《元始说先天道德经注解(李嘉谋)》

The Commentary on the Scripture of Primordial Beginning’s Teaching on the Precelestial Dao and De was written by Li Jiamou of the Song dynasty and comprises five volumes. It is a different work from Laozi’s Dao De Jing. Following the format of the Dao De Jing, the book is divided into five sections: “The Mysterious,” “The Origin,” “The Spirit,” “The True,” and “The Dao.” Li Jiamou comments chapter by chapter and section by section, explaining the principles in light of the original text. The surviving base text is included in the Dongzhen section, “Texts,” of the Zhengtong Daoist Canon. The title supplied by the user also lists “Preface to the Commentary on the Scripture of Primordial Beginning’s Teaching on the Precelestial Dao and De,” the title of the book’s preface.

This scripture was originally annotated chapter by chapter by Master Xizhai, Li Jiamou, of the Song dynasty, and was printed and circulated in western Shu for many years. By the Baoyou era, when Master Tianyi, Xie Tunan, wrote a preface and circulated the book, the old edition from Shu had already been lost. At first, while serving as an official in Lingnan, Lord Xie searched for it far and wide. At last he obtained the scripture from a man of Shu who lived in seclusion, and treasured it as though it were a precious jewel. Later, when he went to western Zhejiang, he took the scripture to show Li Zengbo, the Grand Academician of the Guanwen Hall, known as Lord Kezhai. Lord Li generously entrusted the book to the Jiaxing Daoist Li Kejiu, who raised funds to hire craftsmen to print it, allowing it to circulate. They also found what was called the “Eight Might Dragon Script,” said to have been handed down by an extraordinary being in the primordial age, and printed it together with the scripture as a complete text. At the time, Lord Guanwen was serving as superintendent of Dongxiao Palace, and he too wrote a preface for the book.

In general, they followed Lord Xie’s preface in identifying this scripture as the “Five Chapters of Diffusion and Bestowal” in the Dao Jing, believing that these writings had been spread across the blue heavens—that is, the celestial realm as described in Daoism—and could not have been composed by human hands. Yet, regrettably, both of these predecessors carried forward an error.

On examining the “Five Chapters of Diffusion and Bestowal for the Stabilization of the Primordial Beginning,” we find that its true talismans and writing all look like the talismanic scripts passed down among members of our Daoist tradition, said to condense along with Qi. They fall into five kinds: first, Bright Qi; second, Great Elixir; third, Yellow Truth; fourth, Pure Might; and fifth, Mysterious Essence. That is all. The scripture titled The Wondrous Primordial Spirit and True Dao Spoken by the Primordial Beginning consists of five chapters, each divided into sections, with writing in every section, for a total of five thousand characters. It has been transmitted alongside the five thousand characters of the Laozi’s Dao De Jing. It has no connection with the “Five Chapters of Diffusion and Bestowal.”

After obtaining this book, the Daoist Lei Zhang Shanyuan of Haijun Gui-fu carefully raised funds once again to print and circulate it. He appended this passage after the scripture’s title solely so that those who had not yet understood might know that this book is not the “Chapter of Diffusion and Bestowal.”

True Mystery, True Origin, True Spirit, True Reality, and the True Dao are all names for the same real source, each describing it from a different aspect. Here, “true” refers to the primordial, original reality: it is unmixed with anything else and depends on nothing external. In its aspect of “mystery,” it is called True Mystery; in its aspect of “origin,” True Origin; in its aspect of “spirit,” True Spirit; in its aspect of “reality,” True Reality; and in its aspect of the Dao, the True Dao.

Yet none of these five names can fully express the source. Just as the eyes cannot see themselves directly, it is said: “True Mystery is mystery; True Origin is origin; True Spirit is spirit; True Reality is reality; the True Dao is Dao.” True Mystery does not know itself as mystery; True Origin does not know itself as origin; True Spirit does not know itself as spirit; True Reality does not know itself as reality; and the True Dao does not know itself as Dao. If it could perceive and define what it is, it would no longer be the undivided original reality.

The Dao differentiates and appears as De. Each of the myriad things receives a portion of the Dao and comes into being through this De. Thus it is said, “The myriad things attain it.”

Each of the myriad things receives a portion of the Dao and comes into being. Once it departs from the Dao it has received, it dies. Though things are born and die, this means only that the Dao’s activity gathers and disperses; it does not mean that the Dao itself was ever born or died. The myriad things die because they cannot maintain their accord with the Dao, and so gain and loss arise together. The Dao, meanwhile, runs through the coming and going, birth and death of all things.

Everything receives some portion of the Dao (the Way) and thereby comes to life. When the portion it has received disperses, it dies. Although this is called “coming to life,” it is really only the arrival of the Dao’s dispersed Qi (vital energy), not the Dao itself bringing anything into being. The Dao itself has never been born and never dies. Since things cannot receive the Dao in its entirety, they are subject to life and death. Yet all things follow the Dao and are never extinguished: they are born and die, die and are born again, gain and lose in turn, and enter into and emerge from transformation along with the Dao.

The Dao cannot be the same as “De” (Virtue/Power), and De cannot be the same as “loss.” Thus, what is called “sameness” means that each receives something: one person receives this, another receives that; there is both gain and loss.

The nature of the Dao is pure and undivided, like empty space, which does not mingle with the things within it. This is why it is said, “The Dao cannot be the same as De.” De differs in its forms: it may be yielding or firm, benevolent or righteous; actions vary, and so do their names. Just as all things have their own forms, this is why it is said, “De cannot be the same.” What one receives is illusory and insubstantial: it is gained for a time and then lost, like an inn where one can stay only briefly before departing. This is why it is said, “Loss cannot be the same.” What is called “sameness” means that I receive something and others receive something too; each receives what is theirs, and only then can it be called “the same.” This kind of sameness comes close to the Dao. But if one pursues the Dao by seeking to obtain something, then whatever can be gained can also be lost. Once one clings to gain and loss, one moves ever farther from the Dao.

Let go of De and return to the Dao. The Dao gathers all things in, bringing them back to unity. Returning to unity and entering into “sameness” comes close to the Dao. But if one pursues the Dao by seeking to obtain something, then whatever can be gained can also be lost. With gain and loss, one moves ever farther from the Dao.

Let go of De and return to the Dao. The Dao gathers all things in, bringing them back to unity. Returning to unity and entering into “the Real” enables one to experience one’s true nature and respond to change. The Real enters the utmost spirit, a state of profound mystery; spirit then enters the Origin, and the Origin enters the Subtle. It is deep, still, and clear, seeming to exist yet possessing neither form nor sound. It stands alone before the Beginning, the source of heaven, earth, and all things, embodying the Beginning’s mystery.

De is the expression of one’s inherent nature as it manifests in particular things, yet it cannot remain fixed forever. Thus De may be lost, while the Dao cannot be lost. To lose De is to return to the Dao; beyond the Dao there is no other Dao. The Dao runs through life and death, gain and loss, remaining constant throughout. When one follows the changes of life and death and is drawn along by the names and appearances of gain and loss, the Dao disperses and manifests as De. When one understands that everything comes from the Dao and gathers the mind and spirit back into unity, De is the Dao, and there is no distinction between Dao and De.

Returning to unity is to enter the Real, taking the Real as one’s foundation in responding to change. Though all things ceaselessly change, one does not lose one’s original, true self. This is called “spirit” (Shen). When spirit reaches its utmost, it is called “Origin” (Yuan); when Origin reaches its utmost, it is called “Mystery” (Miao). To enter the realm of Origin and Mystery is, in truth, not to gain anything, but to return to one’s original state. This nature has no form or sound; it is clear, still, and profound, as though it were present. It stands on its own amid the Original Beginning and the Original Mystery. It is an inherent nature, not something obtained from outside.

The Original Beginning sees with true, subtle vision and listens with true, subtle hearing. Subtle vision can perceive form within the formless; subtle hearing can hear the sound of returning to one’s original nature. That which has neither form nor sound, yet is clear, still, and profound, as though present, and stands on its own amid the Original Beginning and the Original Mystery, is precisely this inherent nature, not something obtained from outside.

The Original Beginning sees with true, subtle vision and listens with true, subtle hearing. Subtle vision can perceive the form of the formless, and subtle hearing can hear the sound of the soundless. The image of the Great Dao has no fixed form, yet it cannot escape my subtle vision; the greatest sound is exceedingly faint, yet it cannot escape my subtle hearing. I call “Mystery” the realm of the infinite and supreme.

Subtle vision has no particular color, and subtle hearing no particular sound; external objects of sight, sound, and the other sensory realms cannot obstruct them. The six faculties of perception—the eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, and mind, often called the “six roots” in Buddhist and Daoist texts—can interact freely and merge without hindrance. Thus one can perceive the form of the formless without seeing it with the eyes, and hear the sound of the soundless without hearing external sounds with the ears. Awareness dissolves into fullness; subtle vision extends beyond Heaven and Earth, and subtle hearing reaches beyond the bounds of sound. Thus one sees and hears all things. This is called the infinite and supreme.

Therefore, what I speak of is the infinite and supreme true subtlety. True subtlety is the True Origin, yet the True Origin itself cannot again be called “Origin.” True subtlety is the True Spirit, yet the True Spirit itself cannot again be called “spirit.” True subtlety is the Real, yet the Real itself cannot again be called “real.” True subtlety is the True Dao, yet the True Dao itself cannot again be called “Dao.” True subtlety has already reached its utmost.

The “subtle essence” spoken of here is different from the levels called Origin, Reality, Spirit, and Dao. Once one has attained the genuine realm of subtlety, the Origin has become the Origin within the subtle and the Origin within the real; it can no longer be summed up by the ordinary meaning of “Origin.” Spirit, too, has become subtle Spirit and true Spirit, and cannot be named simply “Spirit.” Reality has become subtle Reality and the real Real, and cannot be explained by “Reality” alone. The Dao has become subtle Dao and true Dao, and can no longer be called simply “Dao” in its ordinary sense. True subtlety and the true Dao both reach their utmost limit, beyond the full account of words. Hence the saying, “True subtlety has reached the extreme.”

“True subtlety is supreme; the supreme is true subtlety.”

The utmost limit of the Dao cannot be named, so it is provisionally called “true subtlety.” The utmost in honor likewise cannot be named, so it is provisionally called “the Supreme.” When subtlety reaches its utmost, it occupies the highest place, and is therefore called “true subtlety”; when the Supreme reaches its highest point, it returns to subtlety, and is therefore called “the Supreme, true subtlety.”

Subtlety gives rise to the Origin; the Origin gives rise to Spirit; Spirit gives rise to Reality; Reality gives rise to the Dao; the Dao gives rise to De; and De gives rise to the Marginal—the minute details or lesser paths of the Dao. The Marginal, in turn, gives rise to subtlety. Subtlety gives rise to nonbeing, and nonbeing gives rise to being. Being is simply being, and nonbeing is simply nonbeing. Being and nonbeing generate one another, and Yin and Yang shift in turn; thus all things continually transform through the Great Transformation of the cosmos.

As the realm of subtlety unfolds downward, the Dao appears. The Dao gives rise to De, De gives rise to the Marginal, and the Marginal gives rise to subtlety again. Subtlety gives rise to nonbeing, and nonbeing gives rise to being. Being and nonbeing generate one another, Yin and Yang shift in turn, and all things change along with the Great Transformation.

As subtlety unfolds downward, it is called the Origin; the Origin unfolds further and is called Spirit; below Spirit is Reality, below Reality is the Dao, below the Dao is De, and below De is the Marginal. The Marginal is a narrower, peripheral form of the Dao. Ordinary people follow the levels downward, from the Dao to De and then to the Marginal, until they enter the world of tangible things. Once they become attached to tangible things, they move farther and farther from the Dao.

The realized person, by contrast, turns back from the Marginal and enters the realm of subtlety. From subtlety, they enter nonbeing, then allow being to appear from within nonbeing. When they wish to establish things, they take nonbeing as being; when they wish for stillness, they take being as nonbeing. When being appears, Heaven and Earth are not thereby increased; when things return to nonbeing, the Great Void is not thereby diminished. The realized person works with being and nonbeing, entering and leaving Yin and Yang, letting them generate and shift in turn, and transform without cease, like the Great Transformation of the cosmos.

“Mysterious Nonbeing” has no fixed form. When it settles into stillness, it can return from “Being” to “Nonbeing”; when it is to appear as “Being,” it comes forth. Heaven and Earth do not thereby become any greater. When it is to return to “Nonbeing,” it goes back to its source, and the Great Void is not thereby diminished. It can give rise to Being from Nonbeing and return from Being to Nonbeing. Yang Qi appears while Yin Qi lies hidden; they give rise to one another and shift and transform in turn, as all things come into being and move, remaining in ceaseless change.

“Mysterious Nonbeing” has no fixed form. Within Nonbeing there is Being, and within Being there is Nonbeing. Nonbeing is not absolute nothingness, and Being is not eternally substantial. I abide in the constant Dao where the manifest and the subtle interpenetrate. “Manifest” refers to what appears and can be seen; “subtle” refers to what is hidden and cannot be seen.

The True Person, one who has attained the Dao, takes “Mysterious Nonbeing” as his substance and “Mysterious Being” as its function. His substance is clear, still, and enduring: this is its aspect of Nonbeing. His responses to change are inexhaustible: this is the function of Being. The function of Being arises from the substance of Nonbeing, while the substance of Nonbeing appears as the function of Being. The manifest aspect is called “the boundary,” and the hidden aspect is called “the subtle.” Thus I say, “I abide in the constant Dao where the boundary and the subtle interpenetrate.”

Laozi says, “Always without desire, one can observe the subtle mystery; always with desire, one can observe its manifest boundaries.” These two are one in essence, differing only in the names they bear when they appear. They arise from the same source and are both called “the Mysterious”—that which is deep and wondrous.

People commonly cling to one side. When they grasp Nonbeing, they cannot put Being to use; when they cling to Being, they cannot return to Nonbeing. When they observe the subtle, they cannot see the boundary; when they observe the boundary, they cannot see the subtle. This is because they are constrained by things with form and cannot move freely between Being and Nonbeing. The True Person takes “Mysterious Nonbeing” as his substance. When it appears as Being, he does not refuse to act because the path to be followed is subtle; when it returns to Nonbeing, he does not feel that understanding the mystery leaves anything lacking. He regards Being and Nonbeing, the boundary and the subtle, as one constant Dao. Thus the boundary is the subtle, and the subtle is the boundary; Being is Nonbeing, and Nonbeing is Being. Therefore, their names differ when they appear, but their source is one and the same: the Mysterious.

The constant Dao where the boundary and the subtle interpenetrate is called the Dao. The enduring nature of the Dao is called the True; the enduring nature of the True is called Shen (spirit); the enduring nature of Shen is called the Origin; the enduring nature of the Origin is called the Subtle; and the enduring nature of the Subtle is called the Self. To abide here is to dwell in the Limitless—the boundless, indefinable realm.

The mysterious subtlety is mysterious because it does not change or differ; for this reason it is called “constant.” “Manifest” refers to being, while “subtle” refers to nonbeing. Being contains nonbeing, and nonbeing also contains being: this is the constant Dao of both being and nonbeing. Only this constant Dao, in which being and nonbeing communicate, can truly be called the Dao. The Dao in its constant state is called “the Real”; the Real in its constant state is called “spirit”; spirit in its constant state is called “the Origin”; the Origin in its constant state is called “subtlety”; and subtlety in its constant state is called “I.” Thus, to abide in the constant within oneself is to have neither beginning nor end.

The Dao cannot be seen, heard, or touched, nor can it be confined by the idea of “being.” This is the Dao. The Dao in its constant state is called “the Real”; the Real in its constant state is called “spirit”; spirit in its constant state is called “the Origin”; the Origin in its constant state is called “subtlety”; and subtlety in its constant state is called “I.” Thus, to abide in the constant within oneself is to have neither beginning nor end.

