《文始真经言外旨》Vol. 3

Guan Yinzi says: Do not underestimate small matters: even a tiny crack can sink a boat. Do not underestimate small things: even an insect can harm the body. Do not underestimate people of low status, for they too may endanger a state. Only by handling small matters thoroughly can one accomplish great things; only by gradually accumulating small things can one achieve a great undertaking; and only by treating people of low status well can one find accord with influential people.

There is nothing in the Mandate of Heaven that people can certainly grasp, and nothing people can certainly control. Only by setting affairs aside and freeing oneself from the entanglements of human relationships can one return to oneself. Where simplicity is called for, be simple; do not make things elaborate without cause. Where restraint is called for, exercise restraint; do not force yourself to endure. Where diligence is called for, be diligent; do not deliberately grow idle. The heading “Diligence and Idleness” appears in some versions as “Movement and Stillness.”

Baoyizi says: This chapter consists entirely of admonitions that serve like medicinal stones, so it is called “Miscellaneous Treatments”: it addresses the cultivation of the mind in various circumstances. People living in the world cannot avoid all affairs or withdraw from society. When handling matters and dealing with others, every action and pause may bring good or ill fortune, regret, or anxiety. The sages hoped people would avoid danger and turn toward what is good, so they would not be left with regret or fear. They therefore left these admonitions for people to keep in mind and use to remedy their own shortcomings. Who but a great sage of profound wisdom could do such a thing?

Even Heaven cannot command people at will, and people cannot command affairs at will. How, then, could we dare to slight ordinary people, small things, or minor matters? Confucius said, “The human heart is more treacherous than mountains and rivers, and fathoming it is harder than understanding the heavens. The heavens at least have the regular cycles of spring and summer, autumn and winter, day and night. People, however, may appear honest while concealing unfathomable depths within. Some pursue what is right as if thirsting desperately for water, yet turn away from it as urgently as if fleeing the heat. How could anyone see through them easily?” The world is full of examples of people who slighted ordinary folk or minor matters and, in the end, brought about the ruin of a state or a family, or the loss of their own bodies or lives.

That is why the sages say that only by treating ordinary people well can one win the support of the great; only by accumulating small things can one accomplish great things; and only by attending fully to minor matters can one achieve great undertakings. These principles describe a process that moves from small to great, from subtle to manifest. We must not slight or neglect people, things, or affairs simply because they seem insignificant. The sages are especially cautious even with the smallest matters—how much more so with the great ones?

The principle governing the world is this: matters that require careful, detailed handling cannot be dealt with superficially; matters that call for caution cannot be forced through; and tasks that require diligence cannot be completed through laziness and delay. Therefore, in conducting themselves in the world, the sages act in whatever way is fitting and refrain from what is unfitting. When handling affairs, they are not bound by the fixed assumptions that “anything is permissible” or “nothing is permissible.” How could they be rigid and unchanging?

From this we can see that although the sages face all kinds of affairs every day, they do not become attached to affairs or external things. They always hold fast to their own original mind.

Guan Yin Zi said: One whose wisdom reaches the utmost understands that wisdom alone can never be enough to deal fully with all things, and so appears dull. One whose skill in argument reaches the utmost understands that words alone can never make all things understood, and so appears slow and sparing in speech. One whose courage reaches the utmost understands that sheer force can never prevail over all things, and so appears timid.

Bao Yi Zi said: In the ways of the world, contending for superiority leaves one wanting, while yielding leaves nothing in excess. The sages appear as great wisdom that seems foolish, great eloquence that seems halting, and great courage that seems timid. Do they deliberately put on these appearances? They do so because they understand that wisdom is not enough to deal fully with all things, and so they seem dull; argument is not enough to make everything understood, and so they speak little; and force is not enough to prevail over all things, and so they seem timid. An old saying goes, “No one can match his foolishness.” This shows that at times wisdom is less than dullness. Speaking nine apt words out of ten is still not as good as remaining silent once; this shows that argument is less than silence. The weak can overcome the strong, and the small can prevail over the great; this shows that boldness is less than yielding.

Guan Yin Zi said: Among all things between Heaven and Earth, there is nothing that truly belongs to me. Things are not me, yet I cannot help responding to them. Nor am I a fixed, unchanging “self,” yet I cannot help caring for myself. Though I respond to all things, I never cling to any of them; though I care for myself, I never cling to a fixed self. Do not suppose that you must first set aside external things in order to set aside the self, or that you must first free yourself from the body in order to free yourself from the mind. The Dao is one; its cultivation cannot be divided into stages that come before or after.

Baoyizi says: Those who are skilled at responding to the myriad things do not cling in their hearts to any particular thing. Those who are skilled at nurturing themselves do not cling to a fixed “self.” Clinging inwardly to external things makes it impossible to respond flexibly to the myriad things; clinging to the self makes it impossible truly to nurture oneself. Why? Because external things do not truly belong to “me,” and “I” am not a fixed, unchanging “I.” The moment you cast external things outside yourself, you cast yourself outside as well; once you have cast yourself outside, your heart too is shut out.

