《老子翼(焦竑)》Vol. 3

The Kingdom of Futi, a country from ancient legend, once presented two people skilled in writing. At times they lived like kings on Mount Jingshi, cut off from contact with the world. Only five elders joined them: some rode cranes that could sing, while others wore feathered robes, the garments worn by immortals in Daoist legend. Together they discussed the principles governing the workings of Heaven and Earth. The scriptures they composed amounted to nearly one hundred thousand characters.

The Kingdom of Futi also once presented two people skilled in writing. At times they were old, at times young. When they concealed their forms, only their shadows could be seen; when their voices were heard, their forms were hidden. From time to time they drew black liquid from a golden vessel. Its color was like thick lacquer, and when sprinkled on wood or stone, it revealed seal script, clerical script, and tadpole script, an ancient writing style shaped like tadpoles. These writings recorded the transformation and birth of Heaven and Earth, and the origins of human relations.

All the scriptures written by Lord Lao were inscribed on jade tablets, bound together with golden cords, and stored in jade cases. When the ink in the golden vessel ran out, the two even wanted to cut open their own hearts and draw out their blood to replace it.

The Mount Jingshi mentioned here refers to Mount Taishi and Mount Shaoshi in Luozhou. There are a million writings on the Nine Transformations, long life, and other subjects. Most are stored in stone chambers on famous mountains, kept secret and not circulated. About six thousand scrolls have now come to light.

Guan Yinzi, whose personal name was Yin Xi, served as a senior official during the reign of King Zhao of Zhou and was skilled in astronomy. He observed in advance a stream of true Qi in the southeast, shaped like a dragon or snake, moving westward. He also saw the seasonal southeast wind rise three times that month. Since the celestial signs showed the movement of Qi toward the west, he inferred that a sage was about to pass through the frontier. He requested leave from office and took up the post of commandant at Hangu Pass.

On the renwu day of the fifth month in the guichou year of King Zhao of Zhou, a purple vapor appeared in the sky. An old man came riding a blue ox in a cart covered with white felt, with his disciples seated beside him. Xu Jia drove the cart as they approached the pass. Yin Xi went out to meet them and bowed to the old man by the roadside. The old man was Laozi. Yin Xi said, “The Great Dao is about to become hidden. I beg you to write something for me, if you would.” He arranged for Laozi to stay at Qinglou in the Zhongnan Mountains, and became his disciple. The following year, the jia-yin year, Laozi transmitted to him the more than five thousand characters of the Daode Jing (Classic of the Dao and De). The book encompasses Heaven and Earth and accords with the transformations of creation; it also discusses rulers and ministers, the common people, and the myriad things. It honors Dao and De, regarding benevolence and righteousness as lesser standards. It extols the way of emperors and kings, while also addressing the hegemonic power of the feudal lords. In broad terms, the book clarifies the Way of Heaven and the human way, and sets the minds of rulers and people aright. It says, “Govern the state through correctness; use stratagem in warfare,” and also, “The deputy general takes the left, the supreme general the right.” Some passages seem to praise or criticize the style of the Five Hegemons of the Spring and Autumn period. This has led some to doubt the account: since hegemonic power was not yet prominent during King Zhao’s reign, perhaps these passages were transmitted only in the time of King Jing.

In fact, as the Xia and Shang dynasties declined, Kunwu, Dayeng, and Shiwei had already called themselves bo, or chiefs among the feudal lords. King Zhao’s crossing of the river and failure to return is sufficient evidence that a trend toward the rise of hegemonic rulers had already begun; it did not have to wait for the emergence of Qi, Chu, Qin, and Jin. Thus there was reason for Laozi, when writing the Daode Jing, to discuss both governing the state and the use of military force. In the celestial pattern, the three stars of the River Drum govern the Son of Heaven’s three armies: the middle star is the great general, the star on the left the left general, and the one on the right the right general. The “Da Sima” chapter of the Xia Officials section of the Rites of Zhou records that the Son of Heaven maintained five armies, while a great state maintained three. Further examination of the Records of King Mu shows that after returning from his western journey, King Mu of Zhou climbed Zhongnan Mountain and built a thatched pavilion. From this it is clear that the story of the scripture’s transmission took place during King Zhao’s reign.

Guan Yin himself also wrote a work in nine chapters called the Guan Yinzi. Later, one of his disciples, Gongsun Xin Heng of the state of Jin, whose courtesy name was Jiran, studied with Laozi. In the renwu year, the second year of King Jing of Zhou, Jiran traveled south to Chu. King Ping of Chu treated him with respect and sought his instruction on the Dao. Jiran later went to Yue, where Fan Li became his disciple. Jiran transmitted to Fan Li a work in twelve chapters called the Wenzi, which includes a chapter titled “King Ping Inquires about the Dao.” King Goujian of Yue appointed Fan Li as a senior official. When Yue attacked Wu, Fan Li advised him: “Weapons are inauspicious things, and warfare runs counter to De. To plot in secret while acting against De, and to delight in using instruments of destruction, is something the Supreme Emperor will forbid; such an undertaking will bring no success.” These words are quoted from the Wenzi. Goujian did not heed the advice and was defeated at Fujiao, then imprisoned in a stone chamber. Only after bribing the grand steward Pi was he able to return home. Thereafter he slept on brushwood and tasted gall, plotting his revenge.

After Wu had been brought to peace, Jiran said, “Goujian has a long neck and a beak-like mouth. You can share hardship with him, but you cannot share ease.” Fan Li accepted this judgment, left Yue, and sailed across the Five Lakes. Jiran, too, feigned madness and withdrew to the Feng and Yu region. He once climbed a mountain to plan his life in seclusion. The present-day Jichou Mountain in Wuxing is said to have been named after this event.

Lie Yukou lived in the Zheng Gardens of Zheng for forty years, unknown to anyone. In the fourth year of King An of Zhou, he wrote a work in eight chapters explaining Laozi’s Dao. Zhuang Zhou, whose courtesy name was Zixiu, was also called Master Nanhua. In the thirtieth year of King Xian of Zhou, the state of Chu invited him to serve as chancellor, but he declined. He lived in seclusion by the Hao River and in the area around the Lacquer Garden, and wrote a work in fifty-three chapters called the Zhuangzi, of which thirty-three chapters survive today.

Others who studied with Laozi and carried on his Dao in that period included Gengsang Chu, Nanrong Qu, Cui Qu, Bai Ju, Shicheng Qi, and Master Yin Wen. Each wrote works, which are recorded in the classical texts. Laozi had also traveled between Shang and Zhou for a very long time. He had seen with his own eyes the dragon-like Laozi; surely there must have been such people besides Confucius. Yet after Sima Qian placed Laozi and Han Fei in a single biographical chapter, the deeds of Laozi’s disciples went unrecorded. It is a great pity that the learning shared by Confucius and Laozi consequently lost its transmission in later generations.

The Laozi came to be called a “Jing” (scripture or classic), it is said, during the reign of Emperor Jing of Han. When Wu Chanzhe replied to the Great Emperor, he said that figures such as Xu Chengzi, Yuanyangzi, Laozi, and Zhuangzi all emphasized self-cultivation and the nurturing of one’s nature. They lived freely among the valleys, allowing their minds to unfold, and their learning led them toward simplicity and detachment. By the time of Emperor Jing, the doctrines of the Yellow Emperor and Laozi were regarded as profound in principle. The title “Master” (zi) was therefore changed to “Jing,” Daoist learning was established, and an order was issued for these works to be recited both inside and outside the court.

Ban Gu recorded a version of the Laozi transmitted by the Lin family. Fu, Xu, and Liu Xiang also each produced works related to it. The Fu version had thirty-seven sections, the Lin version four, the Xu version six, and Liu Xiang’s version four. Sadly, these books have long been lost. The Laozi Daode Jing now in circulation appears in several forms: some versions combine it into two parts, upper and lower; others divide it into eighty-one chapters or seventy-two chapters.

Heshang Gong divided the Daode Jing into eighty-one chapters. The upper part follows the Way of Heaven, and the number associated with Heaven is odd, so it has thirty-seven chapters. The lower part follows the Way of Earth, and the number associated with Earth is even, so it has forty-four chapters. Yan Zun, by contrast, held that Yin is associated with the number eight and Yang with nine. Pairing eight with nine gives a division of seventy-two chapters, with forty in the upper part and thirty-two in the lower. This arrangement differs entirely from Heshang Gong’s version. Since the chapter divisions vary among versions, and their interpretations differ as well, it is now difficult to establish the original arrangement.

The eminent scholar Xie Shouxie said that in the Tang dynasty, Fu Yi compared several versions of the Daode Jing word by word and found considerable differences in their total character counts. He mentioned three versions: the version associated with Xiang Yu’s concubine, said to have been discovered when her tomb was opened in Pengcheng in the fifth year of the Wuping era under the Qi; the Anqiu Wangzhi version, said to have been obtained by the Daoist Kou Qianzhi during the Taihe era of Wei; and the version of the Elder of the River, transmitted by the Qi recluse Qiu Yue. Together, these three versions contain 5,722 characters and can be compared with the “Yu Lao” chapter of Han Feizi.

The official Luoyang version contains 5,635 characters. The Wang Bi version has 5,683 characters, though another record gives 5,610. The Heshang Gong version has 5,355 characters, while another record gives 5,590. The character counts in the various commentarial editions also differ. Because these texts have been transmitted over a long period, each lineage has trusted the version it received and has sometimes consulted other versions as well. Textual differences have therefore persisted.

In the Records of the Grand Historian, Sima Qian says that Laozi wrote a work setting out the meaning of Dao and De, comprising more than five thousand characters. Since it contains fewer than six thousand, it must be more than five thousand. Daoist tradition today calls Laozi’s work “the Five Thousand Words,” probably as a rounded description of the whole text. This expression appears in the Record of the True Events of Lord Lao.

