《文始真经注》Vol. 5

People should take “restraint” as their guiding principle. This is an analogy drawn from things. The chapter explains that if those who govern cannot restrain themselves, they will tend to suppress the strong and silence others. If they cannot curb their sharpness, they will also tend to flaunt their sagely wisdom and supernatural powers.

The above is Chapter Eight.

Guan Yinzi said: A bottle has two openings. Fill it with water, turn it upside down, and block one opening; the water will not flow out. This is because air cannot circulate upward, so the water cannot flow downward. A well may be very deep, but if you lower a bucket on a rope to draw water, the water can still be lifted up with the bucket. This is because the bucket must first descend into the well before it can bring the water up.

“Full” means filled to capacity. A bottle has an opening at each end. First block the lower opening, then pour water into the bottle through the upper one. When the bottle is full, lift it up, quickly block the upper opening, and then remove what was blocking the lower one. The water still will not flow out. Why? Because when one opening is blocked, air cannot circulate; when air cannot rise, water cannot flow down. Thus, a bottle with two openings, once filled and turned upside down, will not release its water if one opening is blocked. This shows that without first moving upward, one cannot move downward. Similarly, even if a well is a thousand ren deep—one ren is about seven feet—water can be drawn up with a bucket lowered on a rope. If the bucket is not lowered, there is no way to bring the water up. This is what is meant by “without first descending, one cannot rise.” All these examples use things as analogies.

Therefore, the sage does not place himself ahead of the myriad things.

The examples of the bottle and the well show that without first descending, one cannot rise. From this we can understand that when the sage does not exalt himself above the myriad things, they do not exalt themselves above him. “Does not place himself ahead” means that the sage does not put himself in a position of superiority or treat others arrogantly; people, in turn, do not look down on him. Here, “things” refers to both people and the myriad things. This chapter explains that if those who govern cannot accept being in a subordinate position, corresponding problems will arise.

The above is Chapter Nine.

Guan Yinzi said: When people commit a fault, even after suffering harm as a result of it, they may, long afterward, still privately discuss what they did before the fault occurred, …

People in the world who are confused sometimes put things to harmful use, and so even when doing good, they may make mistakes. Although they suffer misfortune afterward because of a mistake, only much later do they privately reflect on how they should have judged the good and bad, the fortunate and unfortunate, and the benefits and harms of what they were doing before the mistake occurred. After that, they act more carefully and strive to do good. Thus, when people make mistakes, even if they have already suffered harm as a result, much later they will secretly ask themselves how they should have thought before the mistake occurred. “Secretly” means privately, or inwardly.

Only those who are truly wise—those who have grasped the Great Dao—do not rely on their own intelligence, but also draw on the intelligence of others. In this way, they no longer cling to the self and can understand the intentions of people throughout the world. If they act this way throughout their lives, they will not stray from the Dao.

Though the truly wise have grasped the wondrous Dao, they do not rely on that understanding. Instead, they conceal it within its formless, wondrous workings while also drawing on the wisdom of others. When they encounter methods that people find convenient and useful, they adopt them in accordance with the circumstances, thereby benefiting others broadly. Naturally, they do not cling to the self. This is what it means not to rely on one’s own intelligence, but to draw on the intelligence of others.

“True emptiness and selflessness” means clear, tranquil emptiness without attachment to the self. Wisdom appears in responding to the myriad things, like a full moon reflected on every surface of water: the moonlight in each place is cast by the moon in the sky. The intelligence of people throughout the world, too, is encompassed by the radiance of the Dao of true emptiness. Responding to change with this radiance, while keeping the mind tranquil and resting at neither extreme, makes it possible to bring forth wondrous workings, benefit people everywhere, and remain true to De. Thus it says, “take the self of all under Heaven as one’s own.” To act this way throughout one’s life is not to stray from the Dao. “Act” means to act without attachment; “with” means to put into practice.

This chapter explains how to overcome the failing of clinging to the self and thereby being unable to benefit people everywhere.

Customs differ between past and present, and from east to south, west, and north. Even within the same household, each person’s likes and dislikes, and judgments of good and evil, are different. How could I cling to one method and prescribe it in advance as a rule for future generations?

The social climate shifts over time, from honest and simple to shallow and frivolous, and customs vary from place to place. The preferences of different households and individuals, and their judgments of good and evil, differ all the more. People’s feelings change with the times, as do the things they pursue. How, then, could I fix on a single method and decree in advance that future generations must follow it?

One need only adapt to the customs of the time, discern the first signs of change, and then address what lies before us. Restrain anger, curb desire, lessen greed for external things, and treat others with generous understanding. Weigh what matters and act as the circumstances require. Then one can respond with a flexibility that is hard to fathom, in accord with the Dao (the Way) and unbound by fixed techniques.

Those who understand the Great Dao can follow the times and move with change without clinging to the self. They enter ordinary life and associate with others, yet are not inwardly stirred by external things. First, they grasp the flexible workings of “wondrous existence within true emptiness”: they respond only after events have called forth a response. Though they adapt to change, their minds remain calm. Thus, to follow the times and live in accord with the world, one must first understand the underlying workings, then deal with what lies before them.

Once this flexibility is understood, external things may tempt them without stirring anger in the heart; beauty may entice them without leaving them attached or obsessed. This is “casting off anger and blocking desire”: removing anger and closing off desire. The foundation of the discipline described as “restraining anger and curbing desire” lies here as well.

Those who understand the Great Dao do not covet an abundance of external things. They take what they need to live only when necessary, and do not take what is contrary to the Way. This is called “keeping things simple.” Their minds are empty and still, preserving their original nature; they are clear and yet can contain all things, like the sea in its low place, which accepts both clear and muddy water. This is called “being generous toward others.”