If you proceed by observing your heart within, your body without, and then the myriad things at a distance, you divide heart, self, and things into three separate entities, and inevitably fall into successive layers of distinction. The Dao is originally one; it need only be directly realized. There is no need to labor over distinctions. When one place returns to emptiness, the whole returns to emptiness. Why divide it into stages and sequence?

Guan Yin Zi says: If you stare closely at something tiny, you will not see the vastness of Heaven and Earth; if you focus on a faint sound, you will not hear a thunderous roar. When you see the great, it is easy to miss the small; when you see what is near, it is easy to miss what is far. When you hear a loud sound, it is easy to miss a quiet one; when you hear a nearby sound, it is easy to miss one from afar. The sages do not cling to any particular thing they see, and so they can see everything; they do not cling to any particular thing they hear, and so they can hear everything.

Baoyizi says: When people see something, there is something they do not see; when they hear something, there is something they do not hear. This is not because the power of the spirit itself is limited, nor because the heart and spirit have limited capacity. It is because they use the spirit in a way that does not accord with the Dao. People do not realize that the subtle and mysterious principles of Heaven, Earth, and the myriad things all reside within our Shen (spirit), and that all the visible and tangible existences of Heaven, Earth, and the myriad things all reside within our Jing (essence) and Qi (vital energy). Once this is understood, one can see why the sages, by not clinging to any particular thing they see, can see everything; and by not clinging to any particular thing they hear, can hear everything. Do those who study the Dao understand this?

Guan Yin Zi said: The colors that can be seen by the eyes are beyond counting. Some people favor gold, others jade. This is clinging to one color and limiting one’s sight. The sounds that can be heard by the ears are beyond counting. Some people favor bells, others drums. This is clinging to one sound and limiting one’s hearing. The sage neither covets these sights and sounds nor rejects them, and does not let the mind linger on them.

Baoyi Zi said: This chapter explains the meaning of the preceding one. The sage worries that those who study the Dao may not understand that only by avoiding constraint from what one sees and hears can one have broader perception and understanding. So, by way of illustration, he speaks of what the eyes see and the ears hear. The eyes can see many colors; if, when observing things, one clings to a particular color, one’s field of vision is restricted. The ears can hear many sounds; if one listens only to a particular sound, one’s hearing is likewise restricted. The sage does not covet the sights and sounds before him, nor reject external forms and sounds. He simply does not let the mind linger on, or become bound by, what is seen and heard. In this way, perception and understanding become broader.

Guan Yin Zi said: Only those who are skilled at responding to the present can practice the Way of antiquity; only those who are skilled at handling minor affairs can establish the root.

Baoyi Zi said: If those who study the Dao wish to practice the ancient Way, they must be skilled at adapting to the customs of their own time; if they wish to return to the root, they must also understand how to handle particular affairs. To live in the present age while going against its customs may bring harm to oneself. To know only the root, without understanding how to manage everyday affairs, also makes it difficult to find one’s footing. Thus the sage adapts to circumstances without losing his nature, responding to the present; he meets each particular situation and handles it appropriately, understanding the details. This is the foundation for practicing the ancient Way and establishing the root.

Guan Yin Zi said: Only one more cunning than a thief can catch a thief; only one more courageous than a tiger can subdue a tiger. By mastering oneself, one can fulfill oneself; by overcoming the constraints of external things, one can make them serve people’s benefit; by forgetting one’s attachment to the Dao, one can truly possess the Dao.

Baoyi Zi said: No commentary accompanies this passage in the original.

Bao Yizi says: A thief relies on skill to win a contest; a tiger relies on ferocity to prevail. These things are quite clear. But what can a person rely on to overcome themselves? Here, “self” means one’s own body and mind, and “overcome” means to gain mastery over them. When we understand what our body and mind are made of, we can know how to overcome ourselves. Those who study the Dao should observe that there is originally no fixed, unchanging “self.” This “self” takes shape only through the interweaving of the seven emotions and six desires—that is, the many feelings and wants of human beings. To master oneself, one must first master one’s emotions and desires. Hasn’t it been said earlier that mastering one desire can cultivate De, while forgetting one desire can bring one into accord with the Great Dao? This is how the sages cultivated themselves.

Only after cultivating and bringing oneself to completion can one benefit other things. If one still places anything before oneself in the heart and clings to it, one will be controlled by external things. How, then, can one benefit them? Only by bringing oneself to completion and benefiting all things can one draw close to the Dao. Yet if one still clings to the Dao, the Great Dao cannot be forgotten. And if even the Dao cannot be forgotten, how can one truly possess the Dao?

Guan Yin Zi says: A hard object is bound to be broken; what is rigid is easily snapped. A sharp blade is bound to wound and destroy things; what is too keen is easily blunted. The mighty phoenix, a mythical bird, seems divine because it is rarely seen, so the sage makes concealment the foundation. The musk deer leaves its scent as it runs and is therefore easily captured, so the sage takes simplicity and restraint as guiding principles.

