《宋徽宗道德真经解义(章安)》Vol. 3

One whose mind is open and free forgets the body; the spirit can then be wholly devoted to the Great Dao, and no longer sees the beginning or end of life and death. Though the body is said to die, who knows whether the Great Dao dies with it? Thus it is called longevity.

Chapter 34: The Great Dao Flows Everywhere

The Great Dao flows far and wide, present everywhere, reaching through every direction, left and right.

The Imperial Commentary says: The Dao depends on nothing and is obstructed by nothing. Thus, whether in motion or at rest, it never goes astray, and its coming and going have no end. There is nowhere it cannot reach, whether to the left or the right.

The Minister’s Commentary says: The Dao is everywhere, and so naturally reaches everywhere. What could limit it, to the left or to the right?

All things rely on the Great Dao to come into being, yet the Dao does not refuse them, nor does it claim their achievements as its own.

The Imperial Commentary says: Things that have passed found support in the Dao, and things that seek it receive from the Dao. All things take shape and change in their own ways, each exercising its own wisdom and strength, while the Dao claims none of their accomplishments. It is like the turning of the seasons: when a season has fulfilled its work, it naturally gives way.

The Minister’s Commentary says: Zhuang Zhou said that without the Dao, forms could not come into being. The Dao is the very root on which all things depend for life. It gives life and nourishment to all things, yet never refuses them. All things grow and come to fulfillment according to their own conditions. What merit, then, could the Dao claim for itself?

The Great Dao nourishes all things but does not rule over them. It is therefore often free of desire, and may be called small. All things return to the Dao, yet do not know that there is a ruler; it may therefore be called great.

The Imperial Commentary says: When the Dao returns to the deep and formless, it seems small, making no distinctions visible among things. When it appears in the myriad transformations, it seems great and mingles with all things. Because it distinguishes itself from things, it is often free of desire; because it mingles with them, all things return to it. The Dao covers and nourishes all things, yet does not display any merit in ruling or controlling them, and so it does not act as their master. It sets all things in motion, yet no one can see where they ultimately go; people therefore do not know that it is their ruler. The Dao cannot, in its essence, be defined as either great or small. To call it small or great here refers only to the different ways its influence appears among all things.

The Dao extends everywhere and shelters all things, yet it remains hidden in a place of utmost depth, without form or trace. It has never appeared as a ruler, which is why it is said to “not rule.” The Dao is forever without desire; when it comes into contact with all things, it returns once more to obscurity. For this reason, it may be called “small.”

All things grow and change through the Dao’s activity and return to it, yet they do not know that the Dao is their ruler. The Dao engages with all things and appears amid their transformations, yet they cannot recognize it. For this reason, it may also be called “great.” The Dao does not claim to rule, though all things do not know that it is their ruler; all things are unable to recognize the Dao and can see only its boundless vastness.

Therefore, the sage never considers himself great, and thereby accomplishes greatness.

The Imperial Commentary says: His achievements cover all under Heaven, yet seem not to come from him. Thus his accomplishments are vast and all-encompassing. Mencius said, “When one is so vast as to be able to nurture and transform all things, this is called sagehood.” One who is vast enough to nurture and transform all things is not burdened by “considering oneself great,” and so can accomplish greatness.

The Minister’s Explanation says: The Dao does not claim to rule, yet all things return to it without knowing it; for this reason, the Dao may be called great. The sage, too, does not consider himself great, and so can accomplish greatness. This is because he takes the Dao as his model and embodies it.

Chapter 35: Holding Fast to the Great Image

If one holds fast to the encompassing principle of the Great Dao, all things under Heaven will return to it.

The Imperial Commentary says: “Image” is like the celestial phenomena displayed by Heaven. It is non-action, yet moves with vigorous force; it does not speak, yet its patterns become visible. When the sage governs the world, he practices Wuwei (non-action) and teaches without words, and the people return to him as they would to their parents. Hence the saying: “Hold fast to the Great Image, and all under Heaven will come.”

The Minister’s Explanation says: “Great” means vast, and “image” means form; hence the word “hold” is used here. The sage embodies the Dao and practices non-action, so there is originally nothing he needs to hold fast to. But when he comes forth to govern worldly affairs, the Dao’s movement and the manifestation of its patterns take on an image. He holds fast to this image without displaying traces of deliberate action, and all under Heaven is transformed by the Dao and so returns to him. This image ultimately originates in the Dao, which is why it is called “great.”

To return to it brings no harm,

Emperor Huizong explains: When Yin and Yang are harmonized and at peace, ghosts and spirits do not come to intrude; living beings are not harmed, and the myriad things do not meet an untimely end. Though the people possess knowledge, there is nothing for which they need to use it. What harm could there be in this?

The ministers explain: All under Heaven turn toward the sage, and many follow him. If he governs them by relying on the traces and conduct they have left behind, this will instead bring harm. The sage occupies the throne and practices Wuwei, allowing the myriad things to grow naturally. They grow of themselves, without knowing why they have come into being; they share in what they receive, without knowing what they have obtained. In this way, the subtle and unseen Yin and Yang and ghosts and spirits between Heaven and Earth, as well as the visible living beings and common people, can each follow their own nature. Wherever they go, nothing is out of place. Thus it is said that there is no harm.

At peace, in harmony, and unobstructed.

Emperor Huizong explains: At peace, there is no worry of danger or ruin; in harmony, there is no peril or calamity of collapse; to be open and unobstructed is to be free-flowing and secure.

The ministers explain: When people act without suffering harm, they can dwell at ease. From peace comes harmony; from harmony, one joins with the Dao. This is the Dao’s free-flowing ease. Thus one first finds peace, then harmony, and finally unobstructed ease.

Beautiful music and tasty food can make passersby stop in their tracks.

Emperor Huizong explains: To delight in sounds and flavors is a sign that people are entangled by external things and cannot free themselves. Bound by external things, they come to a standstill.

The ministers explain: Music moves people through sound, while food pleases the palate through flavor. People are moved and drawn in by what they love; their minds linger there, and they become unable to free themselves.

When spoken, the Dao is bland and without flavor. Look at it, and it cannot be seen; listen to it, and it cannot be heard; use it, and it is never exhausted.

The Imperial Commentary holds that the tastes perceived by the palate are already manifest, but the source that gives all things their tastes has never appeared. Thus, the Great Dao is bland and tasteless. Colors can be displayed, but the source that gives all things their colors does not take shape; therefore, even when we look, we cannot see it. Sounds can be heard, but the source that makes all things produce sound does not appear; therefore, even when we listen, we cannot hear it.

The Great Dao seems to know nothing, yet there is nothing it does not know; it seems incapable, yet there is nothing it cannot do. It enables things to display different qualities, such as sweet and bitter, dark and yellow, and the gong and shang musical tones. The Dao’s workings are therefore inexhaustible.

The minister Yi explains: The Ultimate Dao is without taste, form, or sound, and returns to the most fundamental emptiness. It responds to what exists through what does not exist, and from its substance gives rise to its workings; thus its workings cannot be exhausted.

“If You Would Draw It In” — Chapter Thirty-Six

If you would draw it in, you must first let it expand. If you would weaken it, you must first let it grow strong. If you would cast it down, you must first let it rise. If you would take from it, you must first give to it.

The Imperial Commentary says: Yin and Yang reflect and constrain each other in turn. The seasons follow one another, and all things likewise give rise to and destroy one another. This is the pattern of all things and a constant principle in the succession of human affairs. Contraction and expansion, flourishing and decline, rising and diminishing, fullness and want often begin in what is minute, yet few can recognize their signs. Only sages, who can probe deeply into the subtle changes of things, can foresee good and ill fortune; the worthy can only approach this ability.

In summer, Yang Qi is abundant, yet Yin Qi begins to emerge at midday; in winter, Yin Qi gathers, yet Yang Qi begins to emerge at midnight. When King Goujian of Yue wished to weaken Wu, he urged the king of Wu to send troops against Qi. When Zhi Bo wished to attack the state of Chouyou, he first presented it with a broad carriage. These examples show that when sages see frost descend, they can foresee that hard ice will soon follow. The waxing and waning, fullness and depletion of things begin before they take shape. Thus the brave may become weak, and the wise may lose what they possess.

The movement of Yin-Yang reflects the patterns of all things. The changes through which things flourish or decline, grow strong or weak, gain or lose, and succeed or fail do not remain fixed in any one form. Thus, the brave cannot remain powerful forever, and the clever cannot remain forever beyond constraint.

The movement of Yin-Yang and the changes of all things—their cycles of flourishing and decline, strength and weakness, gain and loss, success and failure—continue without end. Signs of change must appear in advance, though at first they are exceedingly subtle. By carefully examining these subtle signs, sages can foresee change and discern what is hidden. So, to make a force expand, first draw it in; to make it strong, first weaken it. If someone rises through unrighteous means and is still supported, that person’s momentum will naturally decline. If someone obtains something by improper means and is given still more, that person’s strength will naturally diminish. In this way, firmness lies with the other, while softness lies with oneself; the strong will eventually be diminished. This is the natural order. Sages respond to the myriad changes and accomplish the affairs of the world, while ordinary people do not know how they do so: they are applying this principle.

This is called “subtle insight”: discerning how things work through what is subtle.

The Imperial Commentary says: Before signs become apparent, circumstances are exceedingly subtle, yet the underlying principle is already clear. Yang Xiong said, “Water comes to rest in the depths, and the leaves and branches of trees gradually wither. The wise can discern the signs in these things, but ordinary people do not know.”

Minister Yi says: To see, amid what has no form, signs that already exist—this is what is meant by the subtle and hidden. The principles of all things are concealed among these signs. Carefully examine the beginnings of change and foresee how events will unfold; seek out what is profound and hidden, and the underlying principle will become clear. When the worthy put their abilities into practice, they accord with the transformations of nature. How could ordinary people know how this comes about? First drawing in, then expanding; first weakening, then strengthening; causing things to decline or rise, to lose or gain—all these principles are subtle yet clear.

Softness can overcome hardness, and the weak can overcome the strong.

The Imperial Commentary says: Accumulating many small instances of “not prevailing” can ultimately bring a great victory; only sages can do this. The Daode Jing says, “Nothing in the world is softer and weaker than water, yet nothing surpasses it in overcoming what is hard.” An outer chapter of the Zhuangzi recounts a story in which Kui, a louse, and the wind express sympathy for one another. It says, “If you put me to work, I surpass you; if you are the same as I am, I still surpass you. Breaking great trees and lifting large houses—I alone can do these things.”

When hardness confronts hardness, the harder side will break. When force suppresses force, both sides are harmed. The gentle do not contend, so others have no way to contend with them. The weak do not compete with others, so others have no worthy opponent to overcome. Thus the strong are often overcome by the weak: this follows naturally from how things work and from the situation itself.

Fish cannot leave the depths. The important means a state uses to govern and control affairs, too, must not be shown casually.

The Imperial Commentary says: The depths are where fish hide themselves. “Sharp instruments” are the means a state uses to govern and restrain its people. When a large fish leaves the water, even ants can trap it; that is why fish cannot leave the depths. If a ruler lets his ministers see whom he rewards, they may use his authority to advance their own aims. If he lets them see whom he punishes, they may exploit his power. Since the tools of governance, such as rewards and punishments, should not be revealed casually, how much less should the fundamental Dao of governing the world be exposed?

The sage holds the authority to govern the state without revealing it. He does so not through force, but by grasping subtle principles. He brings the world to submit without earning a reputation for exceptional cleverness; he wins the reverence of all things without leaving a record of martial achievement. He does not make overcoming all things his sole aim, yet he attains the way of constant victory. He brings the Yang aspect to the fore and draws the Yin aspect inward, changing without limit. He directs his ministers and governs the world, yet remains impossible to fathom. In this way, he can control others without being controlled by them. The foundation of governance lies with the ruler, and so does its essential key; through this, the world is brought to order.

A minister’s explanation says: Fish hide themselves by relying on the depths; once they leave them, others can constrain them. A state keeps its important means hidden so they can be effective. If it reveals them, others can see through them, and it becomes difficult to control the situation. The sage draws on transformations that are impossible to measure and adapts his methods to circumstances. He governs the world and directs all things, yet no one can glimpse the full extent of his wondrous De and profound Dao. His reputation for cleverness and his achievements in martial valor, moreover, cannot be described in words. How, then, could the tools of governance, such as rewards and punishments, fall into a predicament where others turn them against him?

The Dao always abides in Wuwei (non-action), yet nothing is left undone.

The Imperial Commentary says: The Dao is still and unmoving. Once it responds to what it encounters, it can understand the transformations of all things under Heaven.

The Minister’s Commentary says: The Dao’s constant Wuwei is its essence; its ability to leave nothing undone is its function. The Dao does not act by deliberate effort. It arranges the myriad things by following their natural course, and so nothing fails to be accomplished.

If rulers and lords can hold fast to the Dao, the myriad things will transform of themselves.

The Imperial Commentary says: A body of water reflects things like a mirror. It needs no clever contrivance, yet the shapes of things—square or round, curved or straight—cannot escape its reflection. When rulers and lords hold fast to the Dao in governing the realm, and follow the principle of Wuwei in their administration, the myriad things transform of themselves.

The Imperial Commentary also says: Rulers and lords hold fast to the Dao in governing the realm, bringing affairs of state into the realm of Wuwei. They govern through Wuwei and nurture the myriad things, which transform in turn. It is like the myriad things growing according to their own natures, while people do not know who caused them to grow this way. That is why this is called “self-transformation.”

The Minister’s Commentary says: What has Heaven said? The four seasons run their course. Rulers and lords should understand the Dao and take Heaven as their model, governing the realm through Wuwei without neglecting the tasks that need to be done. They may seem to do everything, yet in truth they act without deliberate effort. Following the patterns of things and moving with the right moment, what do they themselves do? They simply hold fast to the Dao. The Dao nurtures the myriad things, which in turn return to the Dao, yet no one knows that this was brought about by human action. That is why this is called “self-transformation.”

Once the myriad things have been transformed by instruction, if they again develop restless desires, I will settle them with the nameless, uncarved simplicity.

The Imperial Commentary says: The Mengzi says that those who wait for King Wen to appear before they strive toward goodness are ordinary people. The people often change in response to the instruction of those above them. If they again develop restless desires, they will leave the Dao to pursue goodness on the surface, act against their De (Virtue), abandon their original nature and follow private desires. They will then be unable to bring stability to the realm. Only the nameless, undivided and uncarved “simplicity” (the Dao’s plain, original state) can settle these restless impulses. To remedy this failing, nothing is better than faithfully holding fast to the Dao.