The Dao cannot be seen, heard, or touched. It cannot be called either being or nonbeing, nor can it be confined by names such as “Origin,” “spirit,” “Real,” or “Dao.” To grasp this state is to enter the highest realm and unite with the Limitless—the boundless, indefinable state. This is true mysterious subtlety.

People in the world seek the Dao through external things, hoping it can be seen, heard, or touched, or described as being or nonbeing. When they seek it through principles and doctrines, they hope to explain it with terms such as “Origin,” “spirit,” “Real,” or “Dao.” If the Dao could be sought through sight, hearing, being, or nonbeing, it would become a particular thing. If it could be defined by names such as Origin, Real, spirit, or Dao, it would become a doctrine. The Real Person, one who has attained the Dao, is not ruled by things outwardly and does not cling to doctrines inwardly. Thus, without relying on sight, they see clearly; without relying on hearing, they know; without relying on touch, they apprehend its solidity. It does not exist in the form of “being,” nor does it merely dwell in “nonbeing.” It need not be called the Origin, yet it embodies the Origin; need not be called spirit, yet it embodies spirit; need not be called the Real, yet it embodies the Real; need not be called the Dao, yet it accords with the Dao. In this way, one enters the highest realm and unites with the Limitless. Since it cannot be confined by a name, it is called “True Subtlety.”

Chapter Three, 106 characters in all.

True Subtlety has neither sound nor form; it truly does not belong to the realm of sound and form. Above, it does not shine brilliantly; below, it is not dim.

“Mystery” is neither a visible form or color that the eyes can see, nor a sound that the ears can hear. It is difficult for people to grasp because they cannot perceive the original source at the beginning of time and enter the realm of mystery, nor can they gather in the scattered images of the outer world and return body and mind to their root.

The six roots—eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, and mind, the six paths through which we perceive the outer world and our inner activity—are originally one clear essence. Yet they are driven by scattered thoughts and by the senses acting separately. Sensations such as hardness, smooth warmth, heat, and movement also stir the four great elements—earth, water, fire, and wind, which make up the body—and the six roots. As the four elements and six roots interact, the dust of the outer world leaves people ever more confused.

If we understand that forms are empty and free ourselves from the pull of external phenomena, so that color, fragrance, taste, and touch no longer entangle the senses, then we can see color as a blind person does, smell fragrance as wind passing by, taste flavor as one tastes wax—with no flavor—and feel contact with things as though touching empty space. Once external phenomena have dispersed, everything received and used by the six roots becomes clear at once. When clarity reaches its utmost, the realm of mystery appears: it is neither form nor sound. Seeing, hearing, feeling, and knowing seem to transcend the senses. Thus it is vast without display, and subtle to the extreme without being obscure.

Vague and indistinct, distant and profound; truth and mystery blend together, subtle beyond words. It cannot be seen, however intently one looks, or heard, however intently one listens.

Each thing has its own Origin—the source from which all things arise. It cannot be seen or heard. Though elusive and deep, it is not nothingness. Thus a Buddhist scripture says, “If someone hopes to see me through my form or seeks me through my voice, that person follows a misguided path and cannot see the Tathagata.” A Daoist text likewise says, “Unseen and unheard, beyond all opposites: this is called the wondrous Dao.”

If what is called the Dao enters human perception from outside, then it is merely an external thing, not the Dao. People fail to understand the Dao because they cling to forms and colors, pursue sounds, and are drawn along by external things. The wondrous Dao of the Origin—the source of all things—cannot be seen or heard. Yet people mistake it for something visible and audible, and so turn away from the source.

In the Śūraṅgama Sūtra, the Buddha asks Ānanda: Look closely. From the palaces of the sun and moon to the Seven Gold Mountains—the seven ranges said in Buddhist cosmology to encircle Mount Sumeru—clouds rise, birds fly, and wind stirs up dust. Though the sights near and far are all different, they appear within your nature of seeing, the capacity by which you see. If you take “seeing” to mean the things before your eyes, then you should also be able to see my nature of seeing. If you say that seeing the same thing means seeing my nature of seeing, then when I cannot see, how can you see the place where I do not see? If that place is still visible, it is plainly not an external thing; how, then, can you say it has nothing to do with you? When you are seeing, it is your nature of seeing, not mine. Since the nature of seeing pervades all things, whose could it be but your own?

It follows that whenever someone sees something, only that person knows what they see. Others know only what they themselves see; each person’s seeing is independent, and there is no single seeing shared by everyone. No one can see what I see on my behalf, just as no one can hear what I hear on my behalf. If hearing the same sound meant that I had heard your act of hearing, then when I could not hear, you should still know what I hear. But you do not. What you hear, then, is not what I hear. The same reasoning applies to taste, touch, and consciousness. Is this perhaps also what Zhuangzi meant by “seeing alone”—a way of seeing that is independently realized and not conflated with external things?

The Primordial Origin, the source from which all things begin, abides in the Great Subtlety: still and empty, continuous without end, profound and clear, beyond the reach of any name.

Whatever can be expressed in words falls into names and distinctions, becoming one of two opposing poles and no longer remaining an undivided whole. Only what cannot be named deserves to be called the Dao. The states closest to the Dao are “nonbeing” and “emptiness.” Yet nonbeing stands opposed to being, and emptiness to fullness; both, too, fall into distinctions and become opposing poles. Only what cannot be named deserves to be called the One.

The One means that it is neither nonbeing nor being in the ordinary sense, neither empty nor full. It transcends nonbeing, being, emptiness, and fullness, yet does not obstruct them. One may say that it transcends them, but one may not; one may say that it is them, but one may not. In the end, when neither “transcends” nor “is” can hold, and no name can be given, there is the wondrous Dao.

“Stillness and solitude” mean nonbeing; “continuous and unbroken” means extending without end. The Dao is nonbeing, yet flows on without ceasing, so it cannot be said to be wholly nonexistent. Yet though it is not wholly nonexistent, it is still, deep, and hidden, so it cannot be said to exist as a substantial thing. This is called “namelessness.”

The Primordial Origin, the divine, the true nature, the Dao, the subtle emptiness of Heaven and Earth, Yin-Yang, the sun and moon, the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water), the Eight Trigrams (Bagua), and all things each have their own mystery.

Nothing can come into being without the Dao, and true nature cannot be established apart from it. Thus the Primordial Origin becomes primordial by attaining its subtlety; the divine becomes divine by attaining its subtlety; true nature becomes true through it; and the Dao becomes the Dao through its subtlety. This is precisely why true nature cannot be established apart from the Dao.

Heaven and Earth take shape by attaining their subtlety; Yin-Yang divides through it; the sun and moon shine through it; the Five Phases generate and overcome one another through it; and the Eight Trigrams shift and interact through it. All things, too, live and die because they contain this subtle principle. Thus nothing can be accomplished apart from the Dao.

“Utmost emptiness and utmost stillness”—I call this “emptiness and stillness.” The “wondrous beginning” is not some marvelous thing that can be grasped. The wondrous cannot be obtained; one can only realize the primordial beginning, the source of all things.

When emptiness reaches its utmost, nothing—whether existent or nonexistent—can hinder it. When stillness reaches its utmost, nothing—whether moving or still—can hinder it. If I call it “emptiness and stillness,” the mind forms an idea of “emptiness and stillness”: when faced with existence, it can no longer be called empty; when confronted with movement, it can no longer be called still. The wondrous beginning is not a marvelous thing that can be grasped. The wondrous cannot be obtained; one can only realize the primordial beginning. To understand that existence and nonexistence do not hinder emptiness, and movement and stillness do not hinder stillness, is to understand the Dao of the primordial beginning.

Chapter Four, sixty-four words.

What makes the primordial beginning primordial? What makes spirit spirit? What makes the Real real? What makes the Dao the Dao? What makes a name a name? I give it the name, reluctantly: “The wondrous has merged into my wondrous realm.”

Know the Origin and cling to the Origin, and the primordial beginning is no longer the Origin. Know spirit and cling to spirit, and the beginning of spirit is no longer spirit. Know the Real and cling to the Real, and the beginning of the Real is no longer the Real. Know the Dao and cling to the Dao, and the beginning of the Dao is no longer the Dao.

To know something and cling to that knowledge is to remain attached. Only by understanding that even “knowing” cannot be clung to can one attain the six penetrations, unhindered understanding. The precise meaning of the text’s “four openings” is unclear. Here, it says that this is within the Origin, yet cannot be confined by the Origin; within spirit, yet cannot be confined by spirit; within the Real, yet cannot be confined by the Real; and within the Dao, yet cannot be confined by the Dao. It has no name in its original state. Any name given to it is only a makeshift designation. Thus it is said: “The wondrous seems to appear, yet also seems impossible to find; the wondrous has merged into my wondrous realm.”

Thus, the wondrous gathers and becomes the Origin, disperses and becomes spirit, returns to oneness and becomes the Real, and undergoes myriad transformations to become the Dao. Clear Qi rises, turbid Qi descends, and Jing and hun—the subtle energies that constitute life and all things—spread throughout. All things arise through the Dao of transformation. Their appearances and forms develop to the utmost, then ultimately return to the wondrous.

The primordial beginning takes the wondrous as its substance. Thus, the Origin is the wondrous gathered together; spirit is the wondrous dispersed; the Real is the wondrous returned to oneness; and the Dao is the wondrous in transformation. Further on, Yin and Yang divide, turbid Qi descends and clear Qi rises, Jing and hun spread throughout, and all things take shape. All of this arises from the wondrous. All things first emerge from the wondrous and pass through countless transformations. Plants and trees, insects, and water, fire, earth, and wood—all forms and bodies come from the wondrous. All things arise in accordance with the natural Dao, and the Dao is fulfilled through returning to the source. If people can begin with their own bodies and return to the source, they too can reach the wondrous realm.

At the utmost point of their development, all things arise from the Mysterious. They first emerge from the Mysterious and change to the limit: plants, insects, and all forms of water, fire, earth, and wood are manifestations of the Mysterious. All things grow in accordance with the natural order; the Dao, by contrast, comes to fulfillment through returning to the source. If people can begin with their own visible forms and return to the source, they too can reach the realm of the Mysterious.

I begin from the Mysterious. In its realm, the myriad spirits have no workings that can be called numinous, the myriad methods have no fixed names, and the myriad realms do not arise through causes and conditions. This does not mean they are not numinous; rather, the numinous spirits of the Mysterious reveal no traces that can be observed. It does not mean the myriad methods have no names; rather, the Mysterious methods have no basis from which names could take shape. Nor does it mean the myriad realms do not exist at all; rather, the realms of the Mysterious do not depend on causes and conditions to appear. The Mysterious does not stand in opposition to itself; hence it is called “solitary.”

The numinous responsiveness of the Mysterious Spirit has no fixed form because spirit has no fixed place. The methods of the Mysterious have no names because method itself is never fixed. The realms of the Mysterious have no graspable substance because they rely on no external conditions. The mystery of the Primordial Beginning is clear and still, naturally manifest, yet with no object that can be seen. It has no fixed laws or names and transcends all arising and passing away. Since signs and forms do not arise, conditions cannot come together; therefore no worldly forms can be established from it. It is purely luminous and mysterious, opposed to nothing; hence it is called “solitary.”

It has no generations of descendants to carry on its line, nor any point at which its beginning or end is cut off; therefore it is said to be “without lineage.” Its comings and goings continue without end, and its bounds cannot be known; therefore it is said to be “without a gate.” All things return to the Primordial Beginning, yet no one can see how that which governs all things actually governs them.

It has no distinction between generations before and after, and its continuity is endless; therefore it is said to be “without lineage.” Its comings and goings continue without end, and its bounds are unknown; therefore it is said to be “without a gate.” Though it governs all things, and all things return to it, no one can see what enables it to govern them.

I begin from the Mysterious: it is still and soundless, empty, vast, and deep, continuing without end, clear and tranquil, boundless in expanse. I do not know how it came to be, so I call it the “Way of Long Life.”

Where there is life, there is death. Only what has never been born can be called long-lived. The mystery of the Primordial Beginning did not come into being through any arising, so I do not know where it came from. I see only its stillness and emptiness; this is its quietude. It continues without end; this is its enduring nature. It is clear and tranquil; this is its presence. It is boundless in expanse; this is its vastness. Therefore I call it the “Way of Long Life.”

The natural state—the state of things happening of themselves—is not the same as the mysterious, and the mysterious is not the same as the natural. My origin lies in the mysterious. Above it there is neither brightness nor darkness; it is indistinct and hard to discern. Below it there is neither darkness nor brightness; it is equally indistinct and hard to discern. Above and below blend into one another, all within the mysterious. Within the mysterious there is both a hazy presence and a vague absence: neither a definite image nor a definite thing.

“Natural” can be used to describe the Dao (the Way), but the Dao is not the same as the natural. Why? The natural has a fixed form, while the Dao has no fixed form. If the Dao were taken to be the natural, it would not bring forth the myriad things. If the myriad things were taken to be the natural, they would not change and return to the Dao. Thus it is said: “The natural is not the same as the mysterious, and the mysterious is not the same as the natural.”

The mystery of the Original Beginning, one of the highest gods revered in Daoism, lies between being and nonbeing. “Huang” means to appear, to exist; “hu” means to vanish, to be empty. When the mysterious reaches its utmost, it is so vast that its brightness cannot be seen. It appears as being, then quietly returns to nonbeing; hence the saying, “Vague, then indistinct.” When its subtlety reaches its utmost, it is so minute that its darkness cannot be seen. It first rests in nonbeing, then appears as being; hence the saying, “Indistinct, then vague.” Vague and indistinct, it blends and moves between being and nonbeing, sharing with above and below the same place within the mysterious. Thus it is said: “Mysteriously vague, mysteriously indistinct: neither image nor thing.”

My origin is vast, and vast again; within the mysterious it is indistinct and then vague, neither a thing nor an image. My origin is wondrous, and wondrous again, deep and remote, neither the concept of the mysterious nor a tangible thing. My origin is real, and real again, deep and remote, between being and nonbeing, returning with above and below to the mysterious. Thus it is said: “Mysteriously vague, mysteriously indistinct: neither image nor thing.”

My origin is vast, and vast again; within the mysterious it is indistinct and then vague, neither a thing nor an image. My origin is wondrous, and wondrous again, deep and remote, neither the mysterious nor a bodily form. My origin is real, and real again, deep and remote, neither a bodily form nor the mysterious. My origin is the Dao; within the Dao’s subtle essence lies what is real. This is the Dao of nature.

Yuan, Shen, and Zhen are different levels through which the “wondrous” manifests, but they do not yet fully reveal its essential nature. None is a concrete object or has a fixed form; all remain in a hazy, profound state that is difficult to grasp. Only at the level of the Dao do Jing and Zhen begin to appear. The Dao is neither obscure nor indistinct, yet it has not departed from its natural nature. As things descend from the Dao, Jing and Qi disperse and transform into physical forms, while true nature descends and becomes the myriad things. Once the myriad things have come into being, the Dao’s natural nature is lost.

The Dao takes nature itself as its model; nature itself is the true Dao. “True” names nature’s own character. The “five mouths” do not know what nature is. This phrase seems to refer to the mouths of the five sense organs, suggesting that people cannot know nature’s true meaning through speech.

“Naturalness” is what is real; what is called “true” is the natural Dao. That is why it is said, “The Dao follows what is natural.” Yet although the Dao’s naturalness and the naturalness of the myriad things share the same name, they have different meanings.

People commonly understand “naturalness” as the fixed, unchanging state of things. Confused and unaware, they cling to things’ existence and take this to be naturalness. Without discerning its foundation, this understanding instead obscures the Great Dao, so the sage sets it aside. This is what the opening chapter means when it says, “Naturalness is not the subtle; the subtle is not naturalness”: the naturalness spoken of in ordinary usage is merely the state in which things appear unchanging.

The Dao’s naturalness is its own unchanging nature as it brings the myriad things into being. The naturalness people speak of, by contrast, is only the way each thing appears. A swan is white and a crow is black, for example. People do not know why the swan is white or the crow is black; they simply take these states as how the birds are by nature. If some other force makes them this way, then it cannot be said to come wholly from within them. People call what does not arise from within a thing natural, and call what is not its inherent nature its inherent nature. This is why the sage avoids such claims.

