and strays from what is subtle and profound. To help people understand this, the text next says, “In the pursuit of learning”: the pursuit of outward show can be set aside. One should lessen desires, seek what is genuine, accord with the myriad things, clear away obstacles, and remain free of attachment to emotions. Thus the text next says, “The sage has no fixed mind.”

The heart responds to things beyond itself: when an influence from the outside world arrives, the heart naturally responds. This response does not arise from personal desire. Though no such intention is present in the heart, it can still engage appropriately with all things. In action or stillness alike, such a person accords with the Dao, which also becomes apparent in the response; such a person is called a “sage.” Those who diligently study the Dao and accumulate De are also called “sages.” These two paths to sagehood differ, yet in the end they converge.

With a focused heart, one aids living beings, guides the living, and delivers the dead. If the dead can repent, they may regain vitality; if the living can gather their body and mind and nourish life, they may avoid death. Life and death are related to the body’s nine apertures and four gates—the openings and joints through which Qi is understood to enter, leave, and circulate. Therefore, the next passage speaks of “emerging into life and entering death.” To be in a state of death yet hope for new life, one should understand the source of life; therefore, the next passage says, “The Dao gives birth to them.”

Once life is attained, it continues to multiply, and affairs increase along with it. Affairs have beginnings and endings, so one must understand how to protect and govern them, use suitable methods, and grasp the right times to open and close. Therefore, the next passage says, “The world has a beginning.” This line appears twice, and in both places it leads to the idea that all things have a source and beginning. Beginning and end are linked: understanding the end enables one to remain open and unobstructed. Between the two, one makes use of various conditions, helping and sustaining one another. Therefore, the next passage says, “If I hold fast to this.”

Those able to practice the Great Dao are inwardly luminous and outwardly reserved. They seek the source and strengthen the roots, so that their descendants may continue without end. Therefore, the next passage says, “Good builders do not let their work collapse.” The practice of self-cultivation extends to the whole world; holding the Dao in one’s heart preserves one’s original nature. Therefore, the next passage says, “Those who are rich in De.” They understand in silence, practice diligently, and maintain what they have without losing it. Therefore, the next passage says, “Those who know do not speak.” Yet silence, too, can teach: words are spoken to aid living beings, dispel evil, and restore order. Therefore, the next passage says, “Use righteousness to govern the state.” In the end, good government depends on Wuwei and does not esteem an excess of laws and commands. Therefore, the next passage says, “When the government is unobtrusive.”

The past has no end, and the future is boundless; the present, too, has no limits. We should remember and learn from those in the past who were good, using this to help ourselves. For those in the past who were not good, we should be willing to guide and deliver them, so that all may ascend together to the place of the Dao—the site of cultivation and deliverance for living beings. The future is boundless, and the subtle or coarse nature of things is difficult to fathom, so one must not act rashly. The present, too, has no limits. People of high and low status interact: those who are good continue to do good and guide others toward goodness, so that all may be raised up and delivered. Those who do evil are taught and transformed, so that all may board the bridge of the Dharma—the path of cultivation leading to liberation. Therefore, the next passage says, “Govern people and serve Heaven.”

The Supreme Scripture of the Treasured Origin of the Cavern Mystery explains the sequence of its chapters. The principles discussed in the preceding chapters differ, but this is no reason to regard oneself as right and claim the foremost place. The aims of the different chapters connect with one another: each emphasizes something distinct, yet all can guide people toward goodness and bring them to salvation together. Even those who do evil can be transformed through them, and everyone can cross the “bridge of the Teaching”—a metaphor for the path of cultivation that leads to deliverance. That is why the text next discusses “governing people and serving Heaven.”

Even when cultivators face the “limit of five nines”—a period or numerical constraint mentioned in the scripture—they should turn toward long life and deep insight into the Dao, without setting up another system of teaching. The Dao they follow can make their foundations firm and save both humans and spirits. That is why the text next discusses “governing a great state.” When virtues converge and return to one another, one can settle calmly in the smallest matters. That is why the text next discusses “a great state is like a low-lying river mouth.” Where does the current of water finally go? It returns to the Dao. That is why the text next discusses “the Dao is the hidden depth of all things.”

Grasping the mystery of the Dao makes it possible to help those who are deluded by shallow understanding. Yet one must not cling to “being,” so the text next discusses “acting through non-action.” As soon as one is about to cease acting, one must prevent trouble from taking root early. That is why the text next discusses “what is at rest is easy to hold.” Cultivation requires steadfast adherence to De, with the teachings of earlier masters as a standard for examining oneself. That is why the text next discusses “those of old who were skilled in the Dao.”