The Minister’s Commentary says: Those above teach the realm through the Dao, and the myriad things accordingly return to the Dao upheld by those above, though they do not know where this transformation comes from. The Dao remains simple and undivided, and can therefore settle restless impulses. To remedy this failing, nothing is better than faithfully holding fast to the Dao.

By “above,” I mean the ruler who occupies the highest position. When the ruler teaches and transforms all under Heaven through the Dao (the Way), the myriad things are also transformed by the Dao the ruler upholds, though they do not know how they have changed. They then return to the natural condition of their original nature and life, arising spontaneously from the state of Wuwei (non-action). This is why it is called “transformation.” To contrive anything is to act with intention; once the mind wants to contrive, it moves toward intentional action and gradually falls into falseness. The ruler should settle the mind with the “uncarved simplicity without a name”—the Dao, free of artificial distinctions and preserving simplicity—dispelling deluded thoughts and the desire to contrive, so that all things together return to their complete, undivided nature.

By preserving this nameless simplicity, one gradually comes to have no desires.

The Imperial Commentary says: Ji Zhen’s teaching of “doing nothing” addresses only one aspect of things. Such a view did exist among the ancient Daoist teachings, but it does not fully express the Dao of Heaven and Earth. People, too, should therefore lessen their desires. This is precisely the method Laozi uses to dispel confusion and lift the veil of delusion.

I say: “Dao” is merely a name adopted out of necessity. Forget what the mind clings to as its foundation and loosen the impulse to contrive: this is called the uncarved simplicity without a name. When even this simplicity has no desires, the thought “I wish to have no desires” is also forgotten. When even what has been forgotten is forgotten, one returns to the state of nonbeing. The myriad things and I share the same source from the beginning—what desire could there be?

When desires do not arise, the mind can be still. When the mind is still, all under Heaven naturally returns to the right path.

The Imperial Commentary says: When water becomes still, it is level as a measuring line, and so skilled artisans take it as their model. If one has no desires and remains still, one does not stray from the right path. When the ruler first sets himself right, all under Heaven naturally becomes right as well. The Book of Changes says: “The Way of Qian transforms and brings each thing’s nature and life into accord.” The transformation of the Way of Qian is Wuwei. Each thing setting its nature and life aright means that desires do not arise, stillness is maintained, and all under Heaven naturally returns to the right path. To govern all under Heaven through the Dao, until each thing has set its nature and life aright, is the highest achievement of governance.

I say: When there are no desires, the mind returns to emptiness. By remaining still, the mind becomes empty, quiet, focused, and aligned with the right. When the ruler first sets himself right, all under Heaven naturally becomes right as well. When all things under Heaven each set their nature and life aright, this is the highest achievement attainable through governing by the Dao.

End of Explanations of the Meaning of the Dao De Jing by Emperor Huizong of Song, juan five. Beginning of juan six.

The highest form of De (Virtue) does not deliberately display itself as virtuous; for that very reason, it is truly virtuous.

Emperor Huizong of Song comments: All things receive the Dao and come into being. The endowment they share silently accords with the Dao. One does not regret what has passed, nor regard oneself as having gained something by occupying the proper place. This is what “not having De” means. Confucius did not claim to be a sage, yet he could act in accordance with the Way of the sage as circumstances required. That is precisely why he had De.

Zhang’an explains: All things come into being through the Dao, and each receives its own endowment from the Dao. When De is fully present in one’s nature, it is wholly one with the Dao and has never been separate from it. One does not deliberately seek the Dao; it is naturally present. Thus, although De extends throughout all things, it is not burdened by them.

Lower-level “De” deliberately holds fast to De and regards it as something one possesses. In doing so, it loses De; this is called “without De.”

The Imperial Commentary says: Once you claim De as your own, self-interest arises. Self-interest leads you away from the Dao—what De could you still have?

The Minister’s Commentary says: To treat De as something acquired, cling to that possession, and refuse to let it go because you think it belongs to you is to stray far from the Dao.

Higher-level “De” follows its nature and acts without deliberate intent.

The Imperial Commentary says: To understand without reflection, act appropriately without forcing it, and attain without deliberate action—this is higher De.

The Minister’s Commentary says: Through Wuwei (non-action), one does not regard oneself as having gained anything from the Dao. Since one believes one has gained nothing, one returns to a state of utter emptiness and does not act with deliberate intent.

Lower-level “De” takes action and does so with a deliberate aim.

The Imperial Commentary says: To be unable to understand without thinking, to be unable to act appropriately without exertion, and to be unable to attain without action—this is lower De. De has higher and lower forms, perhaps because sages and worthies differ in this way. If one can cast off the body and cleverness and reach the state in which all things are one, distinctions such as benevolence, righteousness, propriety, and wisdom will naturally dissolve. There is then no need to practice them deliberately or to act with deliberate intent. If one humbles oneself to promote rites, music, benevolence, and righteousness in order to soothe the hearts of people under Heaven, one is responding to worldly needs. Though others gain something, one does not cling to what one has gained; this is still “acting with a purpose.”

The Minister’s Commentary says: To act is to gain something. But once one has recognized the Great Dao and embodied its De, one cannot help but follow its nature. The momentum of events makes it so, and one cannot deliberately prevent it.

Higher-level benevolence takes action without a deliberate aim.

The Imperial Commentary says: Yao and Shun were benevolent by nature, and their kindness extended throughout the world, yet they did not seek profit from it. Thus they acted without deliberate intent.

The Minister’s Commentary says: De is broad enough to embrace all things, and benevolence is expressed naturally. It requires no special contrivance and so involves no deliberate action.

Higher-level righteousness takes action with a clear purpose.

The Imperial Commentary says: To distinguish between self and other and judge what is appropriate is called “righteousness.” It establishes one’s position and adjudicates matters, so how could it be without deliberate intent?

Zhang An says: Once the idea of “I” arises, things are set in place; once affairs arise, rules are established. Where benevolence falls short, Yi is needed to address the matter. The Dao, however, runs through everything and brings it into proper order. This is why the function of Yi becomes so prominent.

Ritual propriety emphasizes taking the initiative in giving. But if the other person does not respond, the one who offered the ritual will roll up their sleeves and force a response.

The Imperial Commentary says: Ritual serves both to engage with others and to display proper conduct, giving form to the expression of benevolence and Yi in many ways. Its most basic principle is giving and returning. When an offering of ritual receives no response, resentment and a desire to fight arise, followed by disorder and turmoil. In the Spring and Autumn period, sometimes a single unanswered remark or one breach of ritual protocol left people dead and wounded across two states. Forcing a response by rolling up one’s sleeves was already a relatively minor calamity. The sages valued benevolence and thought little of Yi; they put benevolence and Yi into practice through ritual, but this was not the way they chose. Thus, the highest benevolence accords with the Dao and De; to prize Yi is to engage in deliberate action; and to prize ritual is to risk receiving no response.

Zhang An also says: Ritual is elaborate. It guards against events, establishes rules, and gives outward form to benevolence and Yi through people’s conduct and bearing. Though it is said to be a means of restraining wrongdoing, it also emphasizes exchange: one gives first and expects something in return. When ritual becomes elaborate, people expect repayment from one another and make demands on each other. This is, in fact, the root of strife and calamity.

Therefore, only after the Dao is lost is De discussed; only after De is lost is benevolence discussed; only after benevolence is lost is Yi discussed; and only after Yi is lost is ritual discussed. Ritual signals that loyalty and trust have grown thin, and it is the beginning of all disorder.

Song Huizong explained: The Great Dao cannot be attained through human effort. Only after losing the Great Dao do people speak of De. De, too, cannot be attained by pursuing it. Thus, only after losing De do people speak of benevolence. Benevolence can be practiced deliberately, but once it is practiced with intention, it easily draws near to righteousness. So only after losing benevolence do people speak of righteousness. Righteousness may fall short; when it does, ritual is used to adorn and repair it. Thus, only after losing righteousness do people speak of ritual. At the level of ritual, people have moved ever farther from the Great Dao, and lost ever more of what they once had.

Things cannot all flourish at the same time; Yin and Yang are like this. Principles contend with and replace one another: benevolence declines, and righteousness rises. When righteousness falls short, ritual is used to adorn and repair it; only after losing righteousness do people speak of ritual. At the level of ritual, people have moved ever farther from the Great Dao, and lost ever more of what they once had. Things cannot all flourish at the same time; Yin and Yang are like this. Principles contend with and yield to one another; so it is with the relationship between authority and kindness. Those whose inner life is substantial often appear plain on the outside; the rites between father and son are one example. From this we can see that the more elaborate the rites become, the more inner sincerity declines. When sincerity declines, hypocrisy follows, and conflict and disorder arise. Thus it is said: “Ritual is the sign that loyalty and trust have grown thin, and the beginning of disorder.”

Chen Yi explained: To think that one has attained the Dao is precisely to show that the Great Dao has already been lost; to practice benevolence deliberately shows that De has been lost. Breathing on one another to warm each other, or moistening one another to give aid, are practices that arose only after transformative influence was lost. Establishing rules and drawing boundaries arose only after righteousness was lost. External ornament obscures what is genuine, while broad learning constrains the mind; loyalty and trust thereby grow shallow. Ritual regulates outward conduct, prizes visible traces, and clings to elaborate ornament. In this way, the root is displaced by the peripheral details. Hypocrisy increases day by day: this is the beginning of disorder. So-called “foresight” is merely the surface radiance of the Great Dao, and the beginning of foolishness.

Song Huizong explained: Only after the Great Dao declined did deliberate action arise; and only once there was deliberate action did clever schemes and stratagems emerge. People use schemes to contrive deliberately and make their work ever more intricate; they exhaust their spirit and presume to measure and infer. This is called “foresight.” With such foresight, they pursue the branches and forget the root, so it is merely the surface radiance of the Great Dao. The spirit grows weary, and cleverness only confuses people further; this is why it is also the beginning of foolishness. To make guesses and repeatedly get them right is precisely why Confucius disliked Zigong.

Chen Yi explained: To follow the Great Dao is not to pursue knowledge or insight deliberately. The spirit grows weary, and cleverness only confuses people further; this is why it is the beginning of foolishness. To make guesses and repeatedly get them right is precisely why Confucius disliked Zigong.

My interpretation is this: The Dao takes not knowing and not being clever as its foundation, and values acting without relying on ingenuity. It therefore regards ingenuity as secondary. “Flowers” are the branches, leaves, and blossoms of plants. When flowers and leaves flourish, the roots weaken. If we rely on ingenuity in everything, calculating at every turn and making plans in advance, we move farther and farther from the root. This is why such conduct is called the Dao’s superficial display. Treating knowledge as wisdom is the beginning of folly.

Therefore, the great person—the one of virtue and insight—grounds themselves in substance and does not linger in shallowness; they abide in what is genuine and do not pursue outward show. So they set aside one side and choose the other.

The Imperial Commentary says: That side is what the Dao rejects; this side is what the Dao honors. What the Dao honors is substance without shallowness, and genuineness without outward show. Unless one has the wisdom to know oneself, return to one’s nature, and avoid being led astray by habits tied to the trivial details of things, who could accomplish this? The Book of Changes says, “Returning with sincerity brings no regret.” This means that returning to the right path with a sincere and substantial heart brings no regret, because one has centered oneself through reflection. “Sincere” means substantial to the utmost degree. People are born with an inherently substantial nature; to return to that nature is to rest in substance. The great person can therefore embody the Dao and model themselves on De.

My interpretation is this: What has its root within oneself is “this side,” and it is also the root of the Dao. What has its root in external things is “that side,” and it is also the Dao’s secondary aspect. The root means substance and genuineness; the secondary aspect means shallowness and outward show. To choose this side is to rest in substance and hold fast to what is genuine. To set aside that side is to avoid falling into shallowness and pursuing outward show. Only those who understand what to set aside and what to choose can be called great persons.

Chapter 39: Of Old, Those Who Attained the One

Of old, each thing that attained the “One”—the unifying principle at the root of the Dao—fulfilled its own potential. Heaven attained the One and became clear; earth attained the One and became settled; spirits attained the One and became numinous; valleys attained the One and became full; the myriad things attained the One and were able to grow; and rulers attained the One and became the rightful authority under Heaven. All of them reached the same One.

The Zhuangzi says that when one understands the One, one can understand all things. When government orders are unified, there is no disorder; when the mind holds to the One, it does not become scattered; when one remains steadfastly devoted, one does not change. Those who understand the One can know everything; those who do not understand it cannot truly know anything.

In ancient times, those who attained the Dao and joined with the One perceived the most subtle essence of all under Heaven, which nothing could rival. Thus Heaven above is pure and unmixed, while Earth below is still and unchanging. The spirits, deep and formless, do not grow dim when they attain the Dao. The valleys, empty and able to receive and respond to the myriad things, are never exhausted when they attain the Dao. The myriad things take form through the transformation of vital essence, and so, attaining the Dao, they grow. Lords and kings govern everyone as a single body, and so, attaining the Dao, they become standards for all under Heaven.

From Heaven and Earth to lords and kings, their positions may be high or low, and their forms may be hidden or manifest. Yet Heaven’s clarity, Earth’s tranquility, and the rulers’ becoming standards for all under Heaven are neither sought nor imposed from outside. They need only return themselves to the Dao. That is why they are said, in the end, to return to the One.

The minister Zhang An explains: “‘Ancient times’ refers to the distant past, while ‘today’ refers to matters of the present. People spoke of these things in the distant past because they were still close to the Dao. Heaven and Earth, the spirits, the valleys, and the lords and kings all take the Dao as their root. Thus, the ‘One’ mentioned above is the Dao in its original simplicity. The Dao is empty, still, and whole; in its most subtle state, it has not yet dispersed, and Qi has returned to its origin.

Heaven attains the Dao and is therefore pure and unmixed, its nature clear. Earth attains the Dao and is therefore still and unchanging, its nature tranquil. When the deep and hidden spirits attain the Dao, their spiritual power does not grow dim; when the empty valleys attain the Dao, their capacity to receive the myriad things is never exhausted. When the myriad things attain the Dao, they preserve their vital essence and grow. When lords and kings attain the Dao, they become standards for all under Heaven. They all take the Dao as their root and, in the end, return to the same source.

Heaven depends on clarity to sustain its operation. If it cannot remain clear, it may collapse. Earth depends on stillness to remain stable. If it cannot remain still, it may quake and burst apart. Spirit depends on its efficacy to manifest its function. If it cannot remain efficacious, it may cease to function. Valleys depend on an abundant flow of Qi to respond to all things. If they cannot remain full, they may dry up. All things depend on vitality to endure. Without vitality, they may perish. All of these take the Dao as their root; in the end, they rest on the same principle.