The sage understands the Great Dao’s capacity to adapt and change, and also understands the nature of naturalness. Yet when speaking of the Great Dao, the sage still says, “I do not know its naturalness.” This is because the moment one holds the thought “I know it,” one is deliberately making it so, and it is no longer natural. How much less can the Great Dao be fathomed through worldly reasoning and deluded speculation?

The True follows the spirit; the spirit follows the Origin; the Origin follows the subtle. The subtle has no trace or fixed method, and is therefore the root of all methods. Only by clinging to nothing can one become a method; one must not fix the Origin, spirit, True, Dao, or even “nothing” and “something” as any particular thing. Upon reaching the realm of the utmost subtlety, one enters the subtlety of the Primordial Beginning.

As long as there is still something serving as a basis, one has not yet reached the root. Thus, the True still takes the spirit as its model; the spirit still takes the Origin as its model; and the Origin still takes the Subtle as its model. Only upon reaching the Utmost Subtle is there nothing left to take as a model. Precisely because it takes nothing as a model, it is the root of all things. Seen in this light, there is neither a model nor the Origin, spirit, the True, or the Dao; even nonbeing and being do not hold. Only those who realize the Subtle principle can understand this. Thus, a verse in the Record of the Teachings of the Buddha says: “The Dharma originally takes no Dharma as its Dharma; yet what has no Dharma may still be called Dharma. Now I transmit to you what has no Dharma: where among the many Dharmas is there truly any fixed Dharma?”

Chapter Seven (One Hundred and Twenty Words)

The realm of the Utmost Subtle has no interruption, no beginning, no boundary, no limit, no bounds, and no end. To say it has “no interruption” does not mean there is some separate “no interruption” to cling to. To say it has “no beginning” likewise does not mean there is some separate “no beginning” to cling to. The same holds for having no boundary, no limit, no bounds, and no end.

To have no interruption means that no break in it can be seen; to have no beginning means that no starting point can be seen; to have no boundary means that no upper limit can be seen. Nor can its having no limit, no bounds, or no end be defined by relative measures.

Since no interruption can be seen, the Dao cannot be described as either “broken” or “continuous,” and so one cannot say that there is a “no interruption.” Since no beginning can be seen, the Dao cannot be explained in terms of before and after, and so one cannot say that there is a “no beginning.” Since no upper limit can be seen, the Dao cannot be explained in terms of above and below, and so one cannot say that there is a “no boundary.” Likewise, the Dao transcends distinctions such as beginning and end, boundaries, and breadth and narrowness. Therefore, “limitless,” “boundless,” and “endless” cannot be treated as fixed descriptions of the Dao. All the words in the world would not suffice to explain the Dao; therefore, the Great Dao has no name.

What I call a beginning in fact has no end. Yet explaining it in terms of breadth and narrowness is still insufficient to name the Dao, so one must not cling to the expression “having no end.” All the words in the world would not suffice to explain the Dao; therefore, the Great Dao has no name.

What I call a beginning without end is the unity of being and nonbeing. What I call a beginning without boundaries is the complete blending of all things in the Great Subtlety (the profound and mysterious realm of the Origin). Within the four quarters of Heaven and Earth, things great and small alike return to the Subtle principle. The Subtle principle moves between what is great and what is small; who, then, can see its true substance?

What is called “without limit” is not merely empty and boundless. Nothing and something must share the same substance, so that the void and the solid flow through one another; only then is it without limit. What is called “without boundary” is not merely immense. It must merge with the profoundly subtle, so that the vast and the minute are no longer distinct; only then is it without boundary. Thus, from the heavens and earth in their vastness, to the Six Directions (the four quarters above and below), to the immensity of empty space and the minuteness of a speck of dust, all are one and the same mystery. The mysterious can therefore move in and out of heaven and earth, rest within a speck of dust, travel throughout empty space, and support the Six Directions. Who can know its substance? Who can exhaust its mystery?

I call it formless, soundless, and nameless. I also say: even as minute as dust, it is still one mystery. Thus the mysterious can move in and out of heaven and earth, rest within a speck of dust, travel throughout empty space, and support the Six Directions. Who can know its substance? Who can exhaust its mystery?

I call it formless, soundless, and nameless. The mysterious has an initial mystery, an intermediate mystery, and the mystery of the Three Nothings, a realm in which form, sound, and name cannot be grasped. My Primordial Supreme Dao, the original and highest Dao, is what is called the utmost bliss. The mysterious moves through a realm that encompasses all things, reaching the end together with heaven, earth, and the myriad things; yet even at its utmost, it is not exhausted.

Because it does not take form as form, it is formless; because it does not take sound as sound, it is soundless; because it does not take a name as a name, it is nameless. The mysterious has no fixed order, yet it can enter all things. As for its levels, there are the initial mystery and the intermediate mystery, while at the highest point is the mystery of the Three Nothings. This is the utmost bliss of the Primordial Supreme Dao. The mysterious encompasses and contains everything, reaching the end together with heaven, earth, and the myriad things; but the mysterious itself has no end, so it is said to reach its utmost without being exhausted.

Chapter Eight, forty-four characters.

The mysterious reaches the end together with heaven, earth, and the myriad things, but the “nothing” I speak of has no end. The mysterious begins together with heaven, earth, and the myriad things, but the “nothing” I speak of has no beginning. De (the manifestation and function of the Dao) moves within it; Heaven encompasses all things and reaches the end together with heaven, earth, and the myriad things. Yet the mysterious itself has no end, so it is said to reach its utmost without being exhausted.

Chapter Eight, forty-four characters.

The mysterious reaches the end together with heaven, earth, and the myriad things, but the “nothing” I speak of has no end; the mysterious begins together with heaven, earth, and the myriad things, but the “nothing” I speak of has no beginning. De moves within it, and heaven, earth, and the myriad things can no longer be observed through their outward forms. De moves into the utmost mystery and again joins with all things.

The Mystery shares an end with all things, yet the Mystery itself has no end. It shares a beginning with all things, yet the Mystery itself has no beginning. The Mystery moves through all things, but all things cannot know it. Thus, “the roaming of De” is spoken of from the standpoint of all things. When a perfected person realizes the Mystery and moves through all things, this is called “roaming in the Mystery.” When all things receive the Mystery, allowing it to be present within them, this is called “the roaming of De.” All things are subject to decay, but the Mystery is not; thus the Mystery changes and comes and goes together with all things.

Chapter Nine, forty-two characters

Roaming in the Mystery knows no obstruction; roaming in the Origin knows no sensory distinctions; roaming in spirit has no fixed place; roaming in truth is untouched by change; roaming in the Dao has no form; roaming in De has no name; and roaming among all things knows no separation. This is called roaming together with all things. Through this, the principles of life and death are fully understood.

The Mystery, the Origin, spirit, truth, and the Dao are all names for the Dao. Only one who can move through these five can be said to embody the Dao. The Dao is the true nature inherent in me; it is called “the beginning of the Origin.” Roaming in the Mystery, one meets no obstruction; roaming in the Origin, one makes no sensory distinctions; roaming in spirit, one is not confined by place; roaming in truth, one is untouched by change; roaming in the Dao, one has no fixed form.

When one moves further down into De, it cannot be described by the name “De” alone. And when one enters the subtle depths and moves among all things, they cannot divide one from them. In refined communion with the Mystery, one cannot be seen; appearing among the manifest things, one cannot be concealed. This is why a perfected person can pass in and out of life and death, and regard them as ordinary as morning and evening.

End of Volume One of Commentary on the Scripture of Primordial Origin’s Teaching on the Precelestial Dao and De.

Volume Two of Commentary on the Scripture of Primordial Origin’s Teaching on the Precelestial Dao and De

The Origin Section: The Chapter of a Thousand Words

Chapter One, one hundred and fifty-nine characters

The Mystery joins with the Origin, and the Origin in turn joins with the Mystery; spirit joins with the Origin, and the Origin in turn joins with spirit; truth joins with the Origin, and the Origin in turn joins with truth; the Dao joins with the Origin, and the Origin in turn joins with the Dao; De joins with the Origin, and the Origin in turn joins with De. The two kinds of Origin-De…

Commentary on the Scripture of Primordial Origin’s Teaching on the Precelestial Dao and De, Volume Two

The Origin Section: The Chapter of a Thousand Words

Chapter One, one hundred and fifty-nine characters

The mysterious and the Origin—the first source of things—merge with one another; the spirit and the Origin merge; the Real and the Origin merge; the Dao and the Origin merge; and De and the Origin merge. When the De of the Origin returns once more to the mysterious, it joins with all things.

The Mysterious, the Origin, the Spirit, the Real, and the Dao each represent a distinct level, reflecting the depth of a practitioner’s cultivation of the Dao. The “mystery of the Origin” discussed here is not “mystery” in its ordinary sense. Nor are the “spirit of the Origin,” the “Real of the Origin,” the “Dao of the Origin,” and the “De of the Origin” the spirit, the Real, the Dao, and De as these terms are usually understood. Ordinary people move from De as it disperses and flows into all things; the Realized Person returns through De to the root, to the mysterious. The Dao and all things turn back toward one another, and all things, in turn, return to the Dao. Thus, following this process leads one to become an ordinary person, while reversing it leads one back to the Dao.

The “Origin” is not a fixed entity, but the mysterious beginning that precedes the emergence of form. Nor does “form” arise on its own from nothing: it takes shape within a state of undifferentiated fusion. The mysterious Origin is dim and difficult to discern, yet suddenly shows signs; it is subtle and elusive, yet suddenly takes shape as things. Deep and obscure within things and their signs, Jing and Qi suddenly appear. Within Jing and Qi lies the spirit of the beginning, and so the Original Nature suddenly comes into view. This is form within the formless, light within simplicity: it has no fixed shape, yet it displays forms and signs.

The “Origin” is called the Origin not because it is itself an entity, but because it is the point at which the mysterious begins to appear as form. “Form” takes shape not because it possesses a fixed form of its own, but because it emerges from what is undifferentiated. The Dao appears from the mysterious as the Origin and begins to take on a dim, elusive state; hence the phrase “the shape of the shapeless, the image of the imageless.”

The “Origin” is not what we usually mean by something visible or tangible. It is the beginning of the image of the mysterious and profound. Form does not arise from a fixed shape that existed from the outset; it takes shape within an undivided whole. The Dao emerges from mystery as the Origin. At first, all is indistinct and hard to discern. Thus, within the wondrous Origin, images suddenly appear amid the indistinctness; within that same indistinctness, the myriad things suddenly appear. Images and things emerge in a place deep and unfathomable, where the most subtle and pure presence exists. When Jing and Qi are complete, they become Shen; when Shen returns to unity, it becomes the Real. The Real and Shen gather together to form the substance of the Origin.

The substance of the Origin has brightness and color, as well as images and shapes. These colors and brightness, shapes and images, were already present in our original nature of Wuwei; they were not fashioned by human effort. Later, as the mind stirs even slightly, it takes in images from the world of dust and sense. These images accumulate, forming the senses and attachments, and people lose their original image and brightness. The perfected person, whose cultivation has reached a profound level, completely transcends the pull of the senses and external things and returns to the primordial brightness. Then they see color without form: plain and simple, yet containing light; they see shape without outline and image without form.

The vast image of the Origin is a subtle light hidden within emptiness and stillness. The sound of the Origin’s harmonious Qi can be heard only by the Origin itself; the Origin’s body can be seen only by the Origin itself.

The image of the Origin is not the image of any concrete thing. Empty and still, vast and suffused with hidden light, it cannot be glimpsed by the myriad things. Thus only the Origin can hear the resonance of its harmonious Qi, and only the Origin can see the form of its image.

The Origin within the Origin is the ancestor of the myriad Real Ones and the source of the myriad things. It existed before emperors and the Dao; it is the beginning of the Dao and the fundamental order underlying all images. I began within the Origin of origins, arising from the Origin’s fundamental order. Returning to where I began, I can no longer see even an “I.” If we ask why this beginning is called “my Origin,” it is both beginning and end. This is the Origin of the Origin’s order.

The subtle root is originally invisible. Only when the Origin (the Daoist term for the Dao from which all things first arise) appears do visible signs begin to emerge. Thus the “Origin of the Origin” is called the true ancestor and source. The Primordial Sovereign, before the Dao began (the moment before the Dao and Heaven and Earth had manifested, when their manifestation was about to begin), marks the first appearance of signs. When the Dao’s movement reaches this point, only the faintest trace has just begun to show. So I begin with the “Origin,” and gradually take on forms that can be described. Though these forms gradually become manifest, in the end they still return to the beginning. I do not yet know my own beginning, much less that of other things. This is called “the Origin of the Origin Era, from beginning to end.”

“From beginning to end” means that the Great Dao abides in the state of the primal Origin, and so is given the name “beginning.” When things reach their end, they are exhausted. But the Origin of the Origin Era begins in the Origin, ends in the Origin, and returns to the Origin; thus the Origins follow one another without end. This is “the Origin of the Origin Era,” with neither beginning nor end.

Chapter Two, 114 characters

The Origin of the Origin (the supreme primal Origin) is the Embryonic Light (the primordial light that nurtures all things). It is the beginning of the Nine Origins and the source from which the Eight Trigrams emerged. The Embryonic Light arises from the primal Origin; its radiance is abundant and brilliant, yet elusive and difficult to grasp. The Origin of the Origin reveals the first light, wondrously bringing forth the truly existing things of the world.

The Perfected One (a person who has awakened to the Dao) gives rise to primordial Qi from the mysterious and subtle, and gradually reveals a luminous vision. One of the human being’s Three Hun souls is called Fetal Light, so “Primordial Primordial” refers to Fetal Light. Counting proceeds from one to nine; at ten, it begins again from one. Thus nine is the limit of the great numbers. Since all nine numbers begin with “Primordial,” they are called the “Nine Primordials,” and the beginning of the Nine Primordials is one.

Before the Eight Trigrams appeared, Heaven and Earth were the source of Yin-Yang. In the I Jing, this is called Taiji; in the Qian trigram, it is called the Origin; in the human body, it corresponds to Fetal Light. Fetal Light begins with primordial Qi: its light is abundant and radiant, yet indistinct and elusive. These words all describe the first appearance of light in primordial Qi. Once things begin to reveal this light, they lose the foundation of the Great Dao. Buddhist texts call this state “Primordial Illumination,” and so it is called “Primordial Illumination” here as well. As soon as light shines, it produces the scene that it illuminates. Once that scene takes shape, it reflects light in return, and human nature is thereby lost from view.

The Perfected One, by contrast, begins with wondrous Nonbeing—a mysterious, formless state—and manifests as wondrous Being, a mysterious yet real existence. What manifests downward from the mysterious becomes a comparatively coarse and visible Dao. The wondrous that arises from primordial Qi, however, belongs to a numinous realm. This is the difference between the two, which is why it is said, “The wondrous gives rise to true Being.”

Primordial Qi sometimes appears and sometimes lies hidden, like a tiny pearl the size of a millet grain containing a vast vision. It sometimes rises and sometimes vanishes, like a tiny millet-sized pearl containing immense things. Through its vast vision, the Origin embraces the myriad forms; through its immense things, it swallows all things.

When the myriad things develop to the stage of having form, they give rise to real existence.

Primordial Qi sometimes appears and sometimes lies hidden, like a tiny pearl the size of a millet grain containing a vast vision. It sometimes rises and sometimes vanishes, like a tiny millet-sized pearl containing immense things. Through its vast vision, the Origin embraces the myriad forms; through its immense things, it swallows all things.