Du Guangting said that the Dao De Jing contains roughly five thousand characters, though the exact number is uncertain. Its text combines plainness with literary grace, and its principles run throughout. Altering the meaning to reach a target count, or cutting and changing the text to fit one, departs from the original intent. When Sima Qian said “more than five thousand words,” he did not mean exactly five thousand characters. Some people cut the text down to 4,999 characters, then counted “thirty” separately from “splitting the thirty spokes” to make up five thousand. This is like carving a mark on a boat to find a sword: they cling to the character count without understanding how to adapt.

Du Guangting compiled and annotated more than sixty commentaries on the Laozi. These included the two-volume Jiejie and Laojun yu Yinxi jie. The Inner and Outer Chapters, each divided into upper and lower volumes, were explained and annotated by Yin Xi in accordance with the principles of inner cultivation. The two-volume Xiang’er is traditionally attributed to Zhang Daoling, the Celestial Master of the Three Heavens.

The Heshanggong zhangju is traditionally attributed to Heshanggong, who is said to have descended to live beside the river in Shaanzhou during the reign of Emperor Wen of Han. A temple dedicated to him still stands there. The fourteen-volume Yan Junping zhigui was written by Yan Junping, whose name was Zun. A native of Shu during the reign of Emperor Cheng of Han, he lived in the same period as Wang Bi of Shanyang, who annotated the Laozi. Wang Bi, courtesy name Fusi, once served as a Gentleman of the Palace Secretariat in the state of Wei. He Yan of Nanyang, courtesy name Pingshu, served as Commandant of the Imperial Guards and son-in-law to the Wei emperor. Guo Xiang of Henan, courtesy name Zixuan, lived during the Wei and Jin periods. Zhong Hui of Yingchuan, courtesy name Shiji, lived during the reign of Emperor Ming of Wei. The hermit Sun Deng, courtesy name Gonghe, lived during the reigns of Emperors Wen and Ming of Wei.

Yang Hu, courtesy name Shuzi, was a native of Taishan in the Jin dynasty and rose to the rank of Vice Director. He wrote a four-volume commentary on the Laozi. The Buddhist monk Kumarajiva came from the Western Regions and entered the Central Plains through the Yumen Pass during the reign of Fu Jian; he wrote a two-volume commentary. The Buddhist monk Fotucheng, also from the Western Regions, came during the Later Zhao and wrote two volumes, upper and lower. The Buddhist monk Sengzhao was a native of Jin and wrote a four-volume commentary. Tao Hongjing, a recluse of the Liang dynasty who lived during the reign of Emperor Wu, was known as Master Zhenbai and wrote a four-volume commentary. Lu Yu of Fanyang was a doctorate at the Imperial Academy of Northern Wei, also known as the White-Headed Old Man, and wrote two volumes. Liu Renhui, a native of Liang County in Yizhou, Northern Wei, wrote two volumes. Gu Huan of Wu Commandery, a scholar summoned to court and courtesy name Jingyi, once served as a doctorate under the Southern Qi and wrote four volumes.

The immortal Songling lived in seclusion on Qingxi Mountain; his name and dates are unknown. Pei Chu’en, a native of Hedong in the Jin dynasty, wrote a two-volume commentary. Du Bi, a native of Jingzhao in the Qin dynasty, wrote two volumes, though some records say four. Zhang Ping of Henan, Song dynasty, courtesy name Changzong, served as a doctorate in the Court of Imperial Sacrifices during the reign of Emperor Ming of Song and wrote four volumes. Emperor Wu of Liang wrote a four-volume commentary on the Daode Jing, while Emperor Jianwen of Liang composed the ten-volume Daode shuyi. Zhang Si of Qinghe wrote four volumes; his dates are unknown.

Zang Xuanjing, a Daoist of the Liang dynasty, courtesy name Daozong, composed a four-volume subcommentary. The Daoist Meng Anpai, known as the Elder Meng, wrote a two-volume exposition of the scripture. The Daoist Meng Zhizhou, known as the Younger Meng, wrote a five-volume commentary. The Daoist Dou Lüe wrote four volumes, whose approach aligned with the commentaries valued by Emperor Wu and Kumarajiva. The Daoist Zhu Rou of the Chen dynasty composed the six-volume Xuanlan. The Daoist Liu Jinxi of the Sui dynasty wrote a six-volume subcommentary, and Li Bo annotated the upper and lower volumes.

Fu Yi, Director of the Bureau of Astronomy in the Tang dynasty, wrote a two-volume commentary as well as a work on pronunciation and word meanings. Wei Zheng, who served as chancellor to Emperor Taizong of Tang, wrote a five-volume exposition. The Dharma Master Zong Wenming composed the six-volume Xuanlan, though some records say he wrote a five-volume exposition. Hu Chao wrote a ten-volume commentary and subcommentary. The Daoist Anqiu wrote the five-volume Zhigui, and the Daoist Wang Xuanbian wrote the ten-volume Heshanggong shiyi. Yin Yin, a court remonstrance official and director of the Su Ming Abbey, wrote the fifteen-volume Xinyi. The Daoist Xu Miao wrote a four-volume commentary. He Siyuan, a Daoist serving at the Hanlin Academy, composed the two-volume Zhiqu and the eight-volume Xuanshi. Xue Jichang, a Daoist of Mount Heng, wrote the ten-volume Jinsheng and the one-volume Shishu.

Master Hongyuan, Wang Xi, wrote a two-volume commentary, as well as the three-volume Xuanzhu and the two-volume Koujue. The Dharma Master Zhao Jian composed a six-volume lecture commentary. Yang Shangshan, a Gentleman of Discussion to the Heir Apparent who lived during the reign of Emperor Gaozong of Tang, wrote the twenty-volume Daode jijian zhenyan. Jia Zhi, Vice Minister of Personnel, composed the eleven-volume Shuyi and the one-volume Jinniu. The Daoist Che Ruobi wrote a seven-volume subcommentary. Li Rong, known as Master Renzhen, annotated the upper and lower volumes. Li Yuanxing, a Daoist of Chengdu, wrote a four-volume commentary and exposition. Wang Guangting, Deputy Prefect of Taiyuan, wrote the two-volume Qiyuan zhu. The Daoist Zhang Huichao wrote the two-volume Zhixuan shu.

The Dharma Master Gong wrote the four-volume Jijie. Ren Taixuan, a Daoist of Tongyi Commandery, wrote a two-volume commentary. The Daoist Master Chongxu, Shen Fu, who once served as Supervisor of the Palace, wrote a five-volume subcommentary. Zhang Junxiang, a Daoist of Mount Min, composed the four-volume Jijie. The Daoist Cheng Xuanying wrote a six-volume lecture commentary. Wang Zhen, Governor of Hanzhou, composed the two-volume Lunbing shuyi, in upper and lower parts. The Daoist Fu Shaoming wrote the two-volume Daopu ce. Emperor Xuanzong of Tang personally wrote a commentary on the Daode Jing in two volumes, upper and lower.

Heshang Gong and Yan Junping were both well versed in the art of governing a state. The immortal Songling, Sun Deng of the Wei dynasty, Tao Hongjing of the Liang dynasty, and Gu Huan of the Southern Qi were all well versed in the art of self-cultivation. Kumarajiva during Fu Jian’s reign, Fotucheng of the Later Zhao, Emperor Wu of Liang, and the Liang Daoist Dou Lüe were skilled at clarifying principles and cause and effect.

The Liang Daoists Meng Zhizhou and Zang Xuanjing, the Chen Daoist Zhu Rou, the Sui Daoist Liu Jinxi, and the Tang Daoists Cheng Xuanying, Cai Zihuang, Huang Xuanzhe, Li Rong, Che Xuanbi, Zhang Huichao, and Li Yuanxing all expounded the “Way of Double Mystery” (Chongxuan), a line of thought aimed at transcending distinctions such as being and nonbeing. He Yan, Zhong Hui, Du Yu, Wang Fusi, Zhang Si, Yang Hu, Lu Shi, and Liu Renhui, meanwhile, elucidated the principles of reaching the utmost emptiness and stillness, and governing the family and state through Wuwei (non-action). This shows that the various commentators on the Laozi had different aims.

The doctrines they inherited and the principles they established also differed. Yan Junping took empty mystery as his guiding principle; Gu Huan took Wuwei as his; Meng Zhizhou and Zang Xuanjing took Dao and De as theirs; Emperor Wu of Liang held that things were neither existent nor nonexistent; and Sun Deng took the Way of Double Mystery as his. Among these principles, Sun’s interpretation is the most subtle.

Dong You of Guangchuan writes in his Record of Collected Books that, after Emperor Xuanzong of the Tang dynasty wrote a commentary on the Dao De Jing (Classic of the Way and Virtue), he began to revise its chapter divisions and punctuation. He named it the Dao De Jing, placing passages about the Dao (the Way) in the upper volume and those about De (Virtue) in the lower volume. He also ordered the text to be engraved at the Laozi temple at Guokou.

Dong You further writes that the Tang Daoist Zhang Daoxiang assembled commentaries on the Dao De Jing by thirty authors, in a total of seven volumes. The commentators whose names have been preserved include Heshang Gong, Jie Jie, Yan Zun, Wang Bi, He Yan, Guo Xiang, Zhong Hui, Sun Deng, Yang Ku, Kumārajīva, Lu Jingyu, Liu Renhui, Gu Huan, Tao Hongjing, Song Ling, Pei Chusi, Du Bi, Zhang Ping, Zhang Si, Zang Xuanjing, Meng Anqi, Meng Zhizhou, Dou Lüe, Song Wenming, Chu Rou, Liu Jinxi, Cai Zihuang, Cheng Xuanying, and Che Huibi.

