《文始真经注》Vol. 2

The sage, one who has attained the Dao, understands the subtle principle of benefiting both oneself and others. For this reason, sometimes the sage begins with principles, and sometimes with concrete methods. Among those of superior capacity, some approach through principles and others through practice. Though their paths of entry differ, their ultimate realization is the same. Thus, sometimes the sage begins by discussing principles from ancient times, and sometimes with matters of the present.

The sage understands that the inner and outer are connected at their source. For this reason, sometimes the sage begins with the inner, and sometimes with the outer.

“Knowing” means realization. The sage has fully realized the wondrous Dao and attained a state in which body and spirit are both refined and body and mind are integrated. Thus, sages understand that the inner and outer are connected at their source. Out of compassion for the world, when they meet people of superior capacity, they first explain how to clarify the mind and see one’s nature—that is, to observe one’s original mind and recognize one’s nature—so that these people may awaken directly and understand that the mind’s source is originally pure. This is what “sometimes beginning with the inner” means. When they meet people of middling or lesser capacity, the sages worry that they may find direct realization difficult, so they first teach subtle methods for cultivating the body and nourishing life, helping them understand gradually. This is what “sometimes beginning with the outer” means. The original text repeats its explanation of “beginning with the inner.”

Nothing in the world can entangle the sage, so humility is taken as the foundation…

The sage fully realizes true emptiness—a state beyond appearances and traces, unobstructed by anything—and brings body and mind into harmony with the Great Void, the boundless expanse of emptiness. The myriad things under Heaven are complex and numerous, yet they cannot burden or obstruct the Void. Thus, nothing in the world can burden the sage.

In governing the world, the sage is like rivers and seas that willingly lie low and receive the waters of a hundred streams: he embraces what is soiled and bears what is unfair. People from every region turn to him, and all under Heaven gladly choose him as their leader without growing weary of him. This all comes from his humility; thus humility is taken as the foundation.

No one under Heaven is excluded from the sage’s care, so he embraces everyone with an open and empty heart. Here, “things” refers to people. The sage pacifies the world through Dao and De: people from every region are drawn to his De, follow his instruction, and willingly serve as his subjects without resenting him. Even when everyone has turned to him, the sage does not become complacent. His mind remains clear and empty like the Great Void. Thus, he embraces all under Heaven with an open and empty heart.

No one under Heaven is difficult to govern, so the guiding principle of administration is simplicity and ease. The people are glad to enjoy a peaceful and prosperous life, and none are beyond the reach of moral instruction. Therefore, the sage’s policies are easy to carry out. This is the meaning of “Nothing in the world can make things difficult for him, so he proceeds with ease.”

Nothing among the myriad things under Heaven becomes blocked or obstructed, so the sage can adapt to circumstances as they arise. “Obstructed” means blocked; “expedient judgment” means responding flexibly and making situational adjustments. When peace prevails under Heaven and the people are prosperous, Yin-Yang in Heaven and Earth are in harmony, and all things grow and flourish freely, with nothing held back. The sage cultivates himself through the Dao and does not act recklessly; he responds to change through De and applies it flexibly. Thus, nothing among the myriad things can obstruct him, and the sage can adapt to the time and circumstances.

By governing the world through this balanced and upright way, one can establish ritual institutions.

“By means of this” refers to governing the world in accordance with the preceding discussion of De and the proper weighing of what is fitting. “The mean” is what is just right, neither excessive nor deficient. A proper weighing eliminates partiality, so one must apply flexible judgment as circumstances require.

Governing the world through this balanced and upright way makes it possible to establish ritual institutions that set the relationships between ruler and ministers, and between those above and below, in proper order, distinguishing ranks of honor and the roles of fathers and sons.

Governing the world through this Dao brings harmony to all under Heaven. “Music” originally carries the sense of harmonizing; its central purpose is harmony without excess. When this De is used to calm the age, the world becomes peaceful, ritual and music flourish, and moral instruction grows refined and pure. Music can therefore be created on this basis.

Governing the world through this De allows people who are fair and impartial to be entrusted with managing its resources.

Using this De to teach the world, and extending instruction everywhere, causes the customs of insulting elders and slighting those in higher positions to cease on their own. “Restrain affronts” means preventing disrespect.

When governing the world through this De, if certain things harm the people, laws can be established to remove them; if they benefit the people, laws can be enacted to promote them.

Observing the world through this De, when one discovers things that are useful in the people’s daily lives, tools can be made for them to use.

The sage does not govern All-under-Heaven by relying on his own power alone; he lets the people of All-under-Heaven govern it together. The sage has no selfish motives. Through moral teaching, he guides the people and brings them peace, allowing everyone to live and work in contentment, listening to the music of peace and even forgetting who brought it about. This is why it is said that the sage does not govern All-under-Heaven by relying on his own power alone, but lets the people govern it together.

The people of All-under-Heaven credit the sage with bringing peace, while the sage credits the people. At times, the people may attribute the achievement of peace to the sage, but he does not claim the credit for himself or say, “I was the one who governed All-under-Heaven well.” The sage remains humble and gives the credit to the people. This is precisely what is meant by saying that the sage does not govern All-under-Heaven alone, but lets the people govern it together.

When Tang Yao, Yu Shun, Yu the Great, and Tang of Yin governed All-under-Heaven, the people all said that peace had come about naturally. “The Four Emperors” here refers to these four ancient rulers. They brought peace to All-under-Heaven, yet the people forgot the rulers’ contribution and felt that peace had always been so, as though it had nothing to do with the rulers’ efforts. This chapter explains that the sage brings peace to the people through moral virtue and governs without selfish motives.

Guan Yin Zi said: “Heaven leaves nothing uncovered. All things grow and perish, yet Heaven has neither favor nor aversion.”

Heaven is vast beyond measure, and nothing lies outside its covering. In spring, all things grow; in autumn, all things wither. Heaven acts without selfish motives. Does Heaven cause something to grow because it loves it, and something else to perish because it dislikes it? Thus it is said that Heaven covers all things, which are born and perish, while Heaven itself has neither favor nor aversion.

The sun leaves nothing unilluminated. Things may be beautiful or ugly, yet the sun does not favor one over another.

The brightest sun shines on everything. In its light, those with beautiful faces appear beautiful, and those with unattractive faces appear unattractive. The sun treats beauty and ugliness alike: it shines on both without favoritism. It does not favor the beautiful by shining more brightly on them, nor reject the unattractive by giving them less light. Thus the sun shines on everything; beauty and ugliness each appear as they are, while the sun shows neither greater nor lesser regard for either. This chapter uses the sun as a metaphor for how the sage benefits all beings universally and without partiality.

This concludes Chapter Two.

Guan Yin said: The Dao of the sage is formed by the Mandate of Heaven; the sage does not devise a Dao of his own.

The Dao cannot be fully explained through thought or words. “Heaven” means what happens naturally, and “mandate” means what is so of itself, though we do not understand why. The sage fully comprehends this ineffable Dao, follows natural change, and does not insist on understanding the cause of everything that happens. The Dao needs no name imposed upon it, and the sage does not imagine that he has accomplished anything. Thus it is said that the sage’s Dao comes from the Mandate of Heaven and is not something the sage can bring about by his own efforts.

The sage’s De naturally accords with the times; it is not deliberately cultivated by the sage and claimed as his own.

“Accord” means to be in harmony. The sage follows the times and benefits all, without seeking repayment or claiming credit, and does not cling to the reputation of being virtuous. Thus it is said that the sage’s De naturally accords with the times; it is not a De the sage considers his own.

The sage acts in response to others’ needs; the sage does not imagine that he is doing anything.

“Acting” can mean putting something to use or carrying out an undertaking. The sage has an effect in a way that seems to involve no action, bringing widespread and inexhaustible benefit. In serving others, the sage does not think, “I am the one exerting this power.” Thus it is said that the sage acts for others, without imagining that he is accomplishing anything.

Therefore, the sage does not claim the Dao, De, or achievements as his own.

Sages have no thoughts that cling to the self. They do not know why they are as they are; they are simply so by nature. Thus they do not proclaim the name of the Dao (the Way), leave behind no traces that display De (Virtue/Power), and do not cling to utility. Hence it is said: “The sage does not cling to possessing the Dao, possessing De, or doing things.” This chapter explains that sages sweep away all forms of distinction and attachment, return to their original state, and reach a state of selflessness.

Guan Yin Zi said: “The sage understands that ‘I’ is originally without a self, and therefore responds through benevolence.”

Benevolence means cherishing, helping, and benefiting all things. The sage realizes true emptiness—the state of being free from attachment and having no fixed inherent nature—and understands that what is called “I” is merely a name provisionally assigned. Having awakened to this, the sage can practice benevolence without clinging to its name or appearance. Hence it is said: “The sage understands that I am originally without a self, and therefore responds through benevolence.”

Understanding that what one does is originally without a self, one weighs and handles matters in accordance with what is right.

“Matters” means actions or functions; “weighing” also means applying and assessing. The sage understands that in acting, one should not cling to the self, but should choose what is appropriate to the actual circumstances. Hence it is said: “Understanding that what one does is originally without a self, one weighs and handles matters in accordance with what is right.” What is right means what is fitting.

Understanding that the mind is originally without a self, one disciplines oneself through ritual propriety.

The sage realizes that the subtle mind, at its source, has no fixed form of self. Therefore, one uses ritual propriety to regulate human conduct. Ritual propriety means putting into practice the proper ceremonies and standards of conduct.

Understanding that cognition is originally without a self, one distinguishes and illuminates through wisdom.

The sage understands that the lucid source of consciousness is originally without a self. Therefore, one uses wisdom to distinguish right from wrong and examine truth and falsehood. Here, “wisdom” means the capacity to discern right from wrong and scrutinize what is true or false.

Understanding that speech is originally without a self, one holds fast to trustworthiness.

The sage understands that although speech serves to express meaning, it has no fixed and unchanging self or name. Therefore, one maintains sincerity so that words accord with actions. This is what it means to hold fast to trustworthiness.

The sage realizes that true speech does not depend on language or cling to the notion of “I.” Thus the sage guards inner sincerity, keeping words and actions in accord. Understanding that speech has no fixed self, the sage holds fast to integrity. This chapter explains that the sage has no attachment to a private self and can put the Five Constant Virtues—benevolence, righteousness, propriety, wisdom, and trustworthiness—to flexible use.

Section Four

Guan Yin Zi says: “In practicing the Dao, the sage sometimes embodies benevolence through benevolence, and sometimes expresses it through righteousness, propriety, wisdom, and trustworthiness.”

“To” means to put into practice. The sage takes the Dao as the foundation and the Five Constant Virtues as ways of putting it into practice, extending compassion and kindness to all things. Hence, sometimes benevolence is expressed through benevolence. At times the sage discerns right from wrong so that all things may each find what is fitting, while compassion remains the foundation; hence benevolence is expressed through righteousness. At times the sage follows the rules of propriety, distinguishes truth from falsehood, or brings words and actions into accord. Since compassion and kindness remain the foundation in each case, benevolence is expressed through propriety, wisdom, and trustworthiness.

Each of the virtues—benevolence, righteousness, propriety, wisdom, and trustworthiness—contains the other four. When the sage teaches through benevolence, righteousness, propriety, wisdom, and trustworthiness are also present. When acting through righteousness, propriety, wisdom, trustworthiness, and benevolence are also present. Propriety, wisdom, and trustworthiness likewise each contain the other virtues. Thus benevolence, righteousness, propriety, wisdom, and trustworthiness encompass one another.

The sage brings them all together without clinging to any one of them, so no one in the world can define the sage with a title.

The sage sees through to true emptiness—not clinging to fixed forms or boundaries—and transcends all oppositions and dharmic forms, the shapes and names things take. The sage grasps at nothing and is not bound by ideas attached to names. Thus no one in the world can describe or define the sage with labels. “Not adhering” means neither sticking to nor grasping at anything. This chapter explains that although the sage responds to things and acts, the sage does not cling to usefulness, reputation, or traces of action.

Section Five

Guan Yin Zi says: “Do not judge the sage by actions, for the Dao has no fixed traces.”

Sometimes the sage acts contrary to convention, and sometimes in accordance with it; even spirits and gods cannot fathom the sage. This is because the sage embodies the Dao of true emptiness.

Chapter Five

Guan Yin Zi said: Do not judge a sage by his conduct, for the Dao (the Way) leaves no trace to follow.