Once things acquire a concrete form, the large cannot be folded into the small, nor can the small contain the large. The Origin (the source, the root) arises from nature and has not yet entered the realm of formed things; therefore, it can appear and disappear. It is like the dream spirit traveling within a person’s body: in a dream, it can contain the earth, mountains, and rivers, while clearly revealing all kinds of people and things. If we understand things only in terms of physical form, even two grains of millet could not contain one another. But if we understand them in terms of nature, it is hardly surprising that a vast scene can appear within a bright pearl no larger than a grain of millet. The “Great Image” (the Dao’s vast manifestation) has no fixed form, and so can contain the myriad forms; the “Great Thing” is no concrete object, and so can contain all things. The sages explained this principle and often revealed wondrous visions to enlighten later generations. Some sought through these revelations to break the shallow view that clings to outward forms, but those with even shallower understanding saw them merely as supernatural transformations. Others then suspected them of being bizarre illusions. Perhaps this is why Buddhists look down on worldly opinions and keep their distance from them.

“Within the image is an image; within the Origin is an Origin; within a thing is a thing; the One is not merely one.”

To say “within the image is an image” means that the Origin is not merely the Origin. To say “within a thing is a thing” means that the One is not merely one. Why? The wondrous efficacy of the Origin can transform things that have not yet attained the Origin, causing them to change along with it. The wondrous efficacy of the One can bring things that have not yet attained the One into accord with it. Thus, within the image is an image, within the Origin is an Origin, within a thing is a thing, and the One is not merely one.

“Within the image is an image” means that the Origin is not merely the Origin; “within a thing is a thing” means that the One is not merely one. Why? The wondrous efficacy of the Origin can transform things that have not yet attained the Origin, causing them to change along with it. The wondrous efficacy of the One can bring things that have not yet attained the One into accord with it. This is how the sage brings both himself and the myriad things to fulfillment. A vast scene is concealed within a bright pearl no larger than a grain of millet, yet however vast that scene may be, it may not have fully attained the state of the Origin. Though it has not yet attained the Origin, the sage can apply his own Origin to it, causing it too to change along with the Origin.

It is like Li Guang, who shot a tiger without knowing that he had hit a stone, and Zhou Chu, who slew a flood dragon without knowing that he had struck water. Through the single-minded force of their resolve, even stone and water seemed to transform along with them. How much more, then, can the sage, who possesses the mysterious Origin, bring things into transformation? Thus it is said: “The Origin is not merely the Origin; the One is not merely one.”

The Origin within the Origin Image (the image manifested by the source) contains brightness naturally and spontaneously. The Origin within the Origin (the source deep within the source) gives birth to brightness. This is what I call the “image.”

At the beginning of the Great Beginning, the light of nature lay concealed within. Buddhists call it “Awakened Clarity” (awareness that is clear); Daoists call it “Fetal Light” (the innate numinous light at life’s beginning). The Awakened Clarity of Buddhism is a “realm” toward which awareness is directed; the Fetal Light of Daoism is an “image,” a subtle form of manifestation. Once awareness in one’s original nature clings to clear perception, something can be pointed to. Once the fetal source—the root of life—begins to shine, it appears as a subtle image. Deluded thoughts arise from attachment to awakened clarity; when awareness releases its grasp on forms, the body takes shape. When Fetal Light loses its radiance, Buddhism uses the clarity of Awakened Clarity to describe freedom from attachment, while Daoism uses the light of Fetal Light to describe the subtlety of images. The “image” of the subtle image and the “clarity” of Awakened Clarity are the root of the Dao.

The true source of all things lies before the Primordial Mother, the mother of the origin. The Dao is born from the Dao; I cannot say that it is born from itself. My own source comes from the Mother of the Primordial Origin.

The true source of all things is not the original “Origin.” Only after the Original Subtlety comes first does the Origin arise; hence the phrase “before the Primordial Mother.” The Primordial Mother refers to the “Subtle.” The Subtle gives rise to the Origin, and the Origin descends in successive layers to give rise to the Dao. To say “the Dao is born” means that the Origin gives rise to the Real, the Real gives rise to Shen (spirit), and only after Shen appears does the Dao arise. Even at the level of the Dao, further downward evolution is needed before all things come into being.

If we trace how all things come into being, we find that they are not born from themselves. If we ask further about their source, we must trace it back to the Mother of the Primordial Origin—the root beginning of the Subtle—before all things can come into being. The “Subtle” is the ever-present root of the beginning: it cannot be grasped, and it is neither born nor does it die.

Chapter Three (One Hundred Characters)

Fetal Light connects with the Primordial Origin; the Primordial Origin is also Fetal Light. I begin from the Primordial Origin. Shen (the subtle activity of spirit) cannot be seen or heard, nor can it encounter other Shen, and so it cannot be grasped. Because it differs from things that can ordinarily be perceived, it is through the level of Shen that the beginning of all things can be known.

At the beginning, the Fetal Light—the innate spiritual awareness present from before birth—has no perceptible signs and makes no sound. Each knows inwardly, yet none can meet another. This is why it is said, “spirits do not encounter one another.” Here, “different” means that each being has its own distinct nature; the same is true of all things.

All things fail to govern themselves because their spiritual awareness is incomplete and they are drawn along by external things. At that stage, although they have not yet come into contact with sound, color, smell, or taste, the six kinds of discriminating awareness—those arising from the eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, and mind—are already present within the Fetal Light. The perfected person takes inner spiritual awareness as the master. The six kinds of awareness therefore do not turn with the sensory body or external conditions; instead, they are all governed by spiritual awareness and unite as a single, clear intelligence. In ordinary people, inner spiritual awareness cannot fully illuminate things, and the most deeply attached of the six kinds of awareness are the first to be affected by external conditions. Once one sense encounters the outside world, the others are stained in turn, leading them deeper into the cycle of life and death, while the Fetal Light grows ever weaker. Thus it is said that discriminating perception begins only after spiritual awareness.

“I” begins in the Primordial Origin, dwelling in the wondrous Heaven Beyond Direction, a subtle realm without location. It absorbs radiance and transforms it into a wondrous realm. The Primordial Origin is the beginning of “I.” The Wondrous Mother, the source that gives birth to all things, opens the gateway and receives radiance to sustain the Original Qi. Its workings are beyond comprehension, in a state of indistinctness, while the Dao continues without end.

Mencius said, “Fully develop your heart-mind, and you can know your nature; know your nature, and you can know Heaven.” In Mencius’s account, beyond the heart-mind there is nature, and beyond nature there is Heaven. The Yijing says, “Exhaust the principles of things, fully know your nature, and thereby reach Heaven’s mandate.” In the Yijing’s account, beyond principle there is nature, and beyond nature there is the mandate. The “Heaven” of Mencius is the “mandate” of the Yijing.

Among the sages of antiquity, some called this state “seeing the Unique”; others called it “the land of Nothingness.” The language of the world can express little more than this. But where, exactly, is this so-called “Heaven”? And what, exactly, is this so-called “mandate”?

This scripture also calls it the “wondrous Heaven without fixed direction”—a Heaven with no fixed location, mysterious and unfathomable. It seems to gestate light within the primordial depths and shine by itself. I do not know where it is, nor do I know its boundaries. If it is not the wondrous Heaven without fixed direction, what is it? When the dusty roots dissolve, it draws in light and transforms it into mystery; its divine workings cannot be fathomed. From it arise the many mysteries, and so it is called the “Wondrous Mother.” It opens the gate, rides the light, and carries on the primordial beginning; the myriad spirits arise from it of themselves. Its workings lie in a dim and elusive realm, beyond grasping. The Great Dao extends without end and cannot be cut off. If it is not the most wondrous presence under Heaven, who could attain such a state?

It neither takes nor rejects. It makes no deliberate effort; everything follows its own course. I do not know how this naturalness comes about of itself. The Qi of the Primordial Beginning arises and blends into unity; when mystery reaches its utmost point, nothing is sought or grasped. This is the natural Dao of the Primordial Beginning.

Within the primordial depths, it draws in light and transforms it into mystery, and the myriad spirits arise in a blended unity. In the elusive realm, it rides the light and moves onward, and the mysterious presence unfolds from it. This is neither abandoning “nonbeing” to take up “being,” nor abandoning “being” to take up “nonbeing”: it is all the working of Wuwei (non-action) and naturalness. We do not know how it comes about or why it is as it is; it blends into unity at the primordial beginning, and at the utmost point of mystery nothing is sought or gained. Thus it is called the “natural Dao of the Primordial Beginning.” In this way, mystery is both the beginning and the mystery itself.

Chapter Four, 126 characters in all.

Clear and turbid intermingle and blend; Yin-Yang returns to the same primordial beginning. It was not originally clear, yet it appears as clear; the clarity of the primordial beginning gives rise to turbidity. It was not originally turbid, yet it appears as turbid; the turbidity of the primordial beginning gives rise to clarity. It was not originally Yin…

The clear and the turbid intermingle, and Yin and Yang arise together from a single source. The source is not clear, yet it can give rise to clarity; within its primordial clarity, turbidity also arises. The source is not turbid, yet it can give rise to turbidity; within its primordial turbidity, clarity also arises. It is neither Yin nor Yang, yet it can give rise to both. This is the Primordial Dao—the Dao of the source before things have differentiated: Yin and Yang arise together, and the clear and the turbid cannot yet be distinguished. The same is true of primordial clarity and primordial turbidity, and of Yin and Yang.

“Primordial” refers to the moment when the clear and the turbid have just begun to intermingle, before Yin and Yang have differentiated, when all things still share a single source. The Book of Changes says, “One Yin and one Yang are called the Dao.” Here, “one Yin and one Yang” refers to Yin and Yang before they have separated. Only after the Dao of the source comes goodness; with goodness comes nature; and only once nature is established do things take shape. There is no case in which nature has yet to form but goodness has already formed. Thus, the “Dao” and “goodness” spoken of in the Book of Changes both precede the formation of things; they do not refer to distinctions between good and evil.

When the clear and the turbid intermingle and Yin and Yang arise together from the source, they are neither clear nor turbid, neither Yin nor Yang. They meet through their nature, not through physical form. Thus, primordial clarity contains turbidity, and primordial turbidity contains clarity; primordial Yang contains Yin, and primordial Yin contains Yang. This is like water and fire, which do not exclude one another. Since the clear and the turbid share one source, and Yin and Yang arise together, who could clearly tell them apart?

The subtle image is the image of the source; the subtle sound is the sound of the source. Sound and image cannot be grasped, yet they are the root of all things and the seat of their wondrous nature. When I speak of “the One,” I do not mean a clearly defined one, but the One that has not yet appeared. When I speak of the “Primordial,” I do not mean a source that has already settled into a fixed form, but one that has not yet become manifest or assumed a constant state.

Only those capable of hearing can hear the subtle sound and only those capable of seeing can see the subtle image. Its sound and image are not the concrete sights and sounds that people ordinarily perceive. It is therefore the root of all things and the seat of their wondrous nature—that is how it is while still in its primordial state.

Subtle images and sounds can be seen and heard only by those capable of perceiving them inwardly. Their sounds and images are unlike those that people ordinarily see and hear. They are therefore the root of all things and the source of their spiritual nature. To call this “Origin” is to speak of the beginning of number, the ancestor of the One; yet its substance has not been revealed, and the “One” has not appeared. To call it the beginning of form and the constant foundation is to speak of what is not yet visible in form, and whose constancy has not yet manifested as constancy. The sages experienced this state for themselves and called it “the Nameless.”

The “Primordial One” (the original unity) contains the subtle Dao. Subtle primordial Qi flows and transforms into light. The flowing light, in turn, contains primordial Qi: this is the state of subtle, primordial constancy. I call it the “Dao of Primordial Constancy,” meaning that the Dao moves in accordance with primordial constancy.

Qi, form, and number exist within “subtle existence” (a subtle, extraordinary mode of being). It cannot simply be called either existent or nonexistent: flowing light transforms into Qi, Qi congeals into form, and form appears as number. The perfected ones of antiquity experienced “subtle nonbeing” for themselves, from which “subtle existence” emerged. They were not without Qi, form, or number, yet these cannot ultimately be counted as “existence” in the ordinary sense. The Qi transformed from flowing light does not arise from the interaction of Yin-Yang; the form made from subtle Qi is not assembled from various materials; and the number revealed through form cannot be worked out by counting one, two, and so on.

Thus, when it gathers inward, it returns to the Great Void (the vast, empty source); when it appears, it becomes subtle existence. It can divide into forms, disperse primordial Qi, and transform into countless shapes without thereby increasing. It can gather in shadows, draw in its light, and conceal its forms without thereby diminishing. This is the state of subtle, primordial constancy—the Dao moving in accordance with primordial constancy—and so it cannot be exhausted by words or inquiry.

Chapter Five, 166 characters in all.

The mystery of Yin-Yang and the depths of the clear and turbid depend on one another; thus the primordial Dao comes into being.

Yin-Yang emerge from a single source, and this is called “subtle.” The clear and the turbid blend with each other, and this is called “obscure.” Yin-Yang communicate through Qi; the clear and the turbid intermingle through form. Subtle Qi returns to Qi-less-ness, and subtle form returns to formlessness. Hence it is said that the depths and the mystery depend on one another.

The Origin contains the myriad images, and the myriad images contain the Origin. The myriad images generate the Origin, and the Origin, in turn, generates the myriad images.

The primal source (the origin of all things) contains the myriad forms, yet has no fixed shape. The myriad forms arise from the primal source, yet it is not any particular thing. Those of ancient times who attained the highest level of cultivation looked inward with sincere minds and came to understand that the principles of all things were already present within themselves. When the heart-mind attained balance and harmony, Heaven and Earth each found their proper place, and the myriad things could grow. All this was contained within their own balance and harmony.

The Buddhist term “mind-made body” refers to a body that appears in accordance with thought; it is not made by some creator. The Daoist phrase “the eight radiances of numinous light” describes a blending from which the many gods arise. They appear in accordance with thought, swift and unhindered. Every kind comes into being at once, and nothing is absent; their number is beyond counting. This is what it means for the primal source to ceaselessly give rise to the myriad forms.

Spirit does not claim to be divine; the Real does not proclaim itself real; the Dao does not know itself as the Dao. My primal source begins in Nonbeing: the Dao conceals itself and reveals no name; the Real conceals itself and reveals no form; Spirit conceals itself and reveals no wonders. My spirit is Shuangling, “Clear Numinous”; my Real is Youjing, “Hidden Essence.” Spirit conceals its wonders and thereby reaches the utmost divinity; the Real conceals its form and thereby reaches the utmost reality; the Dao conceals its name and thereby reaches the utmost Dao. These three “nothings”—Spirit, the Real, and the Dao—together form the primal source.

“Primordial Oneness” is mysterious because it makes no distinctions between awareness, form, and name: Shen is hidden within the unaware, the True within the formless, and the Dao within the nameless. Thus, within the unaware there is True Shen; within the formless, the True True; and within the nameless, the True Dao. Taken together, these are called the “Three Withouts,” and they make up “Primordial Oneness.”

The five sections set out in this book are not arranged in a sequence deliberately devised by the sages. At the level of the Dao, the “Mysterious” is the utmost realm of the sages; in human life, it is the soul’s beginning. It is neither an image nor a concrete thing, and is not bound by death or birth. It is my source: this is what is called the “Mysterious.”

“Primordial Oneness” comes after the “Mysterious,” corresponding in human beings to fetal light, one aspect of the soul. “Shen” comes after “Primordial Oneness,” corresponding to clear spirit; “True” comes after “Shen,” corresponding to hidden essence. These are also what people call the three souls. Below them is the “Dao.” As one descends from the Dao, human nature and life gradually take shape, and the body comes into being as well.

The Book of Changes says, “Essence and Qi form things; wandering souls bring about transformation.” When essence and Qi gather, things acquire substance and form. Since whatever takes shape must eventually decay, the body cannot endure. The soul, however, roams within the body; when the body is destroyed, the soul does not perish. That is why the Book of Changes calls it “transformation.” The sages of antiquity used these words to enlighten the world with profound clarity.

Thus, the “Mysterious” is above the soul, while the “Dao” is below it: the Mysterious precedes the soul, whereas the Dao is the level the soul occupies after descending from above. Sages do not stop at what lies below the Dao, and ordinary people cannot reach what lies above it. Ordinary people pass through birth and death without end because the Dao descends and becomes the po, the bodily soul; as the po grows strong, the hun, or spirit soul, weakens. The sages’ hun grows strong and their po fades, so they can roam together with the Dao. Ordinary people’s po grows strong and their hun weakens, so they decay along with the body.