Bao Yizi says: Hardness invites destruction, and sharpness invites defeat; making concealment the foundation and simplicity and restraint the guiding principles—these are all sayings of the Laozi. The Guanyinzi also uses hard objects, sharp blades, the mighty phoenix, and the musk deer to explain Laozi’s meaning. It teaches those who study the Dao always to remain yielding and seek emptiness, to restrain their sharpness and avoid displaying themselves, and to bend in order to remain whole and avoid mistakes. Is this not advice that strikes at the heart of the matter?

Guan Yin Zi says: A bottle has two openings. Pour water into it, turn it upside down, and plug one opening; the water will not flow out. This is because when air does not rise, water does not descend. Even when a well is a thousand ren deep—a measure of length, used here to mean extremely deep—water can still be drawn up from it, because when Qi does not rise, water does not descend. Thus the sage does not act ahead of the myriad things.

Bao Yizi says: The sage does not dare to place himself ahead of all things under Heaven. Precisely because of this, he can instead become their guide. Why? The way things work is that they always turn into their opposites: without rising, there can be no falling; without being behind, there can be no taking the lead; without being low, there can be no reaching the heights. That is why the Laozi says that it is willing to be the stream of the world and the valley among the mountains. Both express this same principle.

When water is drawn through a tube, blocking the opening at the top makes the water remain below. When fire heats the air inside a bottle, the water rises against its natural course. These examples show that without rising, there can be no falling. They follow the same principle as drawing water from a well by blocking the mouth of the tube. Water’s ability to rise or fall is part of its own nature; blocking an opening, drawing water, heating, and pressing are actions performed by people. Qi—the force that drives changes in the water’s flow—is what makes the water rise, fall, stand still, or flow against its course. Yet the Dao of Heaven follows cycles of return. Rather than insist on remaining full, it is better to stop at the right time. How much more so should one avoid trying to place oneself ahead of all things? This is something the sage takes especially to heart as a warning.

Guan Yinzi says: Even after people have suffered because of their own mistakes, they often wait a long time before privately examining what went wrong before they made them. If people do not rely only on their own cleverness, but also take in what others have to offer, they can set aside their own biases and take account of everyone’s views. If they act this way throughout their lives, they will make fewer mistakes.

Bao Yizi says: Even someone as wise and intelligent as Shun did not rely on his own ability. He set aside his own views and listened to others; how much more should ordinary people do so? Yet people often fail to realize that while it is relatively easy not to rely on one’s own cleverness and to draw on the cleverness of others, it is difficult to discern whether others are sincere or deceitful and to choose the right people to associate with. Alas, even Yao and Shun would likely have found it difficult to recognize people and judge their words.

Guan Yinzi says: Customs differed between ancient times and the present, and they also differed from place to place—east, west, south, and north. It is truly difficult to distinguish sincerity from deceit in human affairs and to choose whom to associate with. Alas, even Yao and Shun would likely have found it hard to recognize people and judge their words.

Guan Yinzi said: Customs differ between ancient and modern times, and they differ from place to place—east, west, south, and north. Even within a single family, and in the conduct of a single person, good deeds take many forms. How could I cling to one rule and prescribe in advance how people in later generations should act? If you simply follow the times and customs, notice signs of change before acting, restrain anger and desire, lessen the burdens imposed by external things, treat others with generosity and understanding, and weigh matters before taking action, you will naturally reach a state of mysterious subtlety, accord with the Dao, and avoid being bound by fixed methods.

Bao Yizi said: Following the times and customs, noticing signs in advance, restraining anger and desire, acting simply, and forgiving others all accord with the idea of adapting to the times in Confucius’s Commentary on the Changes. People speak in much the same way about discerning signs to bring affairs to completion, restraining anger and desire, and such principles as simplicity, forgiveness, loyalty, and sincerity. Yet some scholars do not understand this. They assume that Daoists esteem only Wuwei (non-action), as though the sages would cling to one rule and prescribe in advance how people in later generations should act. How could the sages think that way?

Across times and places, customs and values differ from family to family and person to person. The sages, however, weigh what matters and adapt to the circumstances: when an advanced form of ritual is appropriate, they adopt it; when it is appropriate to perform the ritual of bowing low—bending below the other person—they do so. This is why the sages can accept or reject any particular course without being bound to fixed practices. In this way they accord with the mysterious and subtle principle, joining with the Dao without being constrained by set methods. Did Confucius not say, “In private, I would like to compare myself to Lao Peng”? How, then, can the ways of Confucius and Laozi be regarded as different?

Guan Yinzi said: People associate with one another through shared commitment to the Dao, through shared De (Virtue/Power), or through shared affairs. Association through the Dao is like the relationship between father and son: it transcends distinctions between right and wrong, worthy and foolish, and so endures. Association through De involves distinctions between the worthy and the foolish, and between right and wrong; as a result, the relationship is sometimes close and sometimes distant. Association through affairs ends when the work is done.

