《西升经集注》

As the world steadily declines, people fall out of harmony with one another, and the simple, unadorned way of life is damaged. This is truly sorrowful. Though the Sage did not live in the mountains and forests, his Virtue had already faded from view. When the Zhou dynasty declined, Laozi did not deliberately hide himself from sight, nor did he keep silent or conceal his wisdom and refuse to put it to use. The reason was that the times and the workings of fate had fallen into disorder, making it difficult to act.

Later, Laozi grew weary of worldly life, resigned from office, and intended to return to the source and enter the Great Dao. Moreover, Heaven and Earth were closed off, and worthy people had withdrawn from public life; this state of affairs had lasted a long time. At that time, Guanyin, an official who guarded the pass, watched the clouds and understood that a great True Person would be traveling west. He therefore made himself presentable, went out to meet him, invited him to his lodging, and asked him about profound principles. Laozi then wrote several more pieces, explaining subtle and mysterious ideas that shed light on the Five Thousand Words, another name for the Daode Jing. Guanyin recorded them and compiled them into a book entitled Record of Laozi’s Journey West.

The Dao is natural. Those who cultivate the Dao can experience it, and those who hear of it can speak about it. But why should someone who has truly experienced it insist on making others understand? And how can those who merely speak about it claim to know it? Thus, those who have attained the Dao conceal themselves within themselves and do not display themselves; they keep others hidden among the people as well, without making a special show of them.

The Dao, empty and primordial, elusive and difficult to grasp, is the root from which all things arise and the source they share. Those who understand this no longer cling to the Dao. Those who single-mindedly seek to possess it move farther from it; those who think they are drawing near may also be drifting away. Only those who have truly experienced the Dao can keep it in their hearts without forgetting it. Therefore, those who have attained the Dao put aside extravagant words and remain quiet.

Are the sayings handed down today not like straw dogs discarded after a sacrifice? Are the teachings people savor today not the dregs left behind by the ancients? Cultivating the Dao, then, means diminishing day by day: continually letting go. Pursuing learning means adding day by day: continually accumulating words and ideas. Those who have attained the Dao hold to the One, and all things become connected. They make no effort to store up a reputation for De, yet even the spirits and gods are moved to reverence.

Understand that when the One is joined with words, the result is Two; when Two is joined with One, the result is Three. From there, subtle practices and refined teachings continue to unfold, with no apparent end. This is why Zhuangzi often quoted Laozi, and some of his passages accord with these principles.

When Bixuzi, a Daoist commentator, heard these ideas, he was deeply drawn to them. He searched the book collections for surviving passages and found commentaries by nearly five authors. First he corrected the sound portions of the scripture, then removed what was unsuitable in the commentaries. He compiled the material into two parts, comprising six fascicles, and retained the title Scripture of Laozi’s Journey West. He hoped to make it available for fellow practitioners to study, so that they might clearly see the general outline of the ancients’ thought, rather than becoming caught up in disputes with one another and exhausting their minds over shallow interpretations, until they forgot the vast, tranquil realm of Great Clarity.

Collected Commentaries on the Scripture of Laozi’s Journey West, Volume One

Chapter One: Journey West

Laozi traveled westward.

Chongxuanzi says: The opening records an event noted by Yin Xi, the official in charge of Hangu Pass, to explain why the Lord Lao traveled west to teach.

Laozi cleared a path and set out for Zhugan, the land in the west. He was called the “Ancient Master” and was skilled in entering Wuwei (the state of following the Dao and refraining from contrived action).

Li Rong says: “Journey West” means that Laozi set out from the east and traveled westward. “Cleared a path” refers to Laozi’s service in the Eastern Zhou court and the later spread of his practice to the west; thus, he is said to have cleared a path to that land. Zhugan was the name of a western country. “Ancient Master” was another name for Laozi. It means that the supreme Dao existed before Heaven and Earth, and so it is called “ancient.” The sage’s De reaches widely to all things, and there is nowhere it cannot reach. His wisdom illuminates the outer world without being confused by external things. His body and mind are capable of action, yet even when he acts, inwardly he remains calm. Thus he understands the principles behind names and abides in independence, needing nothing beyond himself. With his spirit gathered and his mind clear, he dwells in Wuwei. This is what is meant by saying that the Dao is always non-acting, yet nothing is left undone: all things exist within the Dao, while the Dao clings to none of them.

The Dao has neither end nor beginning. It endures forever, continuing without interruption.

Li Rong says: Birth brings a beginning, and death brings an end. The Dao neither dies nor is born, so it is said to have neither end nor beginning. It is real and constant, unmoved by external things, and has existed from ancient times.

Thus Laozi set out on his journey west, passing through the passes along the way. Yin Xi, the official in charge of the pass, saw an auspicious qi.

Li says: Set out from the spring quarter here and travel to the autumn quarter over there, proclaiming the Way of the ancient Master so that his enduring work of De may be fulfilled. The place through which the scripture passes is Hangu Pass.

Chong says: Hangu Pass is the ancient Peach Grove. The Pass Keeper Yin Xi saw the “Qi” (the energy said in Daoism to circulate between Heaven and Earth). It is said that Yin Xi wrote the opening of this scripture to explain how he came to meet the Old Lord. At that time, Yin Xi lived in a thatched tower beneath Zhongnan Mountain, observing the stars and monitoring the Qi. He saw the celestial signs move eastward and purple clouds drift westward. The sky above the pass rippled like a dragon or serpent, moving west into the River of Heaven. Within one month, the mild southeast wind blew three times. From these signs, Yin Xi foresaw that a sage would pass through Hangu Pass. He therefore asked to serve as the pass keeper, so that he could await the sage’s arrival. This is why the scripture says that he “saw the Qi.”

He fasted, prepared a feast, and received his guest with due courtesy.

Xu says: The celestial signs moved eastward and purple clouds drifted westward. The sky above the pass rippled like a dragon or serpent, moving west into the River of Heaven. Within one month, the mild southeast wind blew three times. From these signs, Yin Xi foresaw that a sage would pass through Hangu Pass. He therefore asked to serve as the pass keeper, so that he could await the sage’s arrival. This is why the scripture says that he “saw the Qi.”

He fasted, prepared a feast, and received his guest with due courtesy.

Xu says: Yin Xi’s long devotion had called forth a response, and wondrous signs appeared: purple-black clouds emerged first. He purified himself through fasting and waited quietly for the sage. In the end, he did indeed meet the honored guest.

He explained the Dao De Jing to his guest, dividing it into two parts, an upper and a lower section.

Li says: Yin Xi discerned the workings of Heaven and asked to receive the secret of long life. In response to his sincerity, the Old Lord taught him the profound principles that open the way to the numinous, enabling people to follow reason and govern the myriad things, and enabling all who cultivate the Dao to attain it. “Divide” means to separate; “section” means to arrange the text into parts. Together, the words mean that the writing was set down on bamboo strips and divided into two scrolls.

He told Yin Xi the essentials of cultivating the Dao.

Chong says: “Told” means that the Old Lord began to speak; “you” refers to Yin Xi. The Old Lord was about to tell him the essentials of mastering the highest Dao and cultivating the true self, explaining the path to ascending among the immortals and transcending the world. “Essentials” means a distillation of the most subtle principles.

The Dao is so of itself.

Li says: “So of itself” refers to the innate true nature within, which depends on nothing external. It is clear and empty, hidden and profound, still and silent; no one can fathom why it is as it is.

Li says: “‘Natural’ refers to the primordial self-nature inherent within, independent of external conditions. It is clear and empty, profound and still; its origin cannot be discerned, so it is called ‘natural.’ It cannot be divided into inner and outer by distinguishing self from other, nor can its form be defined in terms of existence and nonexistence. Its character cannot be delimited by Yin-Yang, and its roots and branches cannot be traced through causes and conditions. This is the Great Dao of empty, primordial nature.

“If practitioners can understand and attain the Great Dao, then those who hear of the Dao can speak of it.

“Li says: Some people in the world are stubborn and narrow-minded, clinging to conventional ways. When they hear that ‘the Dao is natural,’ they assume there is no need to practice or study. As a result, practitioners lose their path into the Dao. This saying is therefore used to urge people to follow and put it into practice: if they practice in accord with principle and act according to the teachings, they can attain realization. Thus practitioners can attain the Great Dao, and those who hear of the Dao can also act in accord with it. Words that accord fully with the Dao’s principles may be called ‘speaking effectively.’

“Those who understand the Great Dao do not cling to words. Those who can only speak but do not understand the Dao do not comprehend the Great Dao.”

Chong says: “Once you know that the wondrous Dao cannot be expressed through form or sound, you should not try to confine it within forms, sounds, or words. To cling to these as a way of explaining the Great Dao is to stray far from the Dao. Li says: Principle cannot be expressed in words; it can only be explained by means of words. Once one has understood principle through the mysterious, one should naturally forget the words. Hence the saying, ‘Those who know do not speak.’ If one clings to teachings and falls into confusion, taking the words themselves to be correct, one has not grasped the principle. Hence the saying, ‘Those who speak do not know.’

“Speech is still necessary because it allows people to communicate and understand one another through sound.”

Li says: “‘To communicate with one another’ means to reach mutual understanding. Since those who understand do not cling to words, while those who only speak do not understand the Dao, why did the sages speak of mysterious words at all? It was because the sages intended to use words to help people understand the principle, though the Dao itself is wordless.

“Thus, when the sages discuss principle, they use words to help people understand one another.”

Liu says: “To awaken those who have not yet heard, one must speak and explain. Conveying this meaning to another so that they understand it is called ‘mutual understanding.’”

Those who do not understand the Dao can only entangle themselves in disputes over words.

Liu says: “Without understanding the mysterious source, they merely argue in vain over names and principles.”

If one neither hears of the Great Dao nor communicates through words, one cannot know the Dao’s origin.

Chong says: Those who have truly attained understanding do not rely on words to explain things; they can accord with eternal truth. People of the world, even after hearing and speaking much, may still fail to grasp the Great Dao. Thus they do not know, have never heard, and have no way to discuss why one should cultivate the Great Dao.

Chong says again: Those who have attained understanding can apprehend what is constant and true without speaking, while people of the world may hear without understanding. They therefore do not know why one should cultivate the Great Dao. Li says: “Why” refers to investigating whether principles and teachings are true or false, good or evil. If sages do not speak and ordinary people do not listen, how could they know the blessings and calamities that follow from good and evil, or distinguish what is correct from what is deviant in the true and the false? Teaching opens the opportunity for people to grasp the principle that lies beyond words, enabling them to know ultimate truths they have never heard before and, in turn, to understand the origins of principle. This is precisely why sages teach.

For example, someone who understands music can recognize tones by means of the strings of a zither.

Li says: Sound does not arise from nowhere; it issues from the strings. In the same way, principle does not reveal itself on its own, but ultimately appears through words.

One may understand the principle inwardly, yet be unable to convey it in speech.

Chong says: Someone who understands music uses the strings to distinguish the notes of the gong and shang scales; someone who cultivates the Dao uses words to grasp its meaning. Music and principle are both without shape or color, subtle and profound: the mind can apprehend them, but words cannot convey them precisely. Li says: Even if one understands the mysteries of music inwardly, eloquence may still fail to express them. Principle is so subtle that, however skilled one may be in debate, how could one fully investigate it?

The Great Dao is profound and subtle; those who truly understand it do not speak of it lightly.

Liu says: Even those who understand music find it difficult to explain the sounds produced by string and bamboo instruments. How much more so with the Great Dao, which has neither form nor appearance: how could those who understand it explain it lightly in words? Xu says: The subtle Great Dao goes beyond what words can express; therefore those who truly understand it do not speak of it lightly.

When one recognizes that the sounds of music can stir sorrow, one quiets the sound and turns inward to contemplate.

Liu says: When people are reunited with loved ones after losing them, they rejoice and leap for joy. After losing the Great Dao and then awakening to it again, how could one not be moved to express one’s feelings? “Quiet the sound and turn inward to contemplate” means setting words aside and turning instead to reflect on the principle within.

The heart directs the mouth to speak, but the person who speaks may not truly understand the meaning of what is said.

Xu explains: The heart is capable of understanding the principle.

When you sense sorrow in a sound, you lower your voice, hold back your words, and ponder it carefully in your heart.

Liu explains: Even after losing a loved one, people rejoice and are moved when they are reunited. Having lost the Great Dao and then understood it again, how could one not feel sorrow and joy together? “Lowering the voice and pondering carefully in the heart” means setting words aside and experiencing the principle within.

The heart directs the mouth to speak, but the person who speaks may not truly understand the meaning of what is said.

Xu explains: Although the heart can understand the Great Dao, trying to make the mouth express it may lead away from what is true as soon as it is spoken. That is why it says, “the person who speaks does not understand.” Chong explains: Music is used here as a metaphor to show that the Great Dao is difficult to depict. Musical tones can be experienced only by the heart, not expressed through words. To speak of them in a confused way is already to go against the Great Dao. Liu explains: Words come from the heart, but the mouth may not understand the heart’s intent. One should therefore forget the words and seek the meaning within them.

Chapter Two: The Profundity of the Dao

Laozi says: The Great Dao is profound and far-reaching, a realm of emptiness and primordial origins, like an abyss.

Wei explains: “Profound” means hidden deep within; “far-reaching” means extending to the utmost distance. The fundamental nature of the Great Dao is empty, still, and primordial, yet it contains all things. That is why it is called profound like an abyss. Xu explains: The Great Dao is far-reaching and dwells within the cosmos. Its hidden profundity is where all things gather and are stored; its emptiness can contain Heaven and Earth; its primordial origin is the source from which being arises out of nonbeing.

Laozi says: Although you have heard these words, you have not yet experienced them in your heart with subtlety and sincerity.

Chong explains: Perhaps Lord Yin, who asked Laozi about the Dao, was eager to seek the Dao but had not made steady progress in practice, so Laozi admonished him again. Li explains: These are words of admonition. “Subtle” means fine and delicate; “red” means wholehearted sincerity. Even with a subtle and sincere heart, it is still difficult to understand the profound, empty, primordial principle of the Great Dao. If the mind is superficial and thoughts are scattered, how could one grasp it? One must also practice deeply and believe steadfastly before one can gain confirmation through experience.

Why is this so? Because books cannot express every principle in full.

Xu explains: The subtle mysteries of the Great Dao cannot be exhausted. Why? Because written words cannot express everything. One must practice deeply and believe steadfastly before one can gain confirmation through experience.

The reason the subtle mysteries within the Way cannot be fully explained is that written words cannot record everything that is said, and speech cannot fully express what the heart has understood. Liu’s commentary says: Speech is used to clarify the Way, and writing to record speech. The Way itself has no end; how, then, could writing ever record it all?

The words written in the scriptures convey the essential points in broad outline, without explaining every turn and detail. It is therefore difficult to understand them completely at once. Students must study with focused attention and reflect on them repeatedly, investigating the beginning and end of things and observing their subtle mysteries, so that they may prompt and enlighten one another. Liu’s commentary says: The scripture clarifies the Way; once you grasp the Way, you will naturally understand its meaning.

You should cherish this teaching and reflect on it deeply within yourselves. Liu’s commentary says: Treasure and uphold its teachings, and ponder the Way they convey.