Once they can contain all things and forgive others, they respond to events like a hanging mirror reflecting forms, missing neither beauty nor ugliness. They handle affairs like a balance weighing objects, making no mistake about what is light or heavy. In this way, they follow what is natural and yet nothing is beyond their ability. Thus, one weighs what is light and heavy before acting.

Since they follow what is natural and can accomplish anything, they respond to events through an unfathomable, wondrous power; even the changes of Yin-Yang cannot be predicted. Taking the inscrutable Great Dao as their foundation, they answer change without any fixed method. Thus, they accord with the wondrous workings of nature and remain unfathomable; in keeping with the Great Dao, their use of it has no fixed rules.

This chapter says that if rulers cannot use flexible understanding to adapt to change and respond to the needs of the moment, all manner of troubles will arise.

The above is Chapter Eleven.

Guan Yin Zi said: In their dealings with one another, people may associate through the Dao, through De, or through shared affairs.

Those who have truly understood the profound Dao (the Way) are attuned to one another’s thoughts and form close, inseparable friendships. This is called “friendship through the Dao,” formed through a shared realization of the Dao. Gentlemen who cultivate goodness together become friends without regard to age; this is called “friendship through De (Virtue/Power),” formed through shared character. Those who work together on public or private affairs and cooperate well also become friends. This is called “friendship through shared work,” formed by doing things together.

Friendship through the Dao is as close as the bond between parent and child. It transcends distinctions such as right and wrong, worthy and foolish, and can therefore endure. Friendship through De still makes such distinctions, so the relationship may grow close or grow distant. Friendship through shared work depends on things going smoothly: when they do, the friends get along; when they do not, they may part ways.

Those who share an understanding of the Dao become friends who are completely devoted to one another, as close as parent and child. They no longer cling to distinctions between right and wrong, worthy and foolish, and rise above the world’s myriad things. Their friendship therefore does not end. Thus friendship through the Dao is like the bond between parent and child: it transcends distinctions between right and wrong, worthy and foolish, and endures. Gentlemen who cultivate goodness together value virtuous conduct, yet distinctions still arise in their dealings, so they may grow close or distant. Thus friendship through De still draws distinctions between right and wrong, worthy and foolish, and may either bring people together or drive them apart. If people do not take the Dao and De as their foundation, but associate only because they share public or private business and follow worldly conventions, they may cooperate in practical matters without forming a deep bond. At the slightest disagreement, they may break off their friendship. Thus, even after friends have come together through shared work, they may later part ways.

The Zhuangzi says: “The gentleman’s friendships are as plain as clear water; the petty person’s friendships are as sweet as sweet wine. The gentleman’s friendships, though plain, bring people close; the petty person’s, though sweet, eventually come to an end.” This chapter explains the harm that comes from failing to form friendships through the Dao.

This concludes Chapter Twelve.

Guan Yin says: “Do not think that friendship will be as rich as sweet wine just because you are awkward and shallow.” The gentleman’s friendships are plain yet close; the petty person’s are sweet yet easily broken. This chapter explains the harm that comes from failing to form friendships through the Dao.

This concludes Chapter Twelve.

Guan Yin Zi said: Do not mistake clumsiness and coarseness for the Dao’s simplicity; take joy instead in quickness of mind and flexibility. Do not mistake ignorance and obscurity for the Dao’s concealment; take joy instead in clarity and understanding. Do not mistake arrogance and thoughtlessness for the Dao’s loftiness; take joy instead in humility and gentleness, living among others without being tainted by worldly ways. Do not mistake boundlessness, confusion, and emptiness for the Dao’s vastness; seek to grasp the mystery of true emptiness, and take joy in wondrous being—the subtle workings through which the Dao appears—as a way to meet change and act at the right moment. Do not mistake secluded surroundings and inner sorrow for the Dao’s stillness; take joy instead in freedom and ease, untainted by worldly ways, as the pleasure of purity and stillness. The sayings of the ancients are numerous, and can easily give rise to all kinds of misunderstanding; they must be corrected.

Do not call dullness, clumsiness, vulgarity, and plainness the Dao’s simplicity. Take joy instead in intelligence, agility, and clear understanding. Thus it is said: “Do not mistake coarseness for the Dao’s simplicity; take joy in agility.” Do not call foolish ignorance and dimness the concealment practiced in studying the Dao. Take joy instead in clarity and insight. Thus it is said: “Do not mistake ignorance for the Dao’s hiddenness; take joy in lucid clarity.” Do not call arrogance and contempt for others the Dao’s loftiness. Take joy instead in modesty and equanimity, living among people without being tainted by them. Thus it is said: “Do not mistake arrogance and thoughtlessness for the Dao’s loftiness; take joy in harmony with others.”

Do not mistake boundlessness, turbulence, or stubborn emptiness—the fixation on a void in which nothing exists—for the Dao’s vastness. Grasp the mystery of true emptiness, and take wondrous being as essential to responding to change and acting with flexibility. Thus it is said: “Do not mistake the boundless and diffuse for the Dao’s vastness; take joy in what is subtle and profound, and in its practical application.” Do not call seclusion and sorrow the stillness of studying the Dao. Take joy instead in freedom and delight, untouched by external things, as the pleasure of purity and stillness. Thus it is said: “Do not mistake seclusion and sorrow for the Dao’s stillness; take joy in contentment.”

These five notions—coarseness, ignorance, arrogance and thoughtlessness, boundlessness, and seclusion and sorrow—originally conveyed ideas that the ancients, after reaching understanding, expressed through feigned madness and conduct that blended into the world. If later students fail to grasp their meaning, they may mistake these outward behaviors for genuine principles of Daoist cultivation and imitate them, creating errors in their practice. They must therefore be corrected with appropriate words. This chapter explains how to remedy distortions that arise when people fail to understand what the ancients meant by their words.