Heaven is sustained by clarity; if it loses clarity, it may collapse. Earth is sustained by stillness; if it loses stillness, it may quake and burst apart. Spirit manifests through its efficacy; if it loses efficacy, it may cease. Valleys respond to all things through their abundance; if they lose that abundance, they may dry up. All things exist through vitality; if they lose vitality, they may perish. If a ruler cannot set himself right through the Dao, but values only honor and high position, he too may be brought down.

The Imperial Commentary says: Heaven’s duty is to bring forth, nourish, and cover all things. If heaven collapses, it can no longer cover them. Earth’s duty is to form and bear all things. If earth quakes and bursts apart, it can no longer bear them. Spirit depends on people to exercise its function; if that function is lost, spirit can no longer manifest. Valleys receive all things without claiming them as their own; if they dry up, they can no longer respond to all things. When things gather, Jing and Qi coalesce into form, and they are born through gaining the Dao. When they disperse, the soul and vital energies wander away, and they change and perish through losing the Dao. Only by holding to what is right can one respond to myriad changes and remain secure among all things. If a ruler does not set himself right through the Dao, but craves only honor and high position, he will find it difficult to preserve himself. How could he avoid being brought down?

The Minister’s Commentary says: Heaven gains clarity through the Dao; when it loses clarity, it collapses and can no longer broadly cover all things. Earth gains stillness through the Dao; when it loses stillness, it bursts apart and can no longer stably bear all things. Spirit gains efficacy through the Dao; when it loses efficacy, it ceases and can no longer manifest. Valleys gain abundance through the Dao; when they lose abundance, they dry up and can no longer respond to all things. All things are born through the Dao; when they lose vitality, they perish. Rulers are set right through the Dao; when they lose their uprightness, they are brought down. Thus, honor has lowliness as its root, and high position has low ground as its foundation.

The Imperial Commentary says: Lowliness is what allows honor to stand firm; low ground is the foundation on which high position is built. Ordinary people see only the surface of things, while sages investigate their roots. Ordinary people see only what has already taken shape, while sages perceive subtle beginnings. Thus they are always able to grasp the Dao.

The Minister’s Commentary says: If the honored forget their lowliness, their honor will be shaken. If those who stand high above forget what lies below, their foundations will be in danger.

Therefore, when rulers call themselves “orphaned,” “widowed,” or “unworthy”—humble forms of self-reference meaning alone, lacking in virtue, or inept—are they not placing themselves in a low position and taking lowliness as their root? Isn’t that so?

Emperor Huizong of the Song commented: “‘Orphan,’ ‘widowed,’ and ‘unworthy’ are all lowly forms of address. Yet lords and kings use these words of themselves. This shows that they know the root of honor lies in humility. Is this not perhaps why they can remain honored without suffering harm?”

A minister explained: “Lords and kings know that the root of honor lies in humility, so they call themselves ‘orphan,’ ‘widowed,’ and ‘unworthy.’ They do not let their honored status become a burden to them, and so they are able to preserve it.”

Emperor Huizong of the Song commented: “Those who think themselves above others will put others down; those who think themselves noble will look down on others. If they are forceful but do not know how to remain yielding, or display their brilliance without knowing how to rein in its sharpness, they may hope to win the world’s praise. But praise beyond what they deserve will often gather around them for a time, followed by groundless slander. In the end, they are left without a genuine reputation.”

A minister explained: “Those who understand the One of the Dao understand the root. They can therefore humble themselves and take the lower position, keeping the highest honor in check. If they exalt and honor themselves, constantly seeking praise, they will also invite groundless slander. How could they avoid it?”

Emperor Huizong of the Song commented: “They do not wish to seem precious like jade, nor ordinary like stone. Jade is precious and stone is base; each has a fixed nature. The sage, by contrast, responds to the times and meets all things without becoming constrained. The affairs of the world change endlessly, yet the sage’s mind remains at rest. This is what it truly means to attain the Dao. Such a person is not bound by distinctions of rank or worth. Mencius said that what he condemned as ‘holding to one’ means clinging to a single way and abandoning many others. To cling neither to being like jade nor like stone is a state attainable only by a sage who understands change. This is called ‘higher De’—the highest virtue.”

A minister explained: “Jade and stone each have a fixed nature and never change. To hold fast to a single state is still to be governed by external things; it cannot be called attaining the Dao. One who truly attains the Dao can respond flexibly to myriad changes and meet the limitless variety of things without becoming constrained. This is higher De.”

Your servant believes that the nature of jade and stone is fixed in each case and cannot be changed. Holding to one nature without adapting is simply the condition of a thing in itself; it is not called “attaining the One.” To “attain the One” means to respond to every kind of change and meet endless affairs without obstruction, while never inwardly departing from the One. Who, then, could judge it as noble or base? To regard jade as precious and stone as lowly is to say that, since they cannot change themselves, their worth is already fixed. This is not understanding the One. Therefore, do not cling to distinctions of worth.

“Reversal Is the Movement of the Dao,” Chapter Forty

Returning and reversing: this is how the Dao moves. Softness and weakness: this is how the Dao works. All things under Heaven arise from being, and being arises from nonbeing.

The Imperial Commentary (by Emperor Huizong of Song) says: The principles of the world are that movement and stillness depend on one another, and strength and weakness complement each other. All things flourish and grow, yet in the end return to their roots. After passing through change, they return to ultimate stillness. Yet when things are stirred into response, they can understand the principles of the world. Thus every kind of activity never departs from the Dao, which is why it is said, “Reversal is the movement of the Dao.” The soft can overcome the hard, and the weak can overcome the strong; this is the Dao’s subtle function.

The Zhuangzi says that many small instances of “not prevailing” accumulate to bring about a great victory, and only the sage can do this. Thus it is said, “Weakness is the Dao’s function.” The seasons turn: winter gathers and stores away, then spring brings flourishing life. Water is by nature supremely soft and weak, yet nothing is better than it at overcoming hard and powerful things. Is this not what the saying means?

Seen in this way, being and nonbeing generate each other in an endless cycle: being arises from nonbeing, and when being reaches its utmost, it returns to nonbeing. They are opposed like east and west, yet cannot be separated from each other. Do those who insist that all things arise entirely on their own, or believe that all things must be driven by an external force, truly understand the Dao?

My understanding is this: the Dao (the Way) takes emptiness and stillness as its root, so its movement is a return. Movement departs from stillness and then comes back to it; all things return to their root and back to their source. This is how the Dao operates. The Dao prevails by not contending, so it acts through softness and weakness. The soft can overcome the hard, and the weak can overcome the strong; this is where the Dao’s subtle power lies. All things under Heaven originally emerge from emptiness: from nonbeing, being is born. Once things appear as being, they return to nonbeing, and nonbeing can in turn give rise to being. Thus being and nonbeing continually give rise to one another and cannot be separated.

The highest kind of person hears of the Dao and diligently puts it into practice

The highest kind of person—one with keen understanding and firm resolve—hears of the Dao and diligently puts it into practice.

The Imperial Commentary says: A person of resolve is one who aspires to the Dao. After hearing of the Dao, the highest kind of person accumulates understanding over time and applies sustained effort, persevering with complete sincerity.

The Minister’s Commentary says: The highest kind of person sets their heart on the Dao and has firm faith in it. They therefore strive to put it into practice and gradually make progress.

The middling kind of person hears of the Dao and seems to keep it in mind, then seems to forget it

The middling kind of person—one with moderate understanding and faith—hears of the Dao, sometimes keeping it in mind and sometimes seeming to forget it.

The Imperial Commentary says: Doubts arise in the heart of the middling kind of person. Once doubt appears, their resolve is scattered. Their attitude toward the Dao wavers: at one moment they believe, and at the next they lose confidence.

The Minister’s Commentary says: The middling kind of person does not see the Dao clearly enough, so their faith in it is not firm.

The lowest kind of person hears of the Dao and laughs aloud; if they did not laugh, it would not be worthy to be called the Dao

The lowest kind of person—one with limited understanding who finds the Dao difficult to grasp—hears of it and laughs aloud. If people like this did not laugh, it would scarcely be worthy to be called the Dao.

The Imperial Commentary says: The lowest kind of person lacks faith and the wisdom needed to understand principle, so they laugh. The Dao has no shape, color, sound, or taste by which people can grasp it directly; it lies far from what the ears, eyes, mouth, and nose find pleasing. Zhuangzi said: “A grand sound does not enter vulgar ears, and profound words are hard to keep in the minds of ordinary people.”

People of the lowest kind are led about by external things and thereby turn away from the Dao. They take what is illusory and unreal to be their own, and regard the highest Dao as false. When they hear of the Great Dao’s vastness and depth, they laugh and refuse to believe it. The Dao does not change because people of the lowest kind mock it. If a way were not mocked even by such people, it would not be the true Dao.

An ancient saying goes, “The bright Dao seems dim.” The Dao’s brightness is like the sun and moon shining upon the earth, yet it does not deliberately display its radiance. It holds profound wisdom within and does not flaunt its brightness, so it appears almost dim.

The court commentator explains: “Bright” here is like the light of the sun and moon; “dim” is like the darkness of the Valley of Darkness, the legendary place where the sun sets. Though bright, the Dao can return to a state in which nothing is displayed. It does not use its brightness to show itself off, and so appears almost obscure.

“The level Dao seems uneven.” The level Dao is the smooth and even Dao. Yet the Dao appears as though rough, uneven, and difficult to make out. The Imperial Commentary says that although paths differ, in the end they all converge in one place; although political affairs may seem to involve differing considerations, their underlying principles can be brought into accord. The court commentator explains that “level” means flat, while “uneven” suggests things gathering together and becoming obstructed. The Dao embodies evenness without displaying it, and so appears almost uneven.

“The advancing Dao seems to retreat.” Cultivating the Dao looks like making no progress, or even falling back. The Imperial Commentary says that Yan Yuan treated yielding as a way to advance. This is also the meaning of Zhuangzi’s “sitting in forgetfulness”—sitting quietly and forgetting the body and distinctions. The court commentator explains that cultivating the Dao calls for reduction, and so appears to move backward.

“Superior De seems like a valley.” The highest De seems empty, like a mountain valley. The Imperial Commentary says that emptiness can respond to all things without being exhausted; it can contain all things without claiming them as its own. The Dao De Jing says, “Be the valley of the world,” meaning that by becoming the world’s valley, constant De can be fulfilled. The court commentator explains that one who embodies the Dao is empty and able to contain things. Able to respond and receive, such a person is like a valley.

“The purest white seems soiled.” What is utterly pure appears to have suffered disgrace. The Imperial Commentary says that cleansing the mind’s profound vision until no flaw can be seen is what is meant by the purest white. Yet one dwells among what others despise, and so seems disgraced. The court commentator explains that the purest white is entirely free of any trace of other colors; “seems soiled” means being able to contain filth.

“Vast De seems insufficient.” De may be immense, yet seem as though it still falls short. The Imperial Commentary says that De contains everything, yet does not regard itself as having anything to spare. When the autumn waters rose on schedule, the Lord of the He River congratulated himself; for this, he was mocked by those of broad understanding. The court commentator explains that De’s capacity to contain is so vast that it appears almost disgraced, because it can contain what is filthy.

Great virtue appears deficient. Virtue can encompass everything, yet does not consider itself complete, so it seems deficient. Just as the autumn rains raised the waters in season, the Earl of the River once believed that all the waters under heaven had gathered in his domain. Only when he later met someone of broad understanding was he laughed at. Virtue’s capacity is so vast that it has no bounds; one could say it has reached the utmost. Yet it continues to grow, and, like the Dao (the Way), has no end.

Establishing virtue appears to be slackness. When the sage acts, they always advance matters with care and composure, and so they often succeed. Sages rise to act only when they have no choice. They respond to the moment and let things unfold naturally, seeming almost idle and in no hurry to do anything. Thus the virtue they establish becomes all the deeper and greater.

Genuine simplicity appears to have changed its form. Is it not firm? Grinding cannot wear it thin. Is it not pure white? Dyeing cannot turn it black. It is tranquil and undivided, without changing; simple and unadulterated, it holds its vital essence within unity and preserves its wholeness and truth. Though the world around it undergoes countless changes, its nature remains true: this is truth at its utmost. Yet people may not recognize what is truly profound and genuine. Because it is hidden so deeply, it appears to have changed its form.

The greatest square has no corners. A “great square” is square without having a fixed shape. Though it is square, it does not cut or wound anything, and so has no corners. A square with corners is merely the shape of a particular object; vastness without corners is the Dao without fixed form.

The greatest vessel is often formed late. A “great vessel” is a vessel that surpasses ordinary vessels. It does not deliberately augment life or force growth to hasten, and so it is formed late. The truly great vessel takes the long view and does not seek to take shape quickly. Eagerly seeking usefulness and forcing growth are the ways of shallow vessels.

The greatest sound is heard only rarely. Its movement has no fixed direction; when things are moved, it responds naturally, and so it does not often appear as an audible sound. The “great sound” is virtue at work without being perceived by people, and so its sound seems rare.

The greatest image has no fixed form.

The Imperial Commentary: The Dao is lodged in what is deep and obscure. The eyes cannot see it, so we say that it has no form.

The Minister’s Explanation: The Dao has no fixed appearance, yet it contains the complete substance of all things. At its root it is the constant void; how could it have any concrete form?

The Dao is hidden and nameless. Only the Dao is able to provide all things with what they need and bring them to completion.

The Imperial Commentary: From “Making the Dao clear” through “The Great Image,” the subject is the Dao throughout. The Dao’s mystery cannot be investigated by intellect or sought through physical form. It may be called vast and boundless, yet even when explained, it remains beyond our grasp. The sage understands the Dao, so gives to all things without diminishing himself and responds to them in a way that brings them to completion.

The Imperial Commentary: From “Making the Dao clear” through “The Great Image,” the subject is the Dao throughout. The Dao’s mystery cannot be investigated by intellect or sought through physical form. It may be called vast and boundless, yet even when explained, it remains beyond our grasp. The sage understands the Dao, so gives to all things without diminishing himself, responds to them without becoming exhausted, and allows each to fulfill itself without ever claiming them as his own. The substance of the Dao is hidden and nameless, while its function is to give generously and bring all things to completion. Thus, acting in accordance with the Dao leads to a state without form or trace, no longer governed by the changes of external things. This alone is enough to accomplish the work of an emperor. An ancient book says: “Learning begins with becoming a scholar and ends with attaining the state of a sage.”