The Way of nature—the fundamental principle by which all things in Heaven and Earth unfold of themselves—does not decide in advance who will understand it, or when. Liu’s commentary says: The Dao is not bound by past or present. Those who diligently cultivate can attain it; once they do, they will unknowingly accord with the Dao. For this reason, it cannot be predetermined.

The practitioners joyfully bow their heads twice in reverence and ask: How should we study?

Chong’s commentary says: The Lord Lao had just given earnest instruction and was about to explain further. The listeners, delighted and reverent, bowed to receive his teaching. Hoping to cultivate it for a long time, they asked how to study and by what path they could accord with the Great Dao.

Chapter Three: Skill in Composition

Laozi says: Those skilled in handling the words of the scriptures must first arrange them securely and appropriately.

Xu’s commentary says: “To handle” means to cultivate; “securely” means to settle. If students wish to cultivate sacred writings and immortal canons, preserve their true nature, contemplate the mysterious, and ultimately attain Wuwei (non-action), they must first calm their minds and settle their intentions, then seek out the meaning of the scripture. Only after grasping its meaning can they cultivate skillfully; only by cultivating well can they accomplish their work. Chong’s commentary says: When the wording is precise, matters proceed smoothly; when matters proceed smoothly, the Way can be explained broadly. When the wording is concise, it fits the matter; when it fits the matter, the Way can be expressed in essence. To be both broad and concise is what it means to be skilled in composition.

Those skilled in discussion and fluent in understanding matters must be able to comprehend the language of the scriptures.

Chong’s commentary says: When the wording is both concise and broad, and the language is complete and clear, the purpose of writing scriptures and establishing teachings is fulfilled.

Chong says: The scriptures are profound and far-reaching, and their words are complete and lucid. The purpose of writing the scriptures is fully set forth here.

Study diligently and persevere in practice, and you will attain the Dao.

Chong says: The scriptures are profound, and their words are lucid. Urging yourself to study diligently is a step on the path to attaining the Dao. Liu says: Study the texts, and you can become skilled at writing; understand their principles, and you can become skilled at explaining them. Work hard and persevere, and you can attain the Dao. From this we can see that the Dao can be attained through learning.

Hold to the right Dao without deliberately seeking a place to settle; the right Dao will naturally come to you.

Li says: In practicing the right Dao, what one studies is a teaching without attachment, and what one does is an undertaking without contrivance. Since there is no place one can cling to as right, nor any place one can cling to as a dwelling, it is said that “the right Dao has no place to dwell.” Even if one wishes in one’s heart to find a place to settle, as long as one returns to the right Dao, it will naturally come to one.

Do not accept what is deviant and deluded, and evil will disperse of its own accord.

Li says: What is deviant and deluded consists of acts that depart from the right Dao and are done through deliberate contrivance. Do nothing that goes against the Dao, and do not become entangled in needless action; evil will then disperse of its own accord.

This is what is meant by Wuwei (non-action): the Dao will naturally give its support.

Chong says: When every thought returns to what is right, who would dare to do evil? When the right Dao remains, what is deviant and deluded vanishes, and the true Dao naturally gives its support. This can be called Wuwei. Li says: Do not deliberately seek a place, and the right Dao will naturally come; do not accept what is deviant and deluded, and it will naturally depart. This is to follow the Dao of nature and receive its blessings.

Do not make offerings through improper rites, and ghosts and spirits will instead keep their distance from you.

Li says: Do not deliberately seek a place, and the right Dao will naturally come; do not accept what is deviant and deluded, and it will naturally depart. This is to follow the Dao of nature and receive its blessings.

Liu says: Those who are deviant and deluded seek blessings and make offerings to ghosts and spirits without restraint. The ghosts and spirits despise and resent such conduct. Those who follow the right Dao seek nothing; they treat ghosts and spirits with reverence and restraint, and remain humble. The ghosts and spirits will instead keep their distance from them.

Do not let the spirit become depleted, and you can receive Heaven’s mandate without being constrained by the limits of your lifespan.

Li says: Those who care for the body keep it pure; those who cultivate the mind and spirit keep the spirit calm. When the spirit is calm, it is not depleted; when the body is pure, it is not contaminated. Free of both depletion and contamination, one can accord with the Dao. When body and Dao accord, life does not readily come to an end. Liu says: Those who exhaust their spirit and strength in caring for the body only rush back and forth between life and death. If you do not tire the spirit or deliberately pursue ways to preserve life, your lifespan will naturally be long.

Do not deliberately seek to advance, and do not cling to retreat. Who, then, could plan or contend with you?

Xu says: “The saying ‘In cultivating De, one seems to steal away’ means that genuine progress does not look like progress. Advancing along the Dao can look like stepping backward. One keeps one’s radiance subdued and does not show it off; one lives among ordinary people without being tainted by them. One moves along with the changes of all things, yet remains unknown to others. So evil forces cannot invade or test such a person, and neither profit nor desire can sway him. With a mind that is empty and selfless, who could plot harm against him?”

Liu says: “If one does not concern oneself with gain and loss, what is there to advance or retreat from? If one follows the natural course of the Dao, what is there to worry about or plan?”

To act in this way and reach such a state—is this not to accord with nature?

Xu says: “‘Yes’ means just that. To handle affairs with a Wuwei (non-action) mindset, without clinging to one’s actions, and to follow the right path—is this not to accord with nature?”

Li says: “This sums up the right path. When one returns to the right path, false thoughts naturally fall away. This is what ‘acting rightly brings about what is right’ means. ‘Is this not to accord with nature?’ means that this is precisely the Dao of nature.”

Liu says: “The beauty inherent in gold and jade does not come into being at some particular moment. In the same way, the right path followed by a perfected person is not something deliberately fashioned at some particular moment.”

The disciple bowed joyfully and said, “Now I have heard your teaching.”

Liu says: “This means honoring the Great Dao, respecting the teacher, and reverently receiving the teaching.”

Chapter Four: Practicing with Care

Laozi says: “Practice with care, and cherish the Dao, keeping it within your heart.”

Xu says: “Carefully observe the liturgical precepts and prohibitions, diligently practice the pure path, cherish the Great Dao and De (Virtue/Power), embrace your true nature, and maintain undivided focus.”

Liu says: “This admonishes people to restrain themselves and cultivate the Dao.”

“I am about to travel far away. Cherish the Dao and keep it within your heart.”

Xu says: “Carefully observe the liturgical precepts and prohibitions, diligently practice the pure path, cherish the Great Dao and De, embrace your true nature, and maintain undivided focus.”

Liu says: “This admonishes people to restrain themselves and cultivate the Dao.”

“I am going far away. There is no need to arrange a meeting; in time, we will meet again of our own accord.”

Liu says: “Laozi intended to travel to Zhugan, an ancient name for India. Those who share the same aspirations will naturally respond to one another; why make arrangements in advance?”

After sincerely receiving the teaching, Yin Xi resigned from his post as Keeper of the Pass, citing illness as his reason, and went to live alone in a quiet, secluded room.

Liu says: “Quiet cultivation of the Dao and the path of worldly affairs are different and difficult to pursue at the same time. Unless one lets go of fame and profit, it is hard to seek the Dao.”

He cleared his mind of desires and devoted himself to contemplating the Great Dao, firmly setting his resolve and holding steadfastly to the Dao.

Clearing away scattered thoughts and returning to one’s original nature means remaining calm and detached. Reflecting again and again while nurturing one’s true nature means devoting oneself to understanding the Great Dao. When feelings and intentions are not swept along by external things, one’s resolve can grow steadily firmer. When the mind makes no distinctions, one can keep to the Dao with undivided attention. Liu says, “‘Complete origin’ means preserving one’s original foundation.”

Settle the mind and spirit in a state of utmost emptiness and stillness, where the original nature remains undivided, and analyze the Dao’s profound and subtle principles.

Li says, “‘Empty origin’ is the substance of the Great Dao.” This describes Yin Sheng reflecting on the state of emptiness, stillness, and original nature, and tracing the source of the Great Dao. “Yi-mi” refers to mysterious principles: “yi” carries the sense of “one,” while “mi” means profound and subtle. The wondrous principle returns to oneness, and the Dao-mind is so refined that it is difficult to perceive. Clarify the principles through analysis, investigate the workings of things, and fully understand one’s nature; hence the phrase “analyze yi-mi.”

Investigate the mysterious teachings in fine detail, while keeping the mind’s thoughts from scattering outward.

Wei says: “Though one carefully studies the mysterious teachings in response to Wei Sheng, the mind remains silent and still; hence the phrase ‘inner thoughts do not emerge.’” Li says: “‘Wondrous words’ refers to mysterious teachings. ‘Guan’ means broad and all-encompassing; ‘lü’ means fine-grained and penetrating everywhere. Study the Great Dao and investigate what is hidden and subtle; clarify its mysterious purpose and understand the root of its teachings. Devote oneself single-mindedly to the Dao, without giving rise to other scattered thoughts; hence the phrase ‘inner thoughts do not emerge.’” Liu says: “‘Yi-mi’ and ‘wei-mi’ have similar meanings. Investigate teachings of utmost subtlety, keeping the mind clear and observant, without dissipating the spirit or chasing after things outside.”

Recite the scriptures ten thousand times, making one’s sincerity wholehearted and one’s understanding penetrating.

Xu’s commentary says, “‘Essence’ means refinement brought to the utmost; ‘sincerity’ means steadfastness and genuineness; and ‘thorough understanding’ means penetrating insight.” The passage means that Guanyin recited the scripture ten thousand times, deeply grasped its subtle principles, practiced with steadfast sincerity, and penetrated its profound and far-reaching mysteries, bringing his thoughts to a clear understanding of what is delicate and difficult to perceive.

The Zhengao records that the Perfected One of the Supreme Ultimate said that anyone who recited the Five Thousand Words on the Dao and De ten thousand times would be met by a cloud chariot. This suggests that the arrival of the cloud chariot and feathered canopy was due both to the profound subtlety of the principles taught in the scripture and to the practitioner’s wholehearted sincerity and penetrating reflection.

Li’s commentary says that one must not approach the practice of the teachings and realization of their mysterious principles casually; one must be sincere and single-minded. Both principle and teaching take the origin as their standard. If one’s state of realization and wisdom have not yet become connected, one should examine the principles until everything becomes fully clear. This is the meaning of “sincerity and thorough understanding.”

“To make the true way reach the body” means to practice the simple, genuine Way and put it into effect within oneself. Xu’s commentary says that when the radiance of one’s essence and spirit remains within the body, one can penetrate the mysteries.

“To discuss the source of the utmost origin, and thus attain the immortals” means to investigate the origin of all things and the Way at its furthest limit, thereby summoning the immortals.

Chong’s commentary says this passage describes how Guanyin cultivated the Way with a sincere heart after meeting Lao Jun and receiving his teachings. He feigned illness to resign from office, withdrew from the world, gave up his honors, and relinquished his stipend. In a quiet, empty room, he gathered his spirit and devoted himself wholly to the true Way. He made calm detachment the essential principle of cultivation and emptiness and stillness its dwelling place. Practicing in secret and refining his mind in stillness, he penetrated the mysterious principles and investigated their subtleties. He repeatedly studied and recited the two scriptures, reading them diligently more than ten thousand times. In the end, he penetrated the Way’s origin and essential principles, attained long life, became an immortal, reached the rank of Master Wenshi, and ascended to the station of the Perfected One Above the Origin.

Chapter Five: The Image of the Dao

Laozi says: The image of the Dao originally has no form and no trace. It is indistinct and elusive, seeming not to exist, yet also seeming to exist.

Wei’s commentary says: It cannot be seen with the eyes, so it has no fixed form. It cannot be found by searching with the mind, so it has no definite boundary. “Mysterious and indistinct” means that change has not yet shown any sign. If one says it is entirely absent, all forms nonetheless take it as their ground. If one says it exists, it is silent and deep, beyond sight. Thus it seems to have vanished, yet also seems to be present.

Xu’s commentary says: “Image” means pattern or form. The Dao takes spirit and Qi as its substance. Though it manifests patterns and forms, it seems to have form while possessing no fixed shape. It reveals only light, shadow, and traces of Qi; it seems to have an upright shape, yet has no definite form or image of any particular thing. It seems to exist, yet also seems not to exist; it seems not to exist, yet again seems to be present. That is why it is called mysterious and indistinct, seeming both present and absent.

It is like a tree before it has grown: its branches, leaves, and roots cannot be seen.

Xu’s commentary says: Before a tree grows, its branches, leaves, and roots cannot be seen. Likewise, before the image of the Dao appears, it is as deep and empty as a void. Liu’s commentary says: Though a tree’s branches and leaves have not yet appeared, one cannot say that it is entirely absent. Though the Dao has not manifested an image, one cannot say that it does not exist.

The four elements of earth, water, fire, and wind come together and change with the cycle of the four seasons. From this, all things grow and decline.

Xu’s commentary says: The four great elements—earth, water, fire, and wind—come together to form plants and trees. The Qi of the four seasons circulates, and all things grow and wither, changing as Qi gathers and disperses. When spirit and Qi come together, they too can condense and transform, revealing the image of the Dao. If they have not yet returned to the Mysterious Unity, the deep and undivided fundamental state, and have not yet become fully integrated, there will be coming and going, separation and union.

Qi is the root from which all things come into being. When Qi gathers and condenses, it gradually becomes solid.

Chong’s commentary says: Heaven and earth, mountains and rivers, the various numinous beings, and all things receive from the Dao its gentle, empty nature, taking on solid and expansive forms. These forms accumulate gradually; they do not come into being in a short time. Li’s commentary says: All life is born from Qi, so Qi is the root of life. When the earth first condensed, it was still fragile; only after a long accumulation did it become solid. This passage describes how forms gradually grow substantial.

Their flavors differ, and their forms vary as well. They are expressed as the five tastes: sweet, bitter, pungent, salty, and sour.

Chong says: The five Qi (the five vital energies that constitute all things) give rise to the five tastes, while the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, and Water) give rise to the five spirits. The spirits nourish the mind and body within; the five tastes sustain the body from without. The Five Phases wax and wane, so they are not equal to one another. The five Qi shift and change, so they do not flourish at the same time. If people can observe and make use of these changes, drawing on them to nourish themselves, they can become people of the highest order.

The movement of Qi varies in abundance, and things are indeed unequal in strength and weakness.

Wei says: When living beings first receive Qi, what they receive differs in purity and depth. Their dispositions and conduct therefore differ, and so do their strength and weakness, abundance and scarcity.

Liu says: Animals and plants alike take Qi as the root from which life begins. As they grow and mature, their physical forms and innate qualities differ, and they receive the energies of the Five Phases in differing proportions. Their endowments are unequal from the outset.

All things come from the Dao, yet have different names and forms. Each gives rise to its own thoughts and causes.

Chong says: The Qi generate one another, and all draw their sustenance from the Dao. Yet each receives a different endowment, so their names and forms differ, as do their goodness and evil, strength and weakness. A thought arising in the heart is called “intention”; the basis received and formed by consciousness is called “cause.”