Though there are many methods of cultivation, the key is humility and weakness: remain humble, and make use of weakness. With enduring patience and no harm, one can grow from small beginnings to great results. That is why the text next discusses “rivers and seas.” Holding to the lowly way is often difficult for ordinary people, so the text next discusses “everyone says I am great, yet unlike anything else.” Those who possess the “Three Treasures”—compassion, frugality, and not daring to put themselves before all under Heaven—can avoid death and preserve life. That is why the text next discusses the virtue of cultivators who are skilled in the Dao and do not contend. The virtue of noncontention accords with Heaven, and Heaven will not harm such a person. That is why the text next discusses “there is a saying among those who use weapons.”

Compassion and kindness are the foundation. Once the foundation is established, the Dao can be fulfilled; yet few people understand this. That is why the text next discusses “my words are very easy to understand.” People in the world fail to keep to their proper place and recklessly treat what they do not understand as if they did. That is why the text next discusses “knowing that you do not know is best.” The ignorant lose the Dao and cannot fathom the divine. They do not know how to show reverence, violate taboos, and thereby invite disaster. That is why the text next discusses “the people do not fear what is to be feared.” Ordinary people cling to their own thoughts and cannot practice Wuwei (non-action). When they should do good, they do not; instead, they are bold enough to do evil. That is why the text next discusses “being bold in daring.”

Because those in high positions lack proper standards of conduct, the text goes on to say, “The people no longer fear death.” The ways of those above influence those below, and the failings of those below also stem from the ways of those above. So it next says, “The people endure hunger.” Human life depends on food and drink, and these in turn should be guided by the Dao (the Way). The Dao teaches through softness and weakness, so the text next says, “When people are alive, they are soft and weak.”

Strength is also contained within softness and weakness, which can embody the power of the Dao. The Dao’s power brings harmony to the myriad things, and harmony and balance exist within them. So the text next says, “The Dao of Heaven is like a drawn bow.” Being centered, harmonious, and soft and weak can overcome harshness and force. The Jing (scripture) gives a concrete example to show this, so it next says, “Nothing under Heaven is softer and weaker than water.”

Striving to overpower others breeds resentment and binds people in opposition. If even a harsh and forceful attitude cannot be reconciled, there is no question of following the Dao of Heaven. So the text next says, “Resolve deep-seated resentment.” By remaining at peace and harboring no grudges, one can accord with the Dao of Heaven. By holding to what is small and accepting a lesser share, one can preserve what is vast and have enough. So the text next says, “A small state with few people.”

The words prized by the common world are often ornate but empty of substance. Words of trust in accord with the Dao have substance and make no claim to elegance. The wise value substance and set aside ornament, so the text next says, “Words of trust are not elegant.”

The Supreme Scripture of the Treasure Origin of the Cavern Mystery of the Most High says that sages do not claim merit or gain for themselves. Instead, they bring the contents of its chapters together to show that the more one gives to others, the more one ultimately returns to heavenly De (Virtue/Power). Thus, benefiting all things without harming them is the highest expression of the human way: one acts, yet does not compete with others for superiority.

Few people can fully embody the virtue of non-contention. People are therefore guided and awakened with patience and sincerity: those in low positions are gradually raised, those in humble station are restored to honor, and people are led to abandon stagnation and harmful habits and turn toward the open path of goodness. These teachings all come from the Five Thousand Words, another name for the Dao De Jing. In five thousand characters, the scripture explains five virtues and brings them to completion. If even one character were missing, the teachings would be incomplete.

The Dao is the root of all things and arises from the Great Void. The Great Void seems empty, yet it is not utterly nothing: within nonbeing there is being, with wondrous functions without limit. The Dao nurtures and transforms living beings; it is the source from which all things continually arise. It is called formless chaos: it has no body or fixed shape and cannot be directly grasped by the human mind. Words help us understand its principles, but they serve only to express meaning and must not become a constraint. Words are brief and cannot exhaust what they mean; the true meaning often lies beyond them. Those who understand deeply investigate further and infer other principles from a single example. Such people possess both wisdom and De.

The Qi of the Dao (the Way)—the source energy of the Dao—is unfathomably subtle. It has no ancestor or beginning, no boundary or end. It is without intention or desire and takes no action. It is still and pure, clear and calm, serene and profound. It cannot be called clear or turbid, and it neither diminishes nor increases. It embraces the immeasurable and encompasses all that exists and does not exist. The wondrous workings of the Dao’s Qi cannot be defiled. The Dao’s form is mysterious and hidden, beyond words; so it is provisionally called the “Dao,” and also “the Formless.” Yet within the Formless, every form is contained. All forms blend together, and this is called “the undifferentiated whole.” From it, all things come into being in endless number.