The Minister’s Explanation: The substance of the Dao returns to the utmost emptiness, and its function is concealed in what cannot be fathomed. Those who understand it seem dim; though one may try to portray it, it has no shape. It is so hidden that it cannot be investigated through knowledge or sought through physical form. Who, then, could give it a name? “Lend” means to respond to another’s lack, provide what is needed, and make up what is missing. The Dao responds to everything, nourishes all things, and enables them to fulfill themselves without end. What all things receive ultimately returns to its source. The Dao gives to all things without thereby diminishing itself, so we say that it is able to give generously and bring all things to completion.

The Dao gives birth to One—Chapter 42

The Dao gives birth to One.

The Imperial Commentary: At the beginning of time, Nonbeing came first. Being arose from Nonbeing; this was the beginning of “One.”

The Minister’s Explanation: The Dao constantly abides in emptiness, from which “One” emerges. “One” is the primal Qi, still undivided and chaotic.

One gives birth to Two.

The Imperial Commentary: Heaven belongs to the Yang number “One,” and Earth to the Yin number “Two.” Next, Water is born from “One,” while Fire comes after Water.

I believe that the Dao (the Way) often favors neither side. All things are born from the Dao and, at the beginning, are one undifferentiated Qi (vital energy).

The One Qi divides, giving rise to the two kinds of Qi, Yin and Yang. The Imperial Commentary says: Heaven is One, Earth is Two; then Water comes into being, followed by Fire. Once Jing (essence) and Qi are complete, Shen (spirit) follows. I believe that when the One Qi divides, Yin and Yang become distinct, and all things between Heaven and Earth come into being.

One gives rise to Two, and Two gives rise to Three. The Imperial Commentary says: combine “One” and “speech” to call it “Two,” then combine “Two” and “One” to call it “Three.” I believe that Heaven and Earth each take their place, and the blending Qi born from their meeting also takes shape. Thus the Three Powers—Heaven, Earth, and humanity—are complete.

Three gives rise to the myriad things. The Imperial Commentary says: Heaven begins the “One” in the north, Earth joins it as the “Two” in the south, and humanity occupies the position of the “Three.” Once the Three Powers are complete, the myriad forms divide and appear. The number of kinds of things is collectively called “ten thousand”; from then on, even those skilled in calculation cannot count them all. I believe that all things have Yin and Yang and can grow only through the harmonizing action of the blending Qi. Their kinds are so numerous that they are called “ten thousand”—how could anyone count them all?

All things carry Yin and embrace Yang, and are born through the harmonizing action of the blending Qi. The Imperial Commentary says: Yin Qi gathers and is still; all things carry it, and so the gentleman rests after sunset. Yang Qi is harmonious and free-flowing; all things embrace it, and so the sage governs the world in accordance with the light. Between Yin and Yang there must be a harmonizing Qi: this is the blending Qi. The Zhuangzi says: “The utmost Yang is blazing and bright; the utmost Yin is solemn and cold. The solemn, cold Qi comes from Heaven, and the blazing, bright Qi comes from Earth. The two meet and harmonize, and from this all things are born.” I believe that all things take shape between Heaven and Earth and are born by receiving Yin and Yang Qi. Thus there is nothing that does not receive the influence of both Yin and Yang. The blending Qi harmonizes them, and only then can all things continue to grow.

The titles people dislike are “orphan,” “widower,” and “unworthy”—self-deprecating terms suggesting loneliness, a lack of blessing or virtue, and inadequacy. Yet lords and princes use them to refer to themselves.

Emperor Huizong of Song commented: Nothing flourishes without eventually declining, and nothing prospers without eventually waning. This is the pattern by which Yin-Yang operates and the myriad things change. Decline and growth, fullness and emptiness, all unfold along with change without losing harmony. Perhaps only the sage can achieve this? “Lonely,” “bereft,” and “unworthy” are titles people dislike, yet lords and princes use them for themselves. For they understand that what reaches its height will turn toward decline, and that fullness invites loss. Only by understanding this can one hold a high position without being imperiled.

The minister Zhang An explained: Lords and kings occupy places of honor and prominence, yet call themselves “lonely,” “bereft,” and “unworthy”—titles people dislike—because they understand that fullness brings loss and must hold firmly to the middle way, without leaning to either side. When Yin reaches its extreme, it gives rise to Yang; when Yang reaches its extreme, it turns into Yin. To favor one side is to lose balance. One should therefore follow the harmony of Yin-Yang and understand that loss and gain transform into one another.

Thus, sometimes a thing is diminished and thereby gains; sometimes it is increased and thereby incurs loss.

Emperor Huizong of Song commented: When trees shed their leaves, the roots are nourished in turn: diminution brings gain. Once the moon is full, it must begin to wane: increase brings diminution. The fullness and emptiness of Heaven and Earth wax and wane as the seasons pass; how much more so for human beings? Thus, when lords and princes call themselves by titles people dislike, they are following a way to gain benefit and remain secure in positions of honor.

The minister Zhang An explained: Increase brings diminution, and diminution brings gain. The fullness and emptiness of Heaven and Earth, and the advance and retreat of Yin and Yang, follow no other pattern. Lords and princes call themselves by titles people dislike because they understand how loss and gain transform and can follow the waxing and waning of the times. Thus, though they occupy high positions, they are not brought to ruin.

What people teach, I too take as a teaching and pass on: Those who are forceful and violent do not meet a good end. I take this as the foundation of my teaching.

Emperor Huizong of Song commented: Using strength to overcome weakness and hardness to prevail over softness is the teaching people ordinarily follow. What I teach is different. Those who are forceful, domineering, and fond of contention cling to the self and delight in fighting; they are bound to meet their end. The wise see this and take it as a warning. That is why these words can serve as the foundation of a teaching.

A minister explained: “Some things seem to suffer loss but in fact gain from it. Using strength to overcome weakness is the teaching commonly practiced by the world. What I teach is different. The overbearing person who flaunts his strength trusts in his own power and delights in fighting. This is a path toward death. The wise see this and take it as a warning, making it the foundation of their instruction.”

The minister explained further: “Sometimes things gain through reduction; sometimes they suffer loss through increase. Yin-Yang advances and recedes: when one recedes, the other advances. This is simply how things change and how Yin-Yang waxes and wanes. Where the principle lies is the foundation of moral instruction. Using strength to overpower weakness, and hardness to overpower softness, is the teaching usually practiced by the world. The overbearing person who loves to contend trusts in his own strength. Unwilling to let his opponent prevail, he keeps flaunting his power without reflecting. In the end, someone stronger subdues him, and he meets a bad end. Those who understand this principle learn from the changes through which things grow and decline, wax and wane, and gain and lose. They make this the foundation of instruction, thereby taking on the role of a father who guides and teaches.”

The Softest Thing in the World (Chapter 43)

The softest thing in the world can master the hardest thing in the world.

The Imperial Commentary says: “Hard things will eventually break, and sharp things will eventually snap. To gather many small forces that seem incapable of prevailing and ultimately achieve a great victory—only a sage can do this.”

A minister explains: “Hard things cannot readily adapt to the myriad things, so they break easily. Hard things are destroyed, and sharp things are blunted. The softest thing, however, does not resist the myriad things. It can therefore enter among them and act, putting even the hardest things to use. It masters them in such a way that they do not even realize it.”

What is soft and formless can enter where there is no gap.

The Imperial Commentary cites a story from the Outer Chapters of the Zhuangzi in which Kui, the snake, the wind, and the eye each envy one another, ending with the eye envying the heart. The feet can reach only so far, and the eyes can see only so much; only the workings of the spirit have no fixed boundaries. The Imperial Commentary also cites the story of Cook Ding cutting up an ox from “The Secret of Caring for Life,” an Inner Chapter of the Zhuangzi. Cook Ding guides his knife through the spaces in the ox’s body, moving it freely with ample room to spare. From this, we can see that whatever can enter a place with no gaps must be something that understands the endless changes and moves freely without form or trace.

I take “nonbeing and having” to mean that neither things nor I cling to the notion that anything truly exists. When thoughts of both things and self are set aside, one can experience the mysterious and wondrous, accord with the Dao, and so transcend fixed places and traces, moving freely without obstruction.

Therefore, one should understand that Wuwei (non-action) is beneficial.

The Imperial Commentary says: The yielding and weak can overcome the firm and strong; “nonbeing” can encompass “having.” This is where the Dao’s wondrous function lies. Set aside troublesome affairs, and the body will not grow weary; let go of attachment to life, and Jing (essence) and Qi (vital energy) will not be depleted. This is why non-action is beneficial.

I take the Dao De Jing to say: “The world is a vessel of mystery and wonder; it cannot be acted upon by force. Those who act upon it by force will ruin it.” The Dao’s wondrous function is hidden deep and cannot be fathomed. How could it be bound by deliberate action? Those who act deliberately weary their bodies and busy themselves with affairs, thereby depleting their Jing and Qi. What benefit, then, does life bring them?

To teach without relying on words, and to benefit through Wuwei: few in the world can achieve this.

The Imperial Commentary says: Teaching without words means teaching through the mysterious and wondrous; the benefit of Wuwei lies in not harming the life that is true to one’s nature. Thus the sage preserves simplicity, and the world submits. Without acting recklessly, all things transform of themselves; hence few can achieve this.

I take this to mean that when one experiences the principle of the mysterious and wondrous, teaching no longer depends on words; when one plumbs the Dao’s wondrous function, benefit comes from Wuwei. To reach the state in which the world submits and all things transform is indeed something few can achieve.

Chapter 44: Name and Person

Which is dearer, reputation or life? Which matters more, life or wealth?

Emperor Huizong of Song explained: If one values all under Heaven more highly than one’s own two arms, then which is closer to oneself, reputation or life? Is the value of life merely as great as the Marquis of Sui’s pearl, a precious jewel? Compared with possessions, then, which matters more: life or wealth? What one truly desires lies within oneself, so reputation is not what is closest to oneself. True abundance, too, comes from within, so possessions are not what deserves the greatest regard. If one fails to understand what is close or distant, weighty or trivial, and harms life and damages one’s nature for the sake of fame and profit, offering oneself up in pursuit of external things, is that not foolish? Bo Yi died beneath Mount Shouyang for the sake of his reputation for integrity; Robber Zhi died atop Dongling for the sake of profit. One who understands the nature of life will not force the pursuit of things that do nothing to benefit life. This is precisely how a person who follows the Dao differs from an ordinary person.

The official Zhang An explained: Losing the proper principles of life, becoming entangled in fame and profit and failing to turn back, comes from not understanding what is close or distant, weighty or trivial. The body belongs to oneself; it is the most precious and abundant foundation, needing no support from external things. Reputation and possessions, by contrast, lie outside oneself and are merely contingent attachments that happen to come one’s way. To cast aside what belongs to oneself and chase external things until one harms life and damages one’s nature is truly foolish. The body is closer to oneself than reputation is. If one can even abandon the body, how could reputation possibly be held fast? The body matters more than possessions. If one cannot preserve oneself, how could possessions fail to become a burden? Thus the person who follows the Dao judges for themselves what is closer and what matters more.

Which is more harmful, gaining or losing?

Emperor Huizong of Song explained: The upright strive for reputation, while the greedy pursue profit. What they gain is reputation and possessions; what they lose is their nature of simplicity and Wuwei (non-action), along with the immeasurable gift of life. What loss could be more serious?

The official Zhang An explained: What one gains from external things is something outside oneself; what one loses from oneself is the inner foundation. By examining oneself inwardly, one comes to regard external things lightly, and is free from the distress of chasing them and the anxiety of losing them. Insatiable greed depletes one’s Jing and Qi, making it impossible to preserve life; overexerting the body also prevents the spirit from resting peacefully. These are the more serious harms.

Therefore, to cherish something too intensely will surely come at a great cost; to accumulate too much in storage will surely end in great loss.

The Imperial Commentary says: If you do not covet external things, your mind and spirit can remain at peace and will not be depleted by them. If you are not entangled by external things, you can preserve your original nature without losing it. Taking and giving, accumulation and dispersal constrain one another and take turns in succession. This is an inevitable tendency, like a cycle that repeats without end. How could anything remain unchanged for long?

The Minister’s Commentary says: Taking and giving, accumulation and dispersal follow an inevitable principle. But when people covet or cherish something, their minds become its servants and their spirit is thereby exhausted. If they accumulate too much, their spirit is worn down by it, and their lives can neither be fulfilled nor endure.

Contentment wards off disgrace: Knowing when you have enough means you will not suffer disgrace.

The Imperial Commentary says: If you remain within proper bounds, what disgrace could there be?

The Minister’s Commentary says: Be content with what you possess and know your own worth; then you will not suffer disgrace.

Knowing when to stop wards off danger: Knowing when enough is enough means you will not fall into danger.

The Imperial Commentary says: If you can follow the patterns by which all things change from beginning to end, you will not encounter danger.

The Minister’s Commentary says: Understand how to remain within your proper place and do not covet what lies beyond it; then you will avoid the calamities of the world.

You can endure for a long time: In this way, you can endure.

The Imperial Commentary says: All things come together and part, but human nature does not change with the passing of time. People use their nature to trade for external things, so they chase fame and submit to profit. As a result, their reputations are damaged and they put themselves in danger. The sage fully realizes his nature and rests content with what is enough. Though the world is vast, he does not let external things harm his life; thus he can endure and exist alongside Heaven and Earth.

The Minister’s Commentary says: Contentment allows the mind to return to emptiness and stillness; knowing when to stop allows the spirit to unite with tranquility. Emptiness and stillness gather the Dao, while tranquility allows one to return to the Dao. Thus one can endure.

This concludes Volume Six of Emperor Huizong of Song’s Explanation of the Meaning of the True Scripture of the Dao and Its Virtue.

The commentary was written by the court gentleman Zhang An.

The Scripture of De

Chapter Forty-Five: The Great Completion Seems Incomplete

What is most complete seems to have something missing, yet its function is never exhausted.

The emperor’s commentary says: In the world there are four great things, and the Dao is one of them. Because the Dao possesses a nature that is whole and complete, it can be called “great.” It does not count achievement as achievement, nor does it suffer loss; this is called “great completion.” It does not claim its own achievements, so it appears as though something is lacking. It understands change and adapts to transformation without clinging to its former state, so its function is never exhausted. This is precisely what Confucius called “gathering into a great whole”: bringing together all strengths and attaining the virtue of a sage.

The minister’s commentary says: “Great completion” refers to the Dao. The Dao’s achievement is vast and boundless; who can see its entirety? So it appears as though something is lacking. “As though incomplete” means that its achievement cannot be seen. Though it has achieved completion, it does not reveal the reasons for that achievement, and so its function is never exhausted.

“Great fullness seems empty; its use is inexhaustible.”