Li says: All things draw their sustenance from the Dao and are generated by Qi; this is why they are said to “come from the same source.” Their names differ, as do their forms and kinds; this is why they are said to have “different names and forms.” Those whose hearts are clear are upright and good, while those whose consciousness is clouded are biased and evil. Their conduct differs, as do their aims and innate qualities, and each therefore gives rise to different intentions and causes.

Liu says: All that is alive comes from the same source, the Dao. Yet names differ, as do appearances and colors; each belongs to a different kind, and intentions and causes differ accordingly.

Different intentions and causes thus arise, forming different innate qualities and patterns of conduct, and each being consequently receives a different body.

Li says: Since innate nature differs, conduct differs as well. Some do good and others do evil. The rewards they receive accord with their bodily form, and they pass through the six paths (the six realms of rebirth), undergoing birth and death.

The Yin-Yang way nourishes and contains the myriad things. They rely on it for life and regard that on which they depend as their own kin. Yi may also be written as ji; it means to depend on something or to dwell in it.

Wei says: The myriad things are nourished by Yin-Yang Qi. They entrust themselves to the union of Yin and Yang, and only then take on their individual bodies. Because living beings are deluded, they do not understand that all arise from the Dao. Instead, each follows its own conditions and attachments, drawing close to its own kin. Liu says: Beings of middling intelligence and below, down to insects, draw close only to the forms on which they depend. The Zhuangzi says: “Once it has received this form, it does not forget it, but keeps it until life comes to an end.”

The way of generation and transformation is not just one kind, and the people and things of the world are not all the same.

Li says: The ways of generation and transformation are many. A human is human, while a thing is not human; the myriad things belong to different categories and are therefore not all of one kind. Xu says: The circulation and transformation of Yin and Yang is called “the Dao of life”; the blending and union of the two Qi is called “the De of life.” The myriad things, born from De and transformed by the Dao, differ in form and kind. All living beings in the world, whether human or otherwise, receive the Dao and De, and only then come into being.

The myriad things originally come from the Void Origin, the formless and still source. When they respond to and mingle with one another, spirit arises.

Xu says: The “Void Origin” is the Dao. The generation and transformation of human beings and the myriad things originally all come from the Dao. When Jing and Qi unite, they respond to and stimulate one another, and spirit arises. As spirit gathers and transforms, it becomes the Shen within the human body. This shows that nonbeing can give rise to being, and the source can give rise to the myriad things. Chong says: In the vast expanse of Heaven and Earth, the kinds of things are numerous. Animals and plants differ in form; those that fly and those that swim each have their own habits. Yet all are transformed from the source into things with form, receiving life from the Dao. They gather Yin-Yang Qi and form spiritual awareness, sharing the root of creation and transformation as their source.

This is like producing a sound: when a hand plucks a zither string, sound emerges.

Liu says: The zither string has no music in itself; only when plucked does it produce music. The Void Origin is originally silent and still; only when stirred by a response does spirit arise.

Gong, shang, jue, zhi, and yu are the five notes of the musical scale. The breath from a person’s mouth, meanwhile, is produced through breathing.

Li (the commentator) explains that “rou” means to pluck or set in motion. Only when the hand plucks the strings does sound emerge; only when the mouth breathes out and gives voice does song ring out. Sound is not produced out of nothing by the mouth; it resonates by means of the strings. Thus one may say that the mouth is the source of sound, while the hand is what sets musical notes in motion. By extension, without the Dao, the myriad things could not come into being. The “strings” mentioned here refer to stringed instruments such as the qin, se, zheng, and zhu. The sounds made by the mouth refer to the xiao and flute, as well as singing and chanting; these are used as metaphors.

The body, mouth, and mind are the foundations of the human being, while the Dao arises from the primal source. The nature of the Dao is still and empty, and so it is called “the Dao of self-so.”

Li (the commentator) says: As soon as a person is born, they possess body, mouth, and mind. Where do these come from? They too are born from the Dao, which is their source; hence the phrase “the Dao emerges from the supreme primordial origin.” This is precisely the point illustrated by the preceding metaphor. Chong (the commentator) says: The breath of the mouth and the movements of the body are both driven by the mind. The mind is Shen (spirit); what brings Shen into being is the Dao. When the mind is clear and pure, Shen becomes settled and unites with the Dao. When the mind is restless, competitive, and full of desires, Shen disperses and life is harmed. Making the mind empty, still, and settled accords with the natural Dao. Liu (the commentator) says: The original nature of body and mind is pure, free from the burden of defilement; tracing their source to its end leads to the self-so nature of the Dao.

Once the Five Tones—gong, shang, jue, zhi, and yu—are played, they become associated with the sounds and colors of music. Chong (the commentator) says that the Five Tones originally lie hidden in profound stillness.

When the Five Tones—Gong, Shang, Jue, Zhi, and Yu—are held within stillness and silence, people can experience the Great Dao, and their minds become calm and joyful. When the Five Tones flow with musical rhythms, people are influenced by external things and feel sorrow and joy. This is a metaphor: simplicity and original nature gradually disperse into a variety of objects, while a generous and harmonious way of life gradually fades, becoming shallow and frivolous.

Li’s commentary says: The earlier passage speaks of the natural Dao as originally still and clear, seeing nothing and hearing nothing, attached neither to forms and colors nor to sounds. This is the most profound and expansive source, the mysterious root. Here, the text speaks of people who, after birth, pursue desires and indulge their emotions, losing the principle of emptiness and stillness and abandoning the natural Dao. As soon as the Five Tones stir, the ears are drawn to them; when the Five Colors, such as blue-green and yellow, appear, the eyes are captivated. People are thus confused by deliberate action and become attached to sounds and sights.

When Yang’s warm, harmonious Qi disperses, it becomes awareness; when Qi spreads, it forms the six faculties: the capacities of perception and cognition associated with the eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, and mind.

Liu’s commentary says: When people become engrossed in music and beautiful appearances, their desires continue without end. The warm, gentle Qi of Yang then disperses into faculties of perception stirred by sensual desire. These form the six faculties, serving the body while also driving it.

From this come birth and death, and the Great Dao disperses and divides along with them.

Li’s commentary says: The three karmic actions of body, speech, and mind become causes, while the six Dusts—forms, sounds, smells, tastes, touch, and mental objects—produce attachment. Through good and evil actions, people receive bodies subject to corresponding consequences of fortune and misfortune. They circulate through the Three Realms of Desire, Form, and Formlessness, passing among the five destinations of rebirth. They are born and die, sometimes suffering and sometimes enjoying themselves, yet do not know where their source lies. This is why the Great Dao is said to disperse and divide.

Liu’s commentary says: The six faculties were originally meant to serve the body, but instead they become its affliction. When desires go unchecked, lives and deaths become entangled with one another. When Shen leaves, the physical form remains, and the body naturally dissolves.

Abandoning the root to pursue the branches causes simplicity to disperse and generosity to become shallow.

Xu’s commentary says: People leave the source and pursue what is secondary. They break apart their simple nature into names such as benevolence and righteousness, and turn a generous, sincere way of life into something false and shallow. They leave the Great Dao and proclaim good deeds; outwardly they guard their conduct, but in reality they take a crooked and dangerous path.

Li’s commentary says: “Dispersing simplicity” means that simplicity is broken apart; “leaving the root to pursue the branches” means that generosity and harmony become shallow. People lose their true source and sink into the ways of the world. They no longer maintain generous conduct, but instead compete in shallow and frivolous ways.

The Great Dao undergoes change to show that things are not constant, with the aim of helping people return to their original nature.

Chong says: Those whose inner minds are clear and still allow their state of mind to become empty, bright, and pure. Those who seek cleverness outside themselves, however, make their thoughts tangled and weary. This gives rise to delusions and causes them to sink into the cycle of life and death. The Great Dao has never been lost; people have merely forgotten the root and pursued the branches, rushing about and wandering in every direction. Yet the world takes this condition to be normal. The Great Dao is the source of all things, and it is also the root of the name “Original Source.” Change this habitual disposition and people will return to simplicity and recover what is genuine. If people can cultivate in this way, they can realize the Great Dao that transcends the ordinary.

Liu says: This explains that life and death are not the normal state, and guides people to return to the root and recover life’s original nature.

This concludes Volume One of Collected Commentaries on the Scripture of Western Ascension. A note in the commentary says, “‘From the Eastern Ancestor onward’ is probably corrupt; it is conjectured that ‘Ancestor onward’ originally read ‘heading west.’”

The Collected Annotations to the Scripture of Western Ascension, Volume One, ends here.

1. “Also from the eastern patriarch” is probably an error for “going west.”

2. “Origin” is probably an error for “Primordial Unity.”

3. “Revealed the essentials of the Dao to the disciples” appears in the Zhenghe imperial edition with commentary as “revealed the essentials of the Dao to them.”

4. The character “beginning” in “at the beginning of the Lord Lao’s teaching” is probably erroneous.

5. This sentence appears in the Zhenghe imperial edition with commentary as “Therefore, in speaking, words are used to affirm one another.”

6. This sentence appears in the Zhenghe imperial edition with commentary as “The mind knows its sound.”

7. This sentence appears in the Zhenghe imperial edition with commentary as “Although you have heard the Dao.”

8. This sentence appears in the Zhenghe imperial edition with commentary as “The upright naturally return to it.”

9. This sentence appears in the Zhenghe imperial edition with commentary as “Ghosts naturally shun it.”

10. “Attain resolve” appears in the Zhenghe imperial edition with commentary as “Return to resolve.”

11. “Attain the body” appears in the Zhenghe imperial edition with commentary as “Return to the body.”

12. “The source of the Primordial Ultimate” appears in the Zhenghe imperial edition with commentary as “Discussing the source of the Primordial Ultimate”; the text has been supplemented accordingly.

13. This sentence appears in the Zhenghe imperial edition with commentary as “Their tastes differ, and their conduct is not the same.”

14. This sentence appears in the Zhenghe imperial edition with commentary as “They regard as kin whatever they rely upon.”

15. This sentence appears in the Zhenghe imperial edition with commentary as “all people and nonhuman beings.”

The Collected Annotations to the Scripture of Western Ascension, Volume Two

Annotated by Wei Chuxuan of Huayang, Xu Daomiao of Gouqu, and Li Rong, styled Ren Zhenzi and known as Chongxuanzi; compiled by Bixuzi.

Chapter Six: The Dao Gives Birth

Laozi said: “I will tell you the roots of life and the Dao, and reveal to you the nature of what is natural.”

When a single current of primordial Qi (vital energy) begins to move, the myriad things come forth one after another. They all take nature as their foundation and the utmost Dao (the Way) as their source. Yet many chase after the branches and leaves, while few can return to the root. Therefore, the principles must be explained and shown to them, so that they value the root, cast off their many entanglements, and return to the Way of nature.

Once the myriad things have arisen, feelings and actions become bound up and entangled with one another.

Chong says: The root from which the myriad things are generated and transformed is the Way of nature. It is the parent of all things and the source of Heaven and Earth. The scripture repeatedly admonishes and guides Guan Yin, the legendary recipient of the Dao from Laozi, so that he will honor and revere the Way of nature. Liu says: Feelings arise within the heart, while actions take form outwardly. The two are bound together like things caught in the same coils of rope; their connection is far more than simple linkage.

The myriad things sometimes decline and sometimes take shape anew; sometimes they perish and sometimes arise again.

Li says: All beings turn endlessly through the conditions that shape their lives. Things are destroyed here and formed there; they die in one place and are born in another. They may also pass from darkness into light. Liu says: What perishes here takes shape elsewhere; what dies there arises here again.

From this arise the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water), while Yin and Yang intermingle.

Xu says: The four kinds of primordial Qi each govern a season and divide to form the Five Phases. The Five Phases generate and overcome one another, bringing both destruction and accomplishment. When Yin Qi gathers, things tend toward death and decline; when Yang Qi gathers, things tend toward generation. Chong says: Though each of the Five Phases is distinct, the Dao’s movement remains one; though Yin and Yang differ, the Dao favors neither. The Five Phases undergo birth and extinction, like spring giving way to autumn and the seasons turning in succession. Yin and Yang bring about formation and decay, shifting in an endless cycle. The Dao abides within the Five Phases and Yin and Yang, yet remains constant and unchanged. It can therefore govern them and endure without end.

The myriad things transform in turn, and the essences of all kinds of things take shape.

Wei says: Some of the Five Phases decline while others rise; Yin and Yang come and go in alternation, just as people die and are born. The myriad things transform continually, and the essences of things thereby continue without end.

As I contemplate this Dao, I see that the Dao first emerged from a deep and mysterious realm.

Li says: The Dao is the principle by which all things undergo the changes of life and death. Each thing has its own limits, and through its own activity it will eventually reach an end. Only by relying on the Dao can it pass through without obstruction. The root of all things lies in the Dao, so we say they arise from a place too deep and obscure to fathom. The Dao cannot be grasped through thought or discussion, nor can it be measured or distinguished. We can only provisionally call it “dark and mysterious”—deep, dim, and difficult to see—but it is not simply something dark.

Liu says: Everything comes from within the formless.

Those who are ignorant do not understand this and therefore think that things arise by chance alone.

Chong says: The Dao brings all things into being. At first there is no distinction, so we can only provisionally call it “dark and mysterious,” though it is not merely darkness.

Liu says: Everything comes from within the formless.

Those who are ignorant do not understand this and therefore think that things arise by chance alone.

Chong says: The Dao brings all things into being, beginning from the beginningless. Deep and far-reaching, the Dao is the root of all things. As things grow, they receive the breath of the Dao. This breath is pure and undivided; when things receive it, they are able to come into being. Those who are ignorant do not understand this and therefore think that things are not born from the Dao.

Li says: The ignorant believe that things arise on their own by chance and do not come from the Dao. This is because they have lost sight of the root.

Without the wisdom to see the Dao, how can you understand the marvel of life?

Wei says: This passage explains that the principle of life and death’s transformations comes from a place deep and difficult to know. Yet the ignorant cling to their own present life, thinking that life is merely a pleasure gained by chance. Since they have not realized the Dao, how could they know that people are born through receiving the Dao, and that spirits and gods have their numinous power through it?

Li says: “Dao vision” means the ability to see into the formless realm and perceive what is subtle and hidden. “People” refers to living beings with awareness. Those who have lost sight of the principle cannot understand the Dao when they look far afield, and do not understand themselves when they look nearby. That is why it says: “Without Dao vision, how can you understand the marvel of life?” To understand others is cleverness; to understand oneself is wisdom. Only such a person can be called wise, clear-sighted, and discerning.

Heaven, Earth, and all things are contained within the vast, formless emptiness.

Xu says: Heaven, Earth, and all things are born within the vast, formless emptiness and fill the entire cosmos.

Chong says: Within Heaven, Earth, and all things, the breath of the Dao is present everywhere.

All things are born from the same formless Dao and share a common source; only their names differ.

Li’s Commentary says: High Heaven, the great Earth, humanity, and all things, whether great or small, foolish or wise, each came naturally into being. All have their source in the original emptiness and were born together from the Dao; hence they are called “the same.” Yet each has its own nature and name, so they are also called “different.” “The hollow key” is a metaphor: breath emerges from emptiness, sound issues from a wind instrument, and the myriad forms appear within the original emptiness. Liu’s Commentary says: The wind blows across all things, but their sounds are not alike, and their names differ as well.