From this, we can see that the three souls are Primordial Oneness, Shen, and the True; the seven po are joy, anger, sorrow, fear, love, aversion, and desire. When the hun is whole, one becomes an immortal; when the po takes control, one becomes a ghost; when hun and po coexist, one becomes human. This is the natural order, and even if the sages returned to the world, they could not change it.

Yet when sages are said to be hun and ordinary people po, this is speaking of what happens after life has taken shape. At the beginning of Primordial Oneness, hun and po had not yet separated, and clarity and turbidity were still undifferentiated. How, then, could hun and po be distinguished? Once they divide, what gathers whole becomes hun, while what disperses becomes po; what rises becomes hun, while what flows downward becomes po; what is upright becomes hun, while what is deviant becomes po; what is true becomes hun, while what is false becomes po. They share the same source and differ only in how they later divide. Thus, po can also be called hun, and hun can also be called po. When po disperses, it turns into hun; when hun disperses, it can also turn into po. The Buddhist saying “ignorance itself is Buddha-nature” may mean something like this.

The primordial Dao I speak of—the Dao at the beginning of all things—flows through ceaseless change. Its wonder cannot be put into words or grasped through speech. Its innate nature of primordial mystery reveals itself, moving up and down without pause. From this source, I begin with the primordial and original beginning. I do not know what this natural primordial Dao and primordial De truly are. Whoever can comprehend my primordial Dao and De, then return to the primordial source, has completed the path of returning to the origin and the root.

Sages understand the primordial Dao. They move among the myriad things and respond to them, keeping what is subtle within their everyday conduct. They temper their radiance and live among the dust of the world. This subtlety cannot be described as something that is not subtle, nor can it be summed up by the word “subtle.” It is present in everyday conduct, and conduct itself also has its own subtlety, so this subtlety cannot be fixed or grasped. Sages move up and down, responding to all manner of worldly affairs. They reveal the primordial mystery naturally, without showing its limits.

Because I began in the original substance of the primordial beginning, I respond to the myriad things naturally, without clinging to the knowledge of how I accord with nature. Thus, it is not only the primordial Dao that transforms into subtlety; primordial De does so as well. All things, great and small, inward thoughts and outward conduct, contain subtlety. Who can know it completely? Though sages realize Dao and De as they move through the world, they can also return Dao and De to the primordial source. This is to complete the path of returning to the origin and the root.

Chapter Six, 148 characters in all.

The primordial source gives rise to spirit; spirit gives rise to the primordial source.

The primordial source gives rise to spirit, the numinous workings; spirit then joins with the primordial source and returns to it. Spirit is numinous through the primordial source, and the primordial source is revealed through spirit. Thus, above and below give rise to one another.

My primordial Qi is pure from the beginning. The primordial unity, the original undivided substance, revolves and brings forth transformation. Before the primordial colors have separated, they appear in a hazy, deep state. The four aspects—blue-green, white, red, and yellow—dwell within it, and each contains its own radiance.

Azure, White, Vermilion, and Yellow represent the Qi of the colors of the four directions; together they are the Four Images. Black is not included here because it is the root of all colors: before things are distinguished and color appears, there is black. Before the original colors have manifested, light is deep, dim, and remote. “Primordial One” is black. Only through the movement of the Primordial One do the Five Primordials come forth. Hence the saying, “Heaven gives birth to Water”: Water is born from Heaven, floats upon it, and also bears the Earth. Before things have differentiated, nature rests within the Great Mystery. The four luminous Qi of Azure, White, Vermilion, and Yellow combine as the Four Images and the Five Primordials. Their state is elusive and profound, beyond words.

The wondrous principle of the Beginning that I speak of makes use of one Primordial, yet it cannot simply be said to be one Primordial. This is precisely the mystery of the One Primordial. The mysterious gives rise to the Primordial, and the Primordial gives rise to the mysterious.

The wondrous is the root of the Primordial; the Primordial is the wondrous in action. Since the wondrous principle enters into the transformation of the Primordial, it is called the “One Primordial.” As the One Primordial moves, the Primordial and the wondrous give rise to one another, and it is hard to distinguish how the wondrous becomes the Primordial, or how the Primordial becomes the One Primordial. It cannot simply be equated with one Primordial, yet it possesses the mystery of the One Primordial. The mysterious gives rise to the Primordial, and the Primordial gives rise to the mysterious.

The wondrous is the root of the Primordial; the Primordial is the wondrous in action. Since the wondrous principle enters into the transformation of the Primordial, it is called the “One Primordial.” As the One Primordial moves, the Primordial and the wondrous give rise to one another, and it is hard to distinguish how the wondrous becomes the Primordial, or how the Primordial becomes the wondrous.

Azure and White alternately conceal and reveal themselves, positioned to the left and right and responding to one another. The Primordial Light is subtle and hard to discern; the Primordial Qi comes and goes, yet has no visible gateway, and I cannot explain its source. Vermilion and Black are positioned above and below, but their brightness and darkness are not distinct. Above and below return to the One Primordial, whose movement follows nature.

Azure is the color of the Qi of Wood in the East; White is the color of the Qi of Metal in the West. Wood is on the left and Metal on the right, hence the phrase “the left and right aligned with the Primordial.” Vermilion is the color of the Qi of Fire in the South, and Black is the color of the Qi of Water in the North. Fire is above and Water below, hence the phrase “the Primordial Vermilion above and below.” The Primordial Light is subtle and hard to discern; the Azure and White Qi of the East and West come and go, yet their gateways cannot be seen. The Black and Vermilion Qi of the North and South lie above and below, yet no clear changes between brightness and darkness can be discerned. Qi enters and leaves, but the signs of its coming and going are invisible; brightness and darkness appear and disappear, but their boundaries cannot be seen. Thus the wondrous transformations have no fixed gateway, and the Dao moves in accordance with nature.

“Wuwei ziran” (non-action and naturalness) means not acting deliberately, but allowing things to unfold naturally. “Ziran wuwei” means naturally abiding in non-action. The Dao exists before the realm that is indistinct and hard to discern, and before the primordial beginning and non-action. Who can grasp what I mean by non-action and naturalness? The Primordial arises through non-action, and non-action in turn rests upon the Primordial. From this, the Primordial gives rise to naturalness, though I do not know why it is so. This is what I call “the Heaven of Primordial Non-Action.”

The Heaven of Non-Action has the color green, yet it is not Wood; it has the color white, yet it is not Metal; it has the color red, yet it is not Fire; it has the color black, yet it is not Water; it has the color yellow, yet it is not Earth. It seems to have a left and a right, yet belongs to neither; it seems to have an above and a below, yet belongs to neither; it seems to have an entering and an exiting, yet belongs to neither; it seems to have what is manifest and what is obscure, yet cannot be classed as either. It seems to have color, yet no specific color; it seems to have an image, yet no fixed image. It is natural, yet goes beyond what is ordinarily called natural; it is non-action, yet goes beyond what is ordinarily called non-action. So who can grasp non-action and naturalness? It is also said that the Primordial gives rise to naturalness, though I do not know the reason for it. This is called “the Heaven of Non-Action.”

Chapter Seven: Twenty Words

Being and nonbeing, above and below, left and right, inner and outer—all lie within a realm that is indistinct, profound, mysterious, and unfathomable. Amid these layers of mystery, the Primordial is present.

All things have states of being and nonbeing, positions above and below, distinctions between left and right, and boundaries between inner and outer. These are distinctions no thing can escape. Yet there is also a mysterious realm that transcends them. Within this mystery, the Primordial exists. It is neither being nor nonbeing, neither above nor below, neither left nor right, neither inner nor outer. It abides in the indistinct depths, not yet divided into these eight distinctions.

Chapter Eight: One Hundred and Fifty Words

The Primordial and the Yellow (referring respectively to the Heavenly Primordial and the Earthly Yellow) began within mystery and depend on one another. The Primordial rests upon the Yellow, and the Yellow rests upon the Primordial. The origins of both the Primordial and the Yellow are unknown.

From the perspective of the Dao, it is called the “Primordial”; from the perspective of color and appearance, it is called the “Mysterious.” Thus, the “Primordial” may also be called the “Mysterious.” The Heavenly Primordial and the Earthly Yellow both take the original mystery as their root. The Primordial and the Yellow depend on one another and generate one another, yet the source of each remains unknowable. The phrase “take as” refers to the source from which mystery arises.

Colors that cannot be seen and sounds that cannot be heard suddenly arise when mystery reaches its utmost depth. Forms without images and shapes without objects suddenly appear when mystery reaches its utmost depth. The origin of the Beginning is revealed. Red and white transform into one another, and deep yellow shines forth. The Way of the Original Constant, which moves ceaselessly and brings forth all things, creates the myriad beings; from it the Original Way is born. I do not know where it came from. The Wuwei Original Yellow, the subtle and profound root, is the source of all transformation.

Mystery suddenly arises: forms without images and shapes without objects suddenly appear when mystery reaches its utmost depth. The origin of the Beginning is revealed. Red and white transform into one another, and deep yellow shines forth. The Way of the Original Constant creates the myriad beings; from it the Original Way is born. I do not know where it came from. The Wuwei Original Yellow is the source of all transformation.

Sound and color arise from the utmost subtlety, and the forms of the myriad beings take shape from the utmost subtlety. They arise and take shape suddenly, with no force driving them from behind. Thus red and white transform, as Fire and Metal overcome and fulfill one another; deep yellow shines forth, as Water and Earth coexist and overcome one another. This is the creative transformation of the Original Constant. The Way of the Original Yellow is the source of the ceaseless transformation of all things.

The source gives rise to the utmost subtlety; the utmost subtlety gives rise to the Original; the Original gives rise to Yellow; and Yellow gives rise once more to the Original. The mystery of three and one forms naturally in this way.

Those who attain the Dao take the utmost subtlety as their root: the utmost subtlety gives rise to the Original, the Original gives rise to Yellow, and Yellow returns to the Original. From nonbeing, one enters being; from being, one transforms into nonbeing. Subtlety, Original, and Yellow appear to be three, yet are one; they appear to be one, yet can also be divided into three. Thus the mystery of three and one forms naturally.

Within the Original there is another Original, containing the Way of the Original Yellow. The Beginning is the fundamental mother of the Original, from which the Original Sound and Original Image arise. Taking the Original as my fundamental mother, I bring sound and image into manifestation. I call it the Original, yet I do not know what this Original truly is. There is no realm higher than the Dao.

The Original contains color, and so it is called Original Yellow. The Original is the fundamental mother of all things, giving rise to colors and forms; within it is the Way of the Original Yellow. The Beginning is the fundamental mother of the Original, from which the Original Sound and Original Image arise. Taking the Original as my fundamental mother, I bring sound and image into manifestation. I call it the Original, yet I do not know what this Original truly is. There is no realm higher than the Dao.

The Original contains color, and so it is called Original Yellow. The Original is the fundamental mother of all things, giving rise to colors and forms; thus color and form take the Original as their mother. The Original, in turn, takes me as its mother. I alone have no mother. This is what it means to say that I do not know what the Original truly is. There is no realm higher than the Dao.

In the subtle and hidden, the Primordial (the beginning of all things) comes into being. The Dao is concealed within the subtle, and all things come to exist through it. Being and nonbeing give rise to one another, and the wondrous workings have no end.

In the subtle and hidden, the Primordial comes into being. The Primordial contains the Dao in its utmost subtlety. Though the Dao is concealed, all things begin to exist through it and appear within subtle “being.” The subtle contains the Primordial, but the Primordial is not exposed to view; all things contain the Dao, but the Dao is not entirely hidden either. Thus the Primordial itself is subtle, and “being” is subtle as well. Being and nonbeing generate one another, and the wondrous workings continue without end.

End of Volume Two of Commentary on the Classic of Primordial Heaven and Virtue as Expounded by the Primordial.

Volume Three of Commentary on the Classic of Primordial Heaven and Virtue as Expounded by the Primordial

Chapter of Shen: The Thousand-Word Chapter

Chapter One, 252 characters.

Within the Primordial there is Shen (spirit); within Shen there is Shen again. I do not know what this Shen ultimately is. Within Shen there is the Primordial; within the Primordial there is the Primordial again. I do not know what this Primordial ultimately is. The Primordial and Shen harmonize and unite, while the Dao moves in accordance with the natural order. I do not know what this natural order ultimately is.

The Primordial, Shen, and the true Dao all arise from the subtle. The five combine as one, and the one appears as five. Thus there is Shen within the Primordial, and the Primordial within Shen. When it appears as Shen, it does not know itself to be Shen; when it appears as the Primordial, it does not know itself to be the Primordial. When the Primordial and Shen harmonize and unite, they likewise do not know that they are uniting. Therefore, even if we call it nature, we cannot know why it is as it is.

When the left moves, the right responds; when the right moves, the left responds. To exhale is to send outward; to inhale is to draw inward. Pushed to the furthest point, it returns to the furthest point; brought to unity, it unfolds from unity. Shen employs Shen; the one employs the one. I do not know how it works, so I call it Wuwei (non-action). I do not deliberately do nothing; I simply do not know how it works in the first place. All things respond and remain still of themselves: this is the Dao of Shen.

The Dao is everywhere, filling heaven and earth in all directions and encompassing the entire void. Once you grasp its key, nothing is beyond response. It is like pressing the note gong on a stringed instrument, and the gong note sounds; press the note jue, and the jue note rises. There is a principle here that no one knows the reason for, yet things naturally happen this way. So when the left moves, the right responds; when the right moves, the left responds in turn. After exhaling, one inhales; after inhaling, one exhales.

If you say it is near, it is far, far away; if you say it is many, it is one, and one again. This is called Shen (spirit). Even when the wondrous nature of Shen is fully present, I still do not know how it works. Let Shen use Shen, with Shen and Shen using one another, and Shen cannot know Shen. Let “one” use “one,” with one and one using one another, and one cannot know one. It is like mercury rolling around on a plate: each droplet naturally forms a sphere, with no one directing it. That is why I call this Wuwei (non-action). Though it is Wuwei, it is not without a self; I simply do not know how it works. To respond to things and move is to be still: this is the wondrous Dao.

Miaoyuan, the wondrous source, gives rise to Shen. I do not know how this “giving rise” takes place. What I mean is the utmost generation and transformation. The utmost mystery gives rise to mystery, and mystery in turn arises from mystery: this is the principle of natural arising. I say that the transformations of Miaoyuan are inexhaustible. Since their beginning cannot be traced, all I can know are the changes that have already appeared.

When Miaoyuan descends and gives rise to Shen, I do not know how Shen comes into being. Perhaps by holding to the substance of Miaoyuan, Shen arises naturally. I do not know how it comes about; this is called utmost generation. Utmost generation is Shen arising from mystery, its transformations unending. Since they are unending, their beginning cannot be sought. All I can know are the changes that have already taken place.

The divine beings contained in “Wondrous Origin” seem to arise from the wondrous, yet I do not know how spirit truly comes into being. For as long as one holds fast to the wondrous principle and realizes the primordial beginning, spirit appears of itself. This coming into being cannot be traced, and is therefore called “ultimate generation.” Spirit is born from the wondrous, and its generation and transformation have no end. Since they have no end, one cannot find their beginning or see their conclusion.

Though no conclusion can be seen, the workings of the utmost wonder become manifest, then return to stillness, back to “wondrous existence”—a subtle presence that holds the potential for life. It may look like an ending, but it is not a true cessation. If I knew when it ceased, I could make it arise again.

When movement or stillness occurs on the left, there is a response on the left, but I am not confined to the left. When movement or stillness occurs on the right, there is a response on the right, but I am not confined to the right either. When exhaling and sending outward, I am not only outside; when inhaling and drawing inward, I am not only inside. If I respond from the outset by following a particular movement or stillness, I have already lost my true self. The movement I respond to takes its measure from the “Great Square”—the boundless root—and so has no fixed direction. The changes I meet rest upon the “Great Image”—the vast, formless root—and so have no fixed shape.