A sage may act in accord with circumstances or go against convention, and even spirits and gods find him difficult to fathom. The true way of emptiness leaves no fixed traces, so a sage cannot be understood by looking only at his actions. Here, “trace” means the mark left by one’s conduct, and “do not” expresses a prohibition.

Do not judge a sage by his words, for the Dao cannot be fully expressed in speech.

A sage’s words may seem to say one thing, yet lead people to understand what lies beyond words; this unspoken meaning is the Dao. The Dao has no fixed name, and words cannot express it completely.

Do not judge a sage by his abilities, for the Dao does nothing.

A sage may appear to act, but in truth he follows what is natural and does not insist on imposing his will. This is why it is said that the Dao is Wuwei (non-action).

Do not judge a sage by his appearance, for the Dao has no fixed form.

A sage’s appearance may be no different from that of an ordinary person. His true nature accords with emptiness and has no form that can be seen directly. For this reason, he cannot be understood by his appearance. This chapter explains that a sage’s Dao is not confined by traces of conduct, words, actions, or appearance, and cannot be judged on these grounds alone.

Chapter Six

Guan Yin Zi said: Even conduct that is exceptional and distinguished still falls within the distinction between high and low.

When people cultivate good conduct and stand out from ordinary people, they are regarded as “high,” while ordinary people are regarded as “low.” High and low are relative to one another and remain distinctions based on the traces left by conduct. Thus, however exceptional one’s conduct may be, it cannot escape the distinction between high and low. This chapter explains the previous chapter’s teaching: “Do not judge a sage by his conduct.”

Even the most subtle words still fall within the distinction between right and wrong.

Even when someone explains the Dao with greater subtlety than ordinary people, their words are still judged as “right” or “wrong.” This distinction depends on names and concepts. Thus, however refined one’s words may be, they cannot escape the distinction between right and wrong.

If a person can explain subtle and profound principles, their speech differs from that of ordinary people. When ordinary people cannot speak with such subtlety, they are judged wrong; when they can, they are judged right. Yet “right” and “wrong” stand in opposition to each other, and both depend on names and distinctions. Thus, even speech of the utmost subtlety remains caught up in right and wrong. This passage explains the previous chapter’s teaching: “Do not judge the sage by words.”

However extraordinary a person’s abilities may be, they still fall within the distinction between skill and clumsiness. Some people have remarkable abilities and surpass the ordinary; those who cannot do something are called clumsy, while those who can are called skillful. Skill and clumsiness stand in opposition to each other, and both involve deliberate action. Thus, even extraordinary ability remains caught up in skill and clumsiness. This passage explains the teaching: “Do not judge the sage by ability.”

However exceptional a person’s appearance may be, it still falls within the distinction between beauty and ugliness. Some people are beautiful and stand out from others; an unattractive appearance is called ugly, while an attractive one is called beautiful. Beauty and ugliness stand in opposition to each other, and both depend on outward form. Thus, even the most unusual appearance remains caught up in beauty and ugliness. This passage explains the teaching: “Do not judge the sage by appearance.”

When the sage comes into the world, the sage reveals themself to all under Heaven through conduct, speech, ability, and appearance. Those who study the Dao should, before these outward signs appear, penetrate deeply and fully comprehend the profound, still, empty, and formless reality. This reality is the sage’s wondrous Dao. Only upon reaching this level can one truly see the sage. This passage explains how those who study the Dao may follow outward manifestations and thereby comprehend the wondrous Dao within them.

The text on the right is Chapter Seven.

Guan Yin says: The sage observes bees and understands from them the order between ruler and minister; observes spiders and understands from them how to weave nets; observes the gesture of a mouse clasping its forepaws and devises rites; observes the conditions of war and devises military methods.

The sages of high antiquity observed the hierarchy among bees and, inspired by them, established the ruler-minister relationship to govern the world. Thus it is said that the sages took bees as their teachers and established the system of ruler and minister. The sages of the middle antiquity saw spiders weaving webs to catch prey and, inspired by them, made nets to capture birds and beasts for use in sacrificial offerings. Thus it is said that the sages took spiders as their teachers and made hunting nets.

The sages also saw mountain rats raise their forepaws and chirp when facing people. Inspired by this, they established ritual and music to regulate the order between higher and lower, distinguish the honored from the humble, and bring human relationships into proper order. They also saw mole crickets in separate burrows fighting one another and competing for food. Inspired by this, they established military organization to punish rebels. Thus it is said that the sages took rats standing with forepaws raised as their teachers in establishing ritual, and fighting mole crickets as their teachers in establishing military organization.

Ordinary people take worthy people as their teachers; worthy people take sages as their teachers; sages take the myriad things as their teachers. Only sages can communicate with the myriad things, and so they have no sense of a private self.

Ordinary people seek instruction from worthy people, learning the Five Constant Virtues—benevolence, righteousness, ritual propriety, wisdom, and trustworthiness—and various rules of conduct. That is why ordinary people take worthy people as their teachers. Worthy people seek instruction from sages, learning the Wuwei (non-action) of the Great Dao. That is why worthy people take sages as their teachers. Sages are compassionate and benefit all living beings. They observe the natural principles of the myriad things, take inspiration from them, and benefit the world through many different means. That is why sages take the myriad things as their teachers. Sages thoroughly understand the principle of true emptiness. Though they dwell in the world, they conceal their radiance and reveal nothing; they live among worldly things without being stained by them, and do not regard themselves as different from others. Their mind and body are one with emptiness, and so they have no sense of a private self. This chapter explains how sages can benefit living beings without end.

The text on the right is Chapter Eight.

Guan Yin Zi said: “The sage says: The Dao observes heaven, earth, and the myriad things, regarding them all as expressions of its own Dao: it brings them into correspondence and brings them to their beginnings and endings; it gives them the colors blue and yellow, and nourishes them. Yet it does not accept…”

Guan Yin says: The sage understands that all things between Heaven and Earth embody the Dao (the fundamental principle by which things operate). A husband and wife respond to one another; all things are born and perish; plants display shades of green and yellow; and male and female birds and beasts hatch eggs and raise young. The Dao is present in all these phenomena. The sage understands that all things between Heaven and Earth, whether great or small, flying or swimming, moving or growing, are connected with the Dao. Thus, the sage neither clings to the Dao and rejects the myriad things, nor exalts the noble and looks down on the humble.

The worthy person believes that things are all different, and that each day one must remove some things and provide others; distinguish long from short, and make things straight and square. Whoever acts this way becomes a servant of things.

Here, “things” refers to particular objects and their uses. The worthy person has lost sight of the root and focuses only on the uses of things, so different things call for different methods. Each day, they eliminate bad conduct and teach others good words; they also teach people to distinguish right from wrong and what is long from what is short, striving to make their conduct upright and proper. Constantly picking up or removing, giving or seeking, and repeatedly distinguishing length and shape means being led along by things and becoming their servant.

Yet they do not understand that when the sage sorts out the many and varied things and puts each in its proper place, it is to help others fulfill their potential. The sage does not make this a personal pursuit.

To look down on those who mix indiscriminately, defile one another, and lose purity and correctness, and to differentiate dwellings and status, is to use ritual propriety (li) to regulate the relations between ruler and minister, father and son, and high and low, and to distinguish the order among husband and wife, brothers, and between men and women. The worthy do not understand that the sage despises confusion and disorder because he establishes ritual and divides dwellings and their proper bounds, so that ruler and minister, father and son, husband and wife, brothers, and men and women each have their place, and conduct is not allowed to become chaotic and filthy. This is done to perfect the people of the world, not to benefit oneself. Therefore it is said that the worthy cannot understand why the sage despises mixing and divides dwellings; the sage does this for others, not for himself. This chapter explains that the Dao (the Way) is present everywhere, and the sage benefits all things without a self-centered self.

The right side is chapter nine.

Those below are also not acting for themselves, so it is said that the worthy cannot understand why the sage despises mixing and divides dwellings; the sage does this for others, not for himself. This chapter explains that the Dao is present everywhere, and the sage benefits all things without a self-centered self.

Guanyinzi said: The sage shares the same food and clothing as ordinary people, the same dwellings and boats and carriages, and the same circumstances of nobility, lowliness, poverty, and wealth.

The sage penetrates the subtle depths of the great Dao and hides within the world. Although he dwells among worldly people, he does not display his edge, nor is he stained by the world. To say that the sage is the same as ordinary people and no different from the world refers to food and clothing, dwellings, boats and carriages, and the matters of nobility, lowliness, poverty, and wealth. The sage lives among people and, like ordinary folk, eats, dresses, lives, and travels by boat or carriage. If he holds office and is honored, he occupies an honored position; if he is a commoner and humble, he occupies a commoner's position; when he lacks goods he is poor, and when he has goods he is rich. The traces of his conduct in the human world are not different from those of ordinary people. Therefore it is said that the sage's food and clothing are the same as the people's, his dwellings and boats and carriages are the same, and his nobility, lowliness, poverty, and wealth are the same.

Ordinary people's everyday conduct does not differ from the conduct of sages while they dwell in the world, so it is said that ordinary people are constantly the same as sages, and sages are also constantly the same as ordinary people. Ordinary people admire the sage's profound Way (Dao) and vast Virtue (De), and so it is said that they revere the sage's lofty distance and praise the sage's grand Virtue.

Sages at times manifest subtle and wondrous functioning, benefiting all people equally without seeking any return. Therefore ordinary people admire the lofty Dao and the vast Virtue. But when the sage withdraws this manifest functioning, returns to genuineness, and leaves not a trace of human contrivance, then Yin-Yang cannot fathom him and spirits and ghosts cannot perceive him, let alone ordinary mortals. Thus it is said: is the sage truly like this, or is he not so? This chapter speaks of how the sage's appearing or concealing is difficult to guess.

Guanyinzi said: If a fish wishes to be different from the school of fish and leaps out of the water onto the shore, it will die. If a tiger wishes to be different from the tigers and leaves the mountain forest for the marketplace, it will be captured by people.

The fish is a metaphor for ordinary people, and the water a metaphor for the vast and profound Dao. If a person violates righteousness and harbors divergent schemes, this is turning away from the ultimate Dao. Such a person will be punished by other people and chastised by spirits and ghosts, and will not live out their full heavenly span, just as a fish leaping onto land quickly withers and dies.

The tiger is a metaphor for the junzi (the noble person), and the mountain a metaphor for lofty, supreme Virtue. If the junzi chases after fame while losing the substance of virtue, and single-mindedly longs for rank and stipend, bewitched by wealth and honor and not knowing when to stop and withdraw, he may be slandered by others or fall into danger and be unable to end well. This is like a tiger leaving the mountain forest for a town, where it is captured and killed by people. The word ji here is the same as jiu, meaning "then" or "just."

The sage does not deliberately differ from ordinary people. It is only that external things cannot bind him.

The sage's conduct does not stand out from ordinary people, and his outward behavior is the same as theirs. Yet he does not do what is contrary to the Dao (Dào, the Way), and he does not act in ways contrary to De (Dé, Virtue). His heart joins with true emptiness (zhēnkōng), so he is not burdened by the myriad things. He is carefree (xiāoyáo), independent and transcendent, unconstrained, drifting leisurely beyond the mundane world and at ease before the forms of Heaven and Earth came into being. Therefore it is said that the sage outwardly does not differ from the crowd, and only external things cannot bind him. "Te" (tè) means "alone" or "singular." This chapter teaches that the sage's conduct does not appear different from that of ordinary people, yet he can dwell in the world and be carefree.

Guan Yinzi (Guān Yǐnzǐ) said: The Dao has no fabrication. If one uses the Dao to respond to affairs, those are only concrete actions, not the Dao itself.

"Zuo" (zuò) means doing or fabricating, and "shi" (shì) means concrete function. The sage takes the Dao as his root, follows what is natural, and acts through non-action (wúwéi). Therefore it is said that the Dao has no fabrication. The sage also makes De function, which means that from the root he manifests responses to things. His responses change without end, yet ordinary people, seeing these concrete expressions, take them to be the substance of the Dao and do not realize that they are only the function of the Dao, not the Dao itself.

The Dao has no fixed location. If one entrusts the Dao to particular things, then those things are only things, not the Dao.

The Dao originally has no form, so how could it have a range such as above, below, and the four directions? "Yi" (yǐ) means to use, "wu" (wù) refers to people, and "yu" (yù) means to entrust. The sage relies on profound words to teach the world. People, seeing these principles and sayings, take them to be the Dao, and do not realize that they are only means of transforming the world, not the Dao itself. Therefore it is said that the Dao has no location; to entrust the Dao to words in order to teach others is to present only concrete speech, not the Dao.