Right and wrong have no fixed, unchanging standard; what matters is whether they are applied appropriately.

Liu’s Commentary says: Circumstances may go smoothly or against us, and principles may adapt as times change. Therefore, right and wrong have no constant, unchanging standard. Those who handle affairs should sometimes stop and sometimes act, as the situation calls for. If their response is appropriate, there is no need to investigate its ultimate source. This helps us understand the meaning of the words “that which” and “wrong” in the scripture.

Chong’s Commentary says: Affairs change and adapt, and right and wrong have no constant, unchanging standard. Those who handle affairs should stop when it is time to stop and act when it is time to act. If their response is appropriate, there is no need to investigate its ultimate source.

Chong’s Commentary also says: Although right and wrong are distinct, the Dao’s workings do not differ. The Dao cannot be fully explained by names or debated in terms of right and wrong. At its most subtle, the Dao is ultimately one. Liu’s Commentary says: Grasp the meaning behind the words, and you can then forget the words. Only then can you be said to have true and steadfast faith in the Great Dao.

Discuss things with those who understand the principle; do not argue with the foolish.

Li’s Commentary says: Draw near to enlightened teachers and follow good friends; discuss the gains and losses of things and distinguish right from wrong. If someone argues only over whether external matters are right or wrong, without understanding how self-cultivation benefits or harms them, their views are not worth adopting. Struggling with those who lack understanding only wastes words and brings no benefit in the end. Hence the instruction not to argue with the foolish.

Follow sound teachings; do not heed false doctrines.

Li’s Commentary says: Forget the words and grasp the principle; with a mind free of contrivance, accord with what is real. This is right teaching. To contrive and entangle one’s true nature, chase desires, and damage one’s nature is false doctrine. “Do not heed” means to restrain sight and hearing and turn inward, so that false views and doctrines do not sway you. Liu’s Commentary says: What accords with the right time is sound principle; what departs from it is false doctrine.

How can false doctrine be recognized? See whether it lets external things pull you along and causes you to lose your nature.

Lord Xu said: “A person’s mind and spirit chase after sights, sounds, and desires, while the body busies itself pursuing fame and profit. Demons and spirits disturb the mind and spirit; wealth and splendor beguile the will.” Lord Liu said: “If people cannot grasp the Dao’s true meaning, they will be pulled along and swayed by external things.”

How can we tell whether someone is foolish? By seeing whether they can discern the true meaning and intent behind words.

Lord Wei said: “Those who do not understand that the Great Dao is as it is, yet are pulled along by external things, all have crooked minds. Those who cannot grasp the true meaning of the Dao’s words and instead laugh at them are all foolish.” Lord Liu said: “Clinging to confusion and holding fast to foolish opinions makes it impossible to see subtle principles.”

To seek the Dao, ask someone who understands the Dao. To read the scriptures, ask someone who understands the scriptures.

Lord Wei said: “Understand the Dao’s true meaning, seek guidance from others, and practice accordingly; then you will not stray onto a misguided path. Understand that the scriptures contain true teachings, seek guidance from others, and reflect on them carefully; then you will not be foolish.” Lord Liu said: “In cultivating the Dao, one must adapt to circumstances and apply it flexibly. In studying the scriptures, one must examine the principles they set forth.”

If, when asking for guidance, you fail to investigate both the root and the details, you will remain ignorant of both principle and foolishness.

Lord Li said: “The Dao is principle; the scriptures are teachings. ‘Dark and obscure’ means benighted and ignorant. Seeking the Dao and asking about it means investigating its principles and truly understanding them. Reading the scriptures and asking about them means seeking instruction in the teachings and understanding them. Those with shallow insight do not understand the teachings outwardly, nor do they grasp the principles inwardly: they know neither the root nor the details. Knowing neither principle nor teaching is like a blind person walking in darkness, which is why it is called ‘dark and obscure.’” Lord Liu said: “The root is the Dao; the teachings in the scriptures are the details. To ponder and discuss them without understanding root and detail is indeed foolish and ignorant.”

They know only to seek blessings, but not that karmic wrongdoing will cling to them.

Lord Li said: “They do not know to correct their conduct and accumulate merit, but instead put their faith in misguided ways to seek blessings. Before the blessings they hope for have arrived, calamity is already upon them. This is what it means to be bound by karmic wrongdoing.”

They know only to care for the body, but not that it can also suffer harm as a result of misconduct.

Li, a commentator, says: Clinging to worldly pleasures and excessively cherishing and nourishing the body makes a person more prone to death as life grows more luxurious. This harm does not come from outside; it is caused by the Six Senses—the eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, and mind—coming into contact with external things and being drawn along by them.

Liu, a commentator, says: Fools do good in hopes of gaining blessings, yet also commit evil and incur blame. They rely on food and clothing to sustain the body, yet pursue luxury and pleasure, thereby harming their nature and life. So only by ending evil conduct can blessings gather, and only by abandoning desire can the body be preserved. The Zhuangzi says: “Everyone seeks blessings; I alone bend and preserve myself.”

What is precious in an infant is its wholehearted simplicity.

Liu says: To seek blessings and care for the body, one should be like an infant, maintaining wholehearted simplicity.

It takes shape naturally, without knowing that it was born this way.

Wei, a commentator, says: “Full” means wholehearted, and “simple” means unadorned; “take shape” means to form. Those who study the Dao should understand that what is precious in an infant is its preservation of an unadorned nature. The body takes shape naturally, without any deliberate intention to bring this about; life arises naturally, without awareness of being born.

Do not practice “the utmost brightness”; this is how life can endure.

Wei says: “Tread” means to practice. “Utmost” refers to excessively nourishing life; “brightness” means discerning things clearly and displaying one’s sharpness. Avoid these two paths, and you can preserve the infant’s simplicity and draw near the Dao of long endurance.

What subtle meaning lies here? Why should one set them against each other?

Li says: Everyone wants to leave darkness and pursue brightness, to emerge from obscurity and enter clear discernment. Yet the scripture says not to pursue “the utmost brightness.” What is the subtle meaning? Those who display themselves excessively and set themselves apart from the common world are likely to incur people’s resentment. The subtle meaning lies in urging people to blend with the common world and keep their sharpness concealed, so they may endure.

Even the deep affection between father and son is not enough to make them heed one another.

The Li commentary attached to this line repeats the earlier explanation of “do not tread the utmost brightness” and offers no further comment.

Li says: The bond between teacher and student is one of deep affection and duty, just as the bond between father and son is grounded in profound kindness. When a son does wrong, he should heed his father’s sound instruction; when a student behaves improperly, he should likewise follow the teacher’s sound guidance. Thus teachers and elders, and fathers, are shown respect; their admonitions and teachings are taken seriously, and people should listen and correct their conduct.

Do not act arrogantly or make a loud commotion, inviting ridicule from people near and far.

Li says: “Jiaokai” means acting arrogantly, quarreling, and making a commotion. A younger brother who lacks moral principle and a son who is unfilial refuse to obey their father’s instructions or accept their teacher’s guidance. They defy their elders and show them disrespect, abandoning the propriety expected of younger family members and students, and so invite ridicule. The words “Do not” here are a warning against behaving this way.

Concealing others’ faults and making their good deeds known is a principle revered by the noble person.

Xu says: “Zong” means to revere. Making others’ faults known can overshadow their good deeds, while making their good deeds known allows their good reputation to spread. This, then, is a practice revered by the noble person.

Chapter Seven: The Upright and the Evil

Laozi says: Teachings on the evil and the upright both accord with the natural order. Thus there are misfortune and good fortune, depending on the causes sown through one’s actions.

Wei says: Sow the causes of uprightness, and one’s conduct will naturally be upright; make good deeds known, and a good reputation will spread. This is therefore a principle revered by the noble person.

Chapter Seven: The Upright and the Evil

Laozi says: Teachings on the evil and the upright both accord with the natural order. Thus there are misfortune and good fortune, depending on the causes sown through one’s actions.

Wei says: Sow the causes of uprightness, and one’s conduct will naturally be upright; sow the causes of evil, and one’s conduct will naturally be evil. Evil conduct brings misfortune, while upright conduct brings good fortune. Is this not precisely what it means to accord with the natural order?

Li says: In a person’s heart, there is a distinction between defiance and compliance, and so conduct differs between good and evil. This applies both to one’s own behavior and to the way one teaches others. The noble person, open and forthright, teaches others to follow the upright path; this is called “upright speech.” The petty person, resentful of the good, teaches others to follow a crooked path; this is called “evil teaching.” Teach others to do evil, and even if you do not wish to bring evil upon yourself, it will follow. Teach others to act uprightly, and even without deliberately seeking what is right, the upright path will naturally become evident. Such is the retribution one receives; hence both accord with the natural order. Evil conduct brings misfortune, upright conduct brings good fortune: the consequences of good and evil are never confused, and the recompense is never mistaken. It is like sowing seeds: each bears fruit according to the causes sown.

Just as seeds differ in kind, so too the results that emerge from them are different.

Wei’s Commentary says: Once people are born, they have a physical form. Good and evil, fortune and misfortune each follow from one’s own actions, just as plants grow from seeds and display different characteristics. Liu’s Commentary says: Actions that follow the right way or the wrong way appear first; the rewards and consequences of fortune or misfortune come afterward. Only when the signs emerge and the results are seen do people understand cause and effect, just as different seeds produce different plants.

From this, accounts of the Dao came to differ, and teachings came to be divided into true and false.

Wei’s Commentary says: The substance of the Dao is vast and open; in itself, it has no distinction between true and false. That distinction arises from teachings expressed in words.

False ways nourish only the physical form, while the true Dao nourishes the spirit.

Li’s Commentary says: Conduct that accords with principle is right; behavior that goes against the true Dao is deviant. What is deviant is deluded, so it is called “false”; what is right is ultimately real, so it is called “true.” The true Dao reaches the mysterious, and thus nourishes the spirit; the false way remains on the surface, and thus nourishes the body. To nourish the body is to sustain it with food and drink; to nourish the spirit is to cultivate the mind and spirit through stillness and purity. Liu’s Commentary says: Those who act with purpose and desire nourish the body; those who practice Wuwei (non-action) and have no desires nourish the spirit. Those who nourish the body eventually turn to dust and ashes; those who nourish the spirit can both perish and endure.

“True spirit communes with the Dao, and can perish or endure” means that the genuine spirit is in communion with the Dao and can both cease to exist and continue to exist.

The body cannot endure forever. To try to preserve it through deliberate care is therefore false. If one can nurture the spirit through Wuwei (non-action), one can remain quiet and without action while responding to and communicating with all things. This is what is real. Seen this way, death and life are on the same scale, and existence and extinction are connected without distinction. Thus, only by not clinging to “existence” can one truly pass away; only by not clinging to “extinction” can one truly endure. Xu says: The spirit communicates with the Dao (the Way) and can undergo countless transformations: it can die or live, vanish or remain. Liu says: The mind and spirit are still and unmoving, yet respond to things and thereby reach through to them. All entanglements have been exhausted, and every advance, retreat, movement, and pause is unobstructed.

The spirit can make the body fly and can move mountains. Wei says: Only the spirit can be swift without haste and arrive without traveling. What, then, could it not do? Hence it can make the body fly and move mountains.

When the body turns to dust and ashes, what awareness could it have? Li says: While alive, the body is constrained by its material form and has no awareness in itself. After death, when it has turned to dust and ashes, what could it know? Liu says: Even if one devotes oneself to caring for the body, it will ultimately turn to dust and ashes. Since this is unavoidable, why care for it excessively?

The sounds and beautiful sights that ears and eyes crave leave people with faults; the fragrances and flavors that the nose and mouth enjoy also become burdens and causes of resentment. The body is the root of affliction, and its sensations of pain and itch, cold and warmth can all bring distress. Li says: Having a body means having bodily needs. If one is troubled by sounds, beautiful sights, fragrances, flavors, pain and itch, or cold and warmth, the body becomes a source of affliction. Liu says: Sounds and beautiful sights can cost people their lives, and flavors can make them ill. A body that depends on external things can never be at ease at all times.

The mind depends on the body to think, and so gives rise to anxiety and distress. I am constrained by the body and know that this is a great calamity. Li says: Fragrances, flavors, pain and itch, and cold and warmth can all become sources of affliction. Liu says: Sounds and beautiful sights can cost people their lives, and flavors can make them ill. A body that depends on external things can never be at ease at all times.

The body is tormented by cold and heat, while the heart is worn down by sorrow and worry. Only when body and mind are settled, inside and out, can one find rest. How can this be done? One must forget the body outwardly and quiet the thoughts inwardly. When neither body nor mind clings to anything, what is there left to calm? This is an exhortation to let go of deliberate striving. Liu’s commentary says: If you do not cling to the body, you will have no worries; worry, too, is a burden.

Looking back to ancient times and observing the present, who has ever preserved the body and remained unspoiled for long?

Li’s commentary says: Look far back into antiquity and close at the present day: all things are carried along by change, as Yin and Yang alternate in their course. Who can remain intact forever? Liu’s commentary says: Peng Zu, the legendary long-lived man, and the child who died young both ultimately meet the same end. How much more so ordinary people?

I have already gone gray. When will old age ever stop?

Li’s commentary says: The Lord Lao, the Daoist honorific for Laozi, descended into the world in divine form and still appeared old, with white hair. How much more must those immersed in worldly life, passing through the cycles of flourishing and decline among all things, change with time? Everyone grows old in the end.

I am already ready to abandon worldly life and turn away from the human world.

Li’s commentary says: Human affairs are tangled and confused, and worldly life is impure and prone to change; it is not something to rely on. Therefore, one should reject it and take leave of it.

Embrace the Primordial Unity and hold fast to the root, and you can rise beyond ordinary people and become an immortal.

Li’s commentary says: “Primordial Unity” means the Dao. Embrace the Dao, uphold De, and preserve the “Three-Character One” (a term for a practice whose specific meaning is not explained here), and you can join the highest sages and ultimately become an immortal of exalted rank.

You still cannot hold fast to the Primordial Unity; you merely enjoy the honors of high office.

Liu’s commentary says: You still cannot maintain unity. While serving as the Warden of the Pass, Yin Xi was already considered to enjoy the honors of high office. Those who bask in the prominence and stipends of worldly life naturally have little chance to attain the Dao.

If you can remain unmoved by external things, your spirit will be at peace.

Liu’s commentary says: When external things do not pull you along, your spirit becomes calm and harmonious.

If you can let go of desire, you will handle affairs properly.

Liu’s commentary says: Without desire, you can act with propriety and care.

If you can practice Wuwei (non-action), you can see whether your resolve is firm.

Liu’s commentary says that holding firmly to one’s aspirations and following the Dao of Wuwei (non-action) require unwavering commitment before one can accomplish anything.

Now I will make the principles clear to you, explain them in detail, and examine them layer by layer, so that truth and falsehood may be clearly distinguished.

Li’s commentary explains: “Making manifest” means bringing something to light; “setting forth” means laying out an explanation; “unfolding and interpreting” means clarifying its meaning; and “discerning and judging” means distinguishing one thing from another. Indulging one’s desires is false; removing desire is true. Because some may lose their way and still fail to grasp the profound principles, the teaching must be made clear so that people can recognize good and evil.