The emperor’s commentary says: The Dao fills everything without limit and nourishes all things; this is “great fullness.” It responds to all things in a state of emptiness and stillness, receiving them like an open space and thereby serving them. Thus, its application never runs dry and its function has no end. This is like a skilled merchant who hides precious goods deep away, while appearing to have nothing at all; in appearance, he seems foolish.

The minister’s commentary says: “Great fullness” refers to De. De is supremely full, yet in its use it resembles an empty valley. Precisely because it appears empty, its function is inexhaustible. If one possesses De and then regards oneself as full, one instead moves toward exhaustion.

“Great straightness seems crooked.”

The emperor’s commentary says: It follows the changes of things, responding to them with flexibility and tact, without deliberately displaying its insight or sharpness; thus it appears as though crooked.

The minister’s commentary says: It bends to adapt to change, flows on without ceasing or remaining fixed in one place, and does not contend with the myriad things over which is more upright. The myriad things cannot see its straightness, yet it has never lost that straightness.

“Great skill seems clumsy.”

The emperor’s commentary says: It gives form to the myriad things, so that each has its own roundness, squareness, curves, and straightness, yet it does not reveal the subtlety involved; thus it appears clumsy.

The minister’s commentary says: It shapes all kinds of forms, yet seems to act without deliberate effort. It does not display its actions, yet its skill takes shape naturally among the myriad things: this is “great skill.” People cannot see how it does this or discern its subtlety, so it appears clumsy.

“Great eloquence seems halting.”

The emperor’s commentary says: Discernment expressed without relying on words is what is called “great eloquence.” Hui Shi, a thinker of the Warring States period renowned for his skill in argument, put forward many arguments, but his eloquence still did not amount to “great eloquence.”

My interpretation is this: Words can be used to explain the Dao (the Way), but it is better to speak little—or even remain silent—and let the Dao reveal itself naturally.

The Imperial Commentary says: “The finest eloquence is skill in argument without relying on words.” Although Huishi, the Warring States period debater, was skilled in arguing from many different angles, his eloquence still did not count as the finest kind.

My interpretation is this: Words can explain the Dao, but it is better to say nothing and let the Dao reveal itself naturally.

“Restlessness overcomes cold; stillness overcomes heat. Purity and stillness are the standard for all under Heaven.”

The Imperial Commentary says: Yang Qi moves and appears restless, so it can resist the cold; Yin Qi gathers and becomes still, so it can resist the heat. But each of these effects leans toward one side of Yin-Yang and lacks balance. They are easily disturbed by external things and struggle against change. How, then, could they bring all under Heaven back to the right way? Only by overcoming cold without restlessness and heat without stillness can one remain pure and free of admixture, hold fast to the spirit, and be at peace. Then all under Heaven will naturally return to the right way.

My interpretation is this: Restlessness makes the heart grow hot, so even in the cold one can resist it through this inner heat. Stillness clears the heart, so even in the heat one can resist it through a cool state of mind. Cold and heat belong to the Qi of Yin-Yang; if states of restlessness and stillness can overcome cold and heat, people are no longer constrained by them. When Qi returns to the One—the undivided source—it becomes pure and free of admixture. When the spirit remains in the One, it becomes peaceful and undisturbed. Only by becoming pure and still and returning to the One can one serve as the standard for all under Heaven.

Chapter Forty-Six: When the Way Prevails Throughout the World

“When the Way prevails throughout the world, warhorses are sent back to manure the fields.”

The Imperial Commentary says: When the world is governed by the Way, the people each settle into their own occupations and do not fight. Horses are used only to plow and fertilize the fields.

My interpretation is this: When governance follows the Way, the people have few excessive desires and do not contend with one another. Warhorses can therefore be retired. The people devote themselves to farming and settle into their own occupations, refusing none of the work, even when it is hard or lowly.

“When the Way is lost throughout the world, warhorses are bred on the outskirts.”

The Imperial Commentary says: The strong oppress the weak, and the many bully the few; even the borders cannot remain secure.

My interpretation is this: When warhorses appear on the outskirts of the city, the fields lie fallow and the grains cannot grow. The weak and few are oppressed by the strong and many. Since the borders cannot remain secure, it is easy to imagine how the people lose any place where they can live in peace.

Nothing is more blameworthy than pursuing desire.

Emperor Huizong of the Song dynasty’s imperial commentary says: If you do not look at things that stir up greed, your heart will not be disturbed. Once people have desires, they may even stake their lives to compete for what they want. This is how wrongdoing begins.

The minister’s explanation says: When the heart clings to nothing and covets nothing, one can forget selfish concerns. But once one decides that something is worth seeking and desire arises, rivalry begins. If you believe something is worth pursuing, you will fight for it when you cannot obtain it. Rivalry brings disorder, and no wrongdoing is greater than this.

Nothing brings greater misfortune than not knowing when you have enough.

The imperial commentary says: A peaceful state of mind is good fortune, while excessive greed brings misfortune. If you know contentment, you will not suffer disgrace—so what misfortune could there be?

The minister’s explanation says: When you do not know contentment, desire has no limit. Once misfortune arrives, it is therefore difficult to undo.

No failing is greater than single-mindedly seeking to get more.

The imperial commentary says: Unrelenting pursuit and the acquisition of what one seeks invite blame from others.

The minister’s explanation says: If everyone wants only to obtain what they desire, they will compete with one another and ultimately draw resentment and blame from all.

Therefore, knowing what contentment means allows you to remain content.

The imperial commentary says: If you imitate others and want to possess whatever you see that stirs desire, you will not know contentment. Without contentment, greed takes hold; greed leads to conflict and creates disorder. A state may reach the height of peace, only for the fires of war to break out suddenly, with warhorses appearing in the countryside. So when people know contentment and each keeps to their proper place, they need not use clever schemes to compete. If their daily food is enough to live on, what need is there for strife?

The minister’s explanation says: No amount of seeking can satisfy even Heaven and Earth. If you know how to be content within your proper bounds, you will feel neither that you lack something nor that you have too much, and so you can remain self-sufficient.

Chapter Forty-Seven: Without Leaving the Door

Without leaving one’s home, one can understand the world. Without peering out through the window, one can understand the Dao (the Way)—the natural order’s course. [The text then repeats the minister’s explanation from the preceding passage: No amount of seeking can satisfy even Heaven and Earth; when you know contentment within your proper bounds, your heart will always feel fulfilled.]

The Imperial Commentary says: Although the world is vast, the sage can understand it through wisdom; although the Way of Heaven is remote and profound, the sage can perceive it through the heart. The sage’s wisdom encompasses all things, and there is nowhere so distant that it cannot be discerned; therefore, there is no need to go out through the door to seek. The sage’s heart is in communion with the spirits, and there is nowhere so deep that it cannot be illuminated; therefore, there is no need to peer outside through the window. Zhuangzi says that the sage’s movements are confined to the space between bowing and looking up, yet the sage’s heart and spirit extend beyond the Four Seas. This is the sage’s ability to transform things unseen and, alone, bring all things to life.

The Minister’s Commentary says: If you go out through the door to learn, what you learn is only what you can encounter; if you look out through the window, what you see is only what lies within your view. The world is so vast, and the Way of Heaven so profound—how could ordinary knowing and seeing suffice to understand them completely? If you leave through the door and go elsewhere in search of knowledge, how much can you gain? If you peer through the window and observe what is nearby, how far can you see? The sage transforms things unseen and, alone, brings all things to life. The sage does not seek knowledge deliberately, and so knows everything; does not observe by deliberately looking, and so sees everything. The world is the realm in which all things exist; the Way of Heaven is where the Dao moves of its own accord. Its coarse aspect appears in all things, and its subtle aspect appears in the Dao; neither lies beyond what is right before us. If knowing and perceiving can reach their utmost, why go out through the door or peer through the window?

The farther one goes outward, the less one knows.

The Imperial Commentary says: Is this not a return to the original mind, through which the life-giving workings of Heaven and Earth become manifest? Look near at hand, within yourself, and the principles of all things are already complete. If you seek only among the changes of Yin and Yang and the various measures, you will move ever farther from the Dao and know ever less.

The Minister’s Commentary says: Going outward means leaving stillness and entering movement and turmoil. The farther one goes, the harder it is to return to the beginning. That is why the farther one goes outward, the less one knows.

The sage understands the world without setting out, recognizes the Dao of Heaven without looking out through a window, and accomplishes things naturally without deliberate action.

The Imperial Commentary says: To understand the world through one’s own wisdom is called “knowing without going forth”; to discern the Dao of Heaven through one’s own mind is called “naming without seeing.” If one can understand without traveling and recognize without seeing with one’s own eyes, what more needs to be done? The sage’s achievements are lofty and great; this is called “accomplishing without acting.”

The Minister’s Commentary says: The sage’s knowing and seeing do not depart from the original mind within. Why would the sage need to go out and look around? Setting out means acting; peering through a window means looking. The sage does not travel, but takes wisdom as the foundation; does not see with the eyes, but takes the original mind as the foundation. Thus the affairs of the world can all be understood, and the mysteries of the Dao of Heaven can all be recognized. Once things are understood and recognized, there is no need for deliberate action: all things will come to completion naturally.

Chapter Forty-Eight: Learning Adds Each Day

Learning means increasing a little more each day.

The Imperial Commentary says: Learning is a way to become attuned to the Dao. It begins with the pursuit of knowledge and culminates in becoming a sage. As a person continually adds to their learning each day, the Dao likewise accumulates within them. Confucius once said to Yan Yuan, “I see him continually making progress.”

The Minister’s Commentary says: Learning seeks to gain more knowledge. With more knowledge, one can investigate things to their utmost; so the essential point is to keep making progress.

Cultivating the Dao means diminishing a little more each day.

The Imperial Commentary says: To become attuned to the Dao, one must forget the constraints of the body, set aside the sharpness of the ears and eyes, and cease clinging to outward forms and discriminating intellect, allowing all distracting thoughts to gradually fade away. That is why it is called “diminishing each day.” By the age of sixty, Qu Boyu, the worthy minister of the state of Wei during the Spring and Autumn period, could continually correct himself as the years changed.

The Minister’s Commentary says: Cultivating the Dao is a way to attain emptiness and stillness. Only in emptiness and stillness can one’s nature be fully revealed; so the essential point is continual reduction.

Reduce and reduce again, until reaching Wuwei (non-action). Through Wuwei, nothing is left undone.

The Imperial Commentary says: Through learning, one investigates the principles of things until one’s understanding encompasses the myriad beings. Through embodying the Dao (the Way), one exhausts one’s nature and reaches the realm of “nonbeing.” Continually diminishing, one diminishes to the utmost and returns to a state in which no distinctions have yet arisen. “Before there was ever being or nonbeing” refers to Wuwei (non-action). Quiet and still, without rash movement, yet nothing remains unaccomplished; when something calls forth a response, one can understand the principles of all under Heaven. To abide in stillness and accord with the Dao is to be a sage; to respond to affairs and accord with the Dao is to be a king.

The Minister’s Commentary explains: To exhaust one’s nature is to reach the utmost state of emptiness and stillness, forgetting the distinction between things and oneself. When one no longer clings even to the act of forgetting, life returns to the Great Beginning, the original state before the myriad beings were differentiated. Thus, Wuwei is a return to the Dao’s essence, while acting without limit is the expression of the Dao’s function. In stillness, one is a sage; in action, a king.

Therefore, those who govern all under Heaven consistently conduct affairs through Wuwei. If they deliberately try to manage everything, they are not fit to gain the world.

The Imperial Commentary says: All under Heaven is a vast entity. One must not treat it as something to manipulate at will, nor allow oneself to be controlled by external things. Precisely because one does not cling to controlling the myriad beings, each can find its proper place. Thus, one should make Wuwei the constant way of gaining the world. All under Heaven is a wondrous vessel; one must not act rashly toward it. Rash action brings ruin, and clinging brings loss. Therefore, those who forcefully manage everything are not fit to gain the world. The sage follows the Dao and governs himself through his original nature. The rise of emperors and kings comes only through responding to the times; all under Heaven then naturally turns toward them. The Great King, Gugong Danfu, ancestor of the Zhou people, left Bin and moved to the foot of Mount Qi, where the Zhou state was later established.

The Minister’s Commentary explains: All under Heaven is the Dao’s mysterious domain and the embodiment of its wondrous transformations; hence it is called the “great entity” and the “numinous vessel.” All under Heaven turns only toward those who possess the Dao, yet they never make deliberate management their way of governing. They respond to affairs through Wuwei and return to the Dao of Wuwei; thus all under Heaven is naturally brought to order. To forcefully manage everything is to try to seize the world through strength, and this can only end in failure.

“On the Sage’s Having No Fixed Mind,” Chapter Forty-Nine

The sage has no fixed opinions of his own; he takes the people’s minds as his own.

The Imperial Commentary says: The sage’s mind can illuminate the myriad beings. It is empty and still, yet receptive; settled, yet able to respond, like a mirror reflecting forms.

The sage has no fixed opinions and takes the people’s wishes as his own.

Emperor Huizong of Song comments: The sage’s mind is like a mirror, reflecting all things. It is empty and clear, able to contain them; still and quiet, yet able to respond. Just as a mirror shows every kind of appearance, revealing what is beautiful and what is ugly, and just as a valley answers sounds, whether loud or soft, how could the sage’s mind be fixed and unchanging? He observes all things and understands human feelings, simply responding to the people’s circumstances. This is what it means to “take the people’s mind as his own.” The Zhuangzi says, “The people occupy a lowly position, yet one cannot help but respond to them.”

Zhang’an’s commentary says: The sage takes a mind free of preconceptions as his own, and so can adapt his responses to changing circumstances. How could his mind be fixed and unchanging? The people’s preferences change with the times; the sage follows those changes and handles matters according to the circumstances at hand. Thus, like a mirror reflecting things, he neither anticipates nor resists: whatever is beautiful or ugly, he shows as it is. Like a valley answering sounds, he neither amplifies nor diminishes them: whatever their volume, he responds accordingly. Why cling to fixed ways of doing things?

I treat the good with kindness, and I treat the unkind with kindness too; in this way, true goodness is attained. I trust those who are trustworthy, and I trust those who are untrustworthy too; in this way, true trustworthiness is attained.

Emperor Huizong of Song comments: People in the world often accuse one another of good and evil, and deceive one another about what is true and false. These distinctions are merely customary conventions; they are not true De. Those who truly possess the virtue of goodness treat every kind of conduct with kindness, and so they are kind even to the unkind. Those who truly possess the virtue of trust treat every kind of human feeling with trust, and so they trust even the untrustworthy. To forget the distinction between true and false, and bring right and wrong into accord—this is to have perfected De. This is how Shun treated his younger brother Xiang, always trusting and loving him.