The “remedies” discussed earlier refer to correcting the various problems that can arise when studying the words of the ancients. This chapter explains how Daoist practitioners should address the difficulties that come from failing to understand those words.

Guan Yin says: Do not criticize the world and assume that you alone are right. Do not belittle others and exalt yourself. Do not scorn and look down on others, thinking that only you understand the Dao. Do not mock and slander others, thinking that only you possess De. Do not dismiss others as lacking ability, thinking that only you are learned.

A Daoist practitioner should not focus only on other people’s faults, regard everyone else as wrong, and then congratulate himself on being right because of his own small abilities. Nor should he look down on others as base and believe that he alone deserves respect. He should not arrogantly assume that others have failed to grasp the wondrous Dao and that he alone truly possesses it. He should not make a habit of mocking others for lacking De, while claiming that only he has De. Nor should he regard everyone else as crude, foolish, and unlearned, while believing that he alone is learned. This chapter explains how Daoist practitioners should correct the faults that arise from clinging to distinctions between “others and oneself,” and between what “others can do and oneself cannot.”

Guan Yin says: To confound the most intelligent person in the world, the key is not to be more intelligent than he is, but to appear foolish. To leave the world’s most eloquent speaker at a loss for words, the key is not to argue better than he can, but to remain silent and speak little. To make the world’s bravest person yield, the key is not to be braver than he is, but to appear timid.

The empty, profound, and mysterious Dao cannot be understood through ordinary intelligence or clarified through words and concepts. It can therefore bewilder the cleverest people in the world. Those who truly understand the Dao often quietly hold themselves in check and do not show off their abilities. They may seem dull, and even the wise of the world cannot see through them. So what confounds the world’s wise is not cleverness, but an appearance of foolishness.

The Dao has no fixed name and cannot be explained in words. Even the most eloquent people in the world have nothing to say when they speak of the Dao. Those who truly grasp it find it difficult to explain to others; they are better off saying little, like people who are not good with words. So what leaves the world’s eloquent speakers at a loss is not skill with words, but reticence.

Those who grasp the wondrous Dao preserve their inner selves through Wuwei (non-action) and stillness. They protect themselves by being humble and yielding, and by refusing to compete with things outside themselves. People who relish conflict cannot triumph over those who do not contend; such people have no rivals. Through the virtue of non-contention, they can bring the world’s bold and powerful people to comply without winning through strife. So what overcomes the world’s brave is not ferocity, but timidity. Here, “timidity” means being yielding and refusing to contend.

This chapter says that if people cannot let go of habits such as showing off their cleverness, arguing skillfully, and striving to prevail through force, those habits will trouble them.

The passage on the right is Chapter Fifteen.

Guan Yin says: Heaven cannot make lotuses bloom in spring and chrysanthemums bloom in winter, so the sage does not act against the seasons. Heaven cannot make oranges grow in Luo and raccoon dogs live in Wen, so the sage does not act against local customs. The passage uses the fact that different plants flourish in their own seasons and different places produce their own characteristic goods to show that the sage acts in keeping with the seasons and local customs. In the original phrase, “nor can it3 make oranges grow in Luo and raccoon dogs live in Wen,” the “3” is likely a copying or recognition error. From the context, it should be understood as “cannot make oranges grow in Luo or raccoon dogs live in Wen.”

Lotuses bloom in summer, and chrysanthemums bloom in autumn. The Dao of Heaven cannot make lotuses bloom in winter or chrysanthemums in spring. Thus, the sage does not go against the patterns of the four seasons or the ebb and flow of circumstances. That is why it is said that Heaven cannot make lotuses bloom in winter or chrysanthemums in spring, and the sage does not go against the seasons.

“Luo” refers to the area around Mount Song and the Luo River; “orange” refers to citrus, which mostly grows in the warm regions south of the Yangtze. If citrus is transplanted to the area around Mount Song and the Luo River, its growth habits will change in response to the local climate. The water flowing down from Mount Wen is called the Wen River, in the region of Wu and Yue. Foxes and raccoon dogs live in the mountain wilderness of the northern highlands; moved to the low, damp lands south of the Yangtze, they will die. This is caused by differences in the local conditions. Since different places each have things suited to grow there, the sage does not go against the customs of the Yi, Di, Man, Rong, and Central Xia—ancient terms for different regions, their peoples, and their customs. That is why it is said that citrus from the south cannot grow in Luo, nor can the region around the Wen River sustain foxes and raccoon dogs; the sage does not go against local customs.

The sage cannot make the hands walk or the feet grasp, so does not go against the abilities each is suited to. Nor can the sage make fish fly or birds run, so does not go against the abilities each person is suited to.

Digging is what hands are suited to; walking is what feet are suited to. Even the sage cannot make the hands and feet exchange their uses. Thus, the sage does not go against the abilities suited to each part of the body. Here, “strength” means what one is good at, and “weakness” means what one is not good at. Fish are suited to swimming in water, and birds to flying through the air; “gallop” refers to a horse running fast. Even the sage cannot change the nature of fish swimming in water or birds flying and speeding through the air, and therefore does not go against the abilities each person is suited to.

As discussed earlier, the sage can act and be still, remain hidden and appear openly, yet is never bound by fixed rules. The sage does not reject the strengths of others or force them to do what they are not good at. Thus it is said that the sage cannot make fish fly or birds and beasts run: the sage respects the nature and abilities of each person and each thing.

To be able to act and be still, remain hidden and appear openly, while staying free of constraint—this is the Dao’s subtle wonder.