You should listen with undivided attention and earnestly honor the Great Dao. Liu’s commentary says that the Great Dao is exalted and De (Virtue/Power) is precious, and neither should be treated lightly. Some lack sufficient faith and therefore become doubtful, so they must be urged with earnest counsel.

The Great Dao enables people to understand the principles, and the scriptures are the starting point for cultivation and study. Li’s commentary says that those whose minds are clouded cannot understand the principles. Only those who attain clarity can begin cultivating the Dao. Cultivation cannot rest on empty speculation; it must be grounded in the scriptures. Thus, the scriptures are the guide that leads one into study of the Dao. Liu’s commentary says that without clear and penetrating wisdom, one cannot see the Great Dao; without the scriptures, there is no basis to follow.

Anyone able to put the Great Dao into practice may receive its transmission, regardless of wealth or poverty. Anyone who can be taught and brought to well-being may be guided, regardless of closeness or distance. Wei’s commentary says that the Great Dao is transmitted to those who are willing to follow it, while the scriptures can instruct and transform those who are eager to study them. Why concern oneself with wealth or poverty, closeness or distance? Li’s commentary likewise says that the Great Dao makes no distinctions: wealth and poverty do not bar access, and personal closeness or distance does not obstruct instruction. What matters is whether someone can put the teaching into practice and receive its guidance.

“Take or give according to who can practice; impart the text to the right person” means that the sages respond humbly to circumstances and to those they encounter. The principle is to judge whether the other person is suited to receive instruction. If someone does not believe or put the teaching into practice, how can it be taught or transmitted? The key is to be steadfast in one’s resolve and follow the rules; only then should the precious scriptures be transmitted. Liu’s commentary says that this embodies complete selflessness.

If you learn the principles I teach you, you will not lose sight of the true meaning of the Great Dao.

Li’s commentary says: “‘You’ means you. I teach you, and you should learn; in this way, you can make progress without straying from the Great Dao.”

Chapter Eight: Heaven and Earth

Laozi says: Heaven, Earth, and the myriad things all take the Dao as their root.

Chong’s commentary says: This means that Heaven, Earth, and the myriad things all originate in the Dao’s primordial Qi.

They all emerge from Great Simplicity (the original state before Heaven and Earth were divided, when Qi remained pure and clear) and begin in the Void Origin (the mysterious, formless beginning).

Li’s commentary says: “‘Origin’ means the root. ‘Great Simplicity’ refers to the Dao in its pure and untainted state. The ‘Void Origin’ is the mysterious, formless beginning. Though the Three Powers—Heaven, Earth, and humanity—are vast, and the myriad things are numerous, they all take the pure Dao as their source and the mysterious principle as their starting point. Without the Dao as their beginning, the myriad things could not come into being. Thus it is said that they all emerge from it.”

The Dao’s elusive, hard-to-discern subtle radiance is wondrous, supremely profound, and far-reaching.

Liu’s commentary says: Great Simplicity is the state in which Qi first takes shape. Heaven, Earth, and the myriad things take the Dao as their root, arise from Great Simplicity, and enter the primal state of the Void. Once the myriad things have appeared in form and substance, they seem to reveal a subtle radiance. This is the wondrous and mysterious essence.

It is like a pit ten thousand li deep, with a stream of clear, faintly flowing water at the bottom. The water looks murky and dim; trying to see the sand and stones beneath it is difficult.

Liu’s commentary says: The Dao is deep and subtle, beyond hearing and sight, so concrete things are used as metaphors to help people understand it. In a pit ten thousand li deep, the human eye can see only a few feet. If even water, which has form and substance, cannot be seen through, how could one see the bottom of the pit? Water has form and substance, yet is still hard to see through. How much harder, then, to know the Dao, which has no form and is deep and silent?

It is obscure and dim; no one knows where it ultimately comes from. It is like a person who has died and departed: their soul cannot be seen.

Liu’s commentary says: “Only by deeply contemplating the subtle principles can one penetrate the workings of the divine and wondrous. Only by using them skillfully can one settle oneself and advance in De (Virtue/Power). If one investigates still more deeply, there may be no one who can know.” This is indeed well said. A person’s hun and qi (soul and vital energy) go everywhere, yet cannot fully discern even the things before one’s eyes. How much less can one know how the profound and unfathomable Dao (the Way) works?

Yin energy is deep and abundant. Though Yin and Yang energies mingle, the function of Yang energy cannot be clearly distinguished.

Liu’s commentary says: “Yang represents life; Yin represents death. The dead have no Yang energy, and so are called ‘pure Yin.’ When Yin and Yang mingle, Yang energy is at work, but it is no longer clearly discernible and is difficult to know.”

The past and what has only just arrived can be compared with things seen before one’s eyes. If one still cannot understand their principles, how could one know the roots of life and death, survival and extinction?

Wei’s commentary says: “‘Fu’ means beginning. What has passed and what has just arrived are like things seen before one’s eyes. If even the ignorant cannot understand their principles, how much less can they recognize the profound and subtle Dao, which seems both present and absent?”

Li’s commentary says: “‘What has passed’ refers to the past, ‘what has just arrived’ to the future, and ‘seen before one’s eyes’ to the present. According to Buddhist teachings, the divine-eye wisdom can see future events, the knowledge of past lives can know the past, and the wisdom that exhausts the outflows can recognize the true aspect of the present. Those who are now benighted and deluded do not understand that the Three Realms are empty, nor can they see that this body must ultimately perish. They cannot know the causes of good and ill fortune, blessing and calamity, life and death, survival and extinction—so how could they grasp the mysteries of the true Dao?”

This is like a person afflicted with muteness, unable to convey words to others.

Xu’s commentary says: “The workings of the Dao are subtle and wondrous, and difficult to express in words. Even if one understands them inwardly, one may not be able to speak of them. This is like a mute person who cannot convey even ordinary speech; how could such a person discuss the wondrous Dao?” Liu’s commentary says: “A mute person cannot convey words, just as a blind person cannot see the Dao.”

How could a deaf person hear a passage of court and merchant music (musical modes used in ancient China)?

Liu’s commentary says: When the foolish hear of the Great Dao, it is like a deaf person listening to court and merchant music: they may hear it, but cannot understand it.

People of narrow ability may think themselves somewhat clever. Yet when they receive instruction, they are like someone passing words on to another: they do no more than repeat what they have heard. They think they understand the principles of the Dao, but their insight is shallow and they cannot explain those principles.

Li’s commentary says: People who are talented and eloquent can convey teachings; the intelligent can expound the Daoist method. The dull-witted think they can transmit teachings and understand the principles of the Dao, but their minds are coarse and their insight shallow, so they cannot make those principles clear. The most foolish think they have already understood the profound teachings, yet their minds remain dark and they do not understand the highest principles.

If even the root of life has been lost, how could one recognize the source of the Great Dao?

Li’s commentary says: Understanding principles depends on having a method; recognizing the root depends on wisdom. Without wisdom, one loses the root of life. With a darkened mind, how can one reach the source of the Great Dao? Thus, many remain mired in the mundane world, while few turn toward the Great Dao.

Liu’s commentary says: Some people hear the teachings and repeat them, then imagine they understand the principles. They do not realize that their insight is shallow and clouded, and that they have already lost the profound teaching’s essential purpose. Once the profound source is lost, the root of life is lost as well. If even the root of life is gone, how could one recognize the source of the Great Dao?

Chapter Nine: Practicing the Dao

Laozi says: If you wish to cultivate my Dao, you should understand that the highest wisdom—the wisdom that comprehends the Great Dao—does not arise by itself from nothing. It, too, depends on the right conditions that allow wisdom to emerge.

Li’s commentary says: Hui illuminates emptiness, while zhi examines being. When both emptiness and being can be observed, no principle remains beyond insight; this is why they are called wisdom. Yet the source of hui is easier to reach, while the root of zhi is difficult to fathom. To investigate it fully, one must rely on a clear-sighted teacher. Without the necessary conditions, wisdom will not emerge.

Liu’s commentary says: Those who can comprehend the Great Dao are called “the highest in hui.” Zhi is neither good nor evil in itself; it appears only when the right conditions are present.

Each person has their own foundation for cultivation from past lives, which is bound up with their allotted fate and share of blessings and wealth.

Liu’s commentary says: Whether a person is wise or foolish, high or low in status, wealthy or poor, or long or short lived—all are shaped by causes sown through actions accumulated in previous lives, then revealed in this life as fate, good fortune, and blessings.

Follow a path in accord with the Dao (the Way), and you will attain the Dao. Possess De (Virtue/Power) in accord with the Dao, and you will have a foundation of De.

Li’s commentary says: Whether a person is foolish or intelligent, clear-minded or muddled, and the differences between high and low status, good and evil—all are connected to that person’s past actions and destiny from previous lives. Lifespans may be long or short, and good fortune and blessings may be abundant or meager. Causes sown in the past begin to yield their corresponding results only in this life. Thus, a good person attains the Dao because they accord with it, and gains a foundation of De through possessing De. An evil person, by contrast, does not accord with the Dao and therefore loses it; lacking the corresponding virtue, they also lose the foundation of De. Liu’s commentary says: The workings of cause and effect never err.

In a previous life, one did not study or seek to learn about the Dao; in this life, one keeps company with worldly people. Thus, gain and loss have both become habitual, and one takes no pleasure in Daoist scriptures.

Li’s commentary says: Not having taken pleasure in the scriptures and methods of the Dao in a previous life means that one did not study or seek to learn about the Dao in a past life. In this life, one also has no good teachers or friends to help, cannot draw near to the virtuous or live among the good, and is like someone facing a wall, unable to see the truth, or like someone who has struck a wall and cannot move forward. Such a person is foolish and takes no pleasure in the scriptures. That is why it is said that gain and loss have become habitual, and one takes no pleasure in Daoist scriptures. Liu’s commentary says: Keep company with those who have lost the Dao, and you will come to take pleasure in losing it. Thread has no fixed color of its own; repeated dyeing forms a lasting hue. Teaching knows no bounds of status, and long-established habits become the norm. If one did not study the true Dao in the past, how could one admire it in this life? So one spends a lifetime rushing about, always accompanied by the loss of the Dao.

One covets profit, honor, and favor; when given something by another, one keeps thinking of repaying the kindness; one also uses wealth to win people’s friendship. Even so, poverty does not disappear.

Li’s commentary says: If one did not study the true Dao in the past, how could one admire it in this life? So one spends a lifetime rushing about, always accompanied by the loss of the Dao. One covets profit, honor, and favor; when given something by another, one keeps thinking of repaying the kindness; one also uses wealth to win people’s friendship. Even so, poverty does not disappear.

Li says: A person who truly possesses lofty De (Virtue/Power) is naturally calm and empty within, and one with the Dao (the Way). Once they stray from the Great Dao, however, many impure thoughts arise. People regard wealth and splendor, high status, and favor as benefits; they treat obedience to the powerful and flattery of the eminent as signs of distinction. They also consider giving money as charity a kindness. In their social dealings, they look down on the poor and disparage the rich. They claim to be close to one another, yet feel little compassion in their hearts. If they will not even show tenderness toward a wife who has fallen into poverty, how could they sincerely turn toward what is true and devote themselves to seeking the Dao?

Liu says: Caring for orphans and showing concern for the poor are things ordinary people scorn, but the sages value them.

Such people are bound to be often angry and anxious, with no peace of mind.

Xu says: “Peace” means settled; “root” means the foundation, and here it refers to the heart. When someone’s heart is fixed on wealth and advantage, clings to reputation and material gain, and is alarmed by favor or disgrace, it is as though ice and fire are attacking one another, damaging the heart’s composure. With frequent anger, emotions are easily thrown into turmoil, and one’s resolve and integrity are hard to sustain. The heart is then naturally left without a place of rest.

If you study without a clear-minded teacher, how can you resolve your doubts?

Li says: Unless the doubts in the heart are dispelled, profound principles cannot be understood. The key is guidance from a clear-minded teacher, which enables awakening. If a person clings to ignorance until old age, it will be difficult to resolve their doubts completely.

Liu says: Those who have lost the Way search along side paths without knowing to turn back; those who have awakened to the Way struggle to keep their hearts steadfast.

If you study without a clear-minded teacher, how can you resolve your doubts?

Li says: Unless the doubts in the heart are dispelled, profound principles cannot be understood. The key is guidance from a clear-minded teacher, which enables awakening. If a person clings to ignorance until old age, it will be difficult to resolve their doubts completely.

Liu says: Those who have lost the right path wander onto side paths without knowing to turn back. Those who truly awaken to the Way are hard to encounter, and those able to recognize it are few. If the teacher is still confused, how can they resolve another person’s confusion? If doubts remain unresolved, then however broad one’s learning, one cannot be said to have truly understood. That is why the Book of Rites says: “Learning gained only through memorizing and questioning is not enough to make someone a teacher of others.”

My teaching is as fine as a hair. Who can discern its distinctions?

Li says: Without the wisdom to follow what is natural within, and without a good teacher to guide one from outside, it is difficult to distinguish even something as fine as a hair. One will not understand the source of the Great Dao and so will have no way to explain it.

Liu says: This means that the Great Dao is subtle and difficult to understand.

Since ancient times, the changes that have been experienced have been as countless as grains of sand and dust.

Xu says: “Experienced” means undergone. Since the Old Master opened Heaven and Earth, immeasurably long ages have passed amid primordial chaos, with no record of them in the texts. The cycles of tribulation undergone are as numerous as grains of sand; they cannot truly be conveyed by calculation or analogy.

Change is accompanied by cycles of calamity. Since Heaven and Earth were first created, they have existed in a state of undifferentiated chaos for an immeasurably long time, unrecorded in the classics. The cycles of calamity they have undergone are as numerous as grains of sand and dust, beyond the reach of calculation or comparison.

Xu explains: “Zai” means “year.” The scripture says that since Heaven and Earth were first created, they have passed through transformations of life and death for so many years and cycles of calamity that the number cannot be calculated or recorded. I myself have traveled through remote regions in all directions, climbed mountains and crossed seas, endured warfare and hardship, and taught living beings. The difficulties I have faced are too many to recount, and the journey has been truly arduous.

There is nothing more for me to learn; only then can I understand the Dao of nature.

Li explains: Those who pursue worldly knowledge acquire more and more. For those who cultivate the Dao, learning means gradually letting go, until there is nothing left to cling to. This is called “having nothing to learn.” If the mind clings to what it has learned, it is difficult to see the fundamental truth. Only by letting go of attachment to learning can one understand nature. Here, “nature” means that the Dao is as it is of itself, not something produced by deliberate effort. The earlier passage urges diligent cultivation; this one reminds people not to become attached to the pursuit of learning.

Flowers must eventually return to fruit; branches, stems, and leaves are all parts of the tree’s root.

Liu explains: Only by returning to one’s original life and going back to the source can one understand the true basis of things.

Cultivating the Dao means returning to the Dao’s ancestral beginning and source, thereby recognizing the first origin of all things.