The sage, in the end, cannot take the Dao out from beyond himself and display it directly to others.

"Jing" means "ultimately," and "shi" means "to instruct or point out." The Dao (the Way) is empty and formless, without appearance or comparison. It cannot be known through deliberate thought or conjecture, nor can it be fully explained in words. Only when the human heart has been opened can one come to accord with the Dao through direct realization. Even the sage cannot bring out the profound Dao and explain it to learners, so the sage ultimately cannot tell others about the Dao directly. This chapter makes clear that the Dao must be realized through one's own heart, and that even the sage cannot understand it on another's behalf.

"Ru zhong zhong ran, ru zhong gu ran, shengren zhi yan ze ran" ("like a bell ringing, like a bell and drum sounding, so are the sage's words"). "Zhong zhong ran" describes the sound of a bell ringing, and "zhong gu ran" describes the sound of a bell and drum sounding. A bell and a drum do not sound on their own; they respond only when struck, and in sounding they make no deliberate effort. This is a metaphor for the sage speaking only after being stirred to respond, without clinging deliberately to teaching. The clear ring of the bell is like the sage explaining principles, leading people to awaken through reason. The deep resonance of the drum is like the sage teaching through concrete examples, leading people to awaken through events. Thus the sage's words also arise in response to circumstances and follow what is natural.

"Ru che che ran, ru che zhou ran, shengren zhi xing ze ran" ("like a cart moving, like a boat moving, so are the sage's actions"). "Che che ran" and "che zhou ran" describe the motion of a cart and of a boat. A cart and a boat do not advance on their own; they must be pushed before they move. This is a metaphor for the sage's actions also arising from response and following the momentum of circumstances, not forcing willful deeds.

Carts and boats cannot move on their own; they advance only when something pushes them. In their movement they have no intention of their own. The sage is likewise: he acts only when circumstances compel him, takes action only when he has no other choice, and in acting holds no private aims.

A cart leaves ruts where it has passed, just as the sage at times soothes the world and at times assists it, so that all under Heaven (tianxia) benefit widely. His achievements are plainly visible, transmitted for ten thousand generations without fading. That is why it is said that the sage's traces are as conspicuous as cart ruts. A boat passes through without leaving any mark. This is like the sage responding to affairs only because he has no choice. The virtue (de) he practices is "shang de bu de" (the highest virtue does not regard itself as virtue). Although he acts, it is as though he leaves no trace, so that both the worthy and the foolish cannot perceive him, and ghosts and spirits (guishen) cannot fathom him. That is why it is said that the sage's traces are also like a boat moving across water. This is indeed the sage's way of acting.

Precisely because the Dao cannot be named, the speech of all under Heaven comes to rest. Precisely because the Dao cannot be known, the cleverness and wisdom of all under Heaven have no means to operate.

The Dao originally has no name; we only force a name upon it. The sage's actions are the same.

Precisely because the Dao cannot be named, the speech of all under Heaven comes to rest. Precisely because the Dao cannot be known, the cleverness and wisdom of all under Heaven have no means to operate.

The Dao originally has no name; we only forcibly call it "Dao." If we set aside this forced name, the Dao is no longer a designation that can be established. That is why it is said to be "unnameable." Since it cannot be named, there is nothing to discuss. Even if there are eloquent persuaders under Heaven, when they come to this point they can only stop speaking and fall silent. That is why it is said that this can cause the speech of all under Heaven to cease.

The Dao originally has no form or condition, and it cannot be recognized through reflection. Since reflection cannot know it, even the most wise people under Heaven find that their wisdom has no place to operate here. That is why it is said that it can make the cleverness of all under Heaven ineffective. This chapter shows that the sage's words and deeds are free of private intention, and that the Dao cannot be made clear through thought and debate.

This concludes Chapter Thirteen.

Master Guanyinzi said: The centipede eats the snake, the snake eats the toad, and the toad in turn eats the centipede. They devour one another.

Here, the "jiqu" mentioned is the centipede, and "dian" is the toad. The centipede enters the snake's nostrils and eats its marrow. The snake swallows the toad, and the toad then swallows the centipede. Because these three creatures devour one another, it is said that the centipede eats the snake, the snake eats the toad, and the toad eats the centipede. This is introduced in order to lead into the metaphor that follows.

The sage's speech is also like this. He first speaks of the faults of "being" and "non-being" each in itself, then speaks of the fault of neither being nor non-being, and then speaks of the need to remove the fault of neither being nor non-being, ……

The words and teachings left by the sages are like the crucian carp, the maggot, the snake, and the lightning, each devouring the next in turn: they arise in layers, each depending on the one before and dissolving into the one after. The sages' words carry this same flaw. To speak of "being" (you) is one side, and to speak of "non-being" (wu) is the other. Deluded people cling to these two sides, and this becomes an obstacle to learning the Way (Dao). It is like the crucian carp and the maggot being swallowed by the snake, which is why it is called the "flaw of being and non-being."

Once one understands that both "being" and "non-being" have their own bias, one no longer clings to being or to non-being, but walks the Middle Way (zhōngdào). Yet if one clings to the Middle Way of "neither being nor non-being," this too produces a new bias, which is why it is called the "flaw of neither being nor non-being."

If one recognizes that even "neither being nor non-being" can become attachment, one should let go of this formulation as well, no longer establishing being, non-being, or a middle way. Deluded people fail to understand this. Instead they cling to these words and take them to be the Way itself, and this too is an obstacle to learning. It is like the snake swallowing the lightning, and the lightning swallowing the crucian carp and the maggot, each swallowing in turn. Therefore it is said that one must still remove attachment to "neither being nor non-being."

Words are like a saw pulling back and forth.

The formulations above, "being and non-being," "neither being nor non-being," and "removing attachment to neither being nor non-being," sweep away one another and go back and forth repeatedly. Like a saw, the marks left by its teeth only grow deeper.

Only one who truly grasps the sage's intent will not remain fixed on any single sentence.

“Clinging” means remaining attached to something. The words of the sages are like a fish trap and a rabbit snare: the trap is used to catch fish, and once the fish is caught, the trap is forgotten; the snare is used to catch rabbits, and once the rabbit is caught, the snare is forgotten. Language is used to express meaning; once the meaning is understood, the language should be forgotten. “Forgetting words” means not clinging to words. Only those who are skilled at understanding the Dao of the sages can avoid being bound by language. But silence itself must not become something to cling to, so these attachments must also be swept away in turn. Thus, one who truly understands the Dao of the sages does not remain attached to any words.

This chapter explains that the Dao of the sages does not belong to names or language. Once one deliberately tries to fathom it and debate it, one will go astray.

The text on the right is Chapter Fourteen.

Guan Yin says: “A dragon can transform into a jiao, a snake, a tortoise, a fish, a clam, and other forms.”

The dragon is a creature that rides the clouds and nurtures Yin-Yang energies. When gathered, they form a body; when dispersed, they become patterns of clouds and colors. Its transformations are impossible to fathom. It can grow large or become small: when large, it fills Heaven and Earth; when small, it transforms into a jiao, snake, tortoise, fish, clam, or the like. Hence the saying that a dragon can become a jiao, snake, tortoise, fish, or clam. This is an analogy drawn from things in the world.

A jiao is only a jiao. It cannot become a dragon, nor can it turn into a snake, tortoise, fish, or clam.

A jiao looks like a dragon, but is not a true dragon. It can eventually transform into a dragon precisely because it is originally a jiao. Before it transforms into a dragon, it is merely a kind of creature that lives in water. Hence the saying that a jiao can transform into a dragon, but cannot become a snake, tortoise, fish, or clam. This too is an analogy drawn from things in the world.

The sage is like the dragon; the worthy person is like the jiao.

Water is used as a metaphor for the Dao (the Way), the dragon for the sage, the jiao for the worthy, the snake and tortoise for the gentlemen, and fish and clams for ordinary people. Dragons, jiao, snakes, tortoises, fish, and clams all live in water. From birth to old age, they can breathe, move, and live in it, each with all it needs. Yet although the jiao, snakes, tortoises, fish, and clams are born in water, they cannot transform as freely as the dragon.

Sages, worthy people, gentlemen, and ordinary people are likewise all born from the Dao. From birth to old age, all their everyday needs are provided by the Dao; no one lacks anything. Yet although the worthy, gentlemen, and ordinary people all dwell within the Dao, they cannot understand it. Only sages can. Thus the sage is like the dragon, and the worthy person like the jiao. This comparison uses water, the dragon, and other creatures to explain that the Dao is present in sages and ordinary people alike: it neither increases nor diminishes. Ordinary people cannot understand it, while sages can.

This is Chapter Fifteen.

Guan Yin Zi says: “Within oneself, there is no fixed place of attachment, and all things appear of themselves. In movement, one is like water; at rest, like a mirror; in responding to external things, like an echo.”

True nature is constant and unchanging, hence the phrase “within oneself.” It does not cling to the appearance of emptiness, hence “no fixed dwelling.” True emptiness is complete, open, and clear, so all things appear of themselves; hence “forms and things reveal themselves.” “Reveal” means to become manifest. True emptiness stands forth alone without clinging to the appearance of emptiness. Thus true nature can be seen everywhere, and all things appear clearly. In movement, it is like water: after flowing, it settles into clarity without leaving a trace. At rest, it is like a bright mirror, reflecting all things without forming distinctions. In responding to external things, it is like sound echoing through an empty valley: though an echo arises, the valley itself remains still. Thus it says: “Within oneself, there is no fixed place of attachment, and all things appear of themselves. In movement, one is like water; at rest, like a mirror; in responding to external things, like an echo.”

Vague and elusive, still and clear.

The sage has fully awakened to true emptiness, the state in which the nature of all things is empty and still. The sage’s heart is like cooled ashes or a dead tree: it seems to have no life. Hence the phrase “dim, as though gone.” “Dim” describes what is obscured and unseen, like cold ashes without a glow; “gone” describes what has no life, like a dead tree that no longer grows. The sage’s state of mind is clear and lucid, quiet and steady, like still, clear water. Hence the phrase “silent, as though clear.” “Silent” means quiet.

Those who share the sage’s heart and follow the same Dao can respond to one another in harmony; those who think they have gained something will instead lose it.

People of keen nature seek to learn from the sage because their aspirations are in accord. Through gestures and expressions, the sage quietly offers them insight, and they awaken fully in that moment, transforming from ordinary people into sages. This is why they are called “those who are in accord.” The sages of old took the lead, and later sages responded; hence the saying, “Those who are in accord harmonize.” People of duller nature have not yet awakened to the Dao, but cling to the sage’s words and names and forms—the concepts and shapes used to designate things—and think they have gained something. If they do not let go of this view, they will drift ever farther from the Dao. Hence the saying, “Those who think they have gained something lose.”

The sage does not act ahead of others, but always responds to them.

Living among people, sages wait until they are moved to respond. Only when they have no choice do they establish words and forms for those of middling or lesser nature; these are merely expedient means of guidance. They do not lay down such teachings in advance. When people are confused and entangled, and need help, sages respond to their circumstances and loosen their bonds, just as a physician prescribes medicine according to the illness. Hence the saying, “Never taking the lead, yet always following others.” This chapter speaks of the sage’s inward freedom from attachment: whether acting or still, the sage responds in accordance with what arises.

The above is Chapter Sixteen.

Guan Yin says: “Vast and boundless! Roaming within the Great Beginning, the primordial state before Heaven and Earth and all things took form!”

The Great Dao is a seamless whole, vast and boundless. This is the sage’s original nature, which is why it is described as deep and expansive, stretching without end. “Great Change” refers to the state before Qi has appeared; “Great Beginning” refers to the moment when Qi starts to take shape. As soon as the One Qi begins to emerge, the Dao starts to function. The sage understands both the Dao’s original nature and its workings. Body and mind accord with the Dao, roaming freely in a realm where no form or trace can be discerned. This is why the sage is said to roam at ease within the Great Beginning.

“Sometimes like gold, sometimes like jade, sometimes like dung, sometimes like earth.”

The sage who understands the Dao lives in the world without resisting the times. When the times are suited to assisting the world and governing all under Heaven, people regard the sage as precious as gold; hence, “sometimes like gold.” When the times are suited to calming the people and bringing peace to all under Heaven, people regard the sage as noble as jade; hence, “sometimes like jade.” When the times do not favor prominence, the sage can withdraw into seclusion and willingly endure low status, humiliation, poverty, and hardship, thereby helping others and aiding the people. People look down on the sage and think of them as no better than dung; hence, “sometimes like dung,” and at other times as inconspicuous as earth.