Since neither movement nor stillness on the left or right can define me, I am not the one who moves, nor the one who responds. When exhaling, I do not feel that there is an “I” who exhales; when inhaling, I do not feel that there is an “I” who inhales. This is because the “I” is everywhere. The “true fire of empty nature” described in the Lengyan (Śūraṅgama Sutra) likewise pervades the Dharma realm and explains this principle. It is like holding a yangsui—a concave bronze mirror used to kindle fire—up to the sun: wherever the mirror is raised, fire can be kindled there. Raise mirrors in many places, and fire can be kindled in many places.

People of course know that there is a left and a right, an exhalation and an inhalation, but they do not know that the “I” is everywhere. With this understanding, one no longer clings to responding or acting, exhaling or inhaling. If even the slightest intention to respond arises in the mind, one will be busily ruled by external things. How, then, could one know the true self? Only by holding fast to the boundless root when responding to movement can movement have no fixed direction; only by resting on the formless and imageless when meeting change can appearances have no fixed shape. The outer has no fixed direction, and the inner has no fixed form. Who could achieve this, if not one who has reached the most wondrous state under Heaven?

I transform constantly throughout the vast Dao realm, adapting to the times, so my activity has no fixed direction or bounds. I abide in the formless and imageless as I respond to change, so what appears has no fixed shape. With no set direction outwardly and no fixed form inwardly, who could do this if not the most wondrous being under Heaven?

I am changing at every moment, yet I do not know how I change. At first I return to the Origin, the source from which all things begin, and then differentiate from it. Through three transformations, I arrive at the True. I unite with it as one, yet this so-called “One” is not a fixed unity. Sometimes I act, sometimes I do not, and I have no awareness of my own movement or stillness. This is mystery within mystery.

The wondrous Qi is born within the primordial mystery, like clouds rising from the mountains and changing in myriad ways in an instant, unaware of their own transformation. I take the wondrous as my substance: first I transform into the Origin, then into spirit, and in the third transformation I reach the True. Though I undergo three transformations, I never leave the “One”; the “One” also contains the “Three,” and the “Three” returns to the “One.” Whether in action or inaction, all things are changing. Thus movement is wondrous, stillness is wondrous too: mystery within mystery.

Chapter Two, thirty-three characters:

Wondrous, Origin, spirit, One, Seven, Nine, Three; Yin-Yang, Heaven and Earth, sun and moon, and Earth, Wood, Fire, Metal, Water. One, two, three; one, two, three; one, two, three. Spirit exists within the Origin of “Nothingness within Nothingness.”

When subtlety reaches its utmost, it appears in various forms; when spiritual mystery reaches its utmost, it appears in various numerical patterns. Thus, the Yuan Chapter speaks of the symbolic meanings of four colors—azure, white, crimson, and yellow—while the Spirit Chapter discusses the numbers one, seven, nine, and three. According to the directions of the Yellow River Chart, one is below, nine above, three to the left, and seven to the right.

In terms of the numbers of Heaven, Primordial Azure corresponds to the yang number nine and to Wood; Cinnabar Light corresponds to the yang number three and to Fire; Pure Spirit corresponds to the yang number seven and to Metal; and Mysterious Highness corresponds to the yang number one and to Water. These numbers—one, seven, nine, and three—are distributed across the four directions. In the transformations of Yin-Yang, they are called the numbers of Qi; in the workings of Heaven and Earth, the numbers of cycles; in the movements of the sun and moon, the numbers of conjunction; and in the application of the Five Phases, the numbers of function.

Zhuangzi said, “The Dao joined with the One and became two; two joined again with the One and became three. From that point on, even those skilled in calendrical calculation cannot know how many there are. Things have gone from nonbeing to being, and already we reach three; how much more so when being continues to unfold?” According to Zhuangzi, once the name “subtlety” exists, the three are already contained within it. How much more, then, does the progression from subtlety to the Primordial, and from the Primordial to the Spirit, exceed calculation—even for those skilled in calendrical calculation? Thus, from one comes two, from two comes three, and from three the unfolding continues until the numbers can no longer be counted. Though the Spirit disperses and transforms, it can appear in countless forms: it seems to enter the realm of number, yet also transcends number. For this reason, the Primordial is called “non-nonbeing”: not even “one” can be attained there, much less “three.”

Chapter Three, 102 characters

Before the Primordial Qi of Heaven and Earth had joined, before Yin and Yang had intermingled, and before the sun and moon had embraced one another, the Three Primordials were fused in the unmanifest, and the myriad forms had not yet appeared. This is called the “Root of the Primordial,” the source from which all things arise.

The Root of the Primordial exists within the formless. Without the Primordial, Heaven and Earth could not join; Yin and Yang could not intermix; and the sun and moon could not shine. “Embrace” means to contain the Primordial Qi within and thereby manifest radiance.

From the very beginning, I was the Primordial Beginning, the source of the divine spirits. Spirit arose from nothingness, from an emptiness that never runs dry. I call it the Spirit of the Great Origin. Who brought the original realm of emptiness into being? Nothing could have made it; spirit arose from the first, mysterious depths. When I, the Primordial Beginning, first emerged, mystery and nothingness intermingled.

Spirit arose within the mysterious emptiness of the Primordial Beginning, an emptiness that never runs dry. As it moved and transformed, it continued to manifest. All this happened naturally, without anyone deliberately making it happen. Thus the words “The Spirit of the Great Origin—who at first could make emptiness?” mean that emptiness cannot be manufactured by anyone. Spirit arose from absolute nothingness: the first spirit joined with the first mystery and brought forth the most subtle workings. Hence the words “I, the One, began to arise”: though spirit had emerged, it remained connected to mysterious emptiness.

“Primordial Emptiness” refers to the true emptiness of the Great Origin. The Great One—the Daoist term for the undivided source of all things—manifested through the original Primordial Beginning. Both the Great One’s being and its nonbeing joined with spirit in the Great Void. The Great Void is the realm of the primordial spirit, where spirit enters and emerges within the mysterious source.

Primordial Emptiness is the most fundamental, true emptiness. The Great One, too, arose from the Primordial Beginning. It contains the mysterious “being” and “nonbeing,” which must join with the emptiness of Primordial Emptiness to reach the utmost. Thus the Great Void is the abode of the primordial spirit. When spirit is fully complete, it manifests and withdraws. Though it comes and goes, it leaves no trace of obstruction; hence it is called “Mysterious Primordiality.”

Chapter Four

Heaven and Earth give birth to spirit; spirit gives birth to Heaven and Earth.

Here, “spirit” means the power that brings about the mysterious transformations through which the myriad things appear. Thus spirit is present in the realm of emptiness and in substantial things alike. Emptiness is the root of spirit; substantial things are its dwelling places. Before the myriad things came into being, spirit lay hidden in nothingness. After they came into being, spirit lay hidden within form. Spirit also becomes manifest through “being,” which is why it is said that “Heaven and Earth give birth to spirit.” The formed Heaven and Earth, in turn, are brought into being through the workings of spirit, which is why it is said that “spirit gives birth to Heaven and Earth.”

Chapter Five

Within Primordial Emptiness and Primordial Substance, spirit is the original unity. When spirit is hidden in Primordial Emptiness, it appears indistinct and obscure. If the workings of spirit never cease, this indistinct realm cannot be grasped and recognized as a discrete “spirit.” True generation and transformation arise from this indistinctness, blending into profound obscurity and filling the dim, remote realm that precedes the formation of Heaven and Earth.

The primordial void and primordial fullness coexist, and spirit is the source from which all things in Heaven and Earth arise. This primordial “One” is hidden within the primordial void; spirit’s state is subtle and elusive, difficult to grasp. If the continuous activity of spirit does not cease, its elusive state alone is not enough to discern it. True nature emerges within this elusiveness, blending into a profound and shadowy realm. My “One” cannot be seen, and my spirit cannot be heard, yet spirit still blends with the primordial void.

At first there is void; gradually it turns into fullness. When spirit dwells in the void, it does not thereby increase; when it dwells in fullness, it does not thereby diminish. Thus spirit is the primordial “One.” This One is hidden in the primordial void, in a subtle and elusive realm. If spirit cannot become settled, it cannot be recognized amid elusiveness. True nature begins to gather within the Great Void, appearing in a hazy, undifferentiated state and sinking into a profound, shadowy realm. Though there is a “One,” no external thing can see it; though there is spirit, no external thing can hear it. Yet my “One” remains One, and my spirit remains spirit. Thus spirit blends with the primordial void. The “communion of spirit” spoken of here seems to refer to what the Śūraṅgama Sūtra calls seeing nature beyond ordinary “seeing,” beyond the reach of the usual senses.

The Dao at the Primordial Beginning is the highest Dao. The Void Spirit within the highest Dao is the beginning of the Great One—the primordial wholeness of the cosmos—as stillness first takes shape. When spirit unites with the marvelous, this is the primordial mystery of the Great Beginning, the beginning of all things; this primordial mystery lies beyond the scope of ordinary “seeing.”

The Dao at the Primordial Beginning is the highest Dao. The Void Spirit within the highest Dao is the beginning of the Great One as stillness first takes shape. Spirit unites with the marvelous to form the primordial mystery of the Great Beginning, and this mystery returns to the Great Beginning. The source of my own spirit cannot be grasped, and spirit cannot be confined to a fixed “One.” The Dao of transformation is the activity of numinous spirit: it establishes foundations and reveals signs, making manifest the marvelous workings of ceaseless transformation and generation.

The highest Dao takes the void as its foundation and spirit as its root. When stillness reaches its utmost and a response arises, the myriad spirits gather of themselves. Yet in gathering, they do not perceive themselves as gathered: the One transforms into the myriad, and spirit unites with the marvelous. This marvelous activity arises spontaneously; it is the original nature of all things. When the primordial mystery is at work, the source of spirit cannot be found or grasped. If a source could truly be grasped, spirit would become something with form and would no longer be spirit. Precisely because it cannot be grasped, spirit cannot be confined to a single thing. It transforms in a thousand ways and acts without limit. The marvelous and formed things establish foundations and reveal signs together: the marvelous gives rise to spirit, and spirit gives rise to spirit in layer upon layer. Thus marvelous workings are brought forth in an unceasing process of transformation.

At the beginning, I was in the midst of the transformation by which the One becomes Three, united with the source of spirit. The spirit of the Primordial Beginning makes transformation and marvelous response manifest to one another: marvelous response arises through transformation, while transformation in turn comes from spirit. This is spirit’s spontaneous activity. All things are unaware of spirit’s existence, yet spirit moves naturally and ceaselessly. This is the spirit of numinous mystery.

The Mysterious (subtle changes that are difficult to describe) joins with the Origin (the beginning of all things), and the Origin joins with Spirit (the wondrous activity that sets change in motion). This is called the One dividing into Three; the Three then unite as Spirit and Origin. The Spirit of the Origin changes spontaneously, responding with subtle precision to whatever it encounters. These subtle responses also contain change: this is the spontaneous nature of Spirit. All things are unaware of Spirit’s workings. This spontaneous activity may rightly be called the mystery within the mystery.

The Mysterious joins with the Origin, and the Origin joins with Spirit. This is called the One dividing into Three; the Three then unite as Spirit and Origin. This is what I call the Spirit within the Origin. Spirit changes of itself, then responds to all things; its responses are subtle, and its changes are subtle too. This is Spirit’s spontaneous activity: the Spirit of Nature, whose mystery is without end.

The Book of Changes says: “Without thought, without action, still and unmoving; once stirred, it can understand the patterns of all things under Heaven. If it were not the most numinous presence under Heaven, who could do this?” When the mind has no deliberate thoughts, it no longer clings to awareness of itself. When the body makes no deliberate effort, it no longer clings to awareness of itself. With no attachment to the mind within or the body without, one can remain still and unmoving. When stillness gives rise to responsive understanding, it depends neither on deliberate thought in the mind nor on deliberate action by the body. One thinks of nothing, yet nothing escapes discernment; one does nothing, yet nothing remains unaccomplished. This is called understanding the patterns of all things under Heaven. Here, “traces” refers to the marks things leave behind. No trace left by anything under Heaven can escape responsive understanding. This is precisely what is meant by subtle change and subtle response. If it were not the most numinous presence under Heaven, who could do this?

Chapter Six, 134 characters in all.

Spirit may appear subtle, or it may appear as the Origin. The subtle Spirit and the original Spirit, Spirit in movement and Spirit at rest, Spirit manifest and Spirit withdrawn, Spirit with form and Spirit without form, Yin Spirit and Yang Spirit, Spirit that can be seen and Spirit that can be heard, Spirit indistinct and elusive, Spirit on the left and Spirit on the right, the one Spirit and the myriad spirits—all can take part in this.

Chapter Six, 134 characters in all.

Spirit is wholly present in the Mysterious and wholly present in the Origin; the Origin and the Mysterious are both Spirit. Therefore, movement and stillness, emergence and return, existence and nonexistence, Yin and Yang, seeing and hearing, the elusive and the clear, left and right, the One and the myriad—all arise from Spirit’s transformations. Spirit’s mystery has no end, yet Spirit itself does not realize that it is Spirit.

“The Primordial Spirit of which I speak is the embodiment of the wondrous Dao. Only by reaching the realm of spirit can one know spirit. When spirit wondrously merges with a thing, even ghosts and spirits cannot glimpse the mystery within it.”

A person’s understanding of the Dao depends on the level of cultivation and realization they have attained. Those who have reached a higher realm can understand lower realms, but those in lower realms cannot comprehend higher ones. One can know a realm only by having emerged from it. Thus only spirit can know spirit. As the Shurangama Sutra says, the Realm of Form has eighteen heavens, including the Five Pure Abodes. Beings in the Fourth Dhyana Heaven of the Realm of Form can only hear of and revere those abodes; they cannot see them directly. It follows that the heavenly beings who can see one another are found only in the six heavens of the Realm of Desire and thirteen of the heavens in the Realm of Form. Even within the Realm of Form, beings in the Five Pure Abodes cannot see one another. How much less can they see into the Realm of Formlessnes? Above the Realm of Formlessness, Buddhism no longer uses the term “heaven.” The Realm of Formlessness is already described as a state in which body and mind are stilled and one rests in meditative absorption, with no karma visible before one and no bodily form subject to karmic retribution. Realms higher still are even harder to describe. Here, Daoism calls this “Wuwei (non-action),” while Buddhism calls it “Buddhahood.”

Spirit can wondrously transform the myriad things because it can unite upward with the Great Beginning and downward with the myriad things. In uniting with the Great Beginning, it does not cling to the Great Beginning’s “nonbeing”; in uniting with the myriad things, it does not cling to their “being.” It emerges from a mysterious realm, then descends to merge with the myriad things. Only spirit can know its own realm. How could ghosts and spirits understand it? Hence the saying: “When spirit wondrously merges with a thing, even ghosts and spirits cannot glimpse the mystery within it.”

“The heaven in which my Primordial Spirit resides takes in red, contains yellow within, draws in blue, receives white, and gathers primordial Qi into my Primordial Palace, the Mother Spirit of Great Unity—the divine mother in the realm of Primordial Spirit.”

The Primordial Heaven does not deliberately seek the five colors; the five colors arise naturally, just as the eyes, ears, nose, and tongue come into being along with the body, without anyone having to arrange them. Therefore, primordial Qi should be gathered into the Primordial Palace, returning to the Mother Spirit of Great Unity.

The primordial Heaven spoken of by Yuanshi (the Celestial Worthy of Primordial Beginning) does not come from deliberately pursuing the five colors; they appear naturally, just as the eyes, ears, nose, and tongue arise naturally with the body, without anyone deliberately bringing them into being. Therefore, gather the primordial Qi back into the Primordial Palace—the inner palace where the original spirit is nurtured and preserved—so that it becomes the Mother Spirit of Taiyi, the maternal body brought forth by Taiyi.