Xu explains: “Ancestor” and “beginning” both refer to the start. Cultivating the Dao means tracing things back from their later developments to their source, so that one’s own foundation may accord with the Great Beginning, the origin of the cosmos. Only when one can experience the constant Dao does one know that Wuwei (non-action) is supreme, and that the Dao’s mystery is profound and far-reaching. Liu explains: Ordinary people remain within deliberate action, while those who cultivate the Dao move toward Wuwei. Clinging to “being” means drifting through life and death; returning to “nonbeing” brings clarity, stillness, and lasting existence.

You should open the mind through formlessness—without clinging to outward appearances or distinctions—and not block it with attachment to “being.”

Li explains: If one can act through formlessness, all manner of mysteries will naturally become apparent. If one is bound by thoughts of deliberate action, the gateway to the mysterious will close. Liu explains: “Nonbeing” refers to the Dao, while “being” refers to the world of ordinary concerns. Taking the Dao as one’s refuge can free one from entanglement; taking the worldly as one’s refuge leaves one caught in the ties of life and death.

End of Volume Two of the Collected Commentaries on the Scripture of the Western Ascension.

Notes on textual variants:

1 This passage reads, “Then one knows its truthfulness” in the imperial commentary edition produced during the Zhenghe reign.

2 This passage reads, “It should be discussed with the wise” in the imperial commentary edition produced during the Zhenghe reign.

3 This passage reads, “They do not listen to one another” in the imperial commentary edition produced during the Zhenghe reign.

4 This passage reads, “Heresy speaks in the name of the righteous” in the imperial commentary edition produced during the Zhenghe reign.

5 This passage reads, “As though something had been received” in the imperial commentary edition produced during the Zhenghe reign.

6 The character “du” is likely a scribal error for “du.”

7 “Gu ru ri” is probably a mistake for “gu yue.”

8 This passage reads, “It is also like one who has passed away” in the imperial commentary edition produced during the Zhenghe reign.

9 This passage reads, “He claims to understand its inner workings” in the imperial commentary edition produced during the Zhenghe reign.

10 This passage reads, “Now once again it is neighbors with loss” in the imperial commentary edition produced during the Zhenghe reign.

11 “Not diminished” appears as “not grieving” in the imperial commentary edition produced during the Zhenghe reign.

12 This passage reads, “What changes are like sand and dust” in the imperial commentary edition produced during the Zhenghe reign.

13 This passage reads, “The Dao returns to the ancestral source” in the imperial commentary edition produced during the Zhenghe reign.

Collected Commentaries on the Scripture of the Western Ascension, Volume Three

Commentaries by Wei Chuxuan of Huayang, Xu Daomiao of Gouqu (Chongxuanzi), Li Rong (Renzhenzi), and Liu Huahui; compiled by Bixuzi.

Chapter Ten: A Further Admonition

Laozi said, “I once again solemnly admonish you: you should listen carefully and understand.”

Li Rong explained, “The true principles are difficult to understand, so Laozi admonishes you once again. You too should examine them carefully, receive them earnestly, and put them into practice.”

The Dao regards Wuwei (non-action) as supreme; De (Virtue/Power) takes benevolence and love as its guiding principle.

Chong says: Regard the vast emptiness and Wuwei as the highest Dao, and the highest form of benevolence as the guiding principle among the Five Virtues. Wei says: The Dao has no fixed form, yet through Wuwei it can accomplish anything; therefore, it stands at the head of Heaven, Earth, and all things. If things remain confined to their outward forms, they obstruct one another; only by attaining the Dao can they be brought into communication. De, then, is expressed in the manifest qualities of things. When something is lacking, it can be made whole through giving; in this way, the work of benevolence becomes clear. The highest benevolence receives Dao and De and takes them as its guide. Liu says: The Dao brings all things back to what is formless and traceless; De enables each thing to fulfill its own nature.

Ritual should be rooted in what is right and fitting, and expressed through humility and yielding. Giving should be grounded in kindness, treating those who receive it as friends and family. When extending kindness, first consider what benefits others; when keeping faith, make practical results the foremost concern.

Li says: If you wish to follow the Dao, you should regard Wuwei as supreme; deliberate contrivance is not the Dao. If you wish to establish De, you should make guidance and compassion its guiding principles; killing and harming are not De. In practicing ritual, you should be rooted in what is right and fitting, and act with humility and yielding; without these, it is not ritual. In giving generously, you should offer kindness freely and treat those who receive it as friends and family; without kindness, it is not giving. When extending kindness, first consider whether it benefits others; if it cannot benefit them, it is not kindness. To practice faithfulness, there must be practical results; a reputation unsupported by substance is empty and ineffective, and cannot be called faithfulness. If you can do these things, you can fulfill the Dao.

These practices also appear in a world of falsehood, but some people use them only to lure and deceive one another.

Li says that when the teachings of Dao and De are put into practice, they take the form of benevolence and righteousness. Wherever people live, they can practice benevolence and righteousness. Yet social customs may be either honest and wholesome or corrupt and shallow, and governance may succeed or fail. Those who put Dao and De into practice possess all six virtues. Once Dao and De are lost, the way of benevolence and righteousness is hard to fulfill. When society is corrupt and deceitful, people still talk about Dao and De and seem to embody benevolence and righteousness, but they do not truly put them into practice. They merely borrow these honored names and make a show of virtue to deceive one another; they do not hold to them sincerely.

Liu says that even in a false and corrupt age, people may perform the six virtues mentioned earlier. But they do so to get something for themselves, using these acts to entice one another. They are not truly practicing benevolence and righteousness, or following the Way to benefit others.

Thus, knowing that society has become shallow, people cover for one another with ornate words and outward displays.

Li says that people no longer preserve the substance of Dao and De or the sincerity of benevolence and righteousness. All that remains are boastful, empty words with which they dress one another up. Liu says: If we look at a person’s conduct and motives, who can keep a shallow, insincere mind hidden forever?

Words race faster than a flying dragon, but deeds lag behind a lame ao—a mythical giant tortoise—moving slowly. Wei says that in a false and shallow age, people distort benevolence and righteousness for profit and invoke propriety and trustworthiness to seek fame. They have a reputation but no substance. Their words therefore race ahead of the flying dragon, while their deeds trail behind the lame ao: no matter how much empty talk they produce, their actions never catch up. Xu says that the gentleman of old spoke carefully and acted swiftly, while petty people today speak quickly and act slowly. Li says that making rash promises and rushing to declare one’s position is like words racing ahead of the flying dragon; failing to act in practice and lacking trustworthiness is like deeds trailing behind the lame ao.

Benevolence, righteousness, propriety, and trustworthiness have been abandoned, and Dao and De have consequently fallen into ruin. Wei says that people merely borrow the names of benevolence, righteousness, propriety, and trustworthiness as a pretense, without the corresponding virtues; those virtues therefore survive in name only. As society and virtue decline together, people no longer judge and encourage one another by reason. Instead, they use material goods to support and win one another over.

Wei says: People invoke the names of benevolence, righteousness, ritual propriety, and trustworthiness merely to deceive others, though they possess none of these virtues. Thus these labels fall into decline day by day. The ways of the world have been corrupting one another for a long time, so they are said to grow ever more neglected and rotten. “Ji” means to bring about or to reach. Yet people cannot draw one another in and transform one another through the Dao; instead, they rely on cleverness and eloquence to assist one another. Xu says: “‘Ji’ means to open up and awaken; ‘fu’ means to support and help.” People neglect the Dao, which has no visible form, and pursue concrete traces; they turn away from what is real and toward what is false. Only when superficiality and shallowness have reached their extreme do they sink to this state. Li says: “‘Ji’ means to reach.” People cannot deal with one another through De or communicate through the Dao; instead, they help one another with material goods, setting their minds on things that involve deliberate action.

This is like an image in a mirror: visible, yet impossible to grasp. Words answer like an echo, but how could the sound of the wind ever be gathered up? Such is the world’s false instruction. People have been trapped in delusion for a long time.

The word “xu” is written as “ju” in the Li-Liu edition and the Li edition. Wei says: The teachings of the ancient sages are like images in a mirror and echoes in sound. Images and echoes appear and vanish with things; the mirror itself remains still, while the echo changes with the loudness of the sound. But people of the world, confused and attached, take the influence that arises as the sage responds to things to be something fixed, and deliberately use it to govern all things. How could they possibly grasp it and put it to use? From this we can see that people have been lost for a long time. Li says: An image in a mirror is hard to obtain, and a sound in the wind is hard to gather; neither sound nor image can truly be possessed. Rash promises, frivolous conduct, and all manner of deliberately undertaken projects are, in fact, of no benefit. Customs in the world grow worse day by day, and people become dull and confused. Thus they drift ever farther from the Dao, and their delusion is said to have lasted a long time.

Among all the people and things under Heaven, who can become a sovereign that remains unchanged forever? People pass delusion from one to another, and it continues to be handed down in turn.

Wei says: The generation and transformation of all things happen of themselves; there is no ruler behind them making them so. Yet the deluded believe that the Dao can be passed on to others, and that the natural Dao can be transmitted from person to person. Is this not foolish?

Liu says: The sage acts in accord with worldly ways and lives in harmony with all things, without any ruler controlling them. Yet the deluded believe that the Dao can be taught, and that the natural Dao can be passed from one person to another. Is this not foolish? In spirit, sages are not bound by life and death; in body, they change along with transformation. They leave teachings for those who come after them. The deluded pass mistaken views from one another, transmitting confusion through confusion. In this way, the confusion continues from person to person without end.

False and deviant teachings intrude upon the true Dao; amid emptiness, a Dao seems to appear.

Liu says: Those who do not understand the principles are easily taken in by deviant teachings. Artful fabrications and contrived falsehoods disrupt the true Dao, seeming to resemble the Dao.

They invent false teachings themselves, yet cannot distinguish truth from falsehood. Coveting profit, they cling to them and refuse to let go.

Xu says: Deluded teachers pass off falsehood as truth and cannot distinguish what is orthodox from what is deviant. Entangled in greed, they follow worldly customs and chase profit, never to return. Who could say that using such things to protect oneself will bring lasting security?

Li says: What is called “false and deviant” means acting deliberately and contriving; what is called “entering the true” means entering the state of Wuwei (non-action). The deluded seek the true Dao by way of deviant paths, hoping to enter non-action through deliberate action. In the end, they cannot attain it. Taking this practice for an attainment is merely a false image appearing in emptiness, not a true attainment. Clinging to the false Dao of deliberate action, they fail to recognize the true Dao of non-action. The cause is simply coveting desires and material gain. By clinging to these things, they ultimately lose the true Dao of non-action.

What was originally right is lost as a result. Their foolishness and blindness are faults they have brought upon themselves.

Liu says: Clinging to falsehood means losing the true Dao, and the correct Way then perishes as well. This is caused by foolishness and blindness. Whom else can they blame?

It is like wood giving rise to fire, which then turns around and consumes the wood.

Liu says: Fire arises from wood and ultimately consumes it. In the same way, falsehood and deviance are created by oneself and ultimately destroy oneself.

Chapter Eleven of the Shengci Zhang.

The sage says: To know the Dao, observe it by means of its laws. Whatever comes into being does so naturally; this is why it is called “nature.”

Wei’s commentary says: What should one observe in order to know the Dao? Simply do not cling to laws or to observation, and the Dao will reveal itself naturally. The Dao Jing says, “Remain free of desire, and you can observe the Dao’s subtlety.” This is what it means. Since the things before us have come into being, how did they come into being? No one deliberately caused them to exist; they arose naturally. From this we can see that the Dao is, by its very nature, natural. Liu’s commentary says: Whatever comes into being originates from the Dao.

The eyes can see, and the heart-mind responds; the mouth gives voice to what the heart-mind thinks. The nose allows breath to pass, and the nose and mouth are the gateways through which breath enters and leaves.

Li’s commentary says: The eyes see the things outside, and the heart-mind responds to what is before it. The mouth can speak, and the nose allows breath to pass. Who made these abilities work in this way? People do not know their cause, yet they operate naturally. Breath enters and leaves through the nose and mouth, so these are its gateways. Liu’s commentary says: The ears and eyes take in sounds and forms, while the nose and mouth allow breath to pass.

Breathing is where life takes up residence; the body’s lifespan depends on the beginning of the breath.

Xu’s commentary says: “Breathing” refers to rapid respiration; “dwelling” means a place of residence or refuge; “sustain” means to maintain; and “beginning” means the start. Human life is brief, like a white horse darting past an opening in a wall. Breath moves back and forth between inhalation and exhalation: when Qi gathers, life arises; when Qi disperses, death follows. Thus Qi is where life takes up residence. Whether the human body and lifespan can endure depends on the breath. Liu’s commentary says: Life depends on Qi, and Qi depends on the body. When breathing stops, life ends; when the body perishes, Qi disperses with it.

This is like grain and plants, which grow and change through the movement of the Qi of the four seasons.

Liu’s commentary says: Plants grow through the Qi of the four seasons, while the human body takes the Qi of breathing as its refuge for life.

When the breath ceases, a person dies. If the breath is excessive or out of balance, it can also make a person weak, ill, and suffer.

Wei’s commentary says: “‘Separate’ means to depart. When a person is wholly separated from the breath, they die. If the breath increases or becomes imbalanced, it can also make a person weak and ill, and cause them great hardship.” Xu’s commentary says: “The Qi of the four seasons waxes and wanes as the seasons turn. Thus the grains and plants grow, then wither and decay. When old conditions fade, life ends; when new conditions come together, life begins. It is like a person’s existence depending on the ‘four great elements’—earth, water, fire, and wind, which constitute the body. When the four conditions separate, the person dies; when they come together, the person lives. When Yang Qi is predominant, a person flourishes; when Yin Qi is predominant, a person declines. Thus people undergo weakness, illness, and hardship, as well as birth, aging, sickness, and death.”

Since this is so, and birth and death arise from these conditions, it is better to follow Wuwei (non-action) and seek peace.

Liu’s commentary says: “Those who act with intent and harbor desires pass through the changes of birth and death. Only by being free of action and desire can one remain at peace, undisturbed.”

Wuwei involves no deliberate action. How, then, could there be any fault?

Wei’s commentary says: “Wuwei means neither acting deliberately nor insisting on stopping; it means neither clinging to coming and going nor clinging to life and death. Let change unfold naturally and be at peace with one’s fate. Where could there be any fault?”

Do not covet the body’s appearance, and do not create resentment through deliberate action.

Xu’s commentary says: “If you seek bodily pleasures, pursue health preservation excessively, indulge the desires of the six senses, and let the three forms of karma—actions of body, speech, and mind—run unchecked, you will keep acting and stirring up trouble, eventually becoming caught in the resentment and entanglements brought by birth and death. If you understand that the body is not truly your possession and that life is only temporarily formed through the gathering of conditions, and you no longer cling excessively to preserving body and life, what resentment or harm could there be?”

If the Five Phases do not overcome one another, all things can be preserved.

Liu’s commentary says: “The human body, seven feet in height, contains all five phases—Metal, Wood, Water, Fire, and Earth. If one acts recklessly and goes beyond due limits, the parts of the body will come into conflict with one another. But if one lets go of clever schemes, does not cling to bodily form, and allows things to be regulated naturally, with each keeping to its proper place, Yin and Yang will move in an orderly way without invading or overcoming one another, and every part of the body can be preserved.”