“Sometimes soaring above the world, sometimes going along with the world.”

The sage lives in the world. When the moment is right for solitary self-cultivation and preserving one’s integrity, the sage roams freely, like a phoenix rising into the clouds and leaving no trace; hence, “sometimes soaring above the world.” When the moment calls for going along with others, the sage does not display extraordinary abilities; hence, “sometimes going along with the world.” Here, “following” means to go along with and adapt to others.

“Sometimes like a mountain, sometimes like a deep pool.”

The sage lives in the world. At times, the sage dwells in the mountains and drinks from mountain streams, sleeping beneath the moon and making a home among the clouds, far from worldly affairs. Concealing their radiance, they find contentment in this life. At other times, they travel freely across rivers and lakes in a small boat, wearing a rain cape and bamboo hat. In such moments, the Son of Heaven cannot treat the sage as a subject, nor can the feudal lords treat the sage as a friend. Free to follow their own nature, the sage roams at ease. Hence, “sometimes like a mountain, sometimes like a deep pool.”

“Upright? Adaptable? Unrestrained? Foolish?”

Those who uphold proper standards and adapt flexibly to changing circumstances are described by the earlier phrases “sometimes like gold” and “sometimes like jade.” At times, sages assist in governing the world, comfort the people, and put the laws in order; at other times, they govern flexibly in response to circumstances, bringing stability to all under Heaven. Hence the phrase, “Do they uphold the standards, or adapt to changing circumstances?”

Those who appear unrestrained and foolish are described by the earlier phrase “sometimes like dirt and dust,” as well as by the images of “sometimes soaring and roaming like birds, sometimes pursuing external things, sometimes still as a mountain, and sometimes sinking deep like an abyss.” The point is that sages sometimes let things be and act as they please, without being bound by rules. Their movements between appearing and withdrawing are hard to predict. They may seem like madmen or fools, leaving others unable to fathom them. Hence the phrase, “Are they wild, or foolish?” This chapter explains that sages respond to the times and understand change, while their movements between appearing and withdrawing remain inscrutable.

Guan Yin Zi said: When a skilled zither player feels sorrow, the music sounds mournful and plaintive; when the player is troubled by thought, the music sounds slow and deep; when the player feels resentment, the music circles restlessly; when the player feels longing, the music lingers with tender attachment.

“Plaintive” describes the sound of sorrow and grief; “slow” describes the sound of troubled thought; “circling” describes the sound of resentment and discontent; and “lingering” describes the sound of affection and attachment. What a person feels in the heart can be entrusted to the music and revealed through it. When the heart is sorrowful, the music sounds mournful and moving; when the heart is troubled by thought, the music sounds slow and deep; when the heart is resentful, the music circles, giving voice to indignation; when the heart is longing, the music lingers, giving voice to attachment.

Feelings of sorrow, longing, resentment, and yearning do not arise from the hands, bamboo, silk strings, or paulownia-wood zither themselves. A feeling first takes shape in the human heart; then the fingers express what the heart intends on the zither. The fingers’ movements correspond with the strings, bamboo pipes, and other instruments, allowing the feelings within the heart to flow out through sound. If even a skilled musician can express the heart’s intentions through sound, how much more so can a Daoist adept who is skilled in understanding? The adept’s substance and function are natural. Whether taking something up or setting it down, speaking or keeping silent, acting or going about daily life, they never depart from the Middle Way. Thus, whatever an adept thinks, whatever their hands do, and whatever they use can accord with the Middle Way. This chapter explains that movement and stillness, speech and silence, all embody the Dao.

Chapter Eighteen

Guan Yin Zi says: At times, the sage speaks, acts, and thinks in order to be like ordinary people.

Speech, conduct, and thought are outward expressions of function. The sage may at times appear to behave no differently from ordinary people. Thus it is said that the sage speaks, acts, and thinks in order to be like others. What sets sages apart from ordinary people is what they do not say, do not do, and do not think.

“Once” means “at some time in the past.” The phrase “before speaking, acting, or thinking” refers to the original essence of the true void, before words, actions, and thoughts have arisen: a state that is pure and still by nature, undisturbed by distinctions made in thought. The true void at the heart of a sage was originally no different from that of an ordinary person. Ordinary people are deluded, while sages are awakened; this is what makes them appear different. A sage can therefore return to the original essence that precedes the arising of speech, action, and thought. This is where the sage differs from ordinary people.

This chapter explains that deluded people may outwardly resemble sages, yet the Dao they follow is different.

The above is Chapter Nineteen.

Guan Yin Zi said: The more clearly one calculates gain and loss, the less harmony there is among family members. The more strongly one distinguishes the wise from the foolish, the harder it is for friends to get along. The more firmly one clings to right and wrong, the harder it is to accomplish things. The more firmly one clings to beauty and ugliness, the harder it is to be in accord with the myriad things.

If you focus only on carefully distinguishing what is beneficial from what is harmful, constantly pursuing gain and avoiding misfortune, then even those as close as father and son will be at odds with each other—how much more so with other people? Thus, the more one clings to distinguishing benefit from harm, the harder it is for family members to live in harmony.

If you focus only on carefully distinguishing who is wise and who is foolish, constantly drawing near to the wise and distancing yourself from the foolish, those who are wiser than you may in turn regard you as foolish and distance themselves from you. In this way, you may reach old age without finding friends who share your aspirations. Thus, the more one clings to distinguishing wisdom from folly, the harder it is to make friends.

If you focus only on carefully distinguishing right from wrong, insisting on what is right and rejecting what is wrong, you become bound by the labels of “right” and “wrong.” Whether a task is great or small, you dare not undertake it freely; as a result, neither great nor small tasks are easy to accomplish. Thus, the more one clings to distinguishing right from wrong, the harder it is to get things done.

If you focus only on distinguishing what is beautiful from what is ugly, constantly loving the beautiful and hating the ugly, your feelings of love and aversion will confuse your mind. If you cling to outward appearance, even husband and wife may find it difficult to be of one heart. Thus, the more one clings to distinguishing beauty from ugliness, the harder it is for people and things to be in accord. Here, “clinging” means being single-mindedly attached, and “things” refers to both people and other things.

Therefore, the sage keeps the heart-mind whole and undivided. “Whole” means that the true heart-mind remains undivided and makes no distinctions. The sage approaches things from this state of mind, without clinging to distinctions such as benefit and harm, wisdom and folly, right and wrong, or beauty and ugliness, and so is not bound by their labels. This chapter explains how the sage’s true heart-mind remains whole and makes no distinctions.

The above is Chapter Twenty.

Some foolish and dull people often use the sages’ displays of apparent foolishness to excuse themselves. Afraid of being mocked, they point to the sages’ withdrawal from the world and feigned wildness, claiming that even sages can be foolish.

They do not understand that sages know how to adapt to the times: sometimes they seem dull, sometimes perceptive; sometimes clumsy, sometimes skillful. When withdrawal is fitting, a sage may feign wildness and seem ignorant, carrying withdrawal to its utmost. When it is fitting to come forth, the sage’s renown may surpass the sun and moon. When Wuwei (non-action) is fitting, the sage forgets their own abilities and appears clumsy; when action is called for, the sage skillfully uses expedient means to guide the confused. This chapter explains that a sage’s withdrawal and emergence are hard to fathom and cannot be judged by outward behavior alone.

Chapter Twenty-One

Guan Yin Zi said: To emulate a sage from the standpoint of a sage’s attainment leads, at best, to becoming a worthy person. To emulate a sage from the state of mind of a worthy person is what enables one to become a sage.

This is because emulating a sage from the standpoint of a sage’s attainment can lead one to chase outward traces and forget the Dao. Emulating a sage from the state of mind of a worthy person, by contrast, allows one to transcend outward traces and accord with the Dao.

Once the function of De becomes visible, it leaves traces that can be followed. If a sage merely uses wisdom to imitate the De and functions of other sages, they follow only the appearances of De and forget the substance of the Dao. Thus, to take a sage as one’s teacher by following appearances alone is to lose sight of the Great Dao. The substance of the Dao is originally empty and formless, leaving no traces to follow. A worthy person who takes a sage’s Dao as a guide may grasp its De and functions in the heart, yet still remain caught in their appearances and forget the substance of the Dao. If they go further and understand, recognize, and accord with the Dao of true emptiness, they can turn back from attachment to appearances and unite with the Dao. Thus, to take a worthy person as one’s teacher is to turn back from appearances and accord with the Dao.

This chapter explains that when the root of the Dao manifests outwardly as the functions of De, pursuing those appearances makes one a worthy person. Returning from appearances to the root, and turning back from attachment, makes one a sage.

The above is Chapter Twenty-Two.

Guan Yin said: “The worthy person looks only upward and cannot see below. Ordinary people look only downward and cannot see above. The sage connects above and below, and considers only what is appropriate.”

The worthy person understands principle and knows that what is above form is called the Dao, while what is below form is called a vessel—that is, concrete things and their uses. Yet they focus exclusively on principle and do not realize that attachment to principle can also become a one-sided view. Hence it is said that the worthy person looks upward and cannot see below. Ordinary people do not understand principle. They are enamored of concrete affairs and practical uses, without realizing that attachment to things can likewise produce a biased view. Hence it is said that ordinary people look downward and cannot see above. Here, “above” refers to principle, and “below” to affairs. The sage fully understands the Dao of true emptiness and is not confined by either affairs or principle. At times the sage uses principle to guide people; at other times, concrete affairs. The sage observes each person’s circumstances and teaches in response, meeting both favorable and adverse situations in a fitting way and adapting flexibly. Thus it is said that the sage connects above and below, acting only in accord with what is appropriate.

Could there be a sage apart from the worthy person and ordinary people?

Sages are like water; worthy people and ordinary people are like ice. Water freezes into ice because of the cold, and when ice meets warmth, it melts back into water. Even before it has melted, ice cannot be said not to be water; in its entirety, from the outside to the inside, it is water. When sages lose their original nature, they become ordinary people; once ordinary people awaken, they too can return to the state of the sage. Even if they have not yet fully awakened, they cannot be said to have no connection at all with the Way of the sage. At root, ordinary people also possess sagehood. Those who remain deluded and do not awaken are truly to be pitied!

So, to know water, there is no need to leave ice and search for it elsewhere, because ice is water to begin with. Likewise, to realize the Way of the sage, there is no need to leave ordinary people and search elsewhere, because they already possess the basis for becoming sages. Why leave worthy and ordinary people behind to seek a sage somewhere else? The character “zai” expresses deep lament for those who remain deluded and do not awaken. This chapter explains that the Way is equally complete in sages and ordinary people; the only difference is whether one is deluded or awakened.

Guan Yinzi said: There is a natural constant in the world: a husband speaks first, and his wife responds afterward; a male beast runs ahead, and the female follows; a male bird calls first, and the female answers.

Therefore, sages establish standards for speech and conduct, while worthy people are constrained by them.

The sage observes the world and sees that nature itself has an order of Yin and Yang, high and low, and before and after. The sage therefore establishes the proper roles among ruler and minister, father and son, husband and wife, and elder and younger brothers, along with corresponding rules for speech and conduct. Worthies of every age dare not violate these rules. Their words and actions are thus constrained, and they cannot move freely and at ease. So it is said that the sage establishes rules for speech and conduct, while the worthy are bound by them. This chapter explains that the sage’s Dao transcends ordinary laws, yet also leaves an example for later generations.

This is the twenty-fourth chapter.

Guan Yin says: The sage’s Dao changes unpredictably, like a tiger displaying its might, yet in handling affairs it moves slowly, like a giant sea turtle. The sage’s Dao is intricate and interwoven like silk threads, yet in handling affairs it is orderly, like woven cloth.

“Tiger’s transformation” is a metaphor for the sage’s Dao, whose radiance is manifest and whose responses have no fixed pattern. “The turtle’s pace” is a metaphor for the sage’s way of handling affairs: often compelled to act, the sage responds gradually. “Silk” is a metaphor for the sage’s Dao, vast and intricate, embracing everything. “Cloth” is a metaphor for the sage’s way of conducting affairs, proceeding step by step, with each matter in its proper order and place. This chapter explains that the sage’s Dao is hard to fathom, yet the sage handles affairs according to an inherent order.

This is the twenty-fifth chapter.

Guan Yin says: What is it about the so-called sage’s Dao that makes it seem so lofty and independent? Why is it so penetrating and clear? Why is it so vast and dignified? Why is it so deeply concealed from view?