A further search of the bibliographic treatises in the New and Old Books of Tang (catalogues of works recorded in Tang histories and later histories) shows many more commentators and commentaries on the Dao De Jing. These include Mouqiuwangzhi; Xiang Yi (surname unknown); Cheng Shao; Wang Shang; Shu Cai; Yuan Zhen; the Buddhist monk Huiyan; Huilin; Yiying; Liang Kuangshu; Zhong Shan; Fu Yi; Yang Shangshan; Li Yunyuang; Chen Sigu; Ren Zhenzi; Feng Guo; Master Xuanjing; Yang Shangqi; Han Du; Emperor Wu of Liang; Emperor Jianwen of Liang; Jia Dayin; Pixian Renwei; Liu Zhongrong; Wang Su; Dai Shen; Emperor Xuanzong; Lu Cangyong; Xing Nanhe; Feng Chaoyin; Bai Lüzhong; Li Bo; Yin Zhizhang; Lu Deming; Chen Tingyu; Lu Xisheng; Wu Shanjing; Sun Simiao; and Li Hanguang—forty commentators in all. Fourteen of the commentators collected by Zhang Daoxiang do not appear in the bibliographic treatise.

However, the Bibliographic Treatise records Zhang Daoxiang’s collection of commentaries as comprising four volumes, whereas the edition seen by Dong You had seven. It was probably expanded later. By the Chongning era (the reign title of Emperor Huizong of the Northern Song), when the court again revised the Daoist Canon, this work had disappeared from the canon. Among the other commentaries, only those by Emperor Xuanzong, Heshang Gong, Yan Zun, and Lu Xisheng remained, along with the ancient version of the Dao De Jing transmitted by Fu Yi.

In addition, Li Yue, Li Rong, and Jia Qingyi each wrote commentaries of their own. Wang Gu and others, commissioned by Emperor Xuanzong of Tang, compiled annotations and explanatory notes on the scripture; Du Guangting later expanded on their work in his Expanded Sacred Meaning. These, too, were Tang works, and all were once included in the Daoist Canon. This shows that the works listed in the Bibliographic Treatise do not make up a complete record. Sadly, many works survive only by name, their texts themselves long since lost; this is true of the great majority.

Le Chen Gong studied the teachings of the Yellow Emperor and Laozi. His teacher was called the Elder by the River (Heshang Zhangren), whose origins are unknown. Historical records about figures like these are not always complete. It is a pity that although many have left their names behind, most of their writings have been lost.

Le Chen Gong studied the teachings of the Yellow Emperor and Laozi. His teacher was called the Elder by the River, whose origins are unclear. The Elder by the River taught An Qisheng, who taught Mao Xi Gong, who taught Le Xia Gong, who taught Le Chen Gong, who in turn taught Gai Gong. Gai Gong taught in the Gaomi and Jiaoxi areas of the state of Qi, and later became the teacher of Cao, the Chancellor. This account appears in the “Biography of Yue Yi” in the Records of the Grand Historian.

The Han scholar Huan Tan said: “Long ago, Lao Dan wrote two essays expounding the idea of emptiness and nonbeing. In later generations, those who favored such teachings considered them superior to the Five Classics.” People during the reigns of Emperor Wen and Emperor Jing of Han, as well as Sima Qian, all made statements of this kind. This account appears in the “Biography of Yang Xiong.”

Yan Junping practiced divination for people in Chengdu. When townspeople asked about wicked or improper matters, he explained the benefits and harms involved on the basis of the divination results. If someone spoke to him about a son, he would discuss filial piety; if they spoke about a younger brother, he would discuss obedience to an elder brother; if they spoke about a minister, he would discuss loyalty. He always guided people toward goodness in light of their circumstances. Each day he received only a few visitors. Once he had earned a hundred coins, enough to support himself, he would close the door, lower the curtain, and teach the Laozi. He had read widely and understood every subject. Drawing on the thought of Laozi and Yan Zhou, he wrote works totaling more than a hundred thousand characters.

Ruan Ji wrote in his Treatise on Penetrating the Laozi: “The Dao follows the natural order and sets the transformations of the myriad things in motion. If lords and kings can hold fast to the Dao, the myriad things will transform of themselves.” The Book of Changes calls it the “Supreme Ultimate” (Taiji); the Spring and Autumn Annals calls it the “Origin” (Yuan); and the Laozi calls it the “Dao.” This account appears in the Taiping Imperial Reader.

Wang Fusi was from Gaoping in Shanyang. Gifted and perceptive from a young age, he was fond of the Zhuangzi and the Laozi by the time he was in his teens. He was skilled at reasoning and eloquent in expression. He Ping Shu…

Wang Fusi (Wang Bi), a metaphysical thinker of the Three Kingdoms period, came from Gaoping in Shanyang. Bright and perceptive from childhood, he was already fond of the Zhuangzi and the Laozi in his teens. He excelled at philosophical argument and expressed himself with great skill. After He Pingshu (He Yan) had finished his commentary on the Laozi, he went to visit Wang Bi. Reading Wang Bi’s commentary, he found it subtle and extraordinary, and said admiringly, “A person like this is someone one can truly discuss the relationship between the Way of Heaven and human affairs with.” He then titled his own commentaries The Two Treatises on the Dao and De. The Spring and Autumn Annals of the Wei Clan records that Wang Bi’s discussions were less concise and elegant than Yan’s (He Yan’s), but that his insights into the Way of Nature were outstanding and surpassed He Yan’s. Wang Ji, from Taiyuan, enjoyed discussing the Laozi and Zhuangzi. He once said, “Reading Wang Bi’s commentary on the Zhouyi, I came to understand a great deal.”

Yin Zhongkan had a clear mind and excelled at pure conversation, the Wei-Jin literati practice of discussing metaphysical principles. He once said, “If I go three days without reading the Daodejing, my tongue feels stiff and clumsy.” This account appears in the Shishuo.

Yu Zisong was broad-minded and distinguished in bearing, and described himself as a follower of Laozi and Zhuangzi. He said, “Before I read this book, I often felt in my heart that the highest principle must be just so. Now that I have read it, I find that its principles happen to accord with what I had in mind.” This account appears in the Annals of Jin.

Ruan Xuanzi was fond of the Laozi and the Zhouyi and skilled at discussing metaphysical principles, but disliked meeting ordinary people. If he happened to encounter them, he would rise and leave, with an aloof expression and complete indifference to worldly affairs. His household was so poor that it had little stored grain, yet he remained calm and content. This account appears in the Biographies of Famous Scholars.

Zhou Yanlun excelled at discussing the principles of names and distinctions, matters of order and reason. When guests gathered, he often sat in an empty seat and conversed with them. His words flowed smoothly and had a pleasing cadence, so his listeners never grew tired. He was especially well versed in the Laozi and the Zhouyi. When he met Zhang Siye, the two would often discuss metaphysical principles, talking from morning until night and finding it hard to stop. These accounts appear in the Biographies of Famous Scholars.

Ruan Zhan was the son of Ruan Xian. When he went to see Wang Rong, the Minister over the Masses, Wang asked, “The sages esteem the teachings of names and institutions—the rites and social ethical order—while Laozi and Zhuangzi expound the Way of Nature. Do they share the same purpose, or do they differ?” Ruan Zhan replied, “I suppose they do not differ.” Wang Rong praised him at length, then immediately appointed him to a post, calling the position “the Three-Word Clerk,” because Ruan Zhan had answered in three words. This account appears in Ruan Zhan’s biography in the Book of Jin; the New Account of Tales of the World attributes it to Ruan Xiu.

Zong Ce was naturally quiet and still, and disliked life in the human world. When the Prince of Yuzhang summoned him to serve as an aide, he replied, “Why force me to do what I do not wish to do, as if accidentally wounding a sea bird or hacking at a mountain tree?” He wanted to visit famous mountains, so he hung on the wall a portrait of Xiang Ziping, the Eastern Han recluse, painted by his grandfather, and set out carrying the two books Laozi and Zhuangzi. As his descendants took their leave, they wept in sorrow. Zong Ce let out a long cry and went away without looking back.

Zhongchang Ziguang, courtesy name Buyào, traveled around the Hedong region and supported himself through manual labor. He had no fixed home and neither married nor had children. Only toward the end of the Kaihuang era did he build a thatched hut on a small island in the Yellow River and settle there, making his living by selling medicine. No one knew where he came from. When Fenyin Sheng visited the island, he saw Zhongchang Ziguang and immediately bowed low before him, saying, “Even Dongfang Shuo’s supernatural abilities could not compare with his.” From then on, Zhongchang Ziguang was held in high regard. When local officials came to visit, he turned them away on the pretext that he had lost his voice, and never spoke with anyone. He wrote “Ode to Wandering Alone” and “The Account of Mr. Riverside Isle” to express his aspirations. Those who understood him knew he was capable of freeing himself from worldly constraints. When people asked him to explain the Way, he would write the characters “Lao” and “Yi” for them to see. He played the zither, took medicine, and passed his life this way.

Wang Ji was fond of wine and did not wish to deal with affairs. He had several servants who grew millet and brewed wine in spring and autumn. He also raised ducks and geese and grew medicinal herbs for his own use. He kept the Zhouyi, Laozi, and Zhuangzi beside his bed, and rarely read other books. He often traveled in the Northern Mountains and at Donggao, writing for his own enjoyment. He called himself Master Donggao.

Wang Xiyi lived in seclusion on Mount Song, where he took Huang Ze as his teacher and learned methods of cultivating life. He enjoyed reading the Zhouyi and Laozi, and ate pine and cypress leaves and various herbs and flowers. Even in his seventies, his sinews and bones remained strong. When Prefect Lu Qiqing came to visit and asked him about governing, Wang Xiyi replied, “Do not impose on others what you yourself would not wish to do. That one saying is enough.”

Mr. Zhenyi, Sima Chengzhen, whose courtesy name was Ziwei, lived in seclusion on Mount Tiantai and refused to leave the mountain. Emperor Ruizong sent Sima Chengzhen’s elder brother, Sima Chengzhang, to persuade him to come out. After Sima Chengzhen reached the capital, he was escorted into the inner palace, where the emperor asked him about his methods of cultivating the Dao. He replied, “To cultivate the Dao, one must reduce distracting thoughts and desires day by day. Once they have been reduced, continue reducing them until one reaches the state of Wuwei (non-action).” A person’s thoughts and perceptions are often difficult to stop completely, even when one wishes to lessen them. How much more so when studying heterodox teachings, which only add to cleverness and deliberation?