Here, “in this way” refers to the four forms of “not going against” discussed earlier: not going against the times, prevailing custom, one’s own strengths, or the strengths of others. When these four are observed, one acts in keeping with the right time for action and becomes still when the time calls for stillness; one remains hidden when circumstances favor concealment and appears openly when the moment is right. The key is to respond to the changes of all things without clinging to rigid rules. Then one can adapt to circumstances without obstruction, expressing the Dao’s wondrous workings. This chapter points out that a ruler’s failing lies in being unable to adapt to the times and understand change.

The above is Chapter Sixteen.

Guan Yin Zi said: Those who speak little are less likely to incur resentment; those who do little are less likely to be criticized; those who are not clever for show do not make others labor on their behalf; and those who do not flaunt their abilities are less likely to be made servants of others.

Those who study the Dao should be careful with their words and avoid idle talk. This reduces mistakes and makes it less likely that others will resent them. Thus, those who speak little are less likely to incur resentment. In the pursuit of fame and profit, one should be cautious about when to advance or withdraw and how to conduct oneself, and should not draw excessive attention. This makes it less likely that others will envy, slander, or obstruct one. Thus, those who undertake little are less likely to have their faults picked out. One should gather in one’s wisdom and use it sparingly, so that others are not worn out by it. Thus, those who display little wisdom do not burden others. The truly accomplished may seem clumsy; therefore, one should restrain and moderate one’s abilities, making it less likely that others will summon and exploit one. Thus, those who display little ability are less likely to be put to work by others. This chapter addresses the need to correct the troubles that arise when one cannot let go of speech, action, wisdom, and ability.

The text above is Chapter Seventeen.

Guan Yin Zi, a Daoist figure, said: “Hold fast through sincerity, act with simplicity, treat others with forbearance, and respond in silence; then the Dao I cultivate will have no end.”

“Hold fast” means to preserve; “sincerity” means truthfulness. “Simplicity” means freedom from complication, and “act” means to conduct oneself. “Treat” means to respond to others, and “forbearance” means generous tolerance. Understand the principle of true emptiness that nevertheless has practical efficacy, and continue to guard it. Do not cling to various one-sided views, and your conduct will be clear and uncomplicated. This is what is meant by “hold fast through sincerity, act with simplicity.” When associating with others or managing subordinates, respond with generosity and tolerance alone. Do not demand perfection of others; instead, protect your own De (Virtue/Power) with tact and care. This is what is meant by “treat others with forbearance.” When someone comes seeking instruction, you can offer an indirect indication through your expression and bearing, without relying on spoken teaching. If a person of keen understanding thereby awakens at once, then the Dao I have understood has no end. This is what is meant by “respond in silence; then the Dao I cultivate will have no end.” This chapter addresses the need to correct the troubles that arise from not understanding the ways of sincerity, simplicity, forbearance, and silence.

When planning an undertaking, consider the specific circumstances; when making a judgment, weigh it against sound reasoning. People carry out affairs, but whether they succeed depends on Heaven’s mandate. To handle practical matters, learn from people of the present; to understand underlying principles, take the ancients as your teachers. In outward conduct, you may act like everyone else, but insight into the Dao can only be gained for yourself.

In planning an undertaking, take the actual circumstances into account, then judge them by reason so that your arrangements accord with what makes sense. How diligently an affair is pursued depends on human effort; whether it ultimately succeeds depends on Heaven’s mandate. Thus it is said, “People do the work; Heaven brings it to completion.” To handle practical affairs, take people of the present as your models; to understand underlying principles, learn from the ancients. “Affairs” refers to concrete application and conduct, which may be the same as everyone else’s. But to grasp the subtle Dao, respond to change while keeping the mind still and undisturbed, and remain calm and free of defilement, one cannot be like everyone else: this can only be realized through personal experience. This chapter explains that those who govern affairs are prone to the failing of not understanding both practical matters and their underlying principles.

Gold and jade are precious, and people often find them hard to give up; earth and stone are ordinary, and easy to let go. When practitioners of the Dao encounter subtle teachings and mysterious methods of cultivation, they should be cautious and avoid attachment. Such teachings and practices may be put into effect, but one should not cling to them. Once attachment takes hold, it is like an illness rooted deep in the heart and abdomen, beyond the reach of medicine.

Gold and jade are metaphors for the words and conduct of sages; earth and stone are metaphors for the words and conduct of ordinary people. Though gold and jade are precious, once they meet the eye, they are no more than dust. The Great Dao has no fixed name or outward form, so the words and conduct of sages can never be fully attained. Those who study the Dao find it hard to forget the words and conduct of sages, just as people in the world find it hard to give up gold and jade. Hence the saying, “Gold and jade are hard to cast aside.” The words and conduct of ordinary people, by contrast, are easily forgotten by those who study the Dao, just as people in the world readily pick up earth and stone. Hence the saying, “Earth and stone are easy to pick up.”

When those who study the Dao encounter the subtle words and profound practices of sages, they should not become attached to their outward forms. Hence the saying, “When you meet subtle words and wondrous conduct, take care not to cling to them.” The wondrous conduct of sages may be emulated, and in this way one may cultivate De, but one must not cling to the traces their conduct leaves behind. Hence the saying, “This may be practiced, but not clung to.” Clinging to these traces is like an illness deep in a person’s heart and abdomen: even renowned physicians such as Lu Yi and Bian Que could not cure it. Those who are deluded cling to the traces of the sages’ wondrous conduct in just this way. Hence the saying, “For those who cling to it, this is an illness of the heart and abdomen, beyond the reach of medicine.” This chapter teaches how to correct the failing of being unable to forget the outward forms of words and conduct.

The above is Chapter Twelve.

Guan Yin Zi said: “When people do not understand the most urgent matter, yet busy themselves with many miscellaneous, peripheral, and unusual matters, poverty and disaster will befall them.”