Bao Yizi said: “Zihuazi and Confucius met on the road. They talked all day and felt as close as old friends who had known each other for years. Confucius turned to ask a disciple to fetch a length of silk cloth—a customary gift in ancient times—and present it to Zihuazi. Zilu, however, was puzzled. It turned out that Zihuazi was Cheng Ben, a disciple of Laozi. At their first meeting, Confucius felt as though they were old friends. This is what it means to meet through the Dao.

“Though they met by chance, a meeting of their eyes was enough for each to sense the Dao within the other. How unlike ordinary worldly friendships, which concern themselves with virtue, profit, and possession, and with judging who is wise or foolish, what is right or wrong, and what is beneficial or harmful! It is no wonder that Zilu did not understand. Alas, where else could one find people like Cheng Zihua and Confucius—meeting by chance, coming to know and trust one another completely, and rising above bodily forms and worldly distinctions?”

Guan Yinzi said: “Do not mistake clumsiness and shallowness for the essence of the Dao; prize quickness instead. Do not mistake dullness and obscurity for the Dao’s hiddenness; prize clarity and acuity. Do not mistake arrogance for the Dao’s loftiness; prize harmony and accord. Do not mistake disorder without bounds for the Dao’s vastness; prize what is concise and practical. Do not mistake gloom and melancholy for the Dao’s stillness; prize joy and ease. When the ancients discussed learning, many harmful biases could easily arise. They must be corrected.”

Baoyizi says: The teachings of the ancients were not all of one kind. In those days, the doctrines of Qin Huoli, Song Xing, Yin Wen, Peng Meng, Tian Pian, Shen Dao, Mo Di, and others were current, but none have been passed down to us. By the time of Mencius, only the doctrines of Yang Zhu and Mo Di were still in circulation. From this we can infer that the teachings of Qin, Song, Yin, Peng, Tian, and Shen had probably already been discarded in the time of Guan Yin Zi and Confucius.

What is called “quickness” resembles the Chan practice of excelling in sharp exchanges and responding rapidly in words. What is called “lightness and clarity” resembles practices today that train visualization through leaping and other physical exercises. What is called “harmony and union” resembles the Western Regions’ religious practice of seeking union through the “Six Wei.” What is called “urgency” resembles the present-day practice of investigating a phrase or meditation topic in the hope of sudden awakening. What is called “pleasure and ease” resembles the manner of indulging in unrestrained freedom and carefree wandering. These practices were not what the ancients taught in their own time, but they are broadly similar. Studying them often gives rise to many shortcomings, so they too must be corrected.

Guan Yin Zi says: Do not criticize the people of the world while insisting that only you are right. Do not belittle others and exalt yourself. Do not take others’ disdain for you as proof that you possess the Dao. Do not take their mockery as proof that you possess De. Do not assume you are talented just because others are crude and shallow.

Baoyizi says: If you criticize the people of the world, they will criticize you in turn; this brings trouble. If you belittle others, they will belittle you in turn; this brings humiliation. If others disdain you and you endure it, then take pride in yourself as a person of the Dao, that is shallowness. If others mock you and you make no reply, then take pride in yourself as a person of De, that is arrogance. If you meet someone crude and shallow and conclude that you are talented, that is a mistake. These five are failings of those who study and cultivate the Dao; each should identify and correct the corresponding fault within themselves.

Guan Yin Zi says: To ensnare the wisest person in the world, the key is not wisdom but foolishness. To leave the most eloquent person in the world with nothing to say, the key is not eloquence but silence and slowness.

Bao Yizi said: If someone is too clever and quick-witted, that can become a fault. Being able to set aside cunning and appear plain, awkward, and slow-witted is more like a remedy. No one’s wisdom can encompass all the wisdom in the world, nor can anyone’s eloquence exhaust all the words that might be spoken. To attack wisdom with wisdom and counter eloquence with eloquence is like trying to put out fire with fire or stop water with water. What good could that do?

In the past, the Southern Tang selected a well-read and eloquent envoy to travel to our court. Yet Emperor Taizu of Song assigned an illiterate, seemingly dull and taciturn soldier to receive him. The learned and skillful envoy had no opportunity to display his talents. That is what this principle means.

Guan Yin said: Heaven cannot make lotuses bloom in winter or chrysanthemums flower in spring, so the sage follows the seasons. The land cannot make Luoyang produce oranges or Mount Wen produce raccoon dogs, so the sage follows the customs of each place. The sage cannot make hands walk or feet grasp, and so does not go against what each is suited to do. Nor can the sage make fish fly or birds run, and so does not go against the particular strengths of others.

One who can do this can act or rest, remain hidden or become visible, and yet be bound by nothing. This is the Dao (the Way).

Bao Yizi said: The principles of the world are many and varied. Some favor concealment, others openness; some call for action, others for stillness. All of these follow the natural order. The sage observes the changes of Heaven’s Dao and seizes the right moment, allowing the mind and spirit to become clear when clarity is called for and to gather inward when restraint is called for. The sage examines the conditions of the land, allowing the body to move when movement is called for and to remain still when stillness is called for. The same applies when we begin with what is near at hand—ourselves—and extend our consideration to others farther away. Thus, when the mind and spirit should be clear, they are clear; when they should gather inward, they gather inward. When the body should move, it moves; when it should be still, it stops.