To describe the Dao’s generative activity in broad terms, it is often explained through five states: first, nonbeing; second, being; third, being within nonbeing; fourth, nonbeing within being; and fifth, neither being nor nonbeing. “Neither being nor nonbeing” is the subtle Qi of the Dao; “nonbeing within being” is the Qi of Jing; “being within nonbeing” is the Qi of the beginning; “being” is primordial Qi; and “nonbeing” is mysterious Qi. Mysterious Qi, primordial Qi, and the Qi of the beginning differentiate into the Qi of Jing, and together return to wondrous Qi. The five states contain three fundamentals, while the three fundamentals encompass the five states. The three and five intermingle and flow together without hindering or harming one another; they skillfully bring all things to completion, abandoning none. Taken together, these are called the “source of the Dao.”

The source of the Dao has five forms, corresponding to the five directions: Water in the north, Wood in the east, Fire in the south, Earth in the center, and Metal in the west. Before Heaven and Earth unfolded and the five directions were distinguished, the Qi of Water, Wood, Fire, Earth, and Metal harmonized with one another. When their resonance reaches its utmost, there is a response, and all things unfold in turn.

All things participate in this shared resonance. Wishing to distinguish things within chaos, they reject death and cherish life. Yet they cannot create life by themselves, nor can they make distinctions by their own power. When resonance reaches its utmost, the Dao responds. The Dao responds through “One.” One is the Dao’s offspring; primordial Qi arrives first, hence the saying, “The Dao gives birth to One.” One gives birth to Two: Yang Qi emerges first, and Yin Qi responds after it. The two Qi depend on one another and arise from primordial Qi, hence the saying, “One gives birth to Two.” Two gives birth to Three: Yin and Yang join, and harmonious Qi flows between them; thus Three gives birth to all things.

After mysterious Qi, primordial Qi, and the Qi of the beginning differentiate, Heaven covers above, Earth supports below, and humanity stands between them, while all things spread widely throughout the world. The Three Powers—Heaven, Earth, and humanity—support one another and together turn toward reverence for the Great Dao.

The Dao establishes three officials: the Heavenly Official above, the Earthly Official below, and the Water Official in between. The Dao entrusts its responsibilities to these three officials and establishes no other offices. All things depend on the Three Powers of Heaven, Earth, and humanity, and likewise have no separate overseer. Human government, broadly speaking, also has only these three kinds of officials. They govern and assist one another, guiding what is peripheral back to its root. In general, governance in the Daoist realm resembles governance among humans: it encourages good and restrains evil. Though their specific rules differ, in the end they return to the same root.

All who pursue study read the teachings handed down by the sages, but among them are expedient teachings as well as truths that are real and unchanging. Only those who study with earnest dedication can grasp their true meaning. Wisdom is essential to understanding the central meaning of the true scriptures. By keeping insight within and applying it flexibly without display, one can attain the sages’ De (Virtue/Power). De is cultivated through learning and understanding; understanding depends on inquiry and investigation. After thoroughly examining the principles of things and fully illuminating one’s nature, entrust your cultivation to a person of high attainment.

The foundation of becoming a person of high attainment lies in knowing the “Three” and observing the “Five.” Those who understand the principles of the Three and Five can travel throughout the world and find a way through wherever they go, meeting no further obstruction. The “Three” refers to the union of Yin-Yang, Xuan-Yuan, and the Beginning. The “Five” refers to the Five Phases: Water, Wood, Fire, Earth, and Metal. Before the Qi of Yin-Yang has divided, it is called “Hun”; before the Five Phases have appeared, it is called “Dun.” The source of Hun and Dun is shown below.

First, its inner name is “Yuan,” and its outer title is “Nature”—the most mysterious, supreme, and unsurpassed designation.

Second, its inner name is “Hun,” and its outer title is “Wuji.”

Third, its inner name is “Dun,” and its outer title is the “Great Dao.”

Fourth, its inner name is “Qi,” and its outer title is “Perfect Truth.”

Fifth, its inner name is “Jin,” and its outer title is “Taishang.”

Sixth, its inner name is “Meng,” and its outer title is “Laojun.”

Seventh, its inner name is “Wan,” and its outer title is “High Sovereign.”

Eighth, its inner name is “Shi,” and its outer title is “Celestial Worthy.”

Ninth, its inner name is “Yuan,” and its outer title is “Jade Emperor.”

Tenth, its inner name is “Xuan,” and its outer title is “Your Majesty.”

Together, these ten pairs of titles comprise thirty characters. Each corresponds to one of the ten directions; at times they are used together, and at times separately. Their names resemble one another, but their meanings differ. Each title was established according to a distinct form of resonance. These names were created to awaken goodness and to lead from titles to an understanding of the principles. Those who know these principles may escape death; those who grasp them can live long. When you encounter a worthy and enlightened person, transmit them in secret. If someone is not suited to receive them, take care not to teach them.

Here, “bu yuan” should be written as “bu yuan.”