The “urgent matter” here refers to cultivating Dao and De. “Many matters” refers to various techniques; “other matters” refers to heterodox paths and arts; and “unusual matters” refers to extraordinary tricks at odds with ordinary customs. If those who study the Dao do not understand the most urgent matter…

The most urgent task is the cultivation of Dao and De. A multitude of tasks involves pursuing all kinds of methods. Other tasks consist of unorthodox minor arts and seeking gain through technical skills. Strange tasks involve bizarre arts passed down from other realms. If those who study the Dao do not understand that cultivating Dao and De is the most essential and pressing work, but instead become attached to complicated methods, study unorthodox minor arts, medicine, divination, and crafts, or pursue strange arts from other realms, their studies may differ, but in each case they stray from Dao and De. To stray from Dao and De is to fall into the cycle of rebirth, endure long ages of worldly tribulation, and remain without hope of release. No hardship or calamity is more profound than this. Thus, if people do not understand what demands their attention most urgently, but instead immerse themselves in numerous, miscellaneous, or strange pursuits, hardship and calamity will follow. “Engaging in” means becoming attached to these pursuits; “meeting it” means thereby falling into the cycle of rebirth.

Yet they do not know that the Dao is everywhere. One should not abandon what is fundamental and at hand in order to seek it elsewhere.

Here, “this” refers to the immediate and pressing work of cultivating body, mind, and De; “that” refers to complicated, miscellaneous, and strange pursuits. Those who study the Dao and become attached to such pursuits will thereby fall into the cycle of rebirth.

Yet they do not know that the Dao is everywhere. One should not abandon what is fundamental and at hand in order to seek it elsewhere.

Here, “this” refers to the immediate and pressing work of cultivating body, mind, and De; “that” refers to complicated, miscellaneous, and strange pursuits. If those who study the Dao understand that the Dao is everywhere, they will recognize that their own body and mind are already connected with the Dao. Body and mind arise from the Dao, just as a riverbank is formed by the water. The riverbank is itself part of the water; so too are this body and mind. Once they realize that body and mind are the Dao, they should not abandon them to seek Dao and De in complicated, miscellaneous, or strange pursuits. Thus, the Dao is everywhere: one should not abandon this to seek that. This chapter explains the error made by those who do not make the cultivation of Dao and De their priority.

Guan Yin said: In the world, to leave what is close and seek what is distant, abandon the root and pursue the branch, leave the wise and follow the foolish, or turn from what is near and seek what is far may work for a time, but if continued, these practices will bring calamity.

What is close is human nature and life; what is distant is wealth and sexual desire. What is fundamental is the Dao (the Way); what is secondary is the Five Constant Virtues, all kinds of conduct, and the myriad rules. What is wise is the virtue of wisdom; what is foolish is delusion. What we should draw near to is kindness and good deeds; what we should keep away from is every kind of wrongdoing.

People seeking to learn the principles of the world often lose their way: they abandon their own life, morality, and kindness, yet become absorbed in wealth, sexual desire, and all manner of distractions, falling into delusion and wrongdoing. This may satisfy their delusions for a time, but over the years they sink deeper and cannot awaken. In the end, they fall into the cycle of birth and death, endlessly passing through the four traditional forms of life: birth from a womb, an egg, moisture, or transformation. There is no greater calamity.

Thus, the principles of the world are these: abandon what is close and pursue what is distant; abandon the root and pursue the branches; abandon wisdom and turn toward folly; abandon what is near and pursue what is far away. This may bring a little satisfaction for a time, but in the long run it invites calamity. This chapter discusses the affliction of those who do not understand the Dao.

The passage above is Chapter Twenty-Two.

Guan Yin Zi said: “When the ancients spoke of the Dao, some said it was settled and still; some said it was profound and unfathomable; some said it was clear and luminous; some said it was vast as empty space; and some said it was obscure and hidden. When you encounter these descriptions, do not be frightened or discouraged.”

“Settled” means stable; “still” means tranquil; “profound” means deep. When the ancients spoke of the Dao, at times they described it as stable and still, at times as so deep that it could not be exhausted, at times as clear and far-reaching as water, at times as vast as empty space, and at times as dim and shadowed, beyond comprehension. When students hear these five descriptions—settled and still, profound and deep, clear and penetrating, empty and boundless, obscure and dark—they should not be afraid, assume the Dao is too difficult to learn, and grow discouraged.

The most fundamental principles of the world cannot, in the end, be grasped through words and thought alone. Once you understand that words and thought cannot fully express them, then even when you hear these subtle descriptions, you should remain clear-minded and not be frightened or discouraged by the Dao’s depth and mystery.

The most fundamental and genuine truth in the world cannot ultimately be grasped through words or thought. If you can understand that the Dao in its true state lies beyond the subtle words and profound meanings of the ancients, then you have understood the principle I am speaking of.

The “ultimate truth in the world” here means the Dao. In its ultimate state, the Dao cannot be reached through words or thought. The stillness, depth, clarity, emptiness, and obscurity discussed earlier all belong, in the end, to names and concepts. The Dao itself has no name and does not depend on human feelings or thoughts. If you truly understand this, you can directly experience the Dao as it is, before the subtle words and profound meanings of the ancients arose: it is originally pure and complete, and need not be gained through cultivation or by seeking outward. This is what it means to understand the chapter’s teaching. “Above” refers to what precedes the emergence of words and meanings; “if” means indeed, or truly. This chapter explains how to let go of attachment, before awakening, to bodily and mental sensations and to the states of the external world.

Guan Yin Zi said: “The words of the sages are sometimes as precious as gold and jade; at other times they are like ordinary plants such as platycodon and plantain. Used appropriately, ordinary plants can sustain life; used inappropriately, even gold and jade can bring death.”