My hands cannot walk, and my feet cannot grasp, just as fish cannot fly and birds and beasts cannot run. Heaven cannot make lotuses bloom in winter or chrysanthemums in spring. Nor can the land make the orange trees of Luoyang grow by the Wen River, or bring the raccoon dogs of the Wen River region to Luoyang. How much less should we go against our own strengths? And how much less should we go against the strengths of others? If we defy what body and mind each do best and force ourselves to act, we invite calamity. Where, then, is the Dao?

Guan Yin Zi said: Those who speak little are less likely to incur others’ resentment; those who act little are less likely to be criticized; those who make little use of their minds are less likely to burden others; those who display few of their abilities are less likely to be put to use by others.

Bao Yizi said: Speaking too much makes one more likely to incur resentment; acting too much makes one more likely to be criticized; using the mind too much makes others more likely to be burdened by you; displaying too many abilities makes you more likely to be put to use by others. All these invite regret and hardship. How could one fail to be cautious?

Guan Yin Zi said: If I hold to myself with sincerity, keep my conduct simple, treat others generously, and respond with calm restraint, the Dao I follow will never be exhausted.

Bao Yizi said: In handling affairs and dealing with people, one must be sincere. Insincerity harms De (Virtue/Power). Yet if one strains too hard to be sincere and becomes constrained at every turn, that too invites regret and hardship. How could one fail to be cautious?

Guan Yin Zi said: If I hold to myself with sincerity, keep my conduct simple, treat others generously, and respond with calm restraint, the Dao I follow will never be exhausted.

Bao Yizi said: In dealing with people and things, one must be sincere. Without sincerity, one’s De is harmed. So sincerity should be maintained and put into practice. One must also be clear and concise in dealing with people and carrying out tasks. Without clarity, the spirit is wearied; therefore, act simply and appropriately. One must be generous and considerate; without generosity, anger is hard to quell. One must also be quiet and discreet; without silence, secrets are hard to keep. If I can do these four things, what limit could there be to the Dao I practice?

Guan Yinzi said: When planning a matter, base your plans on the actual circumstances at hand; when judging its principles, rely on reason. People carry out the work, while Heaven determines success or failure. Handle immediate affairs according to present circumstances, and judge principles by the wisdom of the ancients. Coordinate practical matters with others, but experience and practice the Dao on your own.

Bao Yizi explained: When planning for matters at hand, one should base one’s plans on the facts of the moment. A skilled archer should learn from the bow, not from Yi, the great archer of antiquity. A skilled boatman should learn from the boat, not from Jie, the ancient master of navigation. The principles governing a matter are right before us; they are not far away. But when judging the principles behind things, one should take the ancients as one’s teachers, for the sages of old investigated them with a depth that people today can hardly match. People carry out the work, so they cannot avoid taking others’ likes and dislikes into account. Since practical matters must be handled by people, and Heaven determines success or failure, how could I stubbornly insist on forcing an outcome? As for the Dao, it can only be practiced by oneself.

Guan Yinzi said: Gold and jade are hard to give up, while earth and stone are easy to discard. Those who study the Dao should never become attached to subtle words or mysterious actions. These may be put into practice, but one must not cling to them. Once they take hold, they become an incurable illness deep in the heart and gut, beyond the reach of any medicine.

Bao Yizi said: A student who hears a good saying or sees a good deed and keeps it firmly in mind, refusing to let it slip away, may be called eager to learn. But one should understand that this can cultivate De; it cannot, by itself, lead one into the Dao. The Dao requires a mind made clear and pure, retaining no attachments at all. Only then may one hope to seek the Great Dao. If one becomes inwardly attached to subtle words and mysterious actions, they become an incurable illness deep in the heart and gut. Why is this so? Earth and stone are easy to pick up and easy to put down, but gold and jade are hard to give up. Once subtle words and mysterious actions enter the depths of the heart, they are often impossible to forget for a lifetime. As the ancients said, “A single saying that accords with the Dao can become a hitching post for a donkey through ten thousand kalpas.” These words are indeed true.

Guan Yinzi said: When people fail to see what matters most right before them, yet busily pursue complicated, irrelevant, or bizarre things, they ultimately fall into hardship and meet with disaster. They have no idea that the Dao is everywhere. They should not abandon what is before them and chase after something elsewhere.

Bao Yizi explained: Scholars in the world believe in strange things but not ordinary principles. They delight in the novel but do not value the proper Way, so they are often busy with bizarre, complicated, or irrelevant matters, neglecting their duties and disrupting their daily livelihoods. Before they have found the Dao, hardship and disaster have already arrived.

They do not know that the Dao is present in every word and deed of daily life. People should therefore recognize what matters most at hand. For children, serving their parents is essential; for parents, raising their children is essential. For those in lower positions, fulfilling their duties to those above them is essential; for those in higher positions, keeping their subordinates secure is essential. Scholars should make moral self-cultivation and their own work their priority. Farmers should focus on cultivation and silkworm raising; artisans, on making useful objects; merchants, on circulating goods. These are the essential duties proper to each person. How could anyone abandon them to chase after something else? Once these essential duties are fulfilled, if a person still has the strength and the aspiration to seek the Dao, the Dao is already there within them.