“Jiejie” means standing alone without a counterpart, beyond all duality. “Cheche” means wholly perfect. “Tangtang” means profound and unfathomable. “Zangzang” means wondrous beyond wondrous. “Hu” means “why.”

Why is the Way of the sage so singular, beyond all forms of opposition? Why is it so perfectly good, profound and unfathomable, and endlessly wondrous, beyond all praise? This means that the Way of the sage stands apart, beyond comparison with ordinary things.

The Dao pervades all things and responds to them, yet nothing can match it. “Counterpart” means something corresponding to or matching another. The Dao has no private self: it gives rise to all things and is not separate from them. All things depend on the Dao for their life, while the Dao depends on nothing. For this reason, the Dao is revered above all things. Here, the point is that the Dao transcends all existence and is free from distinctions between opposites.

Guan Yin says: Clouds gather and disperse, unfurl and roll back; birds fly—all within empty space. It is precisely for this reason that their transformations are inexhaustible.

Clouds form when water vapor rises from the earth and condenses. In the open sky, they sometimes curl and sometimes spread out, gathering and dispersing, coming and going in cycles, with no fixed traces. Birds arise from Yang energy and can fly through the air, traveling north or south, east or west, wherever they wish. They range freely in every direction, and their paths are just as hard to pin down.

Clouds and birds both move through open space. Clouds unfurl and gather; birds fly. Their changes and movements have no end. Thus, the way clouds spread and birds fly is a metaphor for freedom to change and move through open space, leaving no trace that can be followed.

The Dao of the sage is like this.

The sage’s Dao fully penetrates the wondrous presence within true emptiness—a Daoist understanding in which empty stillness and real existence are inseparable. Its substance and function remain one, yet it responds to changing circumstances and has no fixed location. Like clouds unfurling and birds in flight, it moves in every direction and changes without end, leaving no fixed trace. This is why the sage’s Dao is described in this way.

This chapter explains that the sage’s Dao changes without limit, while its appearance and concealment are difficult to fathom. This is the right-hand text of Chapter Twenty-Seven.

End of Volume Three of Commentary on the True Scripture of Wenshi.

The commentary notes that some passages in Guanzi and The Supreme Subtle Way: The True Scripture of Wenshi differ in wording from those in this book, including “Nothing in the world can burden it; therefore, humility is its foundation,” “Contemplating Heaven, Earth, and all beings through the Dao, all are my Dao,” and “It cannot become a snake or a tortoise.” In one place, the character “nonbeing” was omitted in the original printing and has been restored from the context; the character “nine” is a mistaken form of “from.” In another passage, “not receiving the Dao” appears as “not loving the Dao” in both reference editions.

Volume Four of Commentary on the True Scripture of Wenshi is a direct explanation by Niu Daochun, the Carefree Master of Shenshan.

Chapter on the Talisman: “Talisman” refers to the mind and spirit, and to the hun and po souls. This chapter has seventeen sections.

Guan Yin says: Water can be divided and brought together again, but essence (the vital essence of a person) cannot be divided or reunited in the same way as water.

Water among the Five Phases can disperse into countless streams and gather again into a single body of water. It does not depend on anything else in order to appear. From this we can see that water itself has no fixed, unchanging core. Water corresponds to the kidneys in the human body, and the kidneys store Jing and Qi; therefore, Jing, too, has no fixed, unchanging self. The scripture accordingly says: water can disperse and gather, while Jing has no fixed core.

Fire depends on oil, lamp wicks, or firewood to appear as fire. Without these fuels, it cannot appear on its own. From this we can see that fire has no fixed, unchanging self. Fire corresponds to the heart in the human body, and the heart stores Shen; therefore, Shen, too, has no fixed, unchanging self. The scripture accordingly says: fire depends on oil and firewood, while Shen has no fixed self.

Thus, even when the ears are covered both in front and behind, sounds can still be heard, yet there is no fixed, unchanging “listener.” However great one’s wisdom, there is no fixed, unchanging subject. Neither “one” nor “odd” has a fixed, unchanging subject. Nor is there a fixed, unchanging subject in the winter decline of all things or the autumn withering of plants and trees. Black cannot be changed, yet it too has no fixed, unchanging subject. The saying that the north is associated with longevity likewise has no fixed, unchanging subject. All these belong to the realm of Jing.

Water is characterized by “absence of self”: the qualities associated with it all suggest that there is no fixed self. Within the body, water corresponds to the kidneys; in the body’s outward form, it corresponds to the ears. The ears are the kidneys’ external expression. Though covered, the ears can still hear sounds coming from both in front and behind. Thus the ears belong to water and also embody “absence of self,” which is why the text says, “The ears, though covered, can hear from before and behind: absence of self.”

Among the Five Phases, water corresponds to wisdom. Wisdom sees far and high, and so is called “lofty.” Since wisdom belongs to water, it too embodies “absence of self”; hence, “Wisdom is lofty: absence of self.” Water corresponds to the number one, an odd number and the generating number of water. Since one belongs to water, the text says, “One is odd: absence of self.” Among the seasons, water corresponds to winter. Winter’s severe cold causes the plants of autumn to wither; since winter belongs to water, the text says, “Winter withers the things of autumn: absence of self.” Among the colors, water corresponds to black, which cannot be changed into another color. Since black belongs to water, the text says, “Black cannot be changed: absence of self.” In direction, water corresponds to the north. Water does not run dry over a long span of time, suggesting that those who preserve their Jing (essence) and Qi (vital energy) often live long lives. Since the north belongs to water, the text says, “The north signifies longevity: absence of self.”

The ears, wisdom, one, winter, black, and north all belong to water. Among the Five Spirits, water corresponds to Jing (essence), so these qualities all belong to Jing.

The tongue and teeth work together to produce speech, embodying “absence of self.” Ritual propriety and humility embody it as well, as do things that come in pairs and work together. Summer follows the momentum of growth established by all things in spring, likewise embodying “absence of self.” Red can be changed, which also embodies “absence of self,” and the south corresponds to premature death, embodying it too. All of these belong to Shen (spirit).

Fire has no self to begin with, so nothing that belongs to fire has a self. Within the human body, fire corresponds to the heart; in outward form, it corresponds to the tongue. The tongue is the heart’s outward expression, but a tongue alone cannot form speech without the teeth working with it. Speech, then, is formed jointly by the tongue and teeth, with no independent “I” within it.

Among the Five Constants, fire corresponds to “ritual propriety.” Since ritual propriety is rooted in humility and respect, it too has no self. Hence, “Ritual propriety is lowly and has no self.” In number, fire corresponds to two: two is even, and it is also fire’s generative number. As two belongs to fire, it has no self either. Hence, “The even number two has no self.” Fire corresponds to summer, when the plants and trees brought forth in spring continue to flourish. Since summer belongs to fire, it too has no self. Hence, “Summer has no self because of the things of spring.” In color, fire corresponds to red. Since red can change into other colors, it too has no self. Hence, “Red changes and has no self.” In direction, fire corresponds to the south. Fire is easily extinguished, and so its lifespan may be long or short; from this we can see that those who indulge in true fire often die young. Since the south belongs to fire, it too has no self. Hence, “The south is short-lived and has no self.”

The tongue, ritual propriety, two, summer, red, and the south all belong to fire. Among the Five Spirits, fire corresponds to Shen (spirit), so all of these belong to Shen.

Among the Five Spirits, water corresponds to Jing (essence). Water has no self, and Jing has no self either. “Jing has no person” may be compared to grain being husked to reveal the polished rice within: the rice revealed after husking symbolizes the absence of any independent “person-self.” Hence the saying: “Jing has no person; when rice is separated from its husk, the essence remains.”

Take the absence of self in Shen as an example: when a ghost manifests by relying on things, Shen also manifests.

Among the Five Phases, Fire represents Shen (spirit). Fire itself has no fixed self, and neither does Shen. Because Shen has no self, it can display extraordinary powers when, like a ghost, it attaches itself to a person. This is precisely a manifestation of “no-self.” Thus, Shen has no fixed self: when a ghost attaches itself to something, extraordinary phenomena appear.

To “preserve the whole of Jing” means to forget right and wrong, gain and loss; to focus on this and not depend on that.

If a person can preserve Jing and Qi without rising and falling in pursuit of the myriad things, they can forget what is good and what is evil, as well as favor and disgrace, gain and loss. Since they do not contend in pursuit of the myriad things, they simply preserve their own Jing, existing independently without relying on anything external. Thus it is said: “One who preserves the whole of Jing forgets right and wrong, gain and loss; focuses on this and does not depend on that.”

To “embrace Shen” means to be ready at any time for obscurity or prominence, strength or weakness; to respond to changing circumstances without clinging to one’s present state.

If a person can guard Shen and attain a state of self-forgetfulness, they can respond freely as circumstances change. When it is appropriate to remain obscure, they withdraw and preserve themselves; when it is appropriate to become prominent, they step forward to help the world. When it is appropriate to practice benevolence and strive with unflagging effort, they cultivate the corresponding virtues and press onward. When it is appropriate to be humble and yielding, they act modestly and gently, restraining themselves. Whether one is prominent or obscure, strong or weak depends on external circumstances; these qualities are not fixed in Shen itself, because Shen has no fixed self. Thus it is said: “One who embraces Shen is ready at any time for prominence or obscurity, strength or weakness; responds to external circumstances and does not cling to their original state.”

This chapter explains that those who preserve Jing and Qi and guard Shen can forget the self and let go of the distinction between themselves and external things.

This concludes Chapter One.

Guan Yin Zi said: “Jing and Shen are like water and fire. Through the interaction of the Five Phases, they alternately arise and perish. Their coming has no beginning, and their going has no end.”

Essence (Jing, the vital essence of human life) belongs to Water, while spirit and consciousness (Shen) belong to Fire. Thus, Jing and Shen can be compared to Water and Fire. The Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, and Water) engender one another: Water engenders Wood, Wood engenders Fire, Fire engenders Earth, Earth engenders Metal, and Metal engenders Water. They also overcome one another: Water overcomes Fire, Fire overcomes Metal, Metal overcomes Wood, Wood overcomes Earth, and Earth overcomes Water. The Five Phases, then, both engender and overcome one another.

In the correspondence between the four seasons and the Five Phases, Wood Qi is flourishing in the first and second months of the year. In the third month, Wood flourishes for twelve days and Earth for eighteen days. Fire Qi flourishes in the fourth and fifth months; in the sixth month, Fire flourishes for twelve days and Earth for eighteen. Metal Qi flourishes in the seventh and eighth months; in the ninth month, Metal flourishes for twelve days and Earth for eighteen. Water Qi flourishes in the tenth and eleventh months; in the twelfth month, Water flourishes for twelve days and Earth for eighteen. Spring, summer, autumn, and winter cycle endlessly, their beginnings and endings joined together. Thus, their arrival has no beginning, and their departure no end.

My Jing, then, is like a drop of water: it neither increases nor diminishes, and it neither comes into being nor passes away. Jing belongs to Water, which is why it is compared to “a drop.” My Dao of ultimate essence cycles endlessly, with its beginning and end traceable; yet it is itself unconstrained by existence and nonexistence, or by coming into being and passing away. Hence the saying: “My Jing has never come into being or passed away, not even in a single drop.”

My Shen is like a ray of firelight: it neither arises nor is extinguished. Shen belongs to Fire, which is why it is compared to “a ray”; the mystery of ultimate spirit neither arises nor perishes. Here, “arise” means “come into being.” Hence the saying: “My Shen neither arises nor passes away, even for an instant.”

Only by attaining a state without self or other, and no longer clinging to beginnings and endings, can one become one with Heaven and Earth.

The spirit does not take the self as its center, and essence does not take others as its center. The Five Phases engender and overcome one another in an unceasing cycle, with no beginning at the start and no end at the finish. We can therefore understand that spirit and essence alike are unattached to “self” or “other.” To say that they have no beginning or end is to say that, like Heaven and Earth, they share their source in the profound and mysterious Dao, and can therefore merge with Heaven and Earth. This chapter explains that spirit and essence are unattached to the self and arise together with Heaven and Earth from the Dao.

Guan Yin Zi said: “Essence corresponds to Water, the corporeal soul to Metal, spirit to Fire, and the ethereal soul to Wood.”

In the relationship between the Five Phases and the human spirit, essence corresponds to Water, the corporeal soul to Metal, spirit to Fire, and the ethereal soul to Wood.