The emperor asked, “If this is how one cultivates oneself, what should one do to govern the state?” Sima Chengzhen replied, “The state is like the human body. Let the mind and spirit rest in simplicity, let the breath return to stillness, and accord with all things as they are without private designs; then the world can be governed.” The emperor praised him, saying, “These are indeed the words of Guangchengzi.”

During the Kaiyuan era, Sima Chengzhen was summoned to the capital twice more. Emperor Xuanzong issued an edict ordering him to live on Mount Wangwu and had an altar chamber built for him—a place for cultivating the Dao and living. Sima Chengzhen excelled at seal script and clerical script. The emperor ordered him to copy the Laozi in three scripts and to revise its punctuation and sentence divisions. His life is recorded in the “Biographies of Recluses” in the New Book of Tang. His biography in the Old Book of Tang says that Emperor Xuanzong ordered him to copy the Laozi in three scripts, and that he used this work to correct its wording, establishing the text at a total of 5,380 characters and presenting it to the emperor as the definitive version.

Lu Hongyi, whose courtesy name was Haoran, lived in seclusion on Mount Song. In the sixth year of Kaiyuan, the court summoned him to the eastern capital, Luoyang. When he appeared before the emperor, he did not kneel. The chancellor sent someone to ask why. Lu Hongyi submitted a memorial, saying, “I have heard Laozi say that ritual arose only after loyalty and trust had declined, and that it is not something to rely upon. I, your servant Lu Hongyi, who lives in seclusion in the mountains, dare to appear before Your Majesty with a heart of loyalty and trust.” This incident is recorded in the “Biographies of Recluses” in the Old Book of Tang.

Master Zongyuan, Wu Jun, was a Confucian scholar from Lu. He later went to Mount Song and became a Daoist, and after some time traveled to Mount Tiantai. Emperor Xuanzong of Tang sent an envoy to summon him to court. When Wu Jun arrived in the capital, the emperor asked him about Daoist teachings. Wu replied, “Nothing in Daoist teaching is more essential than the five thousand words of the Laozi. The other tangled and peripheral explanations merely waste paper.”

This account appears in the “Biographies of Recluses” in the Old Book of Tang. The New Book of Tang, in its “Biography of Wu Jun,” gives a slightly different version. Xuanzong once asked him about the Dao, and Wu replied, “No one has understood its principles more deeply than the five thousand words of the Laozi. The other explanations merely waste paper.” The emperor then asked about the cultivation of immortals. Wu answered, “That is a matter for recluses. It takes many years to pursue, and is not something a ruler should attend to.” Since the two histories differ somewhat in their accounts, both versions are given here.

Qin Xi was from Kuaiji. At the end of the Tianbao era, he fled the turmoil of war and came to the area around the Shan River. Later he lived in Nan’an, Quanzhou, where there was a great pine tree more than a hundred feet tall. Qin built himself a dwelling in the tree, carved an inkstone from stone, and annotated the Laozi. He remained at home for many years, and people came to call the place where he lived “Peak of the Reclusive Worthy.”

Emperor Xianzong of Tang once asked his chancellor, “Can the claims about immortals be believed?” Li Fan replied, “The idea of immortals comes from Daoism, whose revered foundation is the five thousand words of Laozi. What the Laozi zhigui says does not differ from the text of the Laozi. Later, those fond of strange teachings borrowed Laozi’s name to invent claims about immortals. That is why both Qin Shi Huang and Emperor Wu of Han were misled and ultimately gained nothing.” Emperor Xianzong strongly agreed with his view. This account appears in the “Chronicle of Emperor Xianzong” in the Old Book of Tang.

Lu Xisheng, a Tang dynasty chancellor, wrote a four-volume Commentary on the Dao De Jing. In his preface, he says in essence: Laozi’s teaching takes the Dao (the Way) as its foundation and “names” as its function. It advocates Wuwei (non-action) while accomplishing everything, and ultimately attains the highest standard.

Yang Zhu inherited the foundation of Laozi’s teaching but fell short, developing instead an emphasis on the self and a disregard for external things. Zhuang Zhou explained its function but went too far, advocating the abandonment of sages and cleverness. Shen Buhai and Han Fei learned only the aspect of Laozi’s teaching concerned with “names”; their flaw lay in harsh policies and severe punishments. Wang Bi and He Yan failed to grasp Laozi’s Dao, and so lapsed into emptiness and unchecked indulgence. All six, one could say, misunderstood Laozi. That is why I have written this commentary: to clarify Laozi’s central teaching.

He also says: In ancient times, Fuxi, the legendary sage ruler of high antiquity, drew the Bagua (Eight Trigrams) to symbolize the myriad things, investigate the principles of nature and life, and accord with the harmony of De (Virtue/Power). Laozi traced the formation of Heaven and Earth back to what came before it, took Yin-Yang as his basis, explored the utmost principles of nature and life, and sought out the profound roots of De. His thought and Fuxi’s came from the same source.

King Wen of Zhou observed how the yang “nine” and yin “six” lines of the Book of Changes transformed. He valued strength, esteemed adaptability, and made central correctness his priority. Laozi examined the constant patterns of the yin “six” and yang “seven” lines in the Book of Changes. He pursued gentleness, upheld stillness and clarity, and used the vast Dao to encompass all things. His purpose and King Wen’s were in accord.

Confucius inherited the Dao of Yao and Shun, took Kings Wen and Wu as his models, and guided the people through the teachings of benevolence and righteousness. Laozi investigated Fuxi’s Dao, brought together the learning of the Yellow Emperor, and used the teachings of Dao and De to encompass all under Heaven. In this, he could balance and adapt as Confucius did, and their teachings were mutually aligned. These three gentlemen were the highest models among sages. Laozi could carry these ideas through change and make them accessible, then return and integrate them into their root. He investigated the pivotal points of change and sought the destination of subtle principles. For this reason, he may be called supremely wondrous.

Li Yue, a military official of the Tang dynasty and son of Li Mian, wrote a four-volume commentary on the Dao De Jing (Classic of the Way and its Virtue). He held that it was a vulgar view to claim that the Dao De Jing promoted techniques for becoming an immortal and doctrines of nothingness, or to fault Sima Qian for discussing Huang-Lao before the Six Classics. In my view, the Six Classics are, rather, branches and leaves of Huang-Lao thought.

At the beginning of the Kaiyuan era, the emperor ordered Zhang Yue, the Director of the Secretariat, to recommend people well versed in the Book of Changes, the Laozi, and the Zhuangzi. Hou Xingguo, a true scholar of the Jixian Academy, recommended Kang Ziyuan of Kuaiji and Jing Huizhen of Pingyang to Zhang Yue. After Zhang Yue submitted their names, both were appointed as attendants for lectures. Before long, they also took on the posts of academic lecturers at the Jixian Academy. At first, Hou Xingguo, Jing Huizhen, and Feng Chaoyin of Changle gave lectures together, exploring the profound principles of Lao-Zhuang thought. Jing Huizhen was also well versed in the Laozi. Each time he opened the classic, he first burned incense and washed his hands before reciting it. These accounts appear in the “Biographies of Confucian Scholars” in the New Book of Tang.

The passage beginning “Li Wei” repeats the earlier account of the lectures and Jing Huizhen’s reading of the Laozi. It cites the same source, the “Biographies of Confucian Scholars” in the New Book of Tang.

In his memorial urging Emperor Jingzong of the Tang to seek out Daoist masters, Li Deyu said:

“I have heard that in the highest and most profound Daoist arts, none surpasses Guangchengzi and Xuanyuan (Laozi); among the sages, none is more outstanding than Xuanyuan Huangdi (the Yellow Emperor) and Confucius. In ancient times, the Yellow Emperor asked Guangchengzi for the essentials of cultivating body and mind. Guangchengzi said: ‘Look at nothing and listen to nothing. Let the spirit be calm and still, and the body will naturally become upright and the spirit clear. Do not tire the body or disturb the vital energies; then you may live a long life.’ He also said: ‘One who attains my Dao may become an emperor above or a king below.’

“Laozi once said to Confucius: ‘Rid yourself of pride and greed, and of affected mannerisms and excessive ambition. None of these benefits your body or mind. That is all I can tell you.’ Hearing this, the Yellow Emperor exclaimed, ‘How lofty it is—like the heavens!’ Confucius, too, reflected that ‘Laozi is like a dragon, profound and unfathomable.’ Had the ancient sages not already reached the highest understanding of the Dao?

“If Guangchengzi and Laozi were to conceal their identities and come into the world to explain the Dao of governance to Your Majesty, I presume their teaching would go no further than these principles.” This passage appears in the Collected Works of Li Wenrao.

The Hermit of Fragrant Mountain, Bai Juyi, said:

“If we wish to make people’s hearts frugal and unadorned, and to bring clarity and harmony to society’s customs, there is no better way than to put the Dao of Huangdi and Laozi into practice. Its essential principles are to value tolerance and simplicity, to pursue frugality and plainness, and neither to flaunt cleverness and acuity nor to make excessive use of ingenuity and wit. Those skilled in applying these principles can bring peace and stability to society whether they govern a county, a commandery, a state, or the whole realm.

“Long ago, Mi Jian, the local official of Shanfu during the Spring and Autumn period, grasped these principles. Without leaving the main hall of his office, he guided the people of Shanfu through his example. Ji An, an official of the Han dynasty, understood them as well: without leaving his official quarters, he brought the affairs of Donghai Commandery into order. Cao Can, a Han chancellor, understood them too; without stirring up the prisons or the marketplace, he brought peace and harmony to the state of Qi. Emperor Wen of Han grasped these principles, and so punishments were rarely imposed and the realm was governed in good order. These achievements had no other cause: they all came from quietude and Wuwei (non-action).” This passage appears in the Collected Works of Bai Changqing.