Guan Yinzi also said: According to the principles of the world, abandoning what is close to pursue what is distant, abandoning the root to chase after the branches, abandoning the wise to associate with the foolish, and leaving what is near to seek what is far may perhaps work for a time, but over the long term these actions bring harm.

Bao Yizi explained: This chapter restates the meaning of the previous one. If scholars abandon what is near in pursuit of what is far, abandon the root for the branches, or leave the wise to follow the foolish, any gains they make will last only briefly. In the long run, harm will inevitably follow.

Guan Yinzi said: When the ancients spoke of the Dao, some called it settled and still, some deep and obscure, some clear and penetrating, some empty and undivided, and others dim and dark. When you encounter such descriptions, do not let them frighten you into retreat. The most fundamental truth in all under Heaven cannot, in the end, be fully expressed in words or thought. If you understand that the Dao transcends words and thought, you have already gone beyond subtle phrases and mysterious meanings and grasped what I am saying.

Bao Yizi said: Since ancient times, sages have left teachings for later generations. Though they emphasized different things, all ultimately return to the Dao. Some described it as settled and still, some as clear, empty, and radiant, some as emptiness in which all things are one, and some as dark and at rest. When students encounter these descriptions, they should not retreat or be afraid. The Dao does not lie within words and thought, so how could words and thought exhaust it? Only by grasping the realm beyond what words and meanings point toward can one accord with the teachings of the sages.

Guan Yinzi said: The words of a sage may be as precious as gold and jade, or as humble as jie geng and fu yi, plants and herbs. Used appropriately, even jie geng and fu yi can benefit people; used inappropriately, words precious as gold and jade can harm them.

Bao Yizi said: The teachings of sages may be profound as gold and jade, or plain as blades of grass. The ancients said that words both subtle and ordinary can lead to the highest Dao: some people awaken through plain words, while others study subtle expressions without understanding. It is like medicine: used appropriately, herbs can save a person; used inappropriately, medicinal substances as precious as gold and jade can cause harm. What value lies in whether the ingredients are precious or cheap? What matters is whether they are used appropriately.

Guan Yinzi said: When discussing something, one person says it is beneficial, another says it is harmful, a third says it may be beneficial or harmful, and a fourth says it is both beneficial and harmful. A statement must fall into one of these judgments. One who understands how to speak about the Dao does not speak in this way.

Baoyi Zi said, “The Dao differs from particular things. Particular things can benefit or harm us, so when discussing them, we can say that one claim accords with what is beneficial and another is harmful. But when discussing the Dao, in the end no statement can be said to have ‘hit the mark of the Dao,’ nor can any statement be said to have ‘missed it.’ Thus, those truly skilled at using analogies to explain the Dao are, paradoxically, not attached to speaking.”

Guan Yin Zi said, “Particular things each have their own place, and there are corresponding principles for discussing them. The Dao has no fixed place, and there are no fixed standards for discussing it. If you understand that words have no fixed, unchanging principles, then every sentence can be used to make the Dao clear. If you do not understand this, even clinging to the most subtle words will obstruct and mislead you.”

Baoyi Zi said, “The Dao has no fixed place, and therefore there are no fixed standards for discussing it. If you understand that words have no fixed, unchanging principles, then every sentence can be used to make the Dao clear. If you do not understand this, even clinging to the most subtle words will only obstruct and mislead you.”

Baoyi Zi also said, “The Dao and particular things are intertwined, but they are not separate from one another like water and fire, or day and night. Those who study the Dao will misunderstand it if they discuss it as though it were a particular matter. When discussing things, those things have definite places, so claims about them have corresponding principles. But when discussing the Dao, it is everywhere and has no fixed place; how, then, could there be a fixed principle for discussing it? If you understand that no fixed principle can express the Dao completely in words, then every sentence can make the Dao clear. Otherwise, even clinging to the most subtle words will only become an obstacle and a veil.”

Guan Yin Zi said, “It is easy not to trust foolish people, harder not to trust the worthy; easy not to trust the worthy, harder not to trust sages; easy not to trust one sage, harder not to trust a thousand sages. As for someone who trusts none of even a thousand sages, outwardly they see no one, inwardly they see no self, above they see no Dao, and below they see no particular things.”

Baoyi Zi said, “It is not easy for those who study the Dao to avoid trusting the words of a thousand sages. To avoid trusting a thousand sages means not to cling outwardly to other people, inwardly to oneself, above to the Dao, or below to particular things.”

Baoyi Zi says: “The study of the Dao must begin through the gateway of faith. Without firm faith in the Dao, there is no way to enter. Yet it is easy to believe in sages and worthies, and difficult to believe in the deluded and foolish. If one can believe even in the most deluded and foolish, then one’s faith may be called firm. But the ‘faith’ I speak of is not the same as what the world calls faith. The world calls it faith when one believes in what is already believed; the faith I speak of is the ability to believe even amid disbelief.