“Great words” here refers to grand scriptural teachings such as the Dao De Jing and the Yinfu Jing, precious as gold and jade. “Small words” are like plants such as platycodon and plantain. The text emphasizes that the value of words depends on whether they are used appropriately: used well, even ordinary things can bring benefit; used wrongly, even precious things can cause harm.

The “great words” spoken by the sages refer to classics such as the Dao De Jing and the Yinfu Jing. They are as precious as gold and jade; hence the saying, “The sages’ great words are like gold and jade.”

Balloon flower is a medicinal herb that can treat ailments such as rheumatism. Plantain, also called che qian cao, is another medicinal herb, used to treat bloody and white dysentery. The “small words” mentioned here refer to poems and plain-spoken sayings written by sages of later generations. Some people have awakened to the Dao through these poems and sayings, just as someone can be cured of an illness with balloon flower or plantain and regain well-being, surviving as a result. Hence the saying, “Small words are like balloon flower and plantain: used appropriately, they can restore a person’s vitality.” “Used appropriately” means that the illness has been cured; “survive” means to remain alive.

Some people can recite the Dao De Jing and the Yinfu Jing from memory but still fail to awaken to the Dao. This is like taking precious medicines made from gold and jade that cannot cure rheumatism or dysentery, and ultimately losing one’s life. Hence the saying, “Used improperly, even gold and jade can bring a person to death.” Here, “perish” means to lose one’s life, and “improperly” means that the illness has not been cured.

This chapter explains that scriptural words may differ in refinement, but what matters is whether they suit the illness they are meant to treat.

This is the second part of Chapter Twenty-Four (the foregoing is Chapter Twenty-Four).

Guan Yin Zi said: When discussing a matter, some people say it is beneficial, some say it is harmful, some say it is beneficial at times and harmful at others, and some say it is both beneficial and harmful. What is said must fall into one of these categories. Using this as a metaphor for the Dao: the Dao does not speak in this way.

“Someone” is a word used to stand for different people or things. When people discuss matters and principles, their views differ. A says of one matter that it benefits the world; B says of another that it harms the world. Thus A considers it beneficial, while B considers it harmful. C discusses both kinds of matter and holds that some are beneficial and some harmful, so C sees their benefits and harms as mixed. D discusses both kinds of matter and holds that when they are done in accord with the right Way, both are beneficial, and when done contrary to it, both are harmful. Thus D believes that either may be beneficial, and either may be harmful.

A, B, C, and D each have a different view of benefit and harm, but one of them must be speaking aptly and in accord with the facts. Hence the saying, “One of the four must be right.” Here, “right” means settled and fitting. The Dao has no name from the beginning and cannot be explained through words or analogies; it can only be understood by the mind. Unlike particular matters, it cannot be compared in terms of benefit and harm. Thus, whoever wishes to explain the Dao by analogy need not even speak. This chapter teaches that clinging to judgments of benefit and harm is a lingering affliction.

This concludes Chapter Twenty-Five.

Guan Yin Zi says: Particular things have their particular circumstances, and there are corresponding principles for discussing them. But the Dao is not confined to any particular circumstance, and there are no fixed, unchanging principles for discussing it. If you understand that words themselves have no fixed principles, then any words can embody the Dao. If you do not understand this, even if you cling rigidly to the most profound teachings, they will become obstacles that block the way—and may even seem like calamities.

Everything in the world has its own specific place; speaking about any matter also has its own rationale. Thus it is said, “Things have their place, and words have their rationale.” The Dao, however, has no fixed place and does not belong to names, words, things, or rationales. The words of sages all go beyond attachment to words; they serve to point toward an intent beyond language. If you can understand this way of speaking beyond words and do not confine it to particular matters and rationales, then you may speak all day without attachment, and every sentence can embody the Dao.

“Knowing” means understanding. If you cannot grasp that the words of sages are not meant to make people cling to language and rationales, then even if you hold fast in your mind to the words of the Perfected One, it will be like something lodged in your throat, or like dust in your eyes, clouding your vision. Thus, if you do not understand that words have no fixed rationale, then even holding fast to words that express the highest principle will obstruct and cloud your own understanding. The character translated here as “medicine” should instead be read as “eye obstruction,” meaning something that clouds the eyes. This chapter discusses how to cure the fault of clinging to matters and rationales when one has not yet let go of such attachment.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Guan Yin Zi said, “It is easy not to believe the words of fools, difficult not to believe the words of the worthy; easy not to believe the words of the worthy, difficult not to believe the words of sages; easy not to believe the words of one sage, difficult not to believe the words of a thousand sages.”

Here, “not believing” means not clinging to or becoming attached to something. It is relatively easy not to cling to the words and actions of fools; it is much harder not to cling to those of the worthy. If it is already difficult to let go of the words and actions of the worthy, then it is even harder not to cling to those of sages. It is still relatively easy not to be bound by the words and actions of one sage; not to be bound by those of many sages is harder still.

If someone cannot trust the thousands upon thousands of sages, then outwardly they cannot see other people, inwardly they cannot see themselves, upward they cannot see the Dao (the Way), and downward they cannot see things.

Those who study can forget fame and outward traces, and quietly accord with the Dao, if they do not cling to the words and deeds of the countless sages or let themselves be bound or stained by them. In this way, they can go beyond attachment to the names and traces of sages, the self, and the principles of things. That is the state meant by “not admiring the sages and not esteeming one’s own spiritual nature.” To “be unable to trust the thousand sages” means not clinging outwardly to other people, inwardly to oneself, upwardly to the name of the Dao, or downwardly to particular things. The “Dao” here means the principles of things. This chapter says that people have not yet let go of their attachment to the distinction between ordinary people and sages; that attachment itself is a fault that needs to be corrected.

That concludes Chapter Twenty-Seven.