When Zhang Jianming was young, he traveled around the Hebei region as a Confucian scholar. Later he left the Confucian tradition, became a Daoist, and mastered the teachings of the Laozi and Zhuangzi. Emperor Gaozu of Jin summoned him and asked, “Can Daoist learning be used to govern the state?” Zhang Jianming replied, “The Dao is what explains the mysteries of all things. One who truly comprehends the ultimate Dao can govern all under Heaven while sitting or reclining quietly on a mat.” Emperor Gaozu found his words insightful, invited him into the inner palace to lecture on the Daode Jing, made him his teacher, and bestowed on him the title “Master Tongxuan.” Later, no one knew where he went. This account appears in the “Biographies of the Recluses” in the History of the Five Dynasties.

When Emperor Taizu of Song campaigned against Taiyuan, he was stationed at Zhenyang. He had heard that the Daoist Su Chengyin had repeatedly been summoned during the Five Dynasties but had never accepted a summons, so he invited him to the temporary palace. Su Chengyin was then eighty years old. Taizu asked him for guidance on the art of nourishing life. Su Chengyin replied, “As for me, nourishing life means simply devoting my attention to thought and cultivating my breath. The way an emperor nourishes life is different. Laozi said, ‘When I practice Wuwei (non-action), the people transform of themselves; when I have no desires, the people become simple and sincere of themselves.’ If an emperor can practice Wuwei and have no desires, quiet his spirit, and bring it into harmony with the Qi of Great Harmony, he can nourish life. In the past, the Yellow Emperor and Tang Yao enjoyed long reigns and long lives because they understood this principle.” Taizu agreed with him. This account appears in the “Biographies of Recluses” in the Dongdu Shilüe and in the Biographies of Eminent Daoists.

Emperor Taizong of Song said to the ministers around him, “When I read the Laozi and come to the passage, ‘Weapons are instruments of ill omen; the sage uses them only when there is no other choice,’ I read it over several times each time, taking it as a warning and admonition.”

Zhang Wumeng of the Hongmeng lineage, courtesy name Lingyin, loved the Dao of quietude and emptiness and studied the Laozi and the Book of Changes in depth. He once entered Mount Hua, where he joined Liu Haichan…

Zhang Wumeng, known as Hongmengzi and styled Lingyin, delighted in quietude and emptiness and studied the Laozi and the Zhouyi in depth. He went to Mount Hua, where he became friends outside the secular world with Liu Haichan and Zhong Fang, and took Master Chen Xiyi as his teacher. He often grasped the subtle meaning of their teachings. Later he went to Mount Tiantai. Emperor Zhenzong of the Song summoned him and asked how to govern the state for the long term. Zhang Wumeng replied, “I am a man of the mountains and fields. In the mountains, I usually read only the Laozi and the Zhouyi; I know nothing of other matters.” The court appointed him Assistant Director of the Bureau of Scholarly Writings, but he firmly declined and returned to the mountains. The emperor bestowed gold and silk on him and granted him the title “Retired Scholar,” meaning a learned man who lives in seclusion rather than serving in office. He accepted neither. This account appears in the Biographies of Eminent Daoists.

Chen Yue, known as Lord Zhongsu of Liaozhai, once wrote more than twenty essays under the title “Words of Illumination.” The preface says, in essence: Wang Zeng, commissioner of the Jade Clarity Palace of Illustrious Response, asked that the Daoist scriptures held in the Three Libraries be collated. The emperor then remarked that the Daoist scriptures were not as quiet and concise as the five thousand words of the Laozi. Zhang Zhibai said, “Your Majesty’s attention to these principles is precisely the way to govern the state through Wuwei (non-action).” This account appears in the Collected Works of Liaozhai.

In the preface to his “Eulogy on the Dragon’s Support,” the remonstrance official Tian Xi wrote: “For a dragon to rise, it needs wood as its support; for a ruler to rise, it needs people as its support. Restraining attachment to being and nonbeing is the way to govern the state through Wuwei.” This account appears in the Collected Works of Liaozhai.

In the preface to his “Eulogy on the Dragon’s Support,” the remonstrance official Tian Xi also wrote: “Sages who do not hold high office and worthy men who conceal their radiance support one another through their reputations and deeds, and make up for one another’s shortcomings with their abilities. Was a gifted man like Zuo Qiuming the ‘support’ on which Confucius, like a dragon, could rise? Thus he was able to expound the Spring and Autumn Annals and pass its teachings on to later generations. Was a worthy man like Yin Xi the ‘support’ on which Laozi could rise? Thus he was able to ask Laozi about the meaning of the Daodejing and transmit it to later generations.” This account appears in the Xianping Collection.

Chen Zhong-su said, “Laozi says, ‘The world is a sacred vessel; it cannot be governed by force. Those who act upon it by force will ruin it.’ He also says, ‘Governing a great state is like cooking a small fish.’ When cooking fish, there is no need to turn it over again and again. Simply regulate the water and fire, and let it cook through. Is this perhaps also the principle behind Shun governing the world through Wuwei (non-action)?

“He also said: Emperor Wu of Han abolished the teachings of Huang-Lao and adopted Confucian methods. Although he always took benevolence and righteousness as his foundation, the actual results were little different from those under Qin Shi Huang. At that time, the world was scarcely at peace for a single day. People longed for the governance of the reigns of Emperors Wen and Jing, but it could never be restored. Seen in this light, what had the teachings of Huang-Lao done to wrong the world?

“He further said: Shu Guang told his nephew Shu Shou, ‘If you know contentment, you will not suffer disgrace; if you know when to stop, you will not encounter danger. Your official rank is established and your reputation is secure. If you do not retire in time, you may well regret it later.’ So the uncle and nephew feigned illness, resigned from office, and returned to their home together. People praised them at the time, and later generations have often retold their story. Their understanding of when to stop in time came from Laozi’s teachings.” This passage is found in the Liaozhai Collection.

Ouyang Xiu said, “Things follow one another, and lengths are measured against one another: extended from this, such relations are the principle of all things. Although Laozi’s writings may seem to speak of emptiness, his discussion of how to govern people is profound.

“Daoist teaching takes stillness, quietude, and simplicity as its foundation. It casts aside forcefulness and covetousness, and remains content in detachment. Thus Laozi says, ‘When I practice Wuwei, the people transform themselves; when I cherish stillness, the people set themselves right.’ Even a sage who occupies the throne and governs the world cannot lightly depart from this principle.” This passage is found in Ouyang Xiu’s collected works.

Mr. Luo Congyan of Yanping, courtesy name Zhongsu, said, “Confucius neither praised nor criticized Laozi’s writings. Had he praised them, later scholars might have become infatuated with the idea of ‘blending one’s light with the dust’—concealing one’s sharpness and adapting to the ways of the world—and thereby slipped into unrestrained conduct. Had he criticized them, could the teaching that ‘purity and stillness are the right way for all under Heaven’ really be condemned? Since he did neither, could he not at least have spoken of them briefly? That is why Confucius said only that he privately wished to compare himself to Lao Peng.” This passage appears in Sayings of Mr. Luo.

Someone asked Mr. Yang Shi of Guishan, whose posthumous title was Wenjing, “Some say that Lao Peng refers to Laozi and Peng Zu, and that Peng Zu was not called ‘Lao Peng’ because of his longevity. So did Laozi’s writings truly ‘transmit ancient teachings without creating anything new, and trust in and delight in the ancient Way’?” Yang Shi replied, “Laozi took what is natural as his foundation. It is fair to say that he did not create new teachings.” This passage appears in Collected Works of Guishan.

Guishan said, “Only by completely ridding oneself of selfish thoughts and desires can one respond to the affairs of the world. Laozi said, ‘Only by being impartial and selfless can one become a king.’” This passage appears in Sayings.

Mr. Lü Xizhe of Rongyang once had the words “In governing the people and serving Heaven, nothing is better than frugality and restraint” written in large characters on the wall of his front hall. He said that practitioners of self-cultivation regarded this as an important method for nourishing life, since one should act cautiously and conservatively in all things, always leaving room to spare. The principles of cultivating oneself, protecting one’s family, and bringing stability to the state all depend on this; it is not merely a way of nourishing life. This account appears in Miscellaneous Records of the Lü Family.

In his Stele for the Palace of Auspicious Preservation of the Most High (Shangqing Chuxiang Gong Bei), written by imperial command, Su Shi said: “I have carefully examined the matter: the Daoist school has its origins in the Yellow Emperor and Laozi. It takes purity, stillness, and Wuwei (non-action) as its foundation; an inward state of emptiness, stillness, and clarity, responding to things as they arise, as its way of functioning; and loyalty, generosity, frugality, and avoidance of luxury as its guiding practice. This accords with the Book of Changes, which asks, ‘What need is there for thought or deliberation?’ and with the Analects, which says, ‘The benevolent are tranquil and long-lived.’” Here, “What need is there for thought or deliberation?” means following nature without deliberate scheming. “The benevolent are tranquil and long-lived” means that generous-hearted people are at peace within themselves and therefore live long.

From the Qin and Han dynasties onward, the teachings of the fangshi, or esoteric practitioners, gradually gained currency. Practices arose for ascending to immortality and transforming the body, along with methods of cultivation such as those in the Yellow Court Scripture and the Great Grotto Scripture. Divine titles also appeared, including “Most High Heavenly Perfected,” “Wood Duke,” and “Metal Mother,” as did rituals to worship deities such as the Heavenly Emperor, Taiyi, Ziwei, and the North Pole. Later still, the refining of elixirs, various ingenious techniques, and arts such as Fulu (talismans and registers) all came to be grouped under Daoism. I once remarked privately that the Dao of the Yellow Emperor and Laozi is the root, while the teachings of the fangshi are merely branches and leaves.