Zhang’an’s commentary says: The sage regards every kind of human feeling as worthy of trust, and so trusts even the untrustworthy. To forget the distinction between true and false, and bring right and wrong into accord—this is to have perfected De. This is how Shun treated his younger brother Xiang, always trusting and loving him.

The minister explained: The sage regards everyone as naturally good and trustworthy in word and deed. People are therefore willing to act well and keep faith, and do not dare to go against this. The distinctions between good and evil, and between trustworthiness and untrustworthiness, all arise from deluded feelings and views; it is selfish intent that divides things into different categories. The sage reconciles distinctions between right and wrong, no longer clinging to goodness or its opposite. He regards trustworthiness and untrustworthiness as one, no longer clinging to either trust or distrust. He treats those who are not good as capable of goodness, and those who do not keep faith as capable of keeping faith. In this way, he abandons no one. Those who are not good will then turn toward goodness of their own accord, and those who do not keep faith will keep faith of their own accord. This is called using De (Virtue/Power) to guide people toward goodness and trustworthiness.

The sage lives among all under Heaven, always watchful and uneasy, and brings the minds of the people under Heaven back to a state of uncarved simplicity.

The Imperial Commentary says: The sage lives among all under Heaven and shares the people’s fortunes and misfortunes, good and ill. Although he holds no fixed opinions, he cannot help but remain vigilant. As an individual, he is always watchful and uneasy, never daring to take his ease. In relation to all under Heaven, he regards the good and the not good equally, and likewise accepts the trustworthy and the deluded. He forgets these distinctions and brings the mind back to uncarved simplicity.

The minister explained: “Watchful and uneasy” describes a state of fear and apprehension. Although the sage has no fixed mind, when governing all under Heaven through the Dao and responding to worldly affairs, he remains vigilant and self-disciplined. He takes action, but never dares to act carelessly; thus, he shares the people’s troubles. In governing all under Heaven, he brings the mind back to uncarved simplicity, intending to lead people back to plainness, restore their original nature, and bring them into accord with the earliest state of antiquity.

The people all turn their eyes and attention toward the sage, while the sage treats the people as he would infants.

The Imperial Commentary says: “What Heaven sees depends on what the people see; what Heaven hears depends on what the people hear.” The sage therefore makes the people’s minds his own. In the sage’s governance, all things can be seen, so the people watch him and heed his judgment. They rely on the sage’s sight and hearing to discern things. The sage is thus like a parent to the people: he cherishes, nurtures, and protects them, caring for them as he would newborn infants and extending benevolence throughout all under Heaven.

The ministerial commentary explains: The sage uses the Dao to make all under Heaven one undivided whole. His heart is free of distinctions, so the people attend with their ears and eyes when they approach their ruler, listening for and observing the Dao, and are transformed by it. The sage regards the people as he would infants. Because his heart is pure and undivided and he does not resort to cunning or clever schemes, he can lead them back to simplicity.

Chapter Fifty: Going Forth into Life, Entering Death

Going forth into life, entering death.

The imperial commentary says: All things arise from the pivot of transformation, and all return to that pivot. When the celestial mechanism stirs, all things are born with it; when it comes to rest, all things die with it. Birth is the beginning of transformation; death is the outcome of Yin-Yang change.

The ministerial commentary explains: The birth and death of all things take place within the pivot of Yin-Yang change; they cannot decide this for themselves. What appears and becomes Yang is life; what withdraws and returns to Yin is death. What is born here will die there; what dies here will be born there. The nature of all things has neither birth nor death, but has endured from ancient times. The coming and going, the transformations of Shen, give bodies birth and death. That is why the text says, “Going forth into life, entering death.”

Those who follow life number thirteen; those who follow death also number thirteen.

The imperial commentary says: Those who follow life and death move within the pivot of their changes, yet in the end cannot escape the burden of birth and death.

The ministerial commentary explains: People pass through birth and death, living along with birth and dying along with death; these have never been separate from one another, and so they are called “followers.” “Thirteen” refers to six things constrained by the body and seven attached to the Po—the spiritual aspect associated with the body and the senses. They are born from the body and sink into the shadowed realm below; all accompany a person.

The people, in seeking to stay alive, act instead toward death; there are also thirteen such ways.

The imperial commentary says: They crave survival while going against what is constant, forgetting life as they pursue profit. If people, in seeking to stay alive, act instead toward death, then what difference is there between such living and dying?

The ministerial commentary explains: With a body comes life; with life…

Therefore, those who simply submit to external things will depart from what is right and reasonable, and in the end lose their nature. When every action leads toward a dead end, life cannot be preserved. The desires of the ears, eyes, mouth, nose, and limbs, along with the desires of the mind, lure people toward dead ends, yet they remain unaware. Even if they happen to survive, what difference is there between that and being dead?

Why is this so? Because they attach too much importance to preserving life.

The Imperial Commentary says: Those who cling to life are led by the desires of the mind and reach a dead end without realizing it. Even if they happen to survive, what difference is there between that and being dead?

Why is this so? Because they attach too much importance to preserving life.

The Imperial Commentary says: Those who cling single-mindedly to life burden their bodies through their attachment to life; those who seek only deathlike stillness move toward extinction and forget themselves. To go toward a dead end means that chains and shackles are linked together, the punished follow one another without end, and corpses lie everywhere. Such people do not understand that the body itself is the greatest source of anxiety and that life has its own limits. They care only too much about preserving life. Those of ancient times who attained the Dao did not indulge themselves and damage their bodies on account of wealth and rank, nor did they covet profit and burden body and mind on account of poverty and low status. They did not cling to longevity or grieve over an early death. Their minds were open and clear; they could see the Dao as independent of all things, and so transcended past and present, unconfined by life and death.

Minister Yi says: Those who know that life brings joy and death brings sorrow are attached to the physical body and regard life and death as burdens. Those who understand that, in their original nature, they are neither born nor dead have seen that all things return to oneness and are no longer burdened by life and death. It is precisely because they regard life and death as burdens that they cling to life and fear death. And it is precisely because they cling to life that they care too much about preserving it, thereby harming themselves without realizing that life must ultimately come to an end.

I have heard that one who is skilled at preserving life will not encounter rhinoceroses or tigers while traveling on land, and will not be harmed by weapons when entering a battlefield. The rhinoceros has no place to use its horn, the tiger no place to use its claws, and weapons no way to pierce him. Why is this so? Because he does not put himself in a place where death is certain.

The Imperial Commentary says: One who is skilled at preserving life will not encounter rhinoceroses or tigers while traveling on land, and will not be harmed by weapons when entering a battlefield. The rhinoceros has no place to use its horn, the tiger no place to use its claws, and weapons no way to pierce him. Why is this so? Because he does not put himself in a place where death is certain.

Those who know how to preserve life keep their bodies whole and their spirits full, and can become one with the Way of Heaven. They keep their inborn nature unharmed, their spirit from waning, and their actions free and unhindered. Even when they tread through flames, they feel no heat; even when they walk above all things, they feel no fear. Thus, when they encounter external things, they are not disturbed, and nothing among those things can harm them. The Book of Changes says: “To understand the principles of change between day and night is to know the key to entering and leaving life and death; all things are like this.” To understand the principles of life and death and to transcendently comprehend the patterns by which all things transform and arise—perhaps only a Perfected Person, one who has reached the highest state, can do so.

The subject Yi says: Where there is life, there is death. Qi transforms into Jing, Jing transforms into Shen, and when Shen remains, it can govern the body; when Shen departs, the body changes. This is what happens to those who dwell within the realm of life and death. Those who know how to preserve life return Qi to its origin, gather and unify Jing and Qi, and let their spirit return to subtlety, becoming one with the Dao. Thus, although alive, they follow the movement of Heaven’s Way and do not cling to the idea “I have been born.” They appear in the world without rejoicing on that account. When they die, their bodies change along with all things, but they do not think that they themselves have perished. They enter into transformation without refusal, and ascend to roam with the Creator in the undifferentiated primordial Qi. In this state, they regard life as an excessive growth on the body, and death as the growth rotting away and a boil bursting. If so, who has used them as firewood to fashion their bodies and arrange their birth? Only by forgetting attachment to life can one escape the fear of death. Without that fear, what people dread no longer frightens them, and external things can neither burden nor harm them.

“Dao Gives Birth to Them,” Chapter Fifty

The Dao gives birth to them,

The Imperial Commentary says: The Dao is constantly Wuwei, yet nothing is beyond its accomplishment. The myriad things each follow their own proper role, and all grow from Wuwei.

The subject Yi says: The Dao returns to ultimate emptiness, while the myriad things depend on it for their growth.

De nurtures them,

The Imperial Commentary says: When the myriad things are able to grow, this is called De—the Dao’s action of endowing them and enabling them to flourish.

The ministers’ commentary says: All things come forth from the Dao, and each receives its endowment from the Dao; therefore, they are nurtured by De.

“Things take shape through it” means that the Dao gives all things their forms.

The Imperial Commentary says: The Dao’s flow and operation bring all things into being. The patterns that appear as things come into being are called “form.”

The ministers’ commentary says: The forms of things differ, and each has what it receives.

“Circumstances bring them to completion” means that the Dao brings the circumstances of all things into being.

The Imperial Commentary says: Once form and substance are in place, posture and circumstance arise as well. Long and short reveal one another by contrast; high and low likewise take shape in relation to one another. This is simply how circumstances are.

The ministers’ commentary says: All things give rise to one another and bring one another to completion. They also reveal differences in form and establish relative heights and lows. In this way, circumstances come into being.

Therefore, there is nothing that does not revere the Dao and value De.

The Imperial Commentary says: This is so for all things; it is simply the natural result of their circumstances.

The ministers’ commentary says: All things give rise to one another and bring one another to completion. They also reveal differences in form and establish relative heights and lows. In this way, circumstances come into being.

Therefore, there is nothing that does not revere the Dao and value De.

The Imperial Commentary says: All things take the Dao as their root. De brings them to completion and sustains them. The Dao is revered, and so it stands above all things; De is valued by all things, and so nothing can make it less precious. The Mencius says that Zhao Meng’s high rank could be bestowed by Zhao Meng, just as Zhao Meng could make someone lowly. Such rank does not come from De.

The ministers’ commentary says: The Dao is the root and beginning of Heaven, Earth, and all things, and so it is called “revered.” Since it is revered, there is no need to call it “precious” as well; hence we speak of revering the Dao. De comes from the Dao, and nothing can treat it lightly; hence we speak of valuing De.

The Dao’s reverence and De’s preciousness are not conferred by anyone through the granting of rank. They have always been so, naturally and of themselves.

The Imperial Commentary says: All things may decline, and circumstances may collapse. The true noble person stands beyond worldly concerns, and true worth lies in one’s own character. Without relying on external power or possessions, such a person remains at ease throughout.

The ministers’ commentary says: The Dao governs all things but is not governed by them, and so it is revered. De comes from the Dao, and nothing can surpass it, and so it is precious. The Dao does not regard itself as revered; all things revere it. De does not regard itself as precious; all things value it. They are revered and valued without seeking this deliberately; it is simply their constant nature.

Therefore, the Dao brings all things into being and nurtures them. It causes them to grow, develop, come to completion, and mature; it also sustains and shelters them.

The Imperial Commentary says: If we distinguish their functions, the Dao and De each have their own role. The Dao does not regard itself as revered or precious; all things revere it. It is revered and valued without seeking this deliberately; it is simply so by nature.

Thus, the Dao brings the myriad things into being and nurtures them, allowing them to grow, develop, and reach maturity. It then sustains and shelters them.

Emperor Huizong of Song’s Imperial Commentary says: When considered separately, Dao, De, force, and things appear as distinct levels; taken together, they all come from the Dao. The Dao is the hidden root of the myriad things. As things change and grow, the Dao brings them into being; as they draw inward and become stored away, the Dao brings them to completion. Things emerge through the generative force symbolized by the Zhen trigram, come to rest and completion through the Gen trigram, receive nourishment from the earth symbolized by Kun, and are sheltered by the heavens symbolized by Qian. Yin and Yang, firmness and gentleness, respond to one another; the Eight Trigrams shift and transform, as though some inner pivot were setting everything in motion and making it impossible for things to stop. In truth, all things are encompassed by the Dao.

Your servant Yiyi explains: The nurturing of De, the formation of things’ physical shapes, and the fulfillment of their developing tendencies all come from the Dao. The Dao encompasses all things and is their hidden root. Therefore, nothing in the coming and going, generation, transformation, or sheltering of things lies outside the Dao.

The myriad things are born from the Dao, yet the Dao does not claim them as its own. It brings things to completion, yet does not rely on its own power. It allows things to grow, yet does not rule or control them. This is called “mysterious De”—a De that is profound and unseen.

Emperor Huizong of Song’s Imperial Commentary says: The first appearance of the myriad things results from the Dao setting life in motion; their transformations show the Dao at work; their growth and return to unity show the Dao governing all things. These are ways in which the Dao takes form as De. To nurture things without claiming credit, to move them forward without relying on power, and to let them grow without displaying any deliberate skill in controlling them—who could achieve such profound De unless their virtue had reached the highest degree? Hence it is called “mysterious De.”

Your servant Yiyi explains: Giving birth, acting, and allowing things to grow are all ways the Dao manifests as De. The Dao can nurture the myriad things without claiming credit, act without relying on its own power, and allow things to grow without leaving any trace of deliberate control or arrangement. This kind of De is therefore called “mysterious De.”

Chapter Fifty-Two: The World Has a Beginning

The world has a beginning, which may be regarded as the mother of all things in the world.

Emperor Huizong of Song’s Imperial Commentary says: “The nameless” is the beginning of Heaven and Earth; “the named” is the mother of the myriad things. Both the beginning and the mother refer to the Dao. Viewed as the primal state of Qi, it is called the “beginning”; viewed as its continual nurturing of the myriad things, it is called the “mother.” With this beginning, things can continue to come into being.

The Explanation by Minister Yi says: All the things in the world have their own beginnings. Here, “the One” is what the Dao generates; it does not mean the beginning of Heaven and Earth. It refers to the level of “the named,” the matrix of the myriad things. The One is the beginning of the myriad things once they have names, and so it is called the mother of all things in the world. The beginning of Qi is also the One. The myriad things are born from it, embodying the principle that the mother gives birth to all things.

The Imperial Commentary says: The Dao generates the myriad things and gives them their names, so the myriad things are like the Dao’s children. One who understands the Dao can also understand the myriad things. Since they are born from the Dao, knowing them allows one to trace them back to their mother.