Essence corresponds to Water, and the corporeal soul to Metal. Metal engenders Water, so the corporeal soul contains essence.

Spirit corresponds to Fire, and the ethereal soul to Wood. Wood engenders Fire, so the ethereal soul contains spirit.

The nature of Water is such that it can both nourish Metal, helping it gather and settle, and nourish Wood, helping it grow and flourish. Water can therefore harmonize the ethereal and corporeal souls.

These four lines appear in Xi Xuanzi Jia Ben. Their meaning seems connected to the scripture, and their order is not confused, so they are explained here as well.

When metal is put into water, it becomes hidden and cannot be seen; when wood receives water, it grows and flourishes. Jing belongs to water, the Po belongs to metal, and the Hun belongs to wood. Since water can conceal metal, we can infer that Jing can dissolve the Hun and Po. Thus water can hide metal, making it disappear, and nourish wood, making it flourish; for this reason, it can dissolve the Hun and Po.

Fire can melt metal and burn wood, so it can cause the Hun and Po to reunite in obscurity.

Fire can melt metal and burn wood. Shen belongs to fire, the Po to metal, and the Hun to wood. Since fire can melt metal and burn wood, we can infer that Shen can bring the Hun and Po together. Thus fire can melt metal and burn wood; for this reason, it can cause the Hun and Po to reunite in obscurity.

In Heaven, Jing manifests as cold; on Earth, as water; and in the human body, as Jing.

Jing belongs to water. In the seasons of Heaven, it manifests as winter’s cold; in the configuration of the Earth, as water among the Five Phases; and among the five spirits of the human body, as Jing. Thus in Heaven Jing is cold, on Earth it is water, and in the human body it is Jing.

In Heaven, Shen manifests as heat; on Earth, as fire; and in the human body, as Shen.

Shen belongs to fire. In the seasons of Heaven, it manifests as summer’s heat; in the configuration of the Earth, as fire among the Five Phases; and among the five spirits of the human body, as Shen. Thus in Heaven Shen is heat, on Earth it is fire, and in the human body it is Shen.

In Heaven, the Po manifests as dryness; on Earth, as metal; and in the human body, as the Po.

The Po belongs to Metal. In the seasons, it corresponds to the hot, dry Qi; in the landscape, it corresponds to Metal among the Five Phases; and among the five forms of consciousness in the human body, it is the Po. Thus, in Heaven the Po corresponds to dry Qi, on Earth it corresponds to Metal, and in the human body it is the Po.

The Hun corresponds to wind Qi in Heaven, Wood on Earth, and the Hun in the human body. The Hun belongs to Wood: in the seasons it corresponds to wind Qi, in the landscape it corresponds to Wood among the Five Phases, and in a person’s mental activity it is the Hun.

If you unite your own Jing with the Jing of all things in Heaven and Earth, it is like many rivers flowing together into a single body of water. This image helps explain how a person’s Jing can join with the Jing of all things in Heaven and Earth and become one.

If you unite your own Shen with the Shen of all things in Heaven and Earth, it is like many flames gathering into a single fire. This image helps explain how a person’s Shen can join with the Shen of all things in Heaven and Earth and become one.

If you unite your own Po with the Po of all things in Heaven and Earth, it is like metals from different sources being melted down and combined into a single piece of metal. This image helps explain how a person’s Po can join with the Po of all things in Heaven and Earth and become one.

The soul within me can unite with the souls of all things in Heaven and Earth. Consider a tree: branches from different kinds of trees can be grafted onto it, yet they all grow into a single tree.

Since different trees can be grafted together to form one tree, we can understand that my soul, too, can unite with the souls of all things in Heaven and Earth, becoming one whole.

In that case, the essence, spirit, corporeal soul, and soul of all things in Heaven and Earth are all my own. What, then, is death, and what is life?

According to what has been said above, the spirit, souls, and corporeal souls of all things in Heaven and Earth originally came into being together from the Dao (the Way). Since they all come from the Dao, how could the Dao have life and death? Thus, the essence, spirit, corporeal soul, and soul of all things in Heaven and Earth are all my own. How could we still distinguish death from life? This chapter explains that Heaven and Earth exist together with me, and that all things and I are originally one. All things come forth from the Dao, and the Dao has neither life nor death.

That concludes Chapter Three.

Guan Yin Zi says: The movements of the Five Phases—Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, and Water—give rise to Jing (essence), which produces the soul; the soul produces Shen (spirit); spirit produces intention; intention produces the corporeal soul; and the corporeal soul produces Jing.

The Five Phases—Metal, Wood, Water, Fire, and Earth—generate one another in a continuous cycle. Jing belongs to Water, and the soul belongs to Wood; since Water generates Wood, Jing is said to produce the soul. Shen belongs to Fire, and Wood generates Fire, so the soul is said to produce spirit. Intention belongs to Earth, and Fire generates Earth, so spirit is said to produce intention. The corporeal soul belongs to Metal, and Earth generates Metal, so intention is said to produce the corporeal soul. Jing belongs to Water, and Metal generates Water, so the corporeal soul is said to produce Jing.

These five circulate endlessly, without pause.

These five—Jing, spirit, Hun, Po, and intention—generate one another in an endless cycle. Here, “cease” means to stop. Their sequence is: Jing generates Hun; Hun generates spirit; spirit generates intention; intention generates Po; Po then generates Jing; and Jing again generates Hun.

If a person’s mind and spirit do not arise, intention cannot arise either. This is like the Five Phases: without Fire, there is no Earth. If intention does not arise, Po cannot arise, just as without Earth there is no Metal. If Po does not arise, Jing cannot arise, just as without Metal there is no Water. If Jing does not arise, Hun cannot arise, just as without Water there is no Wood. If Hun does not arise, spirit cannot arise, just as without Wood there is no Fire. From this we can see that as soon as the mind no longer gives rise to thoughts, all five—Jing, spirit, Hun, Po, and intention—cease their activity. This is a shortcut to freedom from the cycle of rebirth.

Thus my deluded mind circulates through the transformations of life and death, without end even after countless millions of years.

The “false mind” mentioned here refers to deluded consciousness formed by karma. The karmic consciousness of sentient beings is confused and ceaseless, with no firm foundation. It circulates between life and death like a wheel turning round and round, passing through the four modes of birth and the six realms. Corpse upon corpse piles up like a mountain; after countless millions of years in the cycle of rebirth, there is still no end, and no escape. Out of compassion, the great sage transmitted this scripture for precisely this reason. That is why it says that the false mind causes “me” to circulate through the transformations of life and death for countless millions of years without end. Here, “creation and transformation” means life and death, and “me” refers to all sentient beings.

Yet a fruit’s stone produces a sprout, and the sprout in turn yields many fruits. This mutual generation and continuation has produced countless tens of thousands of plants. Though Heaven and Earth are vast, they cannot make a fruit stone sprout by itself in empty space.

When a fruit contains a seed and that seed is buried in the soil, it sprouts and grows into a tree. The tree then bears fruit with seeds, which are buried in the soil in turn, sprouting, growing into trees, and bearing fruit. This goes on without end, and who knows how many thousands of trees may grow. Thus seeds and sprouts follow one another in such numbers that they cannot be counted.

This is a metaphor: the mind harbors all kinds of perceptions and thoughts, and the deluded mind continues to turn through the changes of birth and death, with no end even after countless ages. If a fruit stone is tied with a thread and suspended in the air, however vast heaven and earth may be, they cannot make it sprout. This is a metaphor: when the mind accords with true emptiness, the forces of creation and transformation—the forces through which all things arise, perish, and change—cannot draw it into the cycle of rebirth.

Female birds and eggs reproduce one after another, and who knows how many birds may come forth. Though the changes of Yin-Yang are subtle, they cannot make a female bird lay eggs if she has not mated with a male.

After mating with a male, a female bird lays an egg. She incubates it, and a chick hatches. When the chick grows up, it too mates and lays eggs, and this reproduction continues without end. Who knows how many birds may come forth? Thus female birds and eggs follow one another in such numbers that they cannot be counted. This is a metaphor: when the mind turns away from innate awareness and joins with the world of sensory things, it undergoes birth and death without end. If a female bird does not mate with a male, then however subtle the changes of Yin-Yang may be, she cannot lay eggs. This is a metaphor: when the mind does not join with the world of sensory things, it does not enter the cycle of birth and death.

Whatever things come to provoke or stir me, I gather them all into a single breath. Then all things transform into me, and nothing is other than me. What could the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water) do to alter this state?

“I” refers to the mind. In its original nature, the mind is no-mind. When things in the external world stir it, the mind appears in a single thought. We can therefore say that the mind appears in response to the things it encounters. When something external stirs me, if I can gather it all into a single thought, I can transform external things into my own experience.

When no external circumstances stir it, the mind does not appear. When the mind does not appear, it is true emptiness. How could the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water) alter true emptiness? Since true emptiness cannot be altered, there is no cycle of birth and death. Thus, there is nothing that is not “I”—whom could the Five Phases alter? In seeing things, one sees the mind; without things, the mind does not appear. Whether the ten directions of the world are open or blocked, the true mind is everywhere. This is what the passage means.

This chapter explains that as soon as a thought arises, it enters the Five Phases, and the cycle of rebirth continues. When the mind remains free of arising, it returns to true emptiness, and Yin-Yang can no longer mold or transform it.

That concludes Chapter Four.

Guan Yinzi said: Ordinary people use the Po to control the Hun because Metal Qi is in excess and Wood Qi is deficient.

The Po is Yin. It refers to delusions, attachments, and all kinds of harmful thoughts. The Hun is Yang. It refers to purity, freedom from stain, and all kinds of wholesome thoughts. Ordinary people are ignorant and confused, ruled by delusions and attachments. They commit all kinds of harmful acts, and inwardly they crave sensual pleasure. Outwardly, they damage their Yin virtue; inwardly, they deplete their original Yang. Once the Yang Hun is exhausted and the Yin Po grows dominant, people are controlled by harmful habits. After death, they sink into the Yin realm, just as water naturally flows downward. This is because Yin things naturally descend.

When the Yin Po grows dominant, the Po belongs to Metal, so Metal Qi is said to be in excess. When the Yang Hun is exhausted, the Hun belongs to Wood, so Wood Qi is said to be deficient. “Control” means to subdue: the strong Po subdues the weakened Hun. Thus, ordinary people use the Po to control the Hun because Metal Qi is in excess and Wood Qi is deficient.

Sages, by contrast, use the Hun to direct the Po: Wood Qi is in excess, and Metal Qi is deficient.

“Movement” means circulating and operating. At first, ordinary people use the strong Po (the yin aspect of the spirit associated with the physical body) to restrain the weaker Hun (the yang-leaning aspect of the spirit). Hence the saying, “Most people use the Po to govern the Hun.” In terms of the Five Phases, the Po belongs to Metal and the Hun to Wood. When the Po is strong, Metal is in excess and Wood is deficient.

Sages, by contrast, use the Hun to move and transform the Po. The Hun belongs to Wood, so Wood Qi is in excess; the Po belongs to Metal, so Metal Qi is deficient.

When sages first begin to study the Dao, their minds are clear and open, and they understand its principles. Their inner state is still and pure, untouched by external things. They do good in the world without clinging to the traces of their good deeds. Within, they guard the original Yang (the innate Yang Qi), without clinging to the idea of emptiness and stillness. Keeping clear of all forms of fixation, their bodies and minds gradually become purely Yang. The Yang Hun is then able to transform and circulate, while the yin Po gradually dissipates and grows still. When their cultivation is complete, they shed their mortal form and ascend to the realm of Yang; for this reason, they are called sages. This is like a flame rising upward, since Yang by nature tends to ascend. The Yang Hun transforms and circulates; because the Hun belongs to Wood, Wood Qi is said to be in excess. The yin Po dissipates; because the Po belongs to Metal, Metal Qi is said to be deficient.

When the Po withdraws, the Hun withdraws along with it. When the Hun goes out to roam, the Po moves with it.

The Po belongs to Yin, and Yin governs stillness; stillness also implies concealment. At night, the Po withdraws, and the Hun gathers in along with it. Hence the saying, “When the Po withdraws, the Hun withdraws along with it.” The word “generally” indicates that this is how things are in broad terms. The Hun belongs to Yang, and Yang governs activity; activity also implies roaming. During the day, when the Hun goes out to roam, the Po moves with it. Hence the saying, “When the Hun goes out to roam, the Po moves with it.”

During the day, the Hun resides in the eyes; at night, the Po resides in the liver. When the Hun resides in the eyes, one can see; when the Po resides in the liver, one dreams.