The primordial is the mysterious; the mysterious is emptiness; emptiness is the root of all things. Within mysterious emptiness, one swallows red, absorbs yellow, draws in blue, and receives white. These are the true colors corresponding to the Five Phases. It is not that I deliberately swallow, absorb, draw in, or receive these four colors; they are inherently present within Taiyi. When the movement of Qi begins, colors appear with it; when the intention of spirit stirs, the celestial signs respond.

The Buddhist saying “the nature of form is true emptiness; the nature of emptiness is true form” means that the nature of visible forms returns to true emptiness, and that visible forms can also appear within true emptiness. If you contemplate with empty clarity, the realm of emptiness will appear. When the four elements that constitute all things—earth, water, fire, and wind—each manifest, each appears in its own way; if they manifest together, they appear together. “Swallowing, absorbing, drawing in, and receiving” also refers to this manifestation and appearance.

Within my primordial Qi of the Primordial Beginning, water, fire, and wind each manifest and appear on their own; if they manifest together, they appear together. “Swallowing, absorbing, drawing in, and receiving” means the same thing.

My original primordial source undergoes seven stirrings and nine stillings. From beginning to end, the spirit ultimately returns to its original primordial source.

Number begins with one, takes shape at three, reaches the center at five, changes at seven, and comes to its limit at nine. Thus, the numbers from one to five belong to Heaven. Among them, one through five include three odd numbers. The completed numbers belong to Earth: from six through ten, there are two even numbers. This is the meaning of “three for Heaven and two for Earth” in the Classic of Changes.

Five is the number at the center, so the central five is not counted separately. Ten marks the limit, after which the count returns to one. Remove five and ten, and one through four remain: these are the principal numbers by which things come into being. Six through nine, in turn, are the principal numbers by which things take form.

When one gives rise to two, there are above and below. Once above and below are established, the middle position is established as well. With above, middle, and below, there are three; from three come left, right, front, and back, making four. Three belongs to Yang, so humans and creatures born under Heaven stand upright and firm. Four belongs to Yin, so animals that live close to the ground grow horizontally.

In the primordial numbers, one represents Heaven and two represents Earth. Heaven’s numbers are reckoned by threes, and Earth’s by fours: Heaven’s three is derived by extending Heaven’s one, while Earth’s four is derived by extending Earth’s two. The numbers of Heaven mark time in cycles called “ages,” while the numbers of Earth divide space into “regions.” Thus there are three ages and four regions. As the Sutra of the Śūraṅgama says, three and four, and four and three, interweave; together they make twelve, the great number that orders Heaven and Earth. The formation and destruction of worlds, the growth of the myriad things, and the movements of the years, days, months, and stars all cycle through twelve transformations. This is the great number by which things come into being.

To say that things “change at seven” means that seven is associated with the movement of the heavenly bodies. The sun, moon, and five planets are together called the Seven Luminaries, and the constellations, too, are reckoned by sevens. Changes in the calendar over the course of the year are also linked to seven. The Seven Luminaries—the sun, moon, and five planets—symbolize the lines of latitude; the twenty-eight lunar mansions, formed by multiplying four by seven, symbolize the lines of longitude. Within a month, the changing phases of the moon—dark moon, new moon, first quarter, and full moon—complete a cycle of about twenty-eight days, during which the sun and moon meet in their courses. In a year, the sun and moon meet twelve times, and the phases of dark moon, new moon, quarter moon, and full moon occur about forty-eight times in all. These patterns all embody the number seven times seven.

To say that things “reach their limit at nine” means that Heaven has nine heavens, Earth has nine regions, official ranks are divided into nine grades, and people into nine classes. Of the twelve double-hours in a day, seven have fully bright skies; if we include the hours when the sky is sometimes bright, the total is nine. From the hour of Mao to the hour of You, the sky is fully bright; during the hours of Yin and Xu, it is sometimes bright. Thus seven governs change, while nine governs stability. At twelve, the count reaches its limit: this is the great number by which things take form.

Therefore, one, three, and five are Yang within Yang, while seven and nine are Yin within Yang. Those who attain the Dao can cut off the Yin Qi contained in seven and return once more to Yang. They can also exhaust the Yin Qi contained in nine and return to one. This is why the process is called “seven returns and nine reversions.” The phrase draws its meaning from this: the beginning and end of Shen ultimately return to the primordial source.

Who can understand my Primordial Beginning, the fundamental source of all things and the Dao? Whoever understands that the Primordial Beginning does not deliberately display its supernatural powers can understand that all things reveal wondrous qualities. The expression “seven returns and nine reversions,” a Daoist Neidan term for the repeated transformation of Jing, Qi, and Shen as they are cultivated and restored to their source, draws its meaning from this. Thus the wondrous has a beginning and an end, yet ultimately returns to its original source.

The wondrous emerges from being and returns to nonbeing; its transformations are beyond measure. To mistake transformation itself for spirit is an error. The wondrous has its roots in mystery, and its arising depends on the true nature of the Primordial Beginning. When the mind no longer clings to thoughts and consciousness, and consciousness returns to its natural state, the root of the wondrous is “spiritless”: it does not act deliberately. Precisely because it does not act deliberately, the wondrous is everywhere.

Chapter Seven, 150 characters.

The wondrous does not lie in deliberately displaying supernatural powers. By not doing so, it enables all things to become wondrous. One spirit contains the Primordial Beginning; the myriad spirits return to the One.

The wondrous seems to be Wuwei (non-action), yet it branches into myriad functions; it seems to be Wuwei, yet it truly manifests the wondrous. If the mind has thoughts and concerns, spirit will gather where they are directed and remain there. How, then, could it transform from one into myriad forms? If each wondrous function appears on its own, without connecting to the others, they cannot return to the One either. Only when one does not cling to thoughts, consciousness, or discriminating understanding, and the mind is not bound by emotions or knowledge, can the myriad wondrous functions blend and arise together. When they contain their source and naturally return to it, the myriad spirits return to the One. They arise spontaneously and return spontaneously; this is called the Dao of “spiritlessness.”

I came into being from the Primordial Beginning, yet I do not know how. Spirit takes the Primordial Beginning as its starting point, while the Primordial Beginning is the root of spirit. What, then, is the source of the Primordial Beginning, and what is the first of all things? The source of spirit is the Primordial Beginning, and the Primordial Beginning also manifests as spirit. Between the two, presence and absence, being and nonbeing, are distinctions the Primordial Beginning itself cannot discern. The natural Dao that gives rise to me is called the Dao of “spiritlessness.”

The wondrous has its roots in mystery, with neither end nor beginning. It gathers naturally and transforms naturally: in transformation it becomes spirit; in gathering it returns to mystery. The awareness of mystery has no form, while the form of spirit born through transformation is indistinct and elusive. Mystery is not simply nothing, and spirit is not a fixed, substantial form. Thus presence and absence, being and nonbeing, appear in turn, without the Primordial Beginning making distinctions between them.

Spirit moves and rests; everything is in flux. Spirit can see and hear, yet leaves no trace to be found. Its wondrous workings are clear and unobscured; from this, I came to understand it.

I myself have neither movement nor stillness, yet Shen (spirit)—the wondrous, unfathomable activity—can manifest movement and stillness. I myself undergo no change, yet Shen can manifest change. I myself have neither sight nor hearing, yet Shen can manifest sight and hearing. This is called “Shen, the spirit, is never obscured”: Shen’s activity is not clouded, yet no one can discern its signs. Only the Primordial Beginning—the Daoist exalted deity who is the source of the Dao—can comprehend it.

In a state of hazy obscurity, deep and difficult to grasp, settle gently into stillness. Then you can experience the natural movement of the True One, the pure and undivided Dao in its original state, like a wondrous abode, deep and serene. The divine source gives rise to the One, and the One gives rise to the One; Shen, in turn, gives rise to Shen. Yet Shen ceaselessly giving rise to Shen is not as good as returning to No-Shen; the One ceaselessly giving rise to the One is not as good as returning to the Empty One, empty and pure. Only by following what is natural can one attain the One.

Understand Shen and keep it guarded, and Shen will no longer appear as something tangible to grasp. Understand the One and keep it guarded, and the One will no longer be an object to seize. When Shen is not deliberately made to appear, its activity becomes unfathomable. When one does not cling to the One yet accords with it, the myriad transformations return to the One. Hazy obscurity, the naturalness of the True One, and the deep, serene abode are the root of Shen. Therefore, clinging to Shen giving rise to Shen is not as good as returning to No-Shen; clinging to the One succeeding the One is not as good as keeping to the Empty One.

The Dao of the True Origin lies in abiding by the True Origin where nothing is put to use; then Shen can endure forever. The Origin gives rise to the Origin, and Shen works its transformations in the Empty Valley, a state of still, open emptiness. I dwell in the wondrous realm of the Empty Valley.

Those who attain the Dao abide by the True Origin where nothing is put to use, and so Shen can endure forever. People cannot endure forever because their six faculties—eye, ear, nose, tongue, body, and mind—disperse outward toward external things, chasing forms and sounds, departing and never returning. If they can recognize the source of the six faculties’ outward pursuit, preserve what is real, dispel what is false, and turn the Original Origin back toward itself, then the six faculties will no longer reach outward. The faculties and their objects of perception will dissolve within the mind, the light of spiritual clarity will appear, and Shen will arise from nothingness. This is called the working of transformation in the Empty Valley, and it is also the foundation of long life.

Chapter Eight, one hundred and eight characters.

The wondrous and the divine source, being and nonbeing, naturally accord with one another. I do not know how they work.

The Wondrous Origin is natural. Shen arises from nothingness; this is called the working of transformation in the Empty Valley, and it is also the foundation of long life.

Chapter Eight, one hundred and eight characters.

The wondrous and the divine source, being and nonbeing, naturally accord with one another. I do not know how they work.

The Wondrous Origin is the formless Shen within nature; Shen is the wondrous activity that appears within nature. When the Wondrous Origin has Shen, being arises from nonbeing. When Shen returns to the Wondrous Origin, being returns to nonbeing. All of this has its root in nature. I do not know how it works.

When employing the mind’s spirit, one should let it settle into profound stillness. Once the spirit is settled, a state of clear awareness will appear. Spirit’s brightness and obscurity merge with each other; spirit communicates with Heaven and Earth, and Heaven and Earth communicate with spirit. Thus, I no longer perceive the existence of “being.”

Obscurity is the foundation of brightness; the mysterious is the source of spirit. When the mind’s spirit is still, it can unite with the mysterious; when it is clear and discerning, it can accord with change. Spirit merges with “Origin and Yellow.” “Origin and Yellow” refers to Heaven and Earth: spirit reaches through to Heaven and Earth, and Heaven and Earth respond to spirit. Then all things in the world come into being. Enter among the myriad things, yet no longer cling to “being.”

If spirit does not cling to the signs of the mysterious, it is the child of Origin. If Origin does not cling to itself, it is the mother of spirit. The mother of spirit gives rise to no distinctions, and the mysterious, Origin, and spirit become one. Recognize the primal mother and hold fast to the child born from her: then you accord with the Way of Nature.

Spirit is the child of Origin; Origin is the mother of spirit. Spirit does not cling to the mysterious because it comes from Origin. Origin does not cling to itself because it can give birth to spirit. Recognize Origin as the root and hold fast to spirit as its child: then you accord with the Way of Nature.

When Origin goes deeper still, it reaches the dark and mysterious, like blackness. When spirit reaches its utmost, it becomes manifest and bright, like white. Understand the realm of brightness while keeping to the root of the dark and mysterious, and spirit’s brightness will come of itself.

At its deepest, Origin reaches the mysterious, which is like black. At its fullest, spirit reaches manifestation, which is like white. Recognize the manifest and hold to the dark and mysterious, and brightness will never be exhausted. Recognize the wondrousness of spirit and hold to its source, and the realm of spirit will be beyond measure.

The arrival of spirit does not mean it comes from somewhere else. The original state at the beginning is utterly simple, and this original simplicity is also present within Origin. Before the implements of the myriad things have appeared, spirit and Origin already form the mysterious foundation.

Taking the original simplicity within Origin as an implement, one cannot tell whether the implement meets spirit or spirit meets the implement. This is called “spirit that does not come”: it is not a specific object, yet it may still be called an implement. Thus, before the implements of the myriad things appear, the original simplicity at the beginning already contains the mysterious spirit and Origin.

Chapter Nine, sixty-nine characters in all.

Spirit dwells in the mysterious valley, causing the qi of unity to arise in the empty chamber. The emptiness and wondrous valley are the mysterious dwelling of my original simplicity at the beginning.

The empty valley can contain things because it is empty; the mysterious can respond because it is still and void. Thus the empty valley contains the myriad things, and the mysterious contains all the spirits. In a quiet, empty chamber, the purest light appears of itself, clear and single, without impurity; this is why it is called “the One.” The primordial mystery, like the empty valley and the empty chamber, contains all things without exception. The spirits arise from the primordial beginning, and through their activity become all the more abundant.

Primordial Oneness is the beginning of all things and the dwelling place of the spirits. Embrace it in the heart and keep hold of it without letting it slip away, so that it fills the body and mind and flows through them into manifestation. Take it up, then take it up again; use it repeatedly. Spirits and ghosts come and go within it, while the mysterious emptiness is open and void like a valley. This is called the “true thief.”

The spirit dwells within the primordial beginning. Embrace it and hold fast to it, so that it fills the body and mind and flows through them into manifestation. It seems not to belong to me, yet I can take it from what is not mine and put it to use; this is why it is called “theft.” The Dao student treats the spirit in the same way: to take up and use what does not belong to oneself is to be a “true thief.”

The spirit dwells within the primordial beginning. Embrace it and hold fast to it, so that it fills the body and mind and flows through them into manifestation. It seems not to belong to me, yet I can take up and use what is not mine. Take it up again and again, continually: as ghosts come and go, and as an empty valley remains open and void, the more it is used, the more abundant it becomes. This is called the “true thief.” The Book of Changes says, “Those who created the Changes perhaps understood the principle of ‘theft.’” The transformations of the Changes give rise to life without end; after being put to use, they become all the more complete. This is like taking what belongs to another: without sowing or reaping, one can still make use of it naturally. The meaning is the same here.

The spirit of the primordial beginning is mysterious, its numinous power beyond measure. The workings of this “theft” cannot be seen. The primordial spirit and the wondrous One merge into a single whole, vast and luminous, naturally complete and self-sufficient.

The Book of Changes says, “The sage purifies his thoughts and withdraws his spirit into the depths of the hidden and obscure.” Who could attain this state, if not the ancient sages, wise and discerning, possessed of numinous power yet never wantonly killing? The workings of the spirits do not always need to display their might, and divine prowess need not establish its efficacy through killing. True wisdom lies hidden and unseen; the workings of “theft,” too, are difficult to perceive. The primordial spirit and the wondrous One merge into a single whole, vast and luminous, naturally complete and self-sufficient.

The Book of Changes says, “The sage purifies his thoughts and withdraws his spirit into the depths of the hidden and obscure.” Without a wise and discerning sage, who could purify the mind and let the spirit withdraw into concealment? Without a sage of divine prowess who does not kill wantonly, who could act effectively without displaying force? This can be attained only when the spirit is hidden within the primordial beginning, and the primordial beginning is in turn hidden within the spirit, each containing the other. Through cultivation to the utmost depths, the primordial spirit and the wondrous One merge into a single whole, vast and luminous, naturally complete and self-sufficient.

End of juan three of the Commentary on the Scripture of Primordial Beginning on the Way and De of the Former Heaven.

The “true” spoken of in the Classic of the Dao and De Before Heaven is the pure, undivided state of original nature. The wondrous workings of the spirits emerge from this original nature. Numinous power is the activity of spirit, so both subtle things and plain, unadorned things can express the wondrous workings of the “true.”

The “Way of the Nine Returns” describes a process that begins with one, extends through nine to encompass all things, and then returns from nine to ten. Here, “ten” symbolizes a return to the source: ten unfolds from one, just as a hundred, a thousand, and ten thousand are all further unfoldings of ten. When cultivators of the Dao return spirit to its original nature and attain Wuwei (non-action), they are called perfected people.