In his Record of the Hall of Master Gai (Gai Gong Tang Ji), Su Shi also wrote that when Cao Can served as chancellor of Qi, he heard that Master Gai, a man from Jiaoxi, was well versed in the teachings of Huang-Lao. He sent someone to seek his advice. Cao Can adopted Master Gai’s approach to governing, and Qi was well governed. He later applied the methods he had used in Qi to governing the empire, which is why posterity has continued to regard him as worthy. Su Shi said that when he became governor of Jiaoxi, he knew Master Gai was from the area. He wanted to find his grave and descendants, but could not, and felt deeply moved. So he studied Master Gai’s teachings and imagined what kind of person he had been.

Cao Can was an important minister of the Han dynasty, and Master Gai had once been his teacher. This may be considered a great event. Yet the histories do not record what ultimately became of Master Gai. Su Shi therefore wondered: could he have been one of the perfected beings of antiquity who attained the Dao and lived forever?

In a postscript to his Commentary on the Laozi, Su Zhe wrote:

When I was forty-two, I was banished to Junzhou. Though Junzhou was a small place, it had many ancient Chan monasteries, where traveling monks from all directions often gathered. A monk named Daoquan was a descendant of Master Nangong of Mount Huangbo. He was upright in character and clear-minded, and he enjoyed my company.

Once, as we were discussing principles, I said to him, “What you are speaking of, I have already understood from the Confucian classics.” Daoquan replied, “This is Buddhist teaching. How could the Confucians understand it?” I answered, “That is not so. I have indeed heard of the Dao, though Confucian scholars may not all know it. Why insist that the Confucians know nothing of it? To say that Confucianism and Buddhism cannot understand one another is like saying that Hu people and Han people cannot understand one another’s languages. How can you be certain?” Daoquan asked me to explain briefly.

I said, “The Doctrine of the Mean, written by Zisi, Confucius’s grandson, says: ‘When joy, anger, sorrow, and pleasure have not yet arisen, this is called equilibrium. When they arise and all are measured and fitting, this is called harmony. Equilibrium is the great root of all things under Heaven; harmony is the universal Way they all follow. When equilibrium and harmony are attained, Heaven and Earth take their proper places, and the myriad things grow and flourish.’ Is this not Buddhist teaching? The two traditions simply express it differently.”

Daoquan asked what I based this on. I said, “The Sixth Patriarch, Huineng, once said: ‘Without thinking of good and without thinking of evil, at this very moment, what is your original face?’ Since the Sixth Patriarch’s time, many people have awakened through this teaching. To think neither of good nor of evil is to be in the state before joy, anger, sorrow, and pleasure arise. ‘Equilibrium’ may be another name for Buddha-nature, the innate awakened nature of all beings; ‘harmony’ may encompass the six perfections, the six practices of a bodhisattva, and the myriad forms of cultivation. When equilibrium and harmony are attained, Heaven, Earth, and all things grow within them. If this is not Buddhist teaching, what should it be called?”

Daoquan was both astonished and delighted. “I never understood this before,” he said. “Now I see that Confucianism and Buddhism speak of the same principle.” I smiled and said, “That is not quite right. The fundamental principle of the world is indeed one, but the methods used to govern people differ. Without ritual and law among ruler and minister, father and son, society would fall into disorder. Those who understand ritual and law but not the Dao are merely worldly Confucian scholars, unworthy of respect. Someone who lives in the mountains and forests, feeds on fruits and trees, drinks from mountain streams, and keeps the Great Dao in mind may be called a Celestial Master (Tianshi), even if they are an ordinary person. But if this way of life were used to govern the world, it too would cause disorder. Only the way of the ancient sages—practicing the Dao inwardly while not abandoning ritual and law—can work.”

Daoquan bowed and praised my words: “These are the highest principles.” At the time, I was annotating the Laozi. Whenever I finished a chapter, I showed it to him, and he would always exclaim, “This is all Buddhist teaching.” After I had lived in Junzhou for five years, I returned north. Not long afterward, Daoquan also passed away. More than twenty years have gone by since then. I have often revised my Commentary on the Laozi, yet I have always felt that it accords with Buddhist teaching. At the time, there was no one with whom I could discuss it. I wished I could meet Daoquan again and show him the book, so I have written these words at the end of the Laozi.

On the tenth day of the twelfth month, in the second year of the Daguan reign, Ziyou wrote this postscript.

Su Zhe also wrote:

When I was moved south to Haikang, I met my elder brother Su Shi in Tengzhou. We spent more than ten days together, discussing our past studies. Su Shi said to me, “Your three works, the Commentary on the Book of Songs, the Commentary on the Spring and Autumn Annals, and the Ancient History, have all reached a level the ancients never attained. Only your Commentary on the Laozi is somewhat inferior.”

After I arrived in Haikang, I had no duties and spent my time at leisure. I reviewed many of my writings and copied out the Commentary on the Laozi again, then sent it to Su Shi. Later, I was granted permission to return north. Su Shi went to Piling and fell gravely ill. More than ten years have now passed, and I have never learned what he thought of this book.

In the winter of the first year of the Zhenghe reign, I received manuscripts of my late father’s writings, compiled by my nephew Su Mai and others. Among them was a letter that said: “Yesterday Ziyou sent me his New Commentary on the Laozi. Before I had finished reading it, I put down the book and sighed. Had this book existed during the Warring States period, there would have been no Shang Yang or Han Fei. Had it existed in the early Han, the teachings of Confucius and Laozi could have been brought together as one. Had it existed in the Jin and Song periods, Buddhism and Daoism would not have been regarded as separate. I never expected, in my old age, to read such an extraordinary work. Only now do I know that it accords with my own understanding.”

Su Shi also said: “Since I settled in Yingchuan, I have revised these books many times over the past ten years. I believe that the words of the sages cannot be fully understood after a single reading. Whenever I gain a new insight, I dare not treat my earlier views as final. With this revision, I believe the work is now complete. I had hoped to show it once more to Zizhan, but I never had the chance.” At this, I could not keep from weeping.

On the eleventh day of the twelfth month, Ziyou wrote this postscript again.

Su Zhu of Meishan was the grandson of Duke Wending of Yingbin. He recorded his grandfather’s final words: “Grandfather once explained several chapters of the Laozi to Su Zhu, saying that they stood two or three levels above the Mencius. He also said that, when discussing the highest Dao, nothing surpasses the Laozi’s five thousand words.” In a poem from his later years, his grandfather wrote: “Recently I have preserved a commentary on the eighty-one chapters of the Daodejing, written by one of Lao Dan’s disciples.” These words show that his mastery deepened as he grew older, reaching a level that ordinary people could scarcely fathom. They appear in the final words recorded by Su Zhu.

After completing his Commentary on the Daodejing, Lü Jifu (Lü Huiqing, courtesy name Jifu) submitted it to the court in 1078. In his memorial, he wrote:

“Your servant Lü Huiqing says: I have heard that Cook Ding, while cutting up an ox for Lord Wenhui, came to understand the way of nourishing life; and that Wheelwright Bian, setting down his chisel and mallet, explained to Duke Huan of Qi the principles of reading. When the mind is focused and undivided, perhaps the Way is found there. Your servant bows his head in fear.

“Your servant believes that the complete institutions of antiquity were later lost amid human cleverness and artifice, and that living beings likewise lost their original nature. Thus there arose true persons who revealed the highest teachings, traced the roots of Dao and De, and based themselves on the ancient texts. Zhuang Zhou held that the ideal age in which people lived in peace, with the crowing of roosters and barking of dogs heard from one village to the next, preceded Shennong. Liezi, meanwhile, called the teaching that ‘the Valley Spirit never dies’ a book of the Yellow Emperor. If one investigates these subtle words, one finds in them a wondrous Dao.

“The Dao is indistinct and elusive: the eyes cannot see it, and the ears cannot hear it. It is beyond past and present, and its beginning and end cannot be determined. When people lose the Dao, they drift ever farther from it; even a treasure hidden in Mount Jing goes unrecognized. When they grasp the Dao, it comes of its own accord, like the dark pearl found through ‘the nameless one.’ The Yellow Emperor’s dream journey to the land of Huaxu and Tang Yao’s visit to Mount Gushe both attained a state of freedom, ease, and settled Wuwei. The state toward which the Laozi points is no different.

“Cao Can learned the ways of Huang-Lao from Master Gai and later served as an aide in Qi. Emperor Wen of Han sought instruction from the Elder of the Yellow River and governed through the arts of Huang-Lao. Though they grasped only a relatively shallow level, they came close to bringing peace and prosperity to all under Heaven. Only those bound by worldly learning fail to understand the true meaning of the Dao. They see only that the words of the Laozi differ from the Odes and the Documents, without realizing that it explains the very foundation of imperial rule.

“Thus, hearing ‘do not exalt the worthy,’ they think it means to neglect worthy people; hearing ‘do not prize goods,’ they think it means to throw possessions away and make no use of them; hearing ‘abandon learning and be free of worry,’ they think it means becoming ignorant like animals; hearing ‘abandon sagehood and discard wisdom,’ they think it means rejecting laws and returning to a primitive age. They do not understand that the human mind is naturally clear, like eyes that are bright and lucid. Even gold dust falling into the eye will obscure its sight. Therefore, one must lay aside the mind that discriminates between good and evil and ultimately return to emptiness, stillness, and harmony. This principle is difficult to fathom by ordinary understanding, and is precisely what confounds those who take themselves to be clever. I therefore believe that the Laozi is indeed a trustworthy teaching of a sage and deserves a place among the precious doctrines of the various schools. The task of expounding this subtle learning must properly be entrusted to someone who truly understands it.