Hun (the spirit that governs the liver) dwells in the eyes during the day, which is why the eyes can see. There is no doubt about this interpretation. Po (the spirit that governs the lungs) belongs to the lungs, and the nose corresponds to the lungs on the body’s surface. By ordinary reasoning, Po should therefore return to the lungs at night. Yet the scripture says, “Po rests in the liver at night,” which does not fit the sense of the passage and may be a copying error. Even if we try to interpret it as “returning to the liver,” the explanation is strained.

A more fitting interpretation is that Hun is active in the eyes during the day, and Po dwells there along with it. At night, Po returns to the lungs, where Hun too becomes active and takes shelter. It makes even less sense to say that Hun dwells in the eyes during the day and Po follows it there, but that at night Po returns to the liver and Hun follows it there as well. The liver is already Hun’s fundamental resting place; Hun should not be described as returning there merely by following Po.

Hun dwells in the eyes during the day, enabling us to see forms and colors. It is Hun’s cognitive activity that recognizes them. Thus, “Hun dwells in the eyes by day” means that Hun inhabits the eyes and enables people to see. When Po joins with the lungs at night, it can give rise to various dreams. These dreams are caused by the delusions and confused imaginings of the corpse soul, Shipo. Thus, “Po joins with the lungs at night” means that Po unites with the lungs and enables us to dream.

When we see things, Hun has not yet distinguished among them. It begins to distinguish them only when it analyzes them. Recognizing the things it has analyzed as heaven and earth is something Hun gradually learns.

“Attachment” means becoming close to something and gradually absorbing its influence. During the day, the Hun (soul) dwells in the eyes and uses them to see all kinds of forms and colors. The images it sees are recognized by the Hun, which is why seeing is said to belong to the Hun. When the Hun first dwells in the eyes, it has no thoughts of distinction. Later, the awareness that distinguishes things suddenly arises. Thus, the mind that analyzes and differentiates things is called the mind of discrimination.

With discrimination comes the recognition that Heaven is above and Earth below. Once Heaven and Earth have been recognized, the Hun’s awareness gradually becomes accustomed to and attached to those perceptions. A commentary on the scripture compares this to the image of the moon reflected in a rhinoceros horn: even after the moon has disappeared, its reflection in the horn does not disappear with it. Awareness becomes attached to Heaven, Earth, and the myriad things in the same way. This attachment becomes a cause of transmigration, making it difficult for people to escape even after passing through long ages. The cause lies in the habituation of awareness. Thus, the Hun draws close to and becomes habituated to what it recognizes.

Dreaming belongs to the Po (corporeal soul). The Po has no thoughts of distinction to begin with, but once it analyzes things, distinctions arise. If it then further divides things into “others” and “self,” this is the Po’s habituation.

At night, the Po is stored in the lungs and can form all kinds of dreams, which is why dreaming is said to belong to the Po. When the Po first joins with the lungs, it has no thoughts of distinction. Later, discriminating awareness arises, dividing things into “other” and “self”; this is all due to the gradual habituation of the Po’s awareness. As a result, people become confused and disoriented, clinging to the illusory and losing sight of what is real. Thus, distinctions arise when things that were originally undifferentiated are analyzed; dividing things into “other” and “self” is the Po’s habituation.

The seven characters “Fire generates Earth, so Shen generates intention” appear in Guo Ziqian’s edition. The commentator judged that the phrase connected smoothly with the meaning of the scripture and therefore interpreted it accordingly. Shen (spirit) corresponds to Fire, and intention corresponds to Earth. Fire can generate Earth, so Shen is said to generate intention.

“Earth generates Metal, so intention generates the Po.” Intention corresponds to Earth, and the Po corresponds to Metal. Earth can generate Metal, so intention is said to generate the Po.

As soon as Shen (spirit) begins to stir, it is no longer called “Shen” but “intention.” Once intention begins to stir, it is no longer called “intention” but “Po.” Here, “stir” means to begin changing.

Shen belongs to Fire, and intention belongs to Earth. According to the Five Phases’ cycle of generation, Fire generates Earth, so when Shen stirs, it is called intention. Intention belongs to Earth, and Po belongs to Metal. Earth generates Metal, so when intention stirs, it is called Po.

Only sages understand that “I am originally without a self,” and that nothing in the world has a fixed “self.” What we call “self” and “things” appear only after thought makes distinctions and judgments.

Sages realize the original state of true emptiness, free from the constraints of delusive thoughts and distinctions. They know that, from the beginning, there was neither a fixed self nor fixed external things. True emptiness is the state before thought arises. When thought has not yet arisen, the mind does not perceive an “I” within, nor does it perceive the myriad things outside. Here, “knowing” means realizing. The later conviction that there is a self and that there are things is the result of thought, distinctions, and delusive judgments.

Therefore, when things come before me, I respond to them through my original nature, without using thoughts to make distinctions. “Nature” here means the state before thoughts begin to stir.

Therefore, when all things come before ordinary people, they distinguish and calculate with their thoughts, clinging to distinctions between self and other. I respond only through my innate nature. This nature is true emptiness; when true emptiness responds to all things, it remains still. Thus it is said, “When all things come, I respond to them through my innate nature.”

Why respond only through innate nature, and not through the mind? Because innate nature refers to the state before thoughts arise. When thoughts have not yet arisen, this is the nature of true emptiness. That is why it is said that one does not respond through the mind.

Without thoughts, there is no intention, just as without fire, earth cannot arise. Without intention, there is no Po, just as without earth, metal cannot arise. The mind belongs to Fire, and intention to Earth; when Fire does not arise, Earth does not arise. Intention belongs to Earth, and Po to Metal; when Earth does not arise, Metal does not arise.

Here, “One” refers to the mind, while the “Five” are Shen, intention, Po, Jing, and Hun. When thoughts do not arise, all five cease their activity and no longer generate one another. Thus it is said, “When the One is absent, all Five are inactive.”

“Once” carries forward the meaning of what came before: unite your own Hun with the Hun of Heaven, Earth, and all things; if you can do this, you can also unite your own Po with the Po of Heaven, Earth, and all things. This is the meaning of: “Once you can merge the Hun of Heaven, Earth, and all things into one, you can also merge their Po into one.”

All the subtle workings of creation—the process by which Heaven and Earth bring the myriad things into being—are my Hun (soul); all that exists in creation is my Po (corporeal soul). In this way, nothing can control me.

As stated earlier, my Hun and Po are wholly connected with the Hun and Po of Heaven, Earth, and the myriad things. Thus the subtle workings of creation and all that exists within it may be called my Hun and Po. That is why it says, “All that creation works in subtle ways is my Hun; all that creation contains is my Po.” Here, “creation” means the power that brings the myriad things into being. Since I can wander alongside the power that creates them, I can command the myriad things; nothing can command me.

The scripture says, “The Dao can generate the myriad things, yet nothing can generate the Dao, and nothing can harm it.” This expresses the same idea: nothing can control me. This chapter explains that when a thought arises in the mind, the Five Spirits—mental activities corresponding to the five organs—move in delusion without cease. When no thought arises, the Five Spirits can return to their source and thus wander alongside the power of creation.

This concludes Chapter Five.

Guan Yinzi says, “The character ‘ghost’ is made up of ‘cloud’ and ‘ghost,’ while the character ‘Po’ is made up of ‘white’ and ‘ghost.’ This is indeed so if we look at how the characters are formed.”

A “ghost” is an entity transformed from a person after death.

If even a fraction of Yin Qi remains undiminished, one cannot become an immortal; if even a fraction of Yang Qi remains unspent, one cannot become a ghost. From this we know that when a person’s original Yang is exhausted, they are as good as dead even if they have not yet died. A human is a ghost carrying a body of grain; a ghost is a person who has shed that body of grain. Because people accumulate deluded thoughts and become entangled in bad habits, after death they sink into the Yin realm and transform into ghosts. That is why it says, “A ghost is an entity transformed from a person after death.”

“Cloud” belongs to wind, and wind belongs to Wood; “white” belongs to Qi, and Qi belongs to Metal.

Yang Qi forms clouds. When clouds rise into the sky without meeting Yin Qi, they transform into wind. Wind belongs to the Xun trigram (one of the Eight Trigrams, symbolizing wind), and Xun corresponds to Wood. Thus it is said that clouds are wind and wind is Wood. White corresponds to Metal; when Metal Qi transforms, it appears as white. Thus it is said that white is Qi and Qi is Metal.

Wind can scatter all things, so it is light and clear. What is light and clear rises to heaven. Metal is hard by nature, so it is heavy and turbid. What is heavy and turbid sinks into the earth.

Wind belongs to Yang and can scatter all things, so it is light and clear. Since wind belongs to Yang and is light and clear, it naturally rises to heaven. This is the meaning of “wind scatters, so it is light and clear; what is light and clear ascends to heaven.” The substance and form of Metal belong to Yin, so Metal is hard, heavy, and turbid. Since Metal belongs to Yin and is hard, heavy, and turbid, it naturally sinks into the earth. This is the meaning of “Metal is hard, so it is heavy and turbid; what is heavy and turbid enters the earth.”

When what is light and clear rises, the Po (the spirit attached to the human body) follows the Hun (the human spirit) upward. When what is heavy and turbid descends, the Hun follows the Po downward.

If someone spends a lifetime doing good, they belong to Yang. After death, the blessings of their good deeds assist them, and their Qi becomes light and clear. The Po naturally follows the Hun upward to the Yang realm, the world of Yang spirits. This, too, is a natural transformation. Thus it is said that when what is light and clear rises, the Po follows the Hun upward. If someone spends a lifetime doing evil, they belong to Yin. After death, they are drawn by the consequences of their evil deeds; their Qi becomes heavy and turbid, and the Hun naturally follows the Po downward, sinking into the Yin realm, the shadowy underworld. This, too, is a natural transformation. Thus it is said that when what is heavy and turbid descends, the Hun follows the Po downward.

Some ascend through benevolence and become attendants of Jupiter; some ascend through righteousness and become attendants of Venus; some ascend through propriety and become attendants of Mars; some ascend through wisdom and become attendants of Mercury; and some ascend through trustworthiness and become attendants of Saturn.

Those who devote themselves to benevolence and kindness and to bestowing favors, and who carry these virtues to their utmost, ascend after death through them and become attendants of Jupiter. Those who ascend through righteousness become attendants of Venus; those who ascend through propriety become attendants of Mars; those who ascend through wisdom become attendants of Mercury; and those who ascend through trustworthiness become attendants of Saturn.

A person who devotes themselves to benevolence and kindness, and carries these virtues to their utmost, becomes after death an attendant spirit of Jupiter (the Year Star). This is because benevolence corresponds to Wood and accords with the natural principle that things respond to others of their own kind. Thus it is said that those who practice benevolence and ascend to Heaven become attendants of Jupiter.

A person who devotes themselves to righteousness, ensuring that each thing receives what is proper to it, and carries this virtue to its utmost, becomes after death an attendant spirit of Venus (the Great White Star). Righteousness corresponds to Metal. Thus it is said that those who practice righteousness and ascend to Heaven become attendants of Venus.

A person who devotes themselves to ritual propriety, honoring their ruler and father through ritual, and carries this virtue to its utmost, becomes after death an attendant spirit of Mars (the Luminous Deluder Star). Ritual propriety corresponds to Fire. Thus it is said that those who practice ritual propriety and ascend to Heaven become attendants of Mars.

A person who devotes themselves to using wisdom to distinguish truth from falsehood and right from wrong, choosing what is true and correct rather than following what is false and mistaken, and carries this virtue to its utmost, becomes after death an attendant spirit of Mercury. Here, “Water Pole Star” refers to Mercury. Wisdom corresponds to Water. Thus it is said that those who practice wisdom and ascend to Heaven become attendants of Mercury.

A person who devotes themselves to keeping faith, making their words accord with their actions, and carries this virtue to its utmost, becomes after death an attendant spirit of Saturn (the Stabilizing Star). Faithfulness corresponds to Earth. Thus it is said that those who keep faith and ascend to Heaven become attendants of Saturn.

If someone lacks benevolence, they will sink into ruin and suffer harm from forces belonging to Jupiter. The unrighteous suffer harm from forces belonging to Venus; those who fail to observe ritual propriety suffer harm from forces belonging to Mars; those lacking wisdom suffer harm from forces belonging to Mercury; and those who break faith suffer harm from forces belonging to Saturn.