The Explanation by Minister Yi says: The One is the starting point from which the Dao generates the myriad things. Once you know the mother of the myriad things, you know that they are all her children.

“Having come to know the children of the myriad things, return to keeping watch over their mother. Then body and mind will not fall into danger.”

The Imperial Commentary says: Hear much, and grasp it through simple principles; see much, and hold to a clear understanding free from confusion. Investigate the principles of the myriad things without being burdened by them; understand the essentials of the Dao without losing sight of its subtlety. Then you can advance and withdraw with ease, and come and go without limit. You will preserve your life, enjoy your full allotment of years, and avoid danger.

The Explanation by Minister Yi says: Zhuang Zhou says that without the Dao, the body cannot come into being. At their root, all things come from the Dao and are born from the One. Knowing that the One is the mother of the myriad things, one must keep to the One. If you can keep to the One, then even if the body is harmed, the spirit will not fall into danger.

“Block the openings of the senses and close their gates, and you will not toil throughout your life.”

Here, “opening” and “gate” refer to the senses and the ways through which we engage with external things. “Block the openings and close the gates” is a Daoist cultivation practice of gathering in the senses and reducing disturbance from external things.

Emperor Huizong of Song’s commentary says: “Delight” refers to words that please people, and “door” refers to an entrance that opens outward. When external things tempt people, their hearts rejoice in response. The ears, eyes, nose, and mouth are the points through which the spirits—our mental faculties of perception—enter and leave. Guard the heart carefully and restrain the senses; do not treat contact with external things as a source of pleasure. Then external things cannot tempt you. You can follow nature and find contentment within yourself. Why hurry about, taking external things as objects of pursuit?

A minister’s interpretation says: When “delight” arises from external things, the heart develops a direction of its own. Once the heart’s door is open, the spirit grows restless. Block the heart’s desire for external pleasures, and the heart becomes undivided; close the door of the heart that opens outward, and the spirit becomes calm. An undivided heart and a calm spirit are precisely what it means to hold fast to the root. Hold fast to the root, and you can return to the Dao. Wherever you are, you can find contentment within yourself. What need is there for toil?

Open the senses and stubbornly pursue accomplishments, and even a lifetime will not be enough to save you.

Emperor Huizong of Song’s commentary says: To entertain delusions about things that please you, become entangled in dealings with external things, and busy yourself constantly with tasks is to bring yourself into conflict and mutual depletion with those things. You will toil all your life without seeing success.

A minister’s interpretation says: When the heart is pleased by external things, it pursues illusions and abandons the root for what is secondary. It goes on without turning back, expends its spirit, and exhausts itself with tasks, hoping to achieve its aims through them. Nothing could be more foolish. This depletes Jing and Qi and causes one to lose spiritual clarity. How could such a person be saved?

Being able to perceive what is subtle is called clarity.

Emperor Huizong of Song’s commentary says: What is subtle is the mystery of the Dao. Perceive the mystery of the Dao, and you can know yourself; then nothing remains unclear.

A minister’s interpretation says: Both “small” and “unworked” carry meanings of simplicity and subtlety. To perceive them is called clarity, because it means being able to know yourself.

Holding fast to weakness is called strength.

Emperor Huizong of Song’s commentary says: Weakness is the root of the Dao. To hold fast to the root of the Dao is to master yourself; then there is nothing you cannot overcome.

A minister’s interpretation says: To understand how to hold fast through weakness is to understand how to master yourself.

Use the inner light, then return to the clear and luminous original heart.

Light is the form in which brightness appears outwardly; brightness is the source of light. When the sage responds to worldly affairs, brightness within comes into use and radiance appears. When outward activity is drawn back and returns to its inner source, wisdom becomes fully clear as brightness. The sage’s radiance appears amid the transformations of all things, yet remains deeply concealed within its activity, like the sun and moon shining on all things: ever bright, without diminishing. This is what is meant by mysteriously manifesting De.

Light is what appears outwardly. When the sage reveals himself to respond to worldly affairs, this is the function of light. When he restrains that function and returns to the Dao, brightness returns to its source.

To avoid bringing disaster upon oneself is called following the constant Dao.

The transformations of the myriad things have no unchanging state. Only those who return to their original nature and transcend external things can return to inner brightness without changing along with the myriad things. Thus they can remain constant and free from harm. This differs from the transformation of one whose form becomes a butterfly and then changes into light.

If one uses the function of light without returning to inner brightness, one becomes attached to one’s own existence and stands opposed to the endless external things. The function of light will eventually be exhausted, and external things may then become a source of harm to oneself. This is disaster brought on by one’s own actions. Only by returning to inner brightness and going back to unadorned authenticity can one remain constant, unchanged by external things. This is called following the constant Dao. The wonder of the truly constant Dao lies in becoming one with the Dao without distinctions; it cannot be gained through display or grasping. Hence it is called “following”—receiving and carrying on the Dao.

“If I Had Even the Slightest Understanding,” Chapter 53

If I had even the slightest understanding and walked along the Great Dao, what I would fear most is taking action and forcing things.

The Dao calls for the removal of extravagance and excess. Extravagance is indulgence in one’s conduct; excess is arrogance in one’s disposition. Acting too much means going beyond the proper limit. “Slightest” means being subtle yet able to distinguish things. If one examines things closely while also coming to know oneself inwardly, one can make one’s foundation firm and find fulfillment in one’s own nature. Therefore, what one must guard against most is forcing things.

The Minister’s Commentary says: A person whose true heart is undivided can attain the Dao (the Way). When private desires and distracting thoughts are forgotten, the heart has nothing to fear. But if even a trace of personal understanding remains, then acting in accordance with the Great Dao still means pursuing the Dao with intention. Thus, in carrying out actions, one can hardly avoid having something to fear.

The Great Dao is broad and level, yet the people prefer narrow paths.

The Imperial Commentary says: The Great Dao is level, but narrow paths seem quicker to travel. People want shortcuts and quick results before them; in the end, they move even farther from the Great Dao.

The Minister’s Commentary says: The Dao is easy to understand and easy to follow; there is nothing difficult about it, just as a great road is level. Yet the people prefer narrow paths, relying on clever devices and seeking speed and convenience in pursuit of immediate results. In doing so, they lose the Dao.

The court is outwardly made splendid and orderly, while the fields lie waste and the granaries stand empty.

The Imperial Commentary says: Esteeming the worthy and appointing capable people may indeed make the court appear to govern well. But if people are not encouraged to work diligently in the fields and store up provisions, so that the people may prosper, then the branches are pursued while the root is abandoned. This is not a way that can endure.

The Minister’s Commentary says: The court’s neat and orderly appearance is merely a decoration of the surface. The fields lying waste and the granaries standing empty show that the root has not been tended. To care only for appearances and abandon the root is not a way that can endure.

Wearing fine clothes, carrying a sharp sword, eating and drinking abundantly, and having wealth to spare—this is called flaunting extravagance, and it is not in accord with the Dao.

The Imperial Commentary says: “Within the tally” means being within the bounds of accord with the Great Dao; “beyond the tally” means departing from the Great Dao, with the mind fixed on expected gains and expenditures. Those who walk the Dao of namelessness fear only that what they give may not be enough. Those whose minds are set on pursuing gain take pride in fine clothes, sharp swords, sumptuous food and drink, and surplus wealth, and feel no shame in them. They rely on extravagance and injure righteousness, indulging themselves and boasting of their own glory. How could this be in accord with the Dao?

The ministerial commentary says: “Abandoning the root to chase after the branches, and constantly catering to external things, only harms one’s inner self. Forgetting what one already possesses while claiming and flaunting what was never one’s own; forgetting one’s own inherent worth while boasting of a nobility one does not truly possess—this is called ‘robbery and boasting.’”

Chapter 54: What Is Well Established Cannot Be Uprooted

What is well established has firm foundations and cannot be uprooted.

The Imperial Commentary says: “By standing upon the Way of centrality and correctness, one can govern those above and below; thus one’s foundations cannot be uprooted.”

Minister Zhang’an’s explanation says: “When the mind is biased or attached, it becomes crooked and departs from centrality and correctness. To establish foundations well is to have a mind free of bias and attachment; thus they cannot be uprooted.”

What is well held fast will not slip away.

The Imperial Commentary says: “By holding to the One—the Dao’s state of purity and unity—one can meet the myriad changes; thus it will not slip away.”

Minister Zhang’an’s explanation says: “To hold fast well is to hold to purity and unity. Only with an inner self that is pure and unmixed, focused and undivided, can one respond to change without end and never lose the Dao.”

In this way, descendants may continue their sacrifices from generation to generation.

The Imperial Commentary says: “One stands upon centrality and correctness without departing from the Dao, and holds to purity and unity without departing from its subtle Way. The influence of such a person is not limited to one state or one era; it benefits all under Heaven and generations to come, enduring for a long time.”

Minister Zhang’an’s explanation says: “Standing upon centrality and correctness, and holding to purity and unity, one’s influence is inexhaustible, and the effects of the Dao extend throughout all under Heaven. Later generations of descendants therefore receive its blessings, and the sacrifices do not cease.”

Cultivate the Dao in yourself, and your De (Virtue) will become genuine. Cultivate the Dao in your family, and your De will become abundant. Cultivate the Dao in your village, and your De will endure. Cultivate the Dao in your state, and your De will flourish. Cultivate the Dao throughout all under Heaven, and your De will extend everywhere.

Huizong’s Imperial Commentary says: When one cultivates oneself, one’s Virtue becomes genuine. This is to govern oneself through the truth of the Dao. Use it to cultivate the family, and Virtue will be abundant; use it to govern the local community, and Virtue will endure. These are all ways of governing others with the Dao’s residual effects. Use it to govern the state, and Virtue will become full and flourishing; use it to govern the world, and Virtue will extend everywhere. This is to put the Dao’s root into practice in governing the world and the state. The farther cultivation reaches, the more widely Virtue extends. The genuine Dao lies within oneself; what is applied to others is only its branches and leaves. Thus, Virtue must first become abundant before it can be extended to the local community and made enduring; it must first become full and flourishing before it can extend everywhere. In relation to the Dao, all these are outward expressions.

The minister Zhang An explains: Establish yourself by holding to the center, and you will go neither too far nor fall short. Hold fast to the One—that is, the Daoist principle of single-mindedness and purity—and your spirit will remain whole and undistracted. Cultivate yourself in this way, and your Virtue will be genuine; use it to cultivate the family, and Virtue will be abundant; use it to govern the state, and Virtue will flourish; use it to govern the world, and Virtue will extend everywhere. The farther cultivation reaches, the more widely Virtue extends. The genuine root of the Dao lies within oneself. So first cultivate yourself through the genuine Dao, then extend your Virtue outward: from the family and local community to the state and the world. Virtue will thereby spread ever more widely.

Therefore, take yourself as the standard for observing yourself, the family as the standard for observing the family, the local community as the standard for observing the local community, the state as the standard for observing the state, and the world as the standard for observing the world.

Huizong’s Imperial Commentary says: The principles of all things are present within me. Reflect on yourself and make your heart sincere, and you will attain the greatest joy. Thus, observe yourself by the principles within yourself, and you will bring yourself into order; the same applies by extension. The world has its own enduring patterns. Observe the world by following these patterns, and you will bring it into order.

The minister Zhang An explains: The principles of the world have what endures, and each thing has its own limits. Those who can fully understand these principles do not rely on private judgment to make arbitrary assessments. Thus, in observing yourself, do not depart from yourself; in observing the family, do not depart from the family. The same applies to observing the local community, the state, and the world. To violate this is not to know how to observe well.

By what do I know the patterns of the world? By this principle.

When the mind is simple and unified, the principles of the world become clear. To examine the affairs of one family, there is no need to look beyond that family’s actual circumstances. The same applies when examining a village, a state, or the world. Observation that does not follow this principle cannot be called skillful.

How do I know what is happening in the world? By this principle.

The imperial commentary says: When one handles affairs simply and without complication, the principles of the world can be understood.

The minister’s commentary says: The key to knowing what is happening in the world and grasping its principles lies in keeping the mind centered and unified. This may be called the Way of simplicity: acting in accord with human nature and following the principles of things.

Chapter 55: The Deeply Rooted De

A person whose inner De (Virtue/Power) is deep and strong is like a newborn baby.

The imperial commentary says: People are endowed from the beginning with a pure and generous nature, but it changes as they respond to external things. A person with deep De is not changed by external things; therefore, the breath is concentrated and the will is pure. Mencius said, “A great person does not lose the pure heart of a child.”

The minister’s commentary says: Human De is originally whole and complete, but it changes through contact with external things and becomes shallow rather than deep. Only by forgetting the distinction between external things and oneself can deep De remain unchanged by them. Then the breath is concentrated and the will is pure. Mencius said, “A great person does not lose the pure heart of a child.”

Human De is originally whole and complete, but it changes through contact with external things and becomes shallow. Only by forgetting the distinction between things and oneself can deep De remain whole and unharmed, with the spirit concentrated and undivided. One then returns to a state without cunning distinctions, and the mind becomes as simple and pure as a baby’s.

Poisonous insects do not sting such a person; wild beasts do not harm them, and fierce birds do not attack them.

The imperial commentary says: In a person with deep De, worries and fears cannot enter, and harmful influences cannot disturb them. External things therefore cannot harm them. The Zhuangzi says, “If a person can move through the world with an empty, unattached mind, who can harm them?”

The minister’s commentary says: When a person is like a baby, with Jing (essence) abundant and the spirit steady, the mind returns to a state without attachment. Fear and worry cannot enter, and no thought arises of provoking or disturbing external things; so external things cannot harm them either.

The bones are weak and the sinews soft, yet the fists are tightly clenched. The person does not yet know the union of male and female, yet the genitals are erect. This is a sign that Jing and Qi (vital energy) are abundant.

When Virtue is complete, the body is complete as well. An infant’s bones are weak and its sinews soft, yet it can grip things tightly. When the body is complete, the spirit is complete too. An infant does not yet know about sexual intercourse, yet its body can naturally become aroused and erect. When Jing and Qi reach their utmost, they can penetrate the mysterious and wondrous. The Zhuangzi says, “The sage esteems Jing and Qi.”

The minister explains: When Virtue is complete, Qi is abundant; when Qi is abundant, the spirit is whole; and when the spirit is whole, the body is complete. A person whose spirit is whole does not remain confined to material form, and Qi can change along with it. Thus the bones are weak and the sinews soft; when Jing and Qi reach their utmost, they can penetrate the mysterious and wondrous. The Zhuangzi says, “The sage esteems Jing and Qi.”