The Dao has greater and lesser aspects, but the “true” is its root. Ordinary people enter the true through the Dao, and then the wondrous workings of spirit become manifest through the true. The Perfected, by contrast, turn from the wondrous workings of spirit back to original nature, gather in the activity of spirit, and return to the source. For this reason, the scripture calls original nature “the vessel of constancy” and “the great uncarved simplicity of the true origin.” It repeatedly says “true, true, true” to emphasize purity, unity, and freedom from mixture.

The second chapter says that within deep stillness lies a nature of utmost essence and truth. When spirit abides in the One without becoming divided, it can bring body and mind to rest, respond to change, and accord with the transformations of creation.

In the far-reaching darkness, there is not emptiness alone. From within it arises a nature that is subtle and pure. Thus, the obscurity and depth of the unseen state is the foundation of what is pure and true. Embrace what is pure and true, guard the mind and spirit, and keep the spirit focused and undivided: from this, transformation will take place. People often seek transformation through one change after another, unaware that all things already transform of themselves. The obscurity and depth of the unseen state is the root of what is pure and true; focus is the root of transformation. Deliberately seeking what is pure and true makes it harder to attain; deliberately seeking transformation makes it harder to achieve. When the mind and spirit are undisturbed by distracting thoughts, transformation will arise naturally, without need for further explanation. This is why the sages prize Wuwei (non-action: refraining from forced action and following nature).

Within the true origin lies a subtle and real presence. True Oneness, the nature that is pure and undivided, follows its own nature, like something rooted deep in the earth.

“Subtle presence” means that nothing is absent. The true origin is sufficient to establish Heaven and Earth and nourish the myriad things. People see what it can do, yet do not know that it arises naturally from True Oneness, with its roots sunk deep into subtle emptiness. Precisely because it is rooted in subtle emptiness, subtle presence can unfold and bring forth growth, just as branches emerge from roots and flowers give rise to fruit: this is the way of nature.

Beyond focus, seek still deeper focus; beyond faith, deepen faith still further. Hold fast without ever straying, until Heaven and Earth themselves come to an end.

“One” means that there is nothing that does not belong to unity. “Faith” means that there is no principle that cannot be trusted and accepted. A common failing among those who study the Dao is that they cannot remain single-minded or truly trust and accept. They act one way when they are doing things and another when they are still; they speak one way and fall silent another. This is a failure of single-mindedness.

They believe in the existence of true principles, yet do not believe that nothing in the myriad things has a fixed principle to grasp. They believe in the existence of what is real, yet do not believe that what is called “unreal” has no fixed boundaries either. They believe in purity, yet do not believe that nothing is beyond the reach of purity. They believe in an independent “self,” yet do not know that everywhere within Heaven and Earth, in all four directions, is the “self.” They believe in an independent mind, yet do not know that things great and small are all connected with the mind. This is a failure of true trust and acceptance.

If you cannot be single-minded, you cannot force yourself into single-mindedness; if you cannot trust and accept, you cannot force yourself to do so. To truly trust and accept, and to be truly single-minded, you must continually contemplate “One” and “Faith.” Without genuine insight, this cannot be done. If your understanding of “Faith” never falls away, then even if Heaven and Earth come to an end, this insight will have no end.

The truly unified and subtle Dao is naturally the true Dao. Each thing becomes real in its own way, and the reality of the whole is thereby made complete.

Once you understand the truth of nature, your actions leave no trace of deliberate manipulation. Those who study the Dao act with an open and clear mind, responding when circumstances arise without clinging to their responses. When nothing is happening, their minds are empty and still, yet not inert. Thus action is true, and stillness is true; straightness is true, and crookedness is true. Stillness is not lost in action, nor straightness in crookedness. This is why truth can remain whole amid crooked changes.

The primordial true Dao I speak of contains the whole principle in its attainment of “One.”

Confucius said to Zigong, “Ci, do you think I am someone who has read widely and memorized a great deal of knowledge?” Zigong replied, “Is that not so?” Confucius said, “No. I use one fundamental principle to connect everything. Merely learning and memorizing a great deal is a failing in study, because it still does not lead to understanding the ‘One.’ If you truly understand this fundamental principle, you will see that benevolence and righteousness do not conflict, loyalty and filial devotion are not contradictory, firmness and gentleness do not depart from one another, and bending with circumstances and standing upright do not hinder each other. Activity and stillness do not fall into confusion, and speaking and silence are not opposed. In this way, the Dao has its own unity, and all things have their own unifying principle. Things do not differ from the Dao, and the Dao does not differ from things. The subtle contains principles that are plainly apparent, and the plainly apparent also contains what is subtle. Thus, when one penetrates the ‘One,’ everything becomes clear.

The many perfected immortals all rest, yet I do not know the state of their resting. This is the “wondrous unity of the true origin” (the mysterious unity of the true primordial source).

All activity is true, and so all rest is true as well. In activity, one does not cling to activity; in rest, one does not cling to rest. Therefore it is said, “I do not know the state of their resting.” This is called the wondrous unity of the true origin.

I, Yuanshi—the Daoist revered deity Yuanshi Tianzun—dwell in the position of the primordial head and embody the Dao of the One Truth. The truth I speak of is the truth within truth. One acts without clinging to activity and rests without clinging to rest; therefore it is said, “I do not know the state of their resting.” This is called the wondrous unity of the true origin.

I, Yuanshi, dwell in the position of the primordial head and embody the Dao of the One Truth. Nothing fails to return to the ‘One.’ My supreme Dao of the true origin brings the many perfected immortals back to this Dao of mine; the true Dao therefore remains constant and unchanging.

The Lankavatara Sutra, a Buddhist scripture, discusses the “doctrines of permanence” held by outsiders. Some believe that all things are inherently permanent and never change; others believe that all things are inherently impermanent, and that people regard them as permanent only because of thought and discrimination. If things are inherently impermanent and are considered permanent only through thought, then this “permanence” is not real. In response, Laozi says, “To know the constant is called clarity.” What is spoken of here is the true Dao. True constancy is the unity of oneness, truth, mystery, primordial origin, numinous spirit, and the Dao. Therefore it is said, “Nothing fails to return to the ‘One’; the many perfected immortals all return to this Dao of mine.” More than that, affairs and principles, things and self, existence and acquisition, love and reception—all return to oneness. Nothing is not one, and nothing is not empty. This is called the true constancy of supreme oneness.

Chapter Three, fifty-two characters in all.

The mysterious is one; the primordial origin is one; the numinous spirit is one. These three come together as one. The true and wondrous ‘One’ is never lost. It is Wuwei (non-action), yet it can bring about transformation; naturally and spontaneously, it manifests the true origin.

The Mysterious is not mysterious in the ordinary sense; the Origin is not the origin in the ordinary sense; and Spirit is not spirit in the ordinary sense. Why? Because all arise from one true ground. Thus, the true ground is one with all things and does not divide; its transformations are unfathomable, yet it follows its own natural course.

Recognize the One—the fundamental, unified ground—and hold fast to this unity. The true and mysterious One does not divide. Though transformations take place, they arise from Wuwei (non-action) and return to the natural state of the true Origin.

The Mysterious is not mysterious in the ordinary sense; the Origin is not the origin in the ordinary sense; and Spirit is not spirit in the ordinary sense. Why? Because all arise from one true ground. Thus, the true ground is one with all things and does not divide; its transformations are unfathomable, yet it follows its own natural course.

Recognize the One, hold fast to the One, embrace the One, and enter my Origin-One—the One of the primordial Origin.

You must first recognize that the One is present everywhere before you can hold fast to it. You must be able to hold fast to the One amid all things before you can embrace it. Without recognition, you cannot hold fast; without holding fast, you cannot embrace; and without embracing, you cannot enter. Therefore, practice begins with recognizing the One. If you cannot see the One in things, long and short will obstruct one another, and things and self will work against each other. How, then, could you hold fast to the One without losing it?

I, the Most High—a Daoist honorific for the supreme sacred one—am called the Primordial Beginning, Mysterious Samadhi, True One, and Great One. These are all titles of the Primordial Beginning. To attain it is to become true.

The Primordial Beginning and Mysterious Samadhi are what Buddhism calls Nirvana. The Lankavatara Sutra says that Nirvana has meanings shared with both emptiness and a separate existence. Here, this refers precisely to the True One and the Great One.

Chapter Four, 142 characters in all.

The One returns to the Origin, and the myriad transformations return to the One. Hold fast to the True One and enter my divine heaven, the wondrous celestial realm. There is no One that is not the True One; the One cannot be separated from the meanings of emptiness and separate existence. Here, this refers precisely to the True One and the Great One.

Chapter Four, 142 characters in all.

The One returns to the Origin, and the myriad transformations return to the One. Hold fast to the True One and enter my divine heaven. There is no One that is not the True One; the One cannot be divided in two. The true Way of the Primordial Beginning is the One, constant and unchanging; the wondrous One is untouched by transformation. When the One returns to the Mysterious Origin, it also returns to the Way of the Primordial Beginning.

The true returns to the original source, and all things ultimately return to unity. To hold fast to one’s true nature and preserve this “One” is called the “Divine Heaven.” Its wonder lies in the fact that, among all things, there is not one that is not the “One.”

In the Śūraṅgama Sūtra, the Buddha tells Manjushri Bodhisattva: When the Tathagata rests in samadhi (meditative concentration), the scenes he sees, the objects on which seeing depends, and the thoughts arising in his mind are all like flowers in the sky; they do not exist in the first place. The mind that sees and the things seen are both originally the pure, subtle, luminous, awakened essence of the Bodhisattva. Manjushri, must you still seek another Manjushri called “Manjushri”? Once you have recognized your true nature, there is in fact no distinction in the mind between “is” and “is not.”

Consider the eye: when the eye faculty encounters external sense objects, seeing forms gives rise to recognition in the mind. Observe these objects in samadhi: like flowers in the sky, they have no substance to begin with, so they cannot be said to truly exist. Yet although what is seen is like a flower in the sky, the awareness that knows it to be so is itself originally bodhi, the wisdom of awakening; it cannot be said not to exist.

Now let us use the Buddha’s words to illuminate the principle by comparison. For example, the eye sees colors, and all things differ from one another. So what, ultimately, is the common source of all things? Their root lies in our own original source. Subtle phenomena are like flowers in the sky; without the original source, there would be no way to perceive these sense objects. In that case, what is not the “One”?

If you have not yet recognized Manjushri’s nature, you will divide “Manjushri” into “is” and “is not.” Once you recognize Manjushri’s nature, these two distinctions naturally cease to arise. The principle of the “One” and “not One” is the same. Not understanding the “One” gives rise to distinctions between “is” and “is not.” Through examining and seeking, when you see the one true nature, the distinctions between “One” and “not One” naturally disappear. Hence it is said, “There is not one thing that is not the One.”

The saying “the One cannot be fixed as the One” means that the “One” cannot be given a fixed definition. If you define it as one unchanging thing, it can no longer change; therefore, it cannot be treated as a fixed “One.” If the Dao were fixed and unchanging, it would no longer be the Dao. If the wondrous “One” ceased to change, it would no longer be wondrous. Only by returning to the subtle original source can one understand that, although all things differ, there is no need to cling to a fixed “One.” This is the Dao of the primordial One.

My nature, primordial and supremely true, without limit or boundary, is the Dao without spirit, born of the Supreme True Primordial Dao.

When the genuine—the true and authentic nature—reaches its utmost, it is the Dao’s highest state. There are no divine forms there, nor any boundaries. This is called the Origin (the source from which all things begin).

The genuine’s true essence cannot manifest by itself; it must rely on Primordial Yellow (the primordial Qi of Heaven and Earth at their beginning) to take shape. Originally beyond number, it suddenly appeared as “One,” and through this I was able to see it.

The genuine’s true essence has no fixed form; it takes form by relying on Heaven and Earth. Originally beyond number, it reveals itself in number through “One.” Once there is form, there are all things; once there is number, all things multiply without end. To discern the formless, numberless source through all things, and suddenly behold “One”—through this I was able to see it.

The genuine’s true essence has no fixed form; it takes form by relying on Heaven and Earth. Originally beyond number, it reveals itself in number through “One.” Once there is form, there are all things; once there is number, all things multiply without end. Only those who have attained the Dao can recognize the genuine through all things, and recognize “One” through their ceaseless growth and change.

Who can preserve my True One (the authentic and unified nature) and behold the genuine in the subtle realm of truth? Who can recognize “One” through “One”? Though it is minute and hidden, if one guards and honors this “One,” one can pass from the beginningless source into the boundless realm.

Only by viewing the genuine through the genuine can one know “One” through “One.” This is seeing what all things cannot see, and knowing what all things cannot know. When preserved, it is exceedingly minute and concealed; when put to use, it is vast and without limit. In preserving it, one seems to approach the beginningless; in using it, one reaches the boundless.

The genuine is still and Wuwei (non-action); “One” is subtle and beyond number. Wuwei and numberlessness are the primordial True One.

To act is to become entangled with external things; to count is to become entangled with particular things. The stillness of the genuine reaches the subtle realm, a state beyond all external things. The True One reaches the subtle realm of number, a state beyond all numbers. This is why it is called the primordial True One.

Without divine forms, dwelling at the beginning of all things, the Dao is fully manifest. Numberless, one’s true nature is complete; through Wuwei, the genuine is fully revealed. This is what it means truly to attain the Dao.

If one does not recognize the genuine, a speck of dust can obscure the sky and even hide the primordial True One.

Without divine forms, dwelling at the beginning of all things, the Dao is fully manifest. Numberless, one’s true nature is complete; through Wuwei, the genuine is fully revealed. This is what it means truly to attain the Dao.

If one does not recognize the genuine, a speck of dust can obscure the sky, and a small blade of grass can cover the earth. If one can see the genuine, then even amid all kinds of things one can experience the states of numberlessness and Wuwei. This is because ordinary people lack true nature, so whatever they see is distorted; the sage is genuine within, so whatever they encounter reveals the genuine. This is called “the genuine attaining the genuine.”

Chapter Five, fifteen sentences.

Use the genuine to preserve the genuine, and falsity will not arise in abundance. Uphold sincerity with sincerity, and one can attain the true Dao.

When true reality safeguards what is real, nothing false can mingle with it. But if a false mind pursues truth, what it attains will not be true. The Doctrine of the Mean says, “Sincerity is the Way of Heaven; striving to become sincere is the way of humanity.” The sincerity of the Way of Heaven spoken of here flows naturally from within, as though it were innate, without any deliberate intention to become sincere. To set out consciously to be sincere is to pursue sincerity deliberately. Deliberate effort can lead one astray; once this intention takes hold, falseness arises, and the way of humanity begins to decline. True faithfulness and sincerity do not depend on contrived thought. When faithfulness reaches its utmost, sincerity arises naturally. This is the highest expression of the “true Way.”

Chapter Six

Shen (spirit) gives rise to what is true, and what is true in turn gives rise to Shen. When Shen and truth unite, all manner of changes may occur, yet their foundation remains settled and unchanged. When Shen enters truth and reaches undivided unity, it can enter the wondrous realm of ultimate truth, finally returning to the Limitless—the boundless, undefined source.

When truth and Shen unite, there may be change, yet one may also say that there is no change in the first place, for everything takes nature as its foundation. Once Shen has merged with truth, distinctions among changes no longer appear. From this, one reaches undivided unity and attains the true One. Even amid a thousand transformations, all arise from Nonbeing, the source not yet manifested. This is called “I return to the Limitless.”

At the Great Beginning, when Heaven and Earth and the myriad things first began to form, the true One had not yet arisen. The subtle, elusive patterns of change were already stirring at an extremely minute point of origin. The Primordial Origin, a Daoist deity who embodies the source of all things, understood these wondrous patterns and held fast to the One without change, making the initial state settled and firm. By guarding Shen without letting it depart, the true One safeguards Shen, so wondrously that no trace of this guarding can be seen.

The Book of Changes says, “By tracing things back to their beginnings and following them through to their ends, one can understand the principles of life and death.” When I trace back to the time before I was born, where did I come from? When my life reaches its end, I…