“If you do not believe the deluded and foolish, everyone can understand why. If you do not believe the worthy, not everyone will agree; and who in the world would agree with refusing to believe the sages? What is more, refusing to believe the words of tens of thousands of sages is something the world finds even harder to accept. Only those who do not regard the teachings of tens of thousands of sages as beyond question can be called truly faithful. Such people can probably also avoid clinging outwardly to others, inwardly to themselves, above to the Dao, or below to particular things.

“Guanyinzi, a legendary Daoist figure, says: ‘When sages speak of the hazy and indistinct, they do so to make people as if deaf; when they speak of the dark and obscure, they do so to make people as if blind; when they speak of the deep and still, they do so to make people as if voiceless. If deaf, one cannot hear sounds; if blind, one cannot see forms and colors; if voiceless, one cannot speak. Not hearing sounds means not clinging to hearing about the Dao, things, or oneself. Not seeing forms and colors means not clinging to seeing the Dao, things, or oneself. Being unable to speak means not clinging to speaking about the Dao, things, or oneself.’”

Baoyizi said: Once, a scholar asked his teacher, “A man claims to be blind, deaf, and weak. He has come to you for instruction. How would you treat his illness?” The teacher replied, “Come closer.” The scholar stepped forward and stood before him. The teacher opened his palm and asked, “What is this?” The scholar answered, “A palm.” The teacher then ordered him out, saying, “You are not suffering from any of those three afflictions.”

Alas, the man heard the teacher speak and came closer, which showed that he was not deaf. He could see the teacher’s palm, which showed that he was not blind. And he could say “palm,” which showed that he was not weak. At first, he posed his question as though he already understood its principle; when the teacher tested him face to face, the truth was revealed. The Cantong qi (The Seal of the Unity of the Three), an important Daoist classic, says, “The ears, eyes, and mouth are three treasures: keep them firmly closed, and do not open them lightly.” The Yinfu jing (Scripture of the Hidden Talisman), a Daoist classic, says, “The delusions of the nine orifices hinge on these three: the ears, eyes, and mouth. They can set a person in motion, and they can bring a person to stillness.” These two passages express the same idea. Alas, where can one find someone who neither hears sounds, looks upon external things, nor speaks, with whom one can understand one another without words?

Guan Yin Zi said: People know that false gain conceals real loss, but they do not know that real gain also conceals real loss. People know that what is right on the surface conceals real error, but they do not know that what is truly right also conceals real error.

Baoyizi said: All those who pursue learning under Heaven know that false gain may bring real loss, and that what is right on the surface may contain real error. So they pursue what they call real gain and treat it as an achievement; they pursue what they call true rightness and treat it as truth. They fail to understand that the Dao has no gain or loss, no right or wrong. Once one clings to gain and loss, right and wrong, they become particular things, and are no longer the Dao. If a person cultivating the Dao suddenly encounters something strange or a wondrous vision, they may stubbornly take it for real gain or true rightness. Often, they are then deceived by malign forces, failing to realize that this is precisely real loss and error.

Guan Yinzi said: “Let your Dao be rounded and complete, your De upright and well formed, your conduct steady and fair, and your actions keen and decisive.”

Baoyi Zi explained: “If the Dao is not rounded and complete, it cannot be wondrously subtle and far-reaching. If De is not upright, it cannot accord with the right way. If conduct is not steady, it cannot endure. If one does not act keenly and decisively, it is difficult to achieve results. After Guan Yinzi had finished explaining subtle and profound principles, he worried that students might pursue the Dao while neglecting the cultivation of De, or focus only on establishing De while failing to act keenly.”

Guan Yinzi said: “Speaking about the Dao is like speaking about a dream. Someone describing a dream might say there was gold, jade, vessels, or birds and beasts in it. They can tell you about the dream, but they cannot take the things in it out and show them to you. You can hear what they say, but hearing it cannot make you personally obtain what was in the dream. Only those who listen well do not cling to the literal words or argue over whether the dream was real.”

Baoyi Zi said: “This is an excellent comparison. Telling someone about the Dao really is like recounting a dream. The speaker says, ‘I dreamed that I was immensely wealthy.’ The listener replies, ‘I didn’t see it, and I don’t know.’ The speaker says, ‘I really did have that dream; you can’t refuse to believe me.’ The listener answers, ‘I neither saw it nor know about it, so why should I believe you?’ Unable to bring out the dream and show it, the speaker calls the listener foolish. Unable to see the dream firsthand, the listener calls the speaker dishonest. In that case, the speaker would have been better off saying nothing, and the listener would have been better off hearing nothing than arguing about it.”

The ancients said that understanding a principle is easy, but refraining from speaking about it is difficult; hearing a principle is easy, but silently grasping it is difficult. Thus, those who listen well do not seek the Dao only in the surface of words; they understand what lies beyond them. If they cling to the wording and insist on arguing over whether what is said is true, they cannot be called good listeners or learners. Guan Yinzi placed this passage at the end of the chapter in the hope that students, when reading these mysterious and subtle words, would not cling to their literal meaning or insist on debating them, but would grasp what lies beyond the words.