“Your Majesty is endowed with a sublime nature and has emerged as both ruler and teacher, putting the subtle foundations of principle into practice in governance. You have ordered public affairs, removed abuses, and issued one measure after another; the four quarters are already convinced. Your Majesty is now intent on clearing the mind and cultivating the self, freeing yourself from the burdens of governing external things at the cost of your own being, securing the roots, and following the Way of long life and enduring vision. You would have all under Heaven live as in the land of Huaxu and behold the spirit beings of Mount Gushe. This is the very moment for Your Majesty to investigate the Great Dao deeply.

“Your servant is dull by nature and has endured many troubles in life. I have often wished to reach a state of sudden clarity, so as to be free of the strain of forcing things in my heart. I have examined widely the differing views of various schools and have also followed the principle that ‘in pursuing the Dao, one diminishes day by day,’ continually reducing and letting go in the hope of ultimately aligning with the Great Dao. After many years of study, though I have always felt there was not enough time, I have recently come to an understanding of this classic. In movement, I can remain still; all things flourish in profusion and each returns to its root. What is turbid can become clear, and light can emerge even from the depths of darkness. I have therefore written down my understanding. Though I feel somewhat at ease within myself, I do not know whether it is sound. I humbly believe that the still contemplation and clear discernment of the Perfected One can serve as a standard for students. I have therefore ventured to present this work and ask Your Majesty to judge it.

“The dragon changes as it follows the lines of the Yijing; it is by nature difficult to know how it ascends to Heaven. The horse reveals its abilities through focused intelligence, and thus can help clarify the Way. If even a single sentence in this work proves beneficial, then even if I were to be condemned to die ten thousand deaths, I would not dare refuse. Your servant has written the Commentary on the Laozi’s Daodejing in four volumes and respectfully submits it, humbly requesting that Your Majesty read it.

“Your servant Lü Huiqing bows his head in fear. Submitted in the first month of the first year of Yuanfeng, by Lü Huiqing, Academician of the Zizheng Hall, Grand Master for Court Audiences, Pacification Commissioner of Dingzhou Circuit, General Manager of the Cavalry and Infantry, concurrently Prefect of Dingzhou and Supervisor of Agricultural Affairs within its jurisdiction, Senior Light Chariot Commandant, Founding Earl of Cheping County, with a fief of eight hundred households.”

According to the record left by Mr. Li Yanping, when Lü Jifu was reading the Zhuangzi and came to the words “joining with ten thousand years to become one pure whole,” he suddenly awakened to the principle of nature and life. For this reason, his commentaries on the Laozi and the Zhuangzi stand out among the commentaries by various authors.

Master Lu Taoshan of the Mountain Farm said: Since the Qin dynasty, few people in the world have discussed the learning of nature and life—the study of human nature and the roots of life. As a result, the principles of the Dao and De (Virtue/Power) have long been torn apart. Scholars in the world have unfortunately been misled by narrow, one-sided books. Day after day, they have immersed themselves in shallow annotations and legends, losing the original state of their own nature and life. They no longer understand the great Dao in which Heaven and Earth are wholly and purely united, nor grasp the whole of the ancients’ thought. This filled him with sorrow.

He believed that the Daodejing was a work in which Guanyin—said to have once sought instruction from Laozi—earnestly asked for guidance, and Laozi sincerely set forth his thought. The book contains many subtle and profound principles that can awaken those obscured by doctrines and help them recognize the original state of their nature and life anew. Sadly, shallow annotations have muddled these principles. More than a thousand years have passed, and people still do not understand them. So he wrote this commentary to bring to light the teachings that had been obscured.

Many ancient sages, however, were able to explain the thought of Dao and De, and Laozi was not the only one to express their meaning in writing. Broadly speaking, Laozi’s account is concise, Liezi’s is more detailed, and Zhuangzi’s more detailed still. His commentary therefore draws on the fuller discussions of Liezi and Zhuangzi to explain Laozi, in the hope of remaining true to the original meaning of Dao and De. See the notes to the classic.

Tang Geng Zixi of Meishan said: People wonder why Laozi went west, reasoning that since he was benevolent and frugal and did not always seek to be first, he should have been welcomed wherever he went. If so, why did he leave? This view is quite mistaken. It was precisely because Laozi’s Dao could be accepted wherever he went and put into practice even among the barbarians that he became the representative of the Laoist tradition. See the Meishan Collection.

Qin Guan of Huaihai said: When Ban Gu praised Sima Qian, he observed that Sima Qian’s judgments of praise and blame often departed from the way of the sages. When discussing the great Dao, Sima Qian placed the teachings of the Yellow Emperor and Laozi first…

Qin Guan of Huaihai said: Ban Gu criticized Sima Qian, arguing that many of his judgments about right and wrong strayed from the standards of the sages. When discussing the Great Dao, he placed the teachings of Huangdi and Laozi first and the Six Classics afterward. Who would have thought that a man as exceptionally talented and widely learned as Sima Qian would view the Dao in this way? In my view, that is not the case: Sima Qian wrote as he did because he had truly grasped something.

Mencius said, “Benevolence is what makes a person human.” Taken together, these ideas make up the Dao. Yangzi also said, “The Dao is what guides people; De is what enables them to attain something; benevolence is what gives expression to their humanity; righteousness is what judges what is fitting; and ritual is what brings conduct into proper form. All of these come from the Way of Heaven.” Taken together, they form a complete, undivided whole; considered separately, they become distinct parts. The Dao and De are the underlying whole from which benevolence, righteousness, and ritual derive, while benevolence and righteousness are parts of the Dao and De. The teachings of Huangdi and Laozi emphasize the whole and give less weight to its separate parts, so they take the Dao as fundamental. The teachings of the Six Classics say less about the Great Dao as a whole and more about its separate principles, and therefore take benevolence, righteousness, and ritual as practical standards for conduct. When Sima Qian discussed the Great Dao, he spoke first of Huangdi and Laozi, then of the Six Classics. Did he not write this way because he understood this distinction?

Qin Guan also said: Historical records say that Cui Hao once compared himself to Zhang Liang and claimed that his ability to investigate ancient events surpassed Zhang Liang’s. In my view, Cui Hao was not even the equal of Xun Kuang or Jia Yi, so how could he dare compare himself with Zhang Liang? Zhang Liang excelled in self-cultivation and used what he had learned beyond that to govern the realm. Once his achievements were complete, he preserved himself by withdrawing from public life. This belongs to the Daoist lineage. Observing celestial phenomena and studying changes in the seasons in order to assist human affairs is skill in handling practical matters without understanding their roots; this belongs to the Yin-Yang school. When Zhang Liang was traveling in Xiapi, he received a military text from the old man on the bridge. Later, he said he wished to leave worldly affairs behind and travel with Chisongzi, a legendary immortal. From this, it seems his learning probably came from the Daoist school.

Cui Hao was well versed in divination and occult arts. His accounts of Mars entering Qin territory, a comet bringing about the fall of the Jin dynasty, a hare appearing in the imperial harem, and Yao Xing presenting women are especially strange. Yet later he rejected the teachings of Zhuangzi and Laozi, calling them empty and deceptive. This suggests that what he had learned was probably limited to Yin-Yang divination and occult arts. That is why he differed from Zhang Liang. The passage above is from the Huaihai Collection.

Chao Wen Yuan Gong Jiong said, “This is especially strange. Later, he rejected the teachings of Zhuangzi and Laozi, considering their words contrived and false. His own doctrine, then, probably came only from the Yin-Yang school. That is what set him apart from them.” See Huaihai Collection.

Chao Wen Yuan Gong Jiong also said, “Many eminent and worthy people, from ancient times to the present, have enjoyed reading the Laozi and the Zhuangzi. In their teachings on Wuwei (non-action) and doing nothing, they saw a realm of supreme beauty and joy.”

He also said, “Laozi said that the five colors dazzle the eyes, the five tones impair the hearing, and the five flavors spoil the palate. Though these words may have been somewhat forceful, as the sages sought to correct the customs of their time, their intention was deeply to encourage people to do good and avoid harm. If a person does not become immersed in pleasures of the eyes and ears or indulge the appetites of the mouth and belly, then whether or not anything is gained, there will certainly be no loss.” Both passages are from New Compilation of the Zhaode Hall.

He further said, “Laozi said that knowing the constant Dao is called illumination. People living in the secular world know only that the alternation of day and night is natural, yet they regard human beings as unchanged from beginning to end. Those who transcend the secular world see life and death as an alternation like day and night, and know that life and death are natural, while human nature remains unchanged. Thus, those who illuminate the mind and see their nature are at ease in their hearts and do not fear death.” See Additional Writings from the Years of Advanced Age and Wisdom.

Li Taibo of Xujiang said, “Han Yu once said, ‘Laozi said Confucius was a disciple of my teacher, and Buddhists also say Confucius was a disciple of my teacher. Confucian scholars have heard these claims so often that they have come to accept even the absurd parts, making themselves seem small.’ Han Yu also said, ‘My own teacher used to say this too. I cannot explain the teachings of Buddhism in detail.’ Both the Questions of Zengzi and the Biographies of Laozi record that Confucius asked Laozi about ritual, but historical records are not necessarily all reliable. The Book of Rites is a Confucian classic; could it too contain an untrue account?” See Collected Drafts from a Life of Retirement.

Jing Yusheng of Mount Song told Chao Shuozhi, “After Fuxi, King Wen, and the Duke of Zhou had written commentaries explaining the Changes, only Laozi truly understood the principles of change and free movement, of bending and extending, advancing and withdrawing. He understood the value of softness and weakness and prized emptiness and stillness. He devoted himself to following things as they are, without forcing an outcome. He wrote and taught with earnest care, and fortunately his book has survived.”

He also said, “Can Wang Bi truly be said to have understood Laozi’s teachings by commenting on the two parts, upper and lower, of the Daodejing? His commentary broadly belongs to the same tradition as Yan Junping’s Guidance to the Laozi. Wang Bi says that benevolence, righteousness, and ritual cannot function on their own but must depend on the Dao to be put into practice, and that all things under Heaven and Earth each receive a portion of the Dao. How could these insights merely be of help in understanding Laozi? Scholars of every kind should know this.”