Guan Yin Zi said: “When sages speak of the ‘hazy,’ they mean to make people as though deaf; when they speak of the ‘dark,’ they mean to make people as though blind; when they speak of the ‘heavy and still,’ they mean to make people as though afflicted with sores.”

What sages say is, in fact, “speech beyond speech”—an expression that goes beyond words. Its purpose is to let people grasp the meaning beyond what is said. That meaning does not belong to sound. If learners remain confused and obscured, they cannot hear it, as though they were deaf. Hence the saying, “When sages speak of the hazy, they mean to make people as though deaf.” The meaning beyond words does not belong to visible forms either. It is distant and obscure, beyond the sight of the eyes, as though one were blind. Hence the saying, “When sages speak of the dark, they mean to make people as though blind.” Nor can the meaning beyond words be fully conveyed through names and speech. It is quiet and subtle, difficult to discuss; hearing it is like being physically ill and unable to move with ease. Hence the saying, “When sages speak of the heavy and still, they mean to make people as though afflicted with sores.”

The deaf cannot hear sounds; the blind cannot see forms and colors; and someone afflicted with sores may find it difficult to speak aloud.

Only when deafness is cured can one hear sounds. Thus, only in a state of deafness can one fail to hear sounds. Only when blindness is cured can one see colors. Thus, only in a state of blindness can one fail to see colors. Only when illnesses such as “ganjing” (the name of a disease used in the original text) are cured can one make sounds and speak. Thus, only in a state of “ji” can one be unable to speak.

To say that one cannot hear sounds means that one cannot hear the sounds of the Dao, the things of the world, or “I.” To say that one cannot see colors means that one cannot see the Dao, the things of the world, or “I.” To say that one cannot make sounds or speak means that one does not discuss the Dao, the things of the world, or “I.”

The meaning beyond the words is this: even if one listens but does not hear sounds, this is not as complete as deafness, in which one cannot hear the sounds of any of these three: the Dao, things, and “I.” Hence the phrase “does not speak of I.”

The meaning beyond the words is this: even if one listens but does not hear sounds, this is not as complete as deafness, in which one cannot hear the sounds of any of these three: the Dao, things, and “I.” Therefore, to “not hear sounds” means not to hear the Dao, things, or “I.” Even if one looks but does not see colors, this is not as complete as blindness, in which one cannot see the forms of the Dao, things, and “I,” nor form discriminating views about them. Therefore, to “not see colors” means not to see the Dao, things, or “I.” Even if one cannot utter names while discussing something, this is not as complete as being unable to speak because of “jijing,” so that one does not utter the names of the Dao, things, or “I.” Therefore, to “make no sounds or speak” means not to discuss the Dao, things, or “I.” This chapter explains that what must be rectified is the lingering affliction of not yet having forgotten color, sound, and names, as well as the Dao, things, and “I.”

The above is Chapter Twenty-Eight.

Guan Yin Zi (a legendary Daoist figure) said: People know only that false gain contains true loss; they do not know that true gain also contains true loss. People know only that false correctness contains true error; they do not know that true correctness also contains true error.

If people studying the Way cling to what they know and take what they have gained through delusion to be real, they will stray from the utmost Way, its fundamental state. Yet they do not realize that even what they truly see can lead them astray in the same way. It is like gold dust: though it is real gold, once it gets into the eye, it becomes dust that blocks the sight. Thus people know that what is falsely gained can contain a genuine error, but they do not know that what is truly gained can also contain a genuine error.

Here, “false” means illusory, “true” means real, and “only” means knowing something and nothing more. When people studying the Way speak of what they know, they cling to taking delusive thoughts as real and mistakes as correct. Yet they do not realize that clinging to what they judge to be real and correct can itself become an error. Thus people know that false correctness can conceal a genuine error, but they do not know that real correctness can also conceal a genuine error. This chapter explains that we must remedy the fault of still clinging to distinctions between true and false.

The passage above is the twenty-ninth chapter.

Guan Yin Zi says: Speaking about the Dao (the Way) is like speaking about a dream. Someone describing a dream might say, “In the dream there was gold and jade like this, vessels like these, and birds and beasts like these.” The speaker can describe them, but cannot fetch them and hand them to someone else; the listener can hear the words, but cannot thereby receive or possess those things. Only a good listener does not cling to words or become attached to argument.

Those who have fully awakened understand that images of gold and jade, vessels, birds, and beasts in a dream can be described by the speaker but not fetched and handed to someone else. The listener can hear the words but cannot thereby obtain those things. Only one who is good at hearing the Dao does not cling to words or become attached to argument.

Someone who has fully awakened is like a person roused from sleep: only then do they understand that everything seen in the dream arose from false and distorted perceptions. Those who have not fully awakened, however, think their own understanding is enough to comprehend the myriad things. They even explain profound principles to others. This is like discussing a dream while still dreaming. Thus, speaking about the Dao is like speaking about a dream.

Someone in a dream says they saw a vast mountain of gold and precious stones, rising without limit. They also dreamed of a jade cavern, broad and deep, whose depths could not be measured. Gold and precious stones, and the jade cavern, serve here as metaphors for the vastness and unfathomable depth of Dao and De—the qualities and workings of the Dao—like the treasures of Lingbao and the depths of Dongxuan. This is the realm suggested by the gold and jade in the dream. Someone else dreams of countless jade objects and golden vessels, with no end to what can be taken from them. This represents establishing various subtle workings that broadly benefit many good deeds. Thus the vessels in the dream, too, are made of such gold and jade.

Others dream of the crow, hare, tortoise, phoenix, dragon, and tiger. These images allude to the Golden Crow and Jade Hare, the black tortoise and red phoenix, and the white tiger and azure dragon, which represent Yin-Yang transformation and the workings of creation. In the dream, people speak of these treasures, vessels, and creatures, but the speaker can only describe them; they cannot take them out and hand them to the listener. This represents how a sage cannot directly present the Dao to someone who studies it.