Bao Yizi says: “If the Dao is not whole and harmonious, its wondrous workings cannot become manifest. If De is not upright, it cannot accord with the right way. If one’s conduct is not steady, it is hard to sustain; if one acts without resolve and vigor, it is hard to achieve results.”

After Guan Yinzi explained the subtle and profound principles of the Dao, he worried that those who study the Dao might focus on it alone and neglect De; establish virtuous conduct but forget to put it into practice in daily life; or keep accumulating good conduct while neglecting practical affairs. Such people know to pursue the root but not to attend to the branches. Yet when the branches go wrong, they may in turn damage the root.

Some people in the world mishandle affairs and thereby undermine their conduct; some fall short in their conduct and thereby harm their De; and some, through damage to their De, obstruct their understanding of the Dao. How can those who study the Dao know only to pursue the Dao, without drawing on De to support it? And how can they focus only on cultivating De, yet fail to act with care and diligence when practical matters arise?

There are also people in the world who resolve to seek the Dao but look down on De, even neglecting their proper duties. How could they understand that the sages, in leaving teachings for later generations, had already explained fully both root and branch, inner realization and outward practice? Alas, Guan Yinzi’s concern for later generations was truly profound and far-reaching, beyond measure.

End of juan nine of The Words Beyond Words on the True Scripture of the Beginning of Writing.

The term “xiji” may be a mistaken form of “xizhan”; both collated editions read “bubian” as “bubian.” “Yuezhe” should be a mistaken form of “shuozhe,” and “shi” a mistaken form of “yi.”

The second collated edition also omits two sentences after this passage: “The courageous person who wins the world’s submission does not rely on force, but knows when to yield.”

Afterword by the Venerable Ge

The Danyang native Ge Zhi-chuan (Ge Hong) says: “My natural abilities are ordinary, and my family background is humble. Yet by chance I came to long for the longevity and immortality of figures such as Red Pine Master and Wangzi Qiao. Those who truly understand the Dao, even if their station is low, deserve our closeness; even if they come from a different people, they deserve our respect.

“Later I met Master Zheng (Zheng Siyuan). He had many precious Daoist books. Through methods of ingesting elixirs, he explained to me the wondrous medicine that leads to the Great Dao; through breathing practices of inhalation and exhalation, he let me grasp the taste of quietude and sublime mystery. Later, he gave me the Guan Yin Zi, also known as the Wenshi Jing (Classic of the Beginningless), a Daoist classic traditionally attributed to Guan Yin Zi. I have always loved reciting it, treasured it, and paid it reverent homage.

“In the book, ‘yu’ refers to the Dao; ‘pillar’ refers to the foundation that supports Heaven and Earth; ‘ultimate’ refers to honoring the sages; ‘talisman’ refers to the human spirit and hun and po souls; ‘mirror’ refers to the heart-mind; ‘ladle’ refers to food and drink; ‘cauldron’ refers to transformation; ‘counting rods’ refers to the myriad things; and ‘medicine’ refers to the various methods of regulation and treatment.

“Whenever I contemplate this book closely, I feel my heart and spirit grow light and nimble, as though I were treading on flying leaves and roaming amid the primal chaos between Heaven and Earth. I also feel deep and settled, as though I were treading on a floating beam and drifting across the vast sea. Its realm is lofty and far-reaching, as though one were in a dwelling filled with gold and jade, magnificent and resplendent; it is solemn and awe-inspiring, as though one held the seal that commands ghosts, spirits, and strange beings. At times it is as swift and light as a luan bird or immortal crane in flight; at others, as fierce as a tiger and rhinoceros locked in combat. Sometimes it is clear as bathing in turquoise waters; sometimes it is haunting and dim, like a dream of crimson visions.

“It can gather in and release the Great Dao, encompassing the profound and complete truths. Practitioners of esoteric arts cannot reach this realm, and earlier Confucian scholars never spoke in this way. One may look up to it, but cannot climb to it; one may experience it, but cannot grasp it; one may take it as a guide, but cannot exhaust it through thought; one may rely on it as proof, but cannot verify it by ordinary means. Are these the words of one who has forgotten external things and transcended the world? Of one who has cut off partiality and gone beyond cleverness? Or of one who has joined with Yin-Yang and forgotten the distinction between self and other? Why is it so honored and lofty, so vast and boundless, yet so simple and easy to understand?”

I, Ge Hong, have been fortunate enough to receive this book firsthand. With reverence, I write this preface in the name of Ge Hong of Danyang, on the first day of the fifth month in the second year of the Xianhe era (327 CE).

4 “Deep and still”: in the book Guan Yin Zi, this is written as “vast and boundless.”

5 “Those who leave people behind”: in the book Guan Yin Zi, this is written as “those who leave the world behind.” Here, “leave people behind” and “leave the world behind” are different written forms.