Nothing in the myriad things remains unchanged forever. Whatever takes form will not remain whole for long. The sun, moon, and stars sometimes disappear and sometimes appear, while Heaven and Earth continue ceaselessly in their courses, shining upon all things.

Wei’s commentary says: When things take form, they are bound to be destroyed; what never takes form is never destroyed. This is the natural order. Thus, although the sage accomplishes things, he does not cling to “accomplishment,” and so he can continue to accomplish things. Heaven and Earth have no self-interest, and therefore can continually shine upon all things. The sun, moon, and stars have no self-interest, and therefore sometimes appear and sometimes disappear. The sage has no self-interest, and therefore can accomplish his work over the long term.

Chapter Twelve: Observing the Various Stages

Laozi says: Observe the stages of cultivating the Dao: quiet the mind, preserve the spirit, and contemplate the Great Dao within.

Li’s commentary says: There are many ways to practice the Dao, and more than one path to cultivate oneself. Although methods for teaching and cultivating the Dao have already been discussed, there remains concern that those who are confused may not return to the right path. This is why the stages of Dao cultivation are explained further here. To seek long life and freedom from death, one must preserve the spirit and contemplate the Dao: align wisdom with the Dao, and unite spirit with form. When spirit and form are united, one can enter a state of stillness and emptiness; when wisdom is aligned with the Dao, one can silently return to the source of wisdom. Only then can the wondrous fruits of cultivation be attained. Liu’s commentary says: Observe the stages within the mind, so that turbulent thoughts no longer arise, and concentrate on contemplating the Great Dao.

The Qi of the Dao and the Three Lights should be preserved in thought at the places within the body that govern them.

Li’s commentary says: “The Qi of the Dao” refers to Daoyin, the cultivation of the breath through methods such as regulating respiration and stretching the body. “The Three Lights” refers to the Three Ones within the body—three deities that Daoism holds reside in different parts of the human body. In cultivating oneself, one must use Daoyin to harmonize the breath and bring the body into a supple state. At the same time, one should visualize the Three Ones and guard the One, keeping them from leaving the body; in this way, one may naturally hope to attain the Dao. The deities of the Three Ones reside in three places in the body. By keeping them continually in mind and preventing the mind from scattering, the deities will descend; when they descend, the True Dao can be attained. Liu’s commentary says: Let the inner mind be clear and the outer world illumined, so that the Qi of Heaven and Earth may communicate. Purify the spirit and clear away thoughts, so that the mind’s guiding principles do not scatter.

It is as though one were between waking and dreaming, while the divine spirits suddenly come and go.

Li’s commentary says: As long as a person keeps the Dao in mind, the Dao will naturally return. If one can free oneself from deliberately visualizing the spirits, the spirits will naturally descend. Forgetting emotion and discriminating awareness is like being between dreaming and waking: it seems as though spirits have arrived, and yet, in a hazy state, one can glimpse what is real. Spirits come and go without a fixed place, so their movements are unimpeded.

“Though one is detached and aspires to Wuwei, thoughts and imaginings remain” means that even while living simply and practicing Wuwei (non-action), one still has thoughts and images in mind.

Xu’s commentary holds that “dan” should be written “chuang,” meaning calm and detached, without craving. The practitioner cultivates emptiness, stillness, and Wuwei, aspiring to the mysterious and keeping the true Dao in mind. Outwardly, they seem at ease and free of concerns. Yet they have not reached the complete letting go of emotion suggested by a heart ashen as dead embers and a body withered like a tree. They still cling to love and attachment, with longing and desire in their heart.

“To think oneself settled and free of desire, without knowing that one is still deliberately holding thoughts” means that the practitioner believes their mind is settled and desireless, but does not realize that they are still deliberately keeping thoughts in mind, which differs from genuine freedom from desire.

Wei’s commentary says that one must next let go of the intention to keep the spirits in mind. If one still thinks of the spirits while living simply and practicing Wuwei, the mind remains attached and active. One must go further and let go of these thoughts, so that the mind becomes truly settled and free of desire, and one forgets one’s own deliberations as well. Xu’s commentary, by contrast, says that practitioners may believe their minds are at ease and settled, free from attachment, while failing to notice that desires are still active within them. Even when observing precepts and gathering the spirit, stray thoughts may arise without their awareness.

“Sometimes one’s Qi is still forceful and vigorous, and one knows that many concerns remain” means that at times one’s disposition is still strong and exuberant, and one knows that the mind is still occupied with many things.

Xu’s commentary holds that “yan” should be written “cu,” meaning coarse. If practitioners cannot yet gather their will and devote themselves to cultivation, or preserve their spirit through emptiness, stillness, and calm, they may have a forceful temperament and relish what is rough and ostentatious. Here, “coarse and vigorous” refers to thoughts and desires that remain strong. Even while observing precepts and focusing on quiet sitting, stray thoughts may arise without one’s awareness.

Xu’s commentary says, “‘Ying’ should be read as ‘rough and coarse.’ If those who study and practice cannot let go of attachments in their minds, devote themselves to cultivation, remain empty, tranquil, and even tempered, and nourish their spirit, they may become forceful and inflexible, favoring rough, heavy, and complicated things. Enjoying such deliberate activity goes against clarity, tranquility, and detachment. When people understand what they are pursuing, they will see that the more affairs they take on, the more they are depleted.

Li’s commentary says: All kinds of thoughts and novel ideas are initially very subtle. As they accumulate, they grow tangled and complex; desires multiply, the mind and spirit become disordered, and people busy themselves with action, becoming ever more clouded and confused. This is what it means to be absorbed in rough, heavy, and complicated things. The human world is full of activity and circumstance. When the six senses—the faculties through which we perceive the outside world—are drawn outward, people are easily tainted by external things wherever they go. Hence, they encounter many troublesome affairs.

When affairs arise, the body moves in response. Once the body is busy, the mind also rushes outward, calculating gains and losses.

Xu’s commentary says: As external things and affairs continually increase, people keep themselves busy with action. When their activity becomes complicated, their minds turn outward to calculate gains and losses. Li’s commentary says: When matters arise outside, the mind grows restless in response. Thoughts and affairs become entangled, planning various actions together; hence the phrase “conspire together.”

Planning and deliberation are the beginning of danger. Once caught in danger, one cannot endure for long. Those who cannot endure for long will have their lives diminished; those who are diminished will ultimately fail to live a long life.

Xu’s commentary says: If one does not quiet the spirit and nourish it inwardly, but instead keeps the mind busy with plans directed outward, excessive deliberation exhausts the spirit and harms the will. This is a cause of injury to one’s nature and the beginning of danger. “Danger” means that a person will soon be diminished: the body is harmed from without, while the spirit is wearied within. If both inside and outside are injured, one may not endure for long. When decline becomes severe, the spirit disperses and the breath dissipates; one can no longer preserve life or enjoy a long lifespan.

Li’s commentary says: Without thoughts or deliberation, one remains secure; as soon as one makes plans, danger arises. Security allows one to endure, while danger prevents endurance. Those who cannot endure will be harmed and die prematurely; hence the phrase “will not live long.”

By considering one’s own body in relation to one’s reputation, one can see that external things and affairs cannot be accumulated for long.

Li’s commentary says: The body belongs to the inner realm, while reputation belongs to the outer. The inner body itself is illusory and cannot last forever. If one single-mindedly pursues external reputation and things, over time one will be harmed and one’s lifespan shortened. Hence, external things and affairs cannot be accumulated for long.

Li’s commentary says: The body belongs to the inner realm, while reputation belongs to the outer. The body within is already illusory; reputation without is even more like a fleeting shadow of flowers. From this we can see that the body cannot endure, so external things are naturally hard to accumulate for long. Why is this? A person’s body is entangled in countless circumstances, and people always want to gather everything before them around themselves. They want to possess every deed done through deliberate effort, and every desirable thing—sensual pleasures, fame, and profit. These entanglements should be cast aside; do not let them stain the mind.

Xu’s commentary says: “Things” here refers to matters of wealth and possessions. The body is an instrument for cultivating the Dao, while reputation can become a calamity that harms the body. Thus, when reputation flourishes, the body may suffer; when the body is at peace, the Dao practice can thrive. From this we can see that reputation and wealth are both difficult to accumulate for long. Liu’s commentary says: If one wears down the body for the sake of reputation, who would still have the inclination to amass wealth?

If one seeks to spread one’s name through reputation, one is bound to be tempted by fame and profit.

Liu’s commentary says: Those who indulge their desires, pursue fame and profit, prize sensual pleasures, and glorify luxury—how could they think such conduct is wrong? In the end, they will be tempted by fame and profit.

Xu’s commentary says: People pursue high standing, a good name, and honor, while taking wealth and profit as their goal in their hearts. Once they devote themselves to profit, they will be drawn in by fame and gain.

All of this stems from greed, which brings calamity and guilt.

Xu’s commentary says: “Root” refers to the source of guilt; “calamity” means disaster, and “blame” means culpability. Those who prize reputation, if they crave without knowing when to stop, will bring calamity and guilt upon themselves in this life and in lives to come. Li’s commentary says: There is no glutton or grasping person who does not bring calamity upon themselves by going against the right way. Liu’s commentary says: Though the provisions for punishment are many, insatiable greed is a major source of punishment. Since greed brings great disaster, why do people not cast it aside?

Greed is the greatest affliction, yet people have been infected by this habit for a long time. It gathers gradually from the smallest beginnings, taking hold and forming over time. It cannot be cured with acupuncture or moxibustion.

Xu explains: Food is the most fundamental of the three sources of harm, and a grave illness that leads to life and death. This affliction arises from habits and failings accumulated over a long time in previous lives and carried into this life; hence it is said to have deep roots. “Nourish” means to increase or add to. “Illness” here means suffering. The habit of gluttony accumulates in the heart and becomes deeply rooted. As it gradually grows, it is like a disease that has reached the vital organs, beyond the cure of acupuncture and moxibustion.

Li explains: Excessive eating harms the body, so it is a grave illness. A habit, when long established, becomes the norm; hence it is said to have deep roots. It grows slowly from small beginnings and gradually worsens, becoming greater as it takes root in the heart. Once the illness has reached the vital organs, it is difficult to treat; acupuncture and moxibustion cannot cure it.

Liu also says: This habit has long been rooted in body and mind, and spreads by association. The illness it creates is not a physical disease of bodily form—how could acupuncture and moxibustion cure it?

To bring body and mind back to what they truly need, one should remain pure and composed.

Li explains: Desire is the most serious illness, and external force cannot root it out. What method, then, should be used to eliminate it? Simply be without desire, and greed will fade of its own accord. If one can forget one’s attachment to oneself, the harm will also dissipate. Only by remaining pure and still, holding fast to the Dao and one’s original nature, sitting quietly and avoiding contrived action, can one calmly free oneself from entanglements. Liu explains: The myriad things flourish in profusion, yet in the end they return to their root. Those who return to their original life should hold fast to themselves.

The actions of a Great Sage, one whose wisdom is fully realized, are not directed toward the things that ordinary people pursue.

Xu explains: “Admire” means to esteem. The Sage esteems emptiness, stillness, and Wuwei (non-action), while ordinary people esteem fame and profit and harbor desires.

Perfected Xu said, “To admire” means to esteem. Sages esteem emptiness and stillness, and do not pursue sights and sounds. Ordinary people esteem fame and gain, and harbor desires. The inclinations of sages run counter to those of the world, and their choices differ as well. They therefore do not esteem what ordinary people value.

Perfected Li said: The conduct of petty people is governed by their ears and eyes, fixed on sights and sounds; their thoughts dwell on fame, gain, and desire. They are thereby ensnared and cannot attain the Dao. Great sages, by contrast, cultivate purity, stillness, emptiness, and freedom from desire. Their minds do not cling to deliberate action, so they are not burdened by external things.

Perfected Liu said: Once you are no longer attached to one side or the other, or to yourself, why seek to obtain a ruler?

At times, one can turn “nonbeing” into “being”; when there is nothing, one can also turn “being” into “nonbeing.”

Perfected Wei said: Originally, I had no body; suddenly, I came to have one. I should constantly forget that I have a body, as though I had not yet been born. This is what it means that “what is constant can be made nonbeing”: though one has a body, one can keep the mind from clinging to it. Do not take birth to be true life, and you can endure without perishing. This is what it means that “what is not constant can be made being”: though something is said to be impermanent, it can bring about what is enduring.

Perfected Xu said: Those who lose the Dao make what was constant return to nonbeing; those who attain the Dao can make what was impermanent become constant. Thus the Zhuangzi says, “How do I know that what I call Heaven is not the human, and what I call the human is not Heaven?” This is precisely the point.

Perfected Li said: What worldly people esteem amounts to fame, gain, and sensual desire; their minds are set only on “being,” and they refuse to turn toward “nonbeing.” Sages relinquish discriminating thoughts within and put an end to the pursuit of reputation without. They cling neither to being nor to nonbeing; they can abide in nonbeing and they can abide in being. Though they do not cling to “being,” they can make use of it, causing being to return to nonbeing. Nor do they hold fast to “nonbeing”; they can bring being forth from nonbeing. When nonbeing returns to being, being can come to fulfillment; when being returns to nonbeing, being can dissolve. Whether hidden and unseen or revealed and visible, all can be freely employed in accord with change.

Chapter Thirteen: Sincerity in the Jing

Laozi said: What the Jing (scripture) says is derived through reasoning in accordance with principle. Splendor and flourishing are not as fine and subtle as what is hidden and mysterious.

Li says: Examining the teachings of the classics and reasoning from their principles, we can see that those who are eminent and noble, with illustrious family backgrounds, invite humiliation when they are loved to excess. When joy passes, sorrow gathers; they are constantly moved by gain and loss, rising and falling with fortune and decline. It is better to embrace the Dao (the Way), calming the heart within; to contain one’s true nature and discern the principles of things. In retreat, one need not become withered and destitute; in advancing, one need not pursue glory and wealth. Whether among mountain forests or in the marketplace and court, one can roam freely, preserving one’s subtle and unadorned nature.

Liu says: The eminent eventually decline, while the subtle endure. Reasoning from the principles, this is the conclusion.

It is better to be empty and still than full; better to have little than much.

Liu says: Only when the heart is genuine and free of delusion can one attain emptiness, stillness, and mystery. Complicated affairs bring many troubles, so simplicity and scarcity are preferable.

Excessive luxuriance often ends in sudden withering; haste is inferior to slowness.

Xu says: Here, “sudden” means hasty. What is taught by heterodox cults and by the true Way should both accord with nature. The methods for cultivating the true Way may seem to take effect quickly and succeed easily. Practices such as praying to spirits and interpreting divine intentions often show results soon. Cultivating the true Way, however, takes longer to show results and is harder to bring to completion; once attained, it is not easily undone, and one can enter a state beyond birth and death. Learning heterodox arts may bring quick results, but they also fail easily, and one remains subject to the cycle of birth and death. Thus, the heterodox is inferior to the true, and the fast to the slow.

What rises will eventually decline; what flourishes will eventually fall.

Liu says: This is true of all things, not only of human affairs.

The sage casts aside crooked and delusive cleverness and practices Wuwei (non-action).