When people fail to practice benevolence, they accumulate all kinds of evil deeds. The unrighteous suffer harm from forces belonging to Venus; those who fail to observe ritual propriety suffer harm from forces belonging to Mars; those lacking wisdom suffer harm from forces belonging to Mercury; and those who break faith suffer harm from forces belonging to Saturn.

If a person devotes himself to unkind acts, all manner of evil will take possession of him. When his evil reaches its extreme, he will sink into the underworld after death, where Mount Yue will detain him and punish him. Mount Yue belongs to Wood, so he is harmed by Wood. Thus it is said: “To sink into the underworld through unkindness is the work of Wood.”

If a person devotes himself to unrighteous acts, turning everything upside down and acting against reason, his evil will eventually reach its extreme. After death, he will sink into the underworld, where the Western Peak will detain him and punish him. The Western Peak belongs to Metal, so he is harmed by Metal. Thus it is said: “To sink into the underworld through unrighteousness is the work of Metal.”

If a person devotes himself to irreverent acts, showing contempt for his ruler and father and failing in loyalty and filial devotion, his evil will eventually reach its extreme. After death, he will sink into the underworld, where the Southern Peak will detain him and punish him. The Southern Peak belongs to Fire. Thus it is said: “To sink into the underworld through irreverence is the work of Fire.”

If a person devotes himself to foolish acts, blinded by ignorance and unable to distinguish truth from falsehood or right from wrong, his conduct will be utterly confused and reversed. After death, he will sink into the underworld, where the Northern Peak will detain him and punish him. The Northern Peak belongs to Water. Thus it is said: “To sink into the underworld through lack of wisdom is the work of Water.”

If a person devotes himself to untrustworthy acts, readily believing all kinds of deception and false claims, and failing to match words with deeds, the weight of his deceit and delusion will become too great. After death, he will sink into the underworld, where the Central Peak will detain him and punish him. The Central Peak belongs to Earth. Thus it is said: “To sink into the underworld through lack of trustworthiness is the work of Earth.”

This is what is meant: by practicing the five constant virtues of benevolence, righteousness, propriety, wisdom, and trustworthiness, one can become an assistant to the Five Planets. By abandoning these virtues, one will be harmed by the Five Phases. How can one fail to be vigilant?

When the hun and po are equally balanced, one remains in the human realm.

When a person’s good and evil are evenly balanced, their offenses and blessings cancel each other out. Good belongs to the yang hun, and evil to the yin po. Such a person can neither ascend to the yang realm nor sink into the yin realm, but remains in the human realm, passing through cycles of life and death. Thus it is said: “When the hun and po are equally balanced, one remains in the human realm.”

When the hun rises, it appears noble; when the po descends, it appears base. The hun makes a person wise, while the fierce po makes a person foolish. The hun is light and so bright; the po is heavy and so dim.

Those who accumulated many good deeds in previous lives become wealthy and noble in this life as their hun-qi rises. Hence the saying, “Rising hun brings nobility.” Those who committed many wrongs in previous lives become poor and lowly in this life as their po-qi sinks. Hence, “Sinking po brings lowliness.” Those who were wise and understood the principles of things in previous lives become worthy and enlightened in this life. Hence, “Numinous hun brings worthiness.” Those who lacked wisdom and were ignorant, stubborn, and fierce in previous lives become foolish in this life. Hence, “Fierce po brings foolishness.” Those who were innately clever and did good in previous lives become intelligent in this life. Hence, “Light hun brings clarity.” Those who lacked cleverness and did evil in previous lives become dull and benighted. Hence, “Heavy po brings darkness.”

Yang hun—the yang aspect of hun-qi—transforms into feathered creatures; dull po—the sluggish, heavy aspect of po-qi—transforms into furred creatures. Clear hun becomes a spirit; hidden po—the dark aspect of po-qi—becomes a ghost.

Those who are frivolous and act carelessly, doing evil in this life, will after death have their yang hun become a kind of feathered creature. Hence, “Yang hun becomes feathered creatures.” Those who are dull and do evil in this life will after death have their dull po become a kind of furred creature. Hence, “Dull po becomes furred creatures.” Those who are intelligent and upright in this life, detest wrongdoing, and delight in doing good will after death have their clear hun become a deity. Hence, “Clear hun becomes a spirit.” Those who take pleasure in dark and secretive affairs and commit such evils as treachery and theft will after death have their hidden po become a ghost. Hence, “Hidden po becomes a ghost.”

A person’s body, dwelling place, understanding, and preferences can all be explained in terms of the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water).

Whether noble or lowly, worthy or foolish, clear or dark, feathered or furred, spirit or ghost, each may differ in form and dwelling place, yet all are consequences brought about by one’s karmic consciousness—the awareness formed by one’s actions and habits—and one’s preferences. For example, taking the practice of the Five Constant Virtues (benevolence, righteousness, propriety, wisdom, and trustworthiness) as a cause brings the karmic result of becoming an official who assists the Five Planets. If one violates the Five Constant Virtues and acts in accordance with...

Noble and base, wise and foolish, bright and dim, birds and beasts, spirits and ghosts: though their forms and dwellings differ, each receives its corresponding karmic result because of the causes favored by its own karmic consciousness—that is, consciousness shaped by past actions and habitual tendencies. For example, following the Five Constant Virtues—benevolence, righteousness, propriety, wisdom, and trustworthiness—as a cause brings the result of becoming a divine official associated with the Five Planets and serving as a minister or aide. Violating the Five Constant Virtues as a cause brings the result of being punished at the Five Sacred Mountains. Thus their forms, dwellings, consciousness, and inclinations all accord with the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water).

The numbers of the Five Phases have nine forms, each differing in relation to the others. For this reason, beings of every kind are abundant throughout Heaven and Earth, and their variety remains without end to this day.

Water’s generating number is one and its completing number is six; Fire’s are two and seven; Wood’s are three and eight; Metal’s are four and nine; Earth’s are five and ten. The numbers of the Five Phases differ from one another. Yin and Yang shift and stir, responding to each other and bringing about change. All things, large and small, coarse and fine, whether flying, swimming beneath the waters, moving, or growing, arise in ceaseless profusion from this process. They number in the billions and fill Heaven and Earth. As beings continually grow and change, their interactions give rise to further kinds of life, so this process has not ceased to this day.

What limits could there be to the transformations that arise when the five everyday activities are assigned to the Five Phases, and the Five Phases are then used to derive the Five Categories of Creatures, an ancient classification of animals?

The “Five Activities” mentioned here are the five human faculties: seeing, hearing, eating, breathing, and thinking. They are assigned to the Five Phases because the eyes are the outward expression of the liver, and the liver belongs to Wood; therefore, seeing belongs to Wood. The ears are the outward expression of the kidneys, and the kidneys belong to Water; therefore, hearing belongs to Water.

“Use” refers to the function of putting something into practice. The “Five Uses” are the five activities of seeing, hearing, eating, breathing, and thinking. They are assigned to the Five Phases because the eyes are the outward expression of the Liver, which belongs to Wood, so seeing corresponds to Wood; the ears are the outward expression of the Kidneys, which belong to Water, so hearing corresponds to Water; the tongue is the outward expression of the Heart, which belongs to Fire, so eating and drinking correspond to Fire; the nose is the outward expression of the Lungs, which belong to Metal, so breathing corresponds to Metal; and conscious thought is the mental activity governed by the Spleen, which belongs to Earth, so thinking corresponds to Earth. This is how the five everyday activities are assigned to the Five Phases: Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, and Water.

The “Five Kinds of Creatures” are scaled creatures, feathered creatures, naked creatures, hairy creatures, and shelled creatures. “Naked creatures” means animals without scales, feathers, fur, shells, or other coverings. In the system that matches the Five Phases with the directions, the eastern stems Jia and Yi belong to Wood; among the 360 kinds of scaled creatures, the dragon is foremost. The southern stems Bing and Ding belong to Fire; among the 360 kinds of feathered creatures, the phoenix is foremost. The central stems Wu and Ji belong to Earth; among the 360 kinds of naked creatures, the sage is foremost. The western stems Geng and Xin belong to Metal; among the 360 kinds of hairy creatures, the qilin is foremost. The northern stems Ren and Gui belong to Water; among the 360 kinds of shelled creatures, the numinous tortoise is foremost. Thus, when all things are classified according to the Five Phases, plants and animals alike can be included—how could one ever finish describing them? Here, “exhaust” means to encompass or bring to an end, and “speak” means to discuss or explain.

This is like divining with a tortoise shell to reveal signs and using milfoil stalks, an ancient divination tool, to calculate the result. With wholehearted sincerity, one can accord with the signs, and the Five Phases will respond accordingly. Without sufficient sincerity, repeated divination and calculation will bring no response at all.

When cracking turtle shells and arranging yarrow stalks for divination, one observes the signs of good and ill fortune. This is also explained in the first chapter of the second pillar of Jianjie (“Insights”). The causes and effects discussed earlier—nobility and low status, virtue and folly, clarity and obscurity, as well as feathers, spirits and ghosts, and the Five Constant Virtues—are like making a prayer with utmost sincerity, then cracking turtle shells and counting yarrow stalks: the Five Phases correspond and reveal signs of good or ill fortune. A person’s form, dwelling, understanding, and preferences can likewise be matched to the Five Phases; the same principle applies. Thus, in divination, whether cracking turtle shells or counting yarrow stalks, if one is utterly sincere, one naturally accords with the Five Phases, and they respond. If one’s heart is insincere during divination, even an inauspicious sign will bring no fulfillment.

When the heart is free of attachment and longing, all preferences are cut off, and it is pure and unstained, far removed from every kind of opposition, one is no longer bound by cause and effect. The same principle applies to the cycle of rebirth. Thus, if sincerity is lacking, divination and calculation will bring no fulfillment.

The sage acts in the world by means of physical form, and the Five Phases naturally respond.

The sage uses a body made up of the Four Great Elements—the earth, water, fire, and wind that compose the human body—and the virtues of the Five Constant Virtues (benevolence, righteousness, propriety, wisdom, and trustworthiness) to benefit all beings and manifest wondrous abilities.

The sage acts in the world by means of physical form, and the Five Phases naturally respond.

The sage uses a body made up of the Four Great Elements and the virtues of the Five Constant Virtues to benefit all beings and manifest wondrous abilities. Since the Five Constant Virtues serve as these wondrous means of acting in the world and benefiting all beings, benevolence belongs to Wood, righteousness to Metal, propriety to Fire, wisdom to Water, and trustworthiness to Earth. The Five Constant Virtues therefore naturally correspond to the Five Phases. That is why it is said that the sage acts in the world by means of physical form, and the Five Phases naturally respond. This chapter explains that a mind stained by attachment falls into cause and effect, while a mind free of attachment can escape the cycle of rebirth.

This concludes Chapter Six.

Guan Yin said: All three possess hun. Hun is consciousness; the eye is essence, and color is spirit. That which sees things is hun. The ear, mouth, nose, and heart also belong to this category.

Soul, consciousness, and spirit together form three functions, which is why all three are said to be related to the soul. During the day, the soul resides in the eyes: seeing and distinguishing the five colors also requires consciousness, essence, and spirit. Thus, the soul is consciousness, the eyes are essence, and color is spirit. In other words, the eyes’ ability to distinguish colors belongs to soul-consciousness, while the spirit-water in the eyes belongs to spirit and essence.

This is true of more than sight. Hearing sounds, tasting flavors, smelling fragrances, and thinking about things all likewise require consciousness, essence, and spirit in order to distinguish sounds, flavors, fragrances, and the objects of thought. Therefore, “that which sees” also includes the ears, mouth, nose, and mind—the faculties that perceive things. “Kind” means the same.

The body a person has in this life takes its foundation from love and perception: love is essence, the foundation of the father in another life; perception is spirit, the foundation of the mother in another life. Though love and perception differ, both arise through consciousness.

As for the body in this life, it is the father’s body in another life. The mother’s love and consciousness join together to form essence, which belongs to water. The father’s perception and consciousness join together to form spirit, which belongs to fire. When the parents respond to and unite with each other, spirit and essence become the foundation of the body in this life. In other words, although the parents in this life have different foundations in love and perception, both give birth to children through the mutual response of consciousness and emotion. In this respect, they are the same.

Life in another existence also has a bodily foundation. In that existence, the father is one side, and the Qi received comes from him; the original text says that the father’s Qi belongs to water. The mother is the other side, and the blood received comes from her; the original text says that the mother’s blood belongs to fire. The parents are thus the foundation for the continuation of life.