The minister further explains: When Virtue is complete, Qi is abundant; when Qi is abundant, the spirit is whole; and when the spirit is whole, the body is complete. A person whose spirit is whole is not constrained by material form, and Qi can change along with it. Thus the bones are weak and the sinews soft, yet the infant can grip things tightly. Qi is not stirred by external things, and Jing and Qi remain unified and whole. So even without understanding sexual intercourse, the body naturally becomes aroused.

An infant may cry all day without making its throat hoarse. This is because its harmonious Qi is abundant and has reached its utmost.

The Imperial Commentary explains: When something is unified and does not disperse, it is called “Jing.” When Jing and Qi are abundant, Virtue is complete and the spirit suffers no depletion. When the harmonious Qi of Yin and Yang gathers, Qi is abundant and the throat does not become hoarse. In human life, Jing and Qi are received from “Heaven’s One” and are the source of wisdom; harmonious Qi comes from “Heaven’s Five” and is the root of trustworthiness. When Jing and Qi, and harmonious Qi, reach their utmost, they can penetrate the mysterious and wondrous and return to their original nature. But once people lose the infant’s pure and innocent heart, Jing and Qi are stirred and can no longer be kept in place; their breathing becomes hurried and disordered, and body and nature scatter. They sink into the myriad things. Is this not lamentable?

The minister explains: Though an infant’s body comes into contact with external things, its inner heart remains quiet and unified. Its voice arises only from the natural movement of its breath; the heart does not deliberately drive the breath, nor is it burdened by the breath’s restless movement. Thus Jing and Qi remain unified and whole, and harmonious Qi is preserved. The spirit is not depleted by external things, the breath is abundant, and the throat does not become hoarse. In this way, what is subtle can penetrate the mysterious and wondrous, and the constant Dao can return to its original nature. This is what it means for harmonious Qi to reach its utmost.

Only by understanding harmonious Qi can one know what is constant.

Emperor Huizong commented: If one preserves the original Qi in its undisturbed purity, the power to govern one’s life remains within oneself. The body may change, but one’s nature does not perish.

A minister explained: “‘Constant’ refers to the most genuine and enduring nature, which has never changed. Thus, although the body continually sheds one form for another, one’s nature does not thereby disappear. Preserve the harmonious purity of Qi and maintain a state of peace; understand that this harmony does not change, and it is therefore called ‘constant.’”

To know the constant is called clarity.

Emperor Huizong commented: Wisdom is able to perceive the Dao because it understands that one’s nature does not perish.

A minister explained: To know that one’s nature is constant and unchanging, and has never disappeared, is to understand the Dao. This is therefore called “clarity.”

To increase life is called good fortune.

Emperor Huizong commented: “‘Good fortune’ refers to signs that appear before things become manifest. Life has its own natural order; to increase it relentlessly is to add what is unnecessary. Whether this will ultimately bring misfortune or good fortune is still uncertain.”

A minister explained: Life already has a complete natural order. Why increase it further? Deliberately adding to it may seem auspicious, but whether it will bring misfortune or good fortune remains unknown.

When the mind drives Qi, Qi grows stronger day by day.

Emperor Huizong commented: When the body is in accord with the mind, and the mind is in accord with Qi, Qi is calm and does not become agitated. Running, leaping, and other movements are expressions of Qi; yet these movements of Qi are in fact driven by the mind. This only makes Qi increasingly strong. It is not a way to truly overcome external things.

A minister explained: When the mind returns to emptiness and stillness, Qi can remain balanced and harmonious. If the mind is allowed to drive Qi, Qi will become agitated.

When things grow strong, they grow old. This is contrary to the Dao.

Emperor Huizong commented: The Dao is not bound by past or present, but things have their periods of flourishing and decline. Strength must eventually give way to weakness, and prosperity must turn to decline. How can what is governed by circumstances and constrained by fate be called the Dao?

A minister explained: Things have periods of strength and of old age; as time passes and changes, their forms change too. This is simply the condition of ordinary things. Those whose De is deep preserve, like infants, a pure and constant nature that is not lost amid change. If they are governed by circumstances and constrained by fate, how can they be called the Dao?

People have their prime years and their old age; the body changes as time passes. This is the natural course of all things. If a person has deep De, is as simple and natural as an infant, and never loses their original nature, they may be close to the Dao.

When one does not accord with the Dao, life soon comes to an end.

The Imperial Commentary says: The Dao has no limit, yet the people have been lost to it for a very long time.

The Minister’s Commentary says: Without following the Dao, even someone in the prime of life has already lost life’s natural order.

Chapter Fifty-Six: “Those Who Know Do Not Speak”

Few people who truly understand the Dao speak much; those who speak much do not understand it.

The Imperial Commentary says: There is nothing about the Dao that can be questioned, and nothing that can be answered. Those who understand the Dao grasp it silently and need not say much. Nie Que sought guidance from Wang Ni, asking four questions; each time, Wang Ni said he did not know. Much talk brings people into difficulty and takes them farther from the Dao.

The Minister’s Commentary says: The Dao cannot be fully expressed in words. Those who attain the Dao therefore speak little and grasp it in silence. What can be said reveals only its more accessible aspect. If one says too much, words reach their limit; thus those who speak much do not understand the Dao.

Block the passages through which the senses reach outward things, and close the gates through which the mind and spirit rush outward.

The Imperial Commentary says: Block the senses, focus the mind, and withdraw to dwell in a hidden and quiet place.

The Minister’s Commentary says: Block the passages of the senses, and the mind will no longer covet the temptations of the outside world. Close the gates of the mind and spirit, and the spirit will no longer chase after external things. In this way, one can withdraw to a hidden and quiet place.

Blunt the sharpness and untangle the confusion.

The Imperial Commentary says: Take depth as your foundation and simplicity as your guiding principle.

The Minister’s Commentary says: Blunt the sharpness: by appearing dull, one can preserve oneself. Untangle the confusion: do not become entangled in external things. Those with deep foundations do not display their sharpness; those who hold to simplicity do not fall into disorder.

Temper your brightness and live among the common world.

The Imperial Commentary says: Follow along with the myriad things and flow with the world’s changes.

The Minister’s Commentary says: To temper your brightness is to restrain its outward display and turn the wisdom already within back inward. To become as one with the dust is to mingle with the myriad things. By preserving inner wisdom while living among all things, one can follow the changes of the world.

This is called “mysterious sameness”: subtly joining with the myriad things.

When the Dao returns to its most profound and mysterious state, it accords with the absolute oneness of the original essence. The profound is called “mystery,” and oneness is called “sameness.” Once one reaches “mysterious sameness”—harmony and unity with all things—there is no longer any distinction between oneself and the myriad things, and so there is nothing to choose between. How could one still confine oneself to distinctions such as closeness and distance, benefit and harm, honor and lowliness?

Your subject believes that reaching the utmost profundity exhausts the subtle, while reaching oneness leaves no distinctions. Being and nonbeing, the myriad things and oneself—all become one in mysterious sameness.

There is nothing especially worthy of closeness, and nothing especially worthy of distance; nothing especially deserving to be regarded as beneficial, and nothing especially deserving to be regarded as harmful; nothing worthy of honor, and nothing worthy of lowliness. Only such a person is truly honored beneath Heaven.

The Imperial Commentary says: People in the world clash through mutual love and hatred, giving rise to distinctions between closeness and distance. Sincere and false feelings interact, giving rise to judgments of benefit and harm. Taking and rejecting are weighed against each other, producing distinctions of honor and lowliness. These distinctions repeatedly shift without end. How could they qualify as what is truly honored beneath Heaven? One who understands the Dao does not cling to words. One who does not cling to words can let go of likes and dislikes, remain unmoved by sincere or false feelings, and escape the bonds of taking and rejecting, becoming one with all things in mysterious sameness through one’s nature. In this way, one attains a truly complete and precious state. If everyone beneath Heaven could live without a mind that makes distinctions, that would be their innate nature. The distinctions of honor and lowliness in the world shift repeatedly without end. How could they be called what is truly honored beneath Heaven? One who understands the Dao does not cling to words. One who does not cling to words can let go of likes and dislikes, remain unmoved by sincere or false feelings, and escape the bonds of taking and rejecting, becoming one with all things in mysterious sameness through one’s nature. This is true honor brought to completion; when people throughout the world no longer hold a mind that makes distinctions, that is true honor beneath Heaven.

Your subject believes that only those led about by external things distinguish between closeness and distance, benefit and harm, honor and lowliness. When all things and oneself have become one in mysterious sameness, one can meet the myriad things without being ruled by them. Thus, even without anyone conferring a title, one naturally remains honored.

Chapter Fifty-Seven: Governing the State with Uprightness

Govern the state by the upright way; use unconventional tactics in warfare; gain all beneath Heaven through Wuwei (non-action).

The Imperial Commentary says: “Uprightness” is the Dao’s constant and unchanging principle; “unconventionality” is the Dao’s application, changing with the times; and “doing nothing” expresses the Dao’s true nature. In governing the state, establish order through the upright way; in warfare, win through unconventional tactics. The Dao’s true nature, however, must not be mixed with private motives. When things are allowed to follow their natural course, all beneath Heaven can be governed.

My interpretation is that governing a state depends on upright, steady methods; this is the constant principle of the Dao (the Way). Waging war depends on winning through the unexpected; this is the Dao’s capacity for change. Securing all under Heaven, meanwhile, depends on avoiding needless action and not disturbing the people; this is the Dao’s true meaning. When a lord or king attains the One—the fundamental principle in accord with the Great Dao—he can set himself straight, and all things will in turn be set right. This is the way to govern a state. In warfare, victory through change is what it means to win through the unexpected. Whenever laws are established, wrongdoing arises alongside them; whenever commands are issued, deception follows. Thus, a ruler who governs through Wuwei (non-action) is like one holding the left half of a tally—a token of proof in ancient times, when contracts were divided into two halves—and the people of the world will respond to him. This is what is meant by securing all under Heaven without needless action.

The Emperor’s commentary says: The people are not difficult to unite. If a ruler cares for them, they will draw near; if he benefits them, they will rally to him. If he makes them suffer what they despise, they will disperse. When a ruler today has neither care nor generosity toward the people, yet imposes many taboos and prohibitions, they will scatter and drift in every direction, becoming ever poorer.

My interpretation is that too many taboos bring with them numerous administrative measures and prohibitions. Harried by laws and orders, the people cannot engage in production in peace. Society then begins to fall into disorder, and the people grow ever poorer.

The more sharp tools the people possess, the more confused the state becomes.

The Emperor’s commentary says: When mechanical devices exist, tasks that depend on machinery arise. As such tasks multiply, people’s minds become calculating and clever. Once this cleverness takes root, their simple and genuine nature can no longer remain whole; some may even deceive their ruler by improper means.

My interpretation is that when people use mechanical devices to outdo one another, deception arises in turn. They also form factions and alliances, support one another, and conceal things from those above them. This is why the state grows increasingly confused.

The more the people prize skill, the more unusual things appear.

The Emperor’s commentary says: When opportunistic cleverness prevails, people chase petty gains and lesser interests. Strange clothing and objects then appear, disrupting customs.

My interpretation is that when skill is prized, customs decay as people pursue the unusual.

The more numerous and intricate the laws, the more thieves there are.

The Emperor’s commentary says: If investigation and enforcement become excessively harsh, they will inevitably provoke a response in the form of ill intent.

My interpretation is that the state becomes confused because people use sharp tools to compete; customs decay because people prize skill and compete with one another. Taboos and prohibitions also multiply, leaving the people poor and without work. In this way, governing loses its upright principle and turns instead to harsh, burdensome laws.

Emperor Huizong of Song comments: If a ruler investigates and pursues matters harshly, the people will respond with unkind intentions.

A minister explains: The state becomes absorbed in having people compete against one another by means of every kind of sharp weapon, while customs are corrupted as people vie to prize clever techniques. There are too many taboos and prohibitions; the people are impoverished and out of work. The state loses the proper way of governing and instead disrupts the world with burdensome administration. When laws and decrees grow ever more numerous, and prevention and control become exceedingly strict, the people in turn grow even less ashamed. When people have no sense of shame, they will do anything, and so thieves grow ever more numerous.

Therefore, the sage says, “When I practice Wuwei (non-action), the people transform of themselves.”

Emperor Huizong of Song comments: Heaven does not act recklessly, and so it is clear and bright; Earth does not act recklessly, and so it is at peace. Heaven and Earth accord in their Wuwei, and all things are thereby brought to life and nurtured. The sage takes Heaven and Earth as a model, so the people grow better day by day without knowing who has brought this about.

A minister explains: The sage understands and follows the Dao, governing through Wuwei and allowing people’s nature to return to its original state. Thus the people are transformed by those above them, yet do not know how they have been transformed.

“When I cherish stillness, the people become naturally upright.”

Emperor Huizong of Song comments: When a mirror or a calm surface of water reflects an object, it needs no clever contrivance; the object’s roundness or squareness, curves or straight lines, cannot be concealed. Why would it have to wait for a carpenter’s measuring line, compass, or square to make the object true?

A minister explains: When the ruler cherishes stillness, his commands are consistent, and the people all return to the right way.

“When I do not stir up affairs, the people become naturally prosperous.”

Emperor Huizong of Song comments: The world has no need for so many affairs; it is only mediocre people who keep stirring things up. If the people are left undisturbed, they will naturally prosper.

A minister explains: When those above do not stir up affairs, the people have energy to spare. They can make a steady living and work in peace, and their lives naturally become prosperous.

“When I have no desires, the people become naturally simple and sincere.”

Emperor Huizong of Song comments: When the worthy are not exalted for their reputations, the people do not compete; when rare goods are not prized, the people do not steal. When neither those above nor the people have desires, the people’s nature can be preserved.

A minister explains: Without desire, the heart is not stirred by cravings. When those above do not act from selfish motives, the people can preserve their nature, be content with their proper place, and bring their hearts to unity; their simple and sincere nature is thereby made whole.

Chapter Fifty-Eight: When Governance Is Indulgent

“Their government is subdued and unobtrusive” means that, in governing the world, orders are broad and simple, and the people are not troubled.

The imperial commentary explains: The ruler governs the world with generosity and tolerance. The people know only that such a ruler exists, but show no signs of rejoicing or excitement.

The ministerial commentary explains: When the ruler has no private desires, he does not impose his personal will on the people. When the ruler is free of self-conscious intent, the people can preserve their inborn nature and remain content in their proper place, letting their minds return to unity and keeping their lives simple and unadorned. The ruler treats the world with the generosity of the Dao, and the people, too, follow what is right and live and grow naturally. Those above and below alike return to what is right in the Dao and recover their original nature. The ruler does not display any deliberate action, and so governance appears broad and simple.