Xu says: Remove crooked and delusive contrivances, and abandon deliberate artifice; illuminate the wisdom of the true Way and practice Wuwei. Liu says: By casting aside cleverness, one does not cling to flourishing; by practicing Wuwei, one does not bring decline upon oneself.

Speech returns to silence; action seeks no exertion.

Xu says: If what is spoken concerns the principle of silence, what is there to say in the end? If what is practiced is an act of Wuwei, what is there to perform deliberately? Liu says: Silently accord with the myriad things and roam together with the Dao; cling neither to companions nor to things. What, then, would action need to depend upon?

Xu Xuanzhi says: The Dao cannot originally be expressed in words; in the end, what is there to say? To follow the Dao without deliberate contrivance—what is there to do on purpose?

Liu Jinxi says: When the mind is still and quiet, it responds to all things and moves together with the Dao. No longer clinging to a partner or to feelings, and no longer holding on to attachments, once the mind is at peace, what is there to depend on?

Who can understand this principle? Being paired is not as good as returning to oneness.

Wei Chuxuan says: The Dao is originally without words; it speaks only in response to things. That is why it is said, “speaking without anything to say.” The Dao is originally without action; it acts only in response to things. That is why it is said, “acting without anything to carry out.” “Even” refers to two; “odd” refers to one. Those who understand wordless speech and actionless action should lessen what is scattered and return to oneness, thereby drawing near to the Dao.

Liu Jinxi says: The body and spirit are paired, while desires are bound up with the body. We labor the body to sustain it, and wear ourselves down because of excessive desire. So, by forgetting attachment to the body, the spirit can become quiet; by letting go of desire, the body can become peaceful. The Zhuangzi says: “Those who nurture the mind and spirit forget the body; those who care for the body forget profit; those who attain the Dao forget the many attachments in their hearts.”

More is not as good as less. Which should one choose? It is truly difficult to follow.

Xu Xuanzhi says: “Few” means less, and “follow” means to adhere to. Surveying widely and examining all kinds of teachings is not as good as attending closely to the principle of the Dao and holding fast to “the One”—the way of oneness—and preserving the mystery. The more one learns each day, the more easily one becomes confused; with less and greater focus, it is easier to gain understanding.

Xu Xuanzhi also says: Some regard benevolence, righteousness, integrity, and well-being as virtues. But pursuing reputation harms De (Virtue/Power) and readily gives rise to hypocrisy and shallowness, making it difficult to follow De and return to the Great Dao. That is why benevolence can be deliberately performed, righteousness can be compromised, and ritual can descend into outward show and pretense.

Who can truly embody benevolence? It is no easy matter. Those who follow the Way of righteousness are also few.

Li Rong says: Acting naturally, without contrivance, is difficult; few people understand how to keep the mind undivided. Whether people known for their virtue or those who do good, it is rare for anyone truly to accept and practice this principle. The people of the world are deluded, so this is no easy task. Few can follow the profound and mysterious Dao.

To understand “non-knowing”—not clinging to distinctions or preconceptions—is to grasp the key to the Dao.

Li says: If one can follow the teaching of “not speaking” and act in accordance with the original nature of the myriad things, one will naturally realize the Dao. Wisdom may seem to know everything, yet this “knowing everything” does not mean clinging to knowledge. Rather, it is a state of “unknowing” in which nothing obstructs the mind. By forgetting one’s grasping at knowledge, one masters the key to the Dao. The “attainment” spoken of here means attaining the subtle essentials of the Dao.

Liu says: The Dao teaches by not clinging to knowledge. Follow the original principles of the myriad things, and one will naturally realize the Dao. Wisdom may seem to know everything, yet it does not cling to knowing. By forgetting one’s grasping at knowledge, one masters the key to the Dao. The “attainment” spoken of here means attaining the subtle essentials of the Dao. The Dao takes “unknowing” as its foundation; those who understand and put it into practice can grasp the key to the Dao.

“Emptiness and extinction become nothingness—what need is there to fly as an immortal?” The versions used by Xu, Li, and Liu read: “Emptiness and void become nothingness—what need is there to fly as an immortal?”

Wei says: Set aside the seven categories proclaimed by the “Great Worthy” and return to the substance of benevolence and righteousness; then one can gradually draw near to the Dao. “Pivot” means the key; it also refers to the extremely subtle signs that appear when things begin to move, and to the first indications of good fortune. As one gradually draws near to the Dao, one comes to understand its principle of “unknowing”—this is the key to the Dao. Once one understands that the Dao’s essence cannot be attained through deliberate pursuit, one should continue to diminish the mind’s cleverness until one reaches stillness and emptiness. Then diminish even that stillness and emptiness until nothing remains; afterward, one can become a flying immortal. Here, “immortal” refers to a state beyond life and death. The True Person understands past and present, regards change as constant, and shares one body with the myriad things and one life with the transformations of creation. Thus there is no time when they are not alive and no place they cannot be. What difficulty could there be in riding on emptiness, treading the void, or passing through metal and stone?

Xu says: The divine person guards Jing and Qi and returns to the true nature, reaching stillness, emptiness, and Wuwei (non-action). The immortal nurtures Shen and seeks longevity, rising bodily into the heavens. Since the formed can never match the formless, why speak of “flying as an immortal”?

Liu says: Free yourself from the constraints of the body, follow change and let things take their natural course. With a spacious mind that waits for nothing, why seek to ascend to immortality?

The Great Dao is vast and boundless; nothing lies beyond its embrace.

Mr. Xu says: The Great Dao is lofty and far-reaching, vast and boundless. It transforms and nurtures the myriad things, governs the spirits, and encompasses Heaven and Earth. Though it seems to do nothing, nothing is beyond its accomplishment. Mr. Li says: The Great Dao is hidden and profound, so it is called “vast”; it is level and expansive, so it is called “boundless.” It governs all things, hence “control”; it contains all that exists, hence “encompass.”

If you can understand the Great Dao, you will know that what you once held to be right was not necessarily right.

Mr. Li says: If you can understand the Great Dao, you can grasp its highest principles and free yourself from worldly entanglements in its vast, level expanse. Then you will see that, in the narrow understanding and worldly feelings of the past, what seemed good may not truly be good, and what seemed right may not truly be right.

The scripture says: “Examine these principles closely—who is capable of doing so?”

Mr. Li says: “Close examination” means seeing what is real. Only with a calm mind can one gain insight along the path of stillness; only by emptying oneself can one reach the source of the Great Dao; and only by letting go of distinctions imposed by the senses can one put an end to disputes over right and wrong in the boundless expanse. This is a subtle teaching and a truthful statement. Yet many are lost in worldly concerns and pursue desires, while few can forget their private attachments. Who, then, can put this teaching into practice? Mr. Liu says: The Great Dao transcends feelings and thoughts, and its principles transcend words and images. It appears and vanishes in different ways, and has never been something that people of shallow understanding can grasp.

Chapter Fourteen: The Profound and Subtle

Laozi says: The words of the Great Dao are profound and subtle; the scripture’s precepts are hidden and exacting. The life of all things in Heaven and Earth comes from the “One.”

Mr. Xu says: Heaven attains the “One” and becomes clear; Earth attains the “One” and becomes tranquil; the myriad things attain the “One” and can grow. That is why all things are said to come from the “One.” Here, the “One” refers to the root of the Great Dao. Mr. Li says: To cut off distracting thoughts is called “profound”; what is difficult to fathom is called “subtle.” The “One” is the mysterious Dao, and “hidden” means subtle and hard to discern. The scriptures’ teachings reach far, and their precepts are mysterious and subtle. Their principles are exceedingly profound: they explain that Heaven, Earth, people, and all things are brought forth through the transformation of the Great Dao. This claim has a firm basis.

If you can understand these principles, you will recognize what is empty and what is real.

Li’s commentary says: “To understand this principle is to realize that the root of all things lies in ‘the One.’ To know that all things arise from ‘the One’ is to speak truthfully; to say that they do not arise from ‘the One’ is to speak falsely.”

If you cannot understand it for yourself, then even if the principle is made clear, you will be unable to discern it.

Li’s commentary says: “If you cannot see clearly, then even if I explain it to you, you will be unable to discern it.” Liu’s commentary says: “When the mind is clouded and does not understand the root of all things, it cannot distinguish the principle even when it is revealed.”

If you devote yourself single-mindedly to pursuing “being,” you will be troubled by Wuwei (non-action). Here, “being” and “Wuwei” refer, respectively, to attachment to physical things and to the Daoist state of cultivation in which one follows things as they are and refrains from contrived action.

Xu’s commentary says: “‘Affliction’ means illness. Attachment to ‘being’ obstructs the cultivation of Wuwei, so people are urged to relinquish their attachment to ‘being’ and return to Wuwei.” Liu’s commentary says: “Those who are still prefer quiet and dislike disorder; those who are simple dislike complexity. People attached to purposeful action often come to despise Wuwei.”

Entangled in all manner of concerns, you may remain unable to break free even after countless ages.

Li’s commentary says: “If you can resolve to practice Wuwei, you may gradually realize the Dao; if you continue to harbor desires, you will be ensnared by them. Bound by purposeful deeds, you may be unable to bring them to an end even after countless ages.” Liu’s commentary says: “Pursuing one thing and abandoning another, people become bound to each other like prisoners in shackles. The heart’s desires keep circling onward—when will they ever end?”

The principles expressed by the Dao are subtle and profound, and you are not yet able to discern them. Begin by grasping what is simple, and be sure to proceed carefully without losing the essential point.

Wei’s commentary says: “Since you still cannot understand the subtle and profound intent of the Dao’s words, you may begin with what is simple.” Xu’s commentary says: “Subtle principles are difficult to understand. You may first grasp the essential points, preserve De (Virtue/Power) and your original nature, and act in accordance with the precepts, allowing nothing to be lost.” Li’s commentary says: “The principles of the subtle scriptures cannot all be explained at once. First grasp their essential points, follow the precepts in the scriptures, abandon evil and practice goodness, and move from attachment to ‘being’ toward ‘nonbeing.’ Cultivate in this way at all times without straying; this is what it means to understand the scriptures.”

First reduce your various desires, and do not let your thoughts run unchecked.

Xu’s commentary says: Observe the precepts and restrain desire. First lessen your various cravings, then close off the senses from contact with the outside world, so that worldly scenes do not enter the heart. Shut the heart’s gates, and thoughts will not run wild and scatter.

Dwell at leisure in a quiet place, and concentrate your thoughts in a purified room—a place for practicing purification and settling the mind.

Li’s commentary says: To be free from distracting affairs is to “dwell at leisure”; to have the heart settled is to be in a “quiet place.” Only when you focus your spirit can it be called deep contemplation day and night. Cleansing the heart is what makes a purified room.

Ten thousand volumes of alchemical writings are not as good as holding fast to the One.

Xu’s commentary says: Even if you refine flying elixirs and smelt the Eight Minerals—the mineral substances used in alchemy—then produce the Nine Elixirs in a furnace and swallow a dose to ascend to the heavens, wondrous though it may seem, this is still merely a technique. How could it compare with the inner cultivation of setting your nature aright and holding fast to the One, the original essence? Hold fast to it without losing it, and you can endure alongside the Dao of Heaven from beginning to end. Thus it is said that reading all ten thousand volumes of alchemical writings is not as good as holding fast to the One. Liu’s commentary says: The process of cultivating the Dao lies in continual reduction; it does not depend on complicated texts. If you can simply hold fast to the One, the Dao will come naturally.

The scriptures can indeed be understood, but in the end they contain both the empty and the substantial. What is called “being” may not truly be; you are not yet able to discern it. What is called “nonbeing” may not truly be nonbeing; you are not yet able to measure it.

Xu’s commentary says: Although the scriptures are concise, their principles can be understood. The teachings of the secular world are false, while the words of the Daoist scriptures are true. Yet within the true there is a still deeper truth, so “being” is not fixed. What is called “being” may not truly be; you are not yet able to discern it. What is called “nonbeing” may not truly be nonbeing; you are not yet able to measure it.

Xu’s commentary says: Although the scripture is brief, its principles are not beyond understanding. Secular teachings have a false side, while the Daoist scriptures speak of what is true. Within truth there is a deeper truth: what exists is not fixed forever and can ultimately return to nonbeing; nor is nonbeing always empty, for it can give rise to being again. Being and nonbeing generate one another, and their boundary is never fixed. When Yin Zi first began his studies, he could not yet distinguish the stages of this process.

Li’s commentary says: The emptiness and substance discussed earlier refer to this very principle. To say that “nonbeing” can give rise to “being” is for emptiness to become substance; to say that “being” can return to “nonbeing” is for substance to become emptiness. At that time, you could not distinguish the passage from substance into emptiness, nor could you sort out the stages by which emptiness becomes substance. Once you can discern and clarify emptiness and substance, you will understand the meaning of the scripture and hold fast to the Great Dao.

Liu’s commentary says: Principles adapt and change with circumstances, and words, too, shift in emphasis. Understanding only the literal wording can cause you to miss the scripture’s true meaning; clinging to its surface rules can also lead you away from its intent. Subtle words are allusive and profound, and difficult to analyze. Only through personal experience and inward understanding can you grasp their mystery.

If you practice in the proper sequence, thoughts of what comes first and what comes later will arise in turn, then disappear in turn.

Li’s commentary says: You need only follow the teachings of the scriptures. First remove evil thoughts, then let go of attachment to goodness; first break the desire for “being,” then eliminate attachment to “Wuwei (non-action).” Let go of both action and non-action, and cling to neither good nor evil. Whenever a thought arises, clear it away one by one.

Liu’s commentary says: Since you still cannot understand the profound principles layer by layer, you should practice in sequence according to the teachings. When the ears and eyes encounter things outside you, do not follow what you see and hear into repeated reflection, lest a mind of distinctions arise.

The Dao has what is true and what is false; blessings, too, have their auspicious and inauspicious sides.

Liu’s commentary says: What goes against the central teaching of the Great Dao is false; what accords with its principles is true. What is gained through Wuwei is auspicious; what is brought about through deliberate action is inauspicious. Thus the Scripture of De says, “Within good fortune lies misfortune.”

Offenses may be public or private; those who understand the principles can discern even the slightest differences.

Liu’s commentary says: “Devoting oneself wholeheartedly to the Dao comes from an impartial heart, while chasing worldly pursuits comes from selfish motives. If people who cultivate the Dao have not grasped its profound mystery and remain driven by emotions and desires, they may handle things inappropriately and act against the right path. If they can set aside personal gain and loss, resolve to help everyone, and cultivate the Dao with sincere focus, their inner reasoning will no longer follow selfish desires but accord with sincerity and trustworthiness. Even when they face hardship, they can understand its underlying principles. ‘Fine and subtle’ means minute and precise.”

Li’s commentary says: “To understand the past is called ‘divining the past’; to discern the future is called ‘knowing what is to come.’ Even people of exceptional wisdom who can foresee how events begin and end often fail because of it, and may even suffer setbacks. Only by remaining simple and genuine, honest and unadorned, can one establish oneself, serve one’s ruler, care for one’s parents, and fulfill the work of cultivating the Dao.”

Liu’s commentary also says: “Excessive speculation about the future brings many worries; foreseeing what is to come may instead invite humiliation. Therefore, one should cast aside the cleverness that seeks to impress and preserve one’s simple, original nature…”