Those who hear a dream described may hear about the treasures, vessels, and creatures, but hearing alone cannot make them possess or obtain these things. This represents how those who study the Dao need a teacher’s skillful guidance, yet must ultimately realize it for themselves through the teacher’s words and pointing. The Dao cannot be acquired from outside oneself.

Only those with sharp innate insight can grasp the subtlety of Dao and De. They do not cling to words and metaphors. Nor do they become attached to arguments about the sage’s teaching of “no words.” The image “fish trap and rabbit snare” originally refers to a bamboo device for catching fish and a net for catching rabbits; here, it means the tools used to express an idea. Such people use the sage’s wordless teaching to grasp the meaning beyond words, and thereby awaken to the ineffable Dao. When they hear the Dao, they neither cling to words nor argue. This chapter explains the pitfalls into which those who have not awakened can easily fall when they speak about the Dao.

Guan Yin Zi says: “Make your Dao (the Way) complete and unobstructed, your De (Virtue) upright and fitting, your conduct impartial and fair, and your actions keen and effective.”

Here, “you” refers to the person who studies the Dao. “Make your Dao complete” means that by carefully reading, repeatedly reflecting on, and thoroughly investigating the nine chapters of the scripture, the student will naturally come to understand the ineffable supreme Dao. Everyone already possesses this Dao and can bring it to full realization. No additional cultivation is needed to become equal to the sages. Hence the phrase, “Make your Dao complete.”

“Upright” means proper, and “De” is the function of the Dao. After realizing the supreme Dao, one must also guard and preserve it: inwardly, remain clear and at ease through Wuwei (non-action), free from attachment to and contamination by external things; in dealing with others, be humble and gentle, competing with nothing in the world. Then apply the function of the Dao properly among all people: treat all things kindly, bring others peace, and seek no reward. This is upright De, hence the phrase, “Make your De upright.”

To attain the highest De, one must benefit oneself and others, extending benefits widely with an impartial heart. Make no distinctions of rank or poverty, gender or appearance; treat everyone with equal compassion, favor no one, and form no factions. In this way, one develops every kind of fine virtue, hence the phrase, “Make your conduct impartial.”

“Keen” means perceptive and effective, and “actions” refers to carrying out affairs. The person who studies the Dao realizes the way of wondrous being within true emptiness, takes it as the substance of the true mind, and takes supreme De and fine conduct as its function. Able to benefit both oneself and others, that person can carry out affairs smoothly wherever they arise. Hence the phrase, “Make your actions keen.”

The commentator here considers Guan Yin Zi to have grasped the central meaning of this scripture.

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

Based on the preceding text, this sentence should read, “Small insects can poison the body,” meaning that small insects are capable of harming the body with poison.

Based on the preceding text, “not husband” should read “not lose.”

In both the Guanzi and the Wushang Miaodao Wenshi Zhenjing, “cannot” reads “the earth cannot.”

In the Guanzi, “to be a physician” reads “to be a screen”; “screen” means to cover or obstruct.

Postscript to the True Scripture of Wenshi

Written by the Immortal Elder Ge of the Jin dynasty, an honorific title for Ge Hong.

Ge Hong writes:

My native endowment is ordinary, as lowly as wormwood and mugwort. I simply happened to admire the longevity of figures such as Qiao and Songzi. Anyone who understands the Great Dao, however humble their station, is worthy of closeness; even those from lands of the Yi and Di peoples deserve equal respect.

Later, I met Master Zheng Siyuan. He possessed many rare texts and opened for me a fine path to the Supreme Dao through the practice of ingesting elixirs. He also cleansed my body and mind with methods of inhalation and exhalation, letting me taste the purity and subtlety of stillness. Later, he entrusted me with the nine chapters of the Perfected Yin’s Wenshi Jing. I treasured this book, often recited it, and respectfully kept and studied it.

In the book, “yu” means the Dao; “pillar” means the foundation that supports Heaven and Earth; “ultimate” means the most exalted and highest principle; “talisman” means the spirit and the hun and po souls; “mirror” means the heart-mind; “spoon” means food and drink; “cauldron” means transformation; “counting rods” means the myriad things; and “medicine” means the various methods for regulating and cultivating body and mind.

Whenever I read this book, my mind feels light and nimble, as if I were stepping on flying leaves and roaming where Heaven and Earth merge; or as if I were treading a crossbeam and drifting across an boundless sea. At times it makes one feel detached from the world, as though dwelling in a splendid, golden immortal abode; at others, it is solemn and awe-inspiring, as if one held a seal for commanding spirits and ghosts. It may suddenly be light and graceful, like phoenixes and cranes in flight, then fierce and powerful, like a tiger battling a rhinoceros. Sometimes it is clear as bathing in emerald waters; sometimes it is elusive and uncanny, like dreaming of red visions. It can encompass and put the Dao into practice, bringing together the highest principles. Such a state lies beyond the reach of magicians and was never discussed by the Confucians of antiquity.

The principles of this book can be looked up to, but never fully scaled; they can be experienced, but never possessed; they can be used as a mirror, but are difficult to exhaust through thought; they can serve as a confirmation, but are hard to express in words. What it speaks of may be what is experienced by those who forget external things and stand apart from the world, what is understood by those who abandon worldly conduct and transcend cleverness and calculation, and what is spoken by those who unite with Yin-Yang and dissolve distinctions between self and other. Why is it so exalted and far-reaching, so vast and boundless, yet so simple and easy to practice? I personally received this book.

On the first day of the fifth month of the second year of the Xianhe era (327 CE), Ge Hong of Danyang, courtesy name Zhichuan, wrote this preface.