He further said, “Wang Bi’s comments on ‘Fine weapons are inauspicious instruments’—that is, excellent weapons are inauspicious things—and on treating victory with the solemnity of a funeral do not reflect Laozi’s original intent. The lines ‘Always skilled at rescuing people, so no one is abandoned; always skilled at rescuing things, so nothing is abandoned’ appear only in the version annotated by Heshang Gong; they are absent from the ancient texts. Fortunately, Fu Yi clarified this point.” This passage appears in the Collected Works.

Chen Jingyuan, known as Master Bixu, once studied under Zhang Hongmeng. He wrote the Subtle Principles Compiled in the Hidden Chamber of the Daodejing, selecting the essential points from commentaries by various ancient scholars and bringing them together with secret teachings passed down in his school. During the Xining era, he was summoned to court and presented the book. Emperor Shenzong of Song personally wrote an edict praising it. Chen also annotated the Chapters, Phrases, and Pronunciations of the Nanhua Scripture. The work comprises more than twenty scrolls, all now included in the Daoist Canon. These accounts appear in the Biography of Master Bixu, the preface to the Subtle Principles Compiled, and the catalogue of the Daoist Canon.

Xitang Xie Yi says in “Record of the Longevity Pavilion”: Confucius speaks of “the benevolent living long,” Laozi of “one who dies yet does not perish living long,” and Buddhism of “immeasurable life.” Though the three sages express themselves differently, their meaning is connected. The benevolent person fully realizes their nature; when nature is fully realized, the body may die while the spirit remains undiminished. If one dies yet does not perish, how could one’s lifespan ever come to an end?

Some people see only that hair, body hair, fingernails, and teeth return to the dust; tears, saliva, and bodily fluids return to water; the body’s warmth returns to fire; and the body’s movement returns to wind. They therefore assume that the person has truly died. But they do not know that the clear and tranquil presence remains, and has not truly perished. This account appears in the Xitang Collection.

Daxiang Zou, Duke Zhong of Zou Hao, says: “The gate of the Mysterious Female”—the gate of generation and transformation in the Laozi—can be understood, in terms of the human body, as the nose. The nose is the passage through which breathing enters and leaves. When the breath continues without interruption, seeming present and yet almost absent, and is used without haste or strain, it becomes deep and long. This is what is meant by Sun Shuao’s fine, steady breathing.

Zhuangzi says: “The True Person breathes deeply, down to the heels; ordinary people breathe only as far as the throat.” Those under strain speak as though their throats were choked, making a sobbing sound. Those consumed by desire have a shallow inborn capacity for spiritual perception and response. The Suwen, a classic of Chinese medicine and part of the Huangdi Neijing, says that without the coming and going of breath, life cannot grow, become strong, age, and reach its end; without the rising and falling of Qi, the myriad things cannot grow, transform, contract, and be stored away. These four movements of Qi—rising, descending, entering, and exiting—are present in every bodily form; the essential thing is to keep them moving normally. Only by understanding this can one understand why the “Valley Spirit,” empty and still like a valley and able to nourish and bring forth the myriad things, does not die.

He also says: “Make the mind empty and still, and the Qi in the abdomen will naturally become full; lessen the will’s insistence on imposing its own demands, and the sinews and bones will naturally grow strong.” All of the above appears in the Daxiang Collection.

Shao Bowen says: Master Kangjie, Shao Yong, believed that Laozi understood the fundamental nature of the Changes, while Mencius understood its practical workings. Wang Tong, known as the Master of Letters, was not overstating the matter when he called the Buddha a sage of the West. This account appears in the Shao Family’s Records of Things Heard and Seen.

Zheng Xia of Xitang said, “I have heard that Mencius understood the practical application of the Book of Changes. It is not too much to call the Buddha ‘the sage of the West’ in a written work.” See Records of What Shao Heard and Saw.

I have heard Laozi say, “Know contentment, and you will not suffer disgrace; know when to stop, and you will not meet with danger.” The Book of Changes says, “‘Excess’ means knowing only how to advance and not how to retreat, knowing only how to live and not how to die, knowing only how to gain and not how to lose. To understand the principles of advance and retreat, survival and extinction, and yet never lose the proper Way—perhaps only a sage can do this.” It is clear that the principles of advance and retreat, survival and extinction, gain and loss are in fact one and the same. If so, why is it so difficult to know how to yield, how to bring things to an end, when to be content, and when to stop, that sages must repeatedly urge us to do so and praise it so highly?

It is because all these things return to the same Dao (the Way). When advance and retreat follow the Dao, one does not advance recklessly, and yielding is not difficult. When survival and extinction follow the Dao, one does not become smug in times of survival or fearful in times of extinction. Advance, retreat, survival, and extinction all return to the Dao: when it is time to stop, one stops; when it is time to act, one acts. How could these principles be at odds with one another?

Laozi also said, “When people of the highest kind hear of the Dao, they diligently put it into practice. When people of the middling kind hear of it, they half understand it and half doubt it. When people of the lowest kind hear of it, they laugh out loud. If it were not laughed at, it would not be worthy of being called the Dao.” He also said, “The Dao is vast, so it seems to resemble nothing. If it resembled some particular thing, it would long ago have become small.” This resemblance arises when what one cultivates and pursues is too small. Ordinary people pursue nothing but small concerns, so they think the vast Dao seems to amount to nothing. Such people are not fit to discuss the Dao.

The Dao is vast, while particular things seem small. People bustle about but end up confined to narrow limits because they are entangled in things. The “Origin” is the root of goodness; it is also the attainment of a vast state. To reach this state without knowing how vast it is means being in accord with the Dao, and naturally not resembling the ways of the world. Thus people everywhere say, “My Dao is so great that it seems to resemble nothing.” Everyone else scrutinizes, distinguishes, calculates, and competes; I alone remain undifferentiated and generous, feeling that the affairs of the world are not worth pursuing. Naturally, I seem unlike others, and for that very reason can attain what is vast. If one thinks one has already attained this vast state, one will be little different from ordinary people. In the end, then, one will still be said to “resemble nothing.” When people of the lowest kind hear of the Dao and laugh, that itself shows the Dao is extraordinary. If no one laughed at it, it would not be worthy of being called the Dao.

Laozi also said, “Water is good at nourishing the myriad things, yet it does not contend with them. It settles in places that people all dislike, and so it is closest to the Dao.” But if water is stirred up with mud and changes along with external things, it becomes foul and filthy, unfit even for washing one’s feet. It brings this upon itself—should that not serve as a warning?

Those who wish to recover their original nature should take this as a lesson: clarity and brightness come from one’s own nature, while turbidity and confusion may also be brought on by oneself. Remove what stirs the mind and clouds awareness, and clarity will return to you. Then, even amid muddy banks and turbid waves, you will not be changed by them. The people and surroundings around you will gradually become clear, though they may not know that they have been influenced by you.

Water is clear by nature because it comes from the meeting of water and earth. It becomes turbid only when soil stirs it up. Let the water settle slowly, and it can reflect even the finest hairs. Human awareness is bright by nature, but it is clouded by external things and becomes confused. Let awareness grow clear slowly, and it can shine through like the sun and moon. Clear water is easily muddied; once muddy, it can settle and become clear again. Originally bright awareness grows dim through delusion; after becoming confused, it too can gradually clear and regain its brightness. Turbidity and confusion are often imposed on us by external things; clarity and brightness are already within us.

A scripture says, “When the Yin-Yang Qi of Heaven and Earth comes together, sweet dew descends. No one needs to command it; it falls naturally and evenly.” Rain and dew are only small things in relation to Heaven and Earth, yet they are distributed so evenly. How much more so must this be true of the luminous awareness of the human mind?

It is also said that before the Xia, Shang, and Zhou dynasties, there were no teachings or scriptures of Confucius, Mencius, Laozi, Zhuangzi, or Buddhism. When people encountered an age suited to becoming emperors, they became emperors; when they encountered an age suited to becoming kings, they became kings. Only after the Zhou dynasty began to decline did the teachings of the Confucian, Daoist, and Buddhist schools appear. Their underlying purpose was to address the world’s people, who were sinking into delusion, by offering ways to save them.

Zheng Xia also once wrote in the preface to Great Celebration Layman: “I originally studied Confucianism, taking the teachings of Confucius as my foundation. Later, I encountered the teachings of Laozi, which made my understanding clearer.” The passages above also appear in the Xitang Collection.

Ye Mengde said: “The Book of Documents begins with Yao and Shun, while the Book of Changes traces its account back to Fuxi, Shennong, and the Yellow Emperor. From this we can see that there were probably sages before Yao as well. Though the Six Classics have been preserved, they do not fully spell out this point. I have tried to contemplate their underlying principle and found that the Book of Changes says: ‘The Changes has no thought and no action; it is still and unmoving, yet once stirred by a response, it can know the transformations of all things under Heaven.’ Who but the most wondrous presence under Heaven could reach such a state? From this we can see that the principles passed down through the generations from Fuxi, Shennong, and the Yellow Emperor to Yao and Shun all fall within the scope of the Book of Changes. When these principles are compared with Laozi’s teaching, it becomes clear that there is little difference between Laozi and the Book of Changes.

The Analects records Confucius saying that he privately wished to emulate Lao Peng. After Confucius, Mencius contributed to Confucian teaching with almost no deviation or confusion of the Way. He rejected Yang Zhu and Mo Di, refuted Zhang Yi and Su Qin, and spoke with such severity that his words went beyond even his condemnation of Jie and Zhou. Yet even so, he never repudiated Laozi. What Mencius said about fully developing the mind, understanding one’s nature, and thereby reaching knowledge of Heaven’s mandate is precisely a principle Laozi especially valued. From this we can see that the books of Laozi were not rejected by Confucius or Mencius.

In Laozi’s teaching, the parts that differ from Confucius are mostly corrective words directed at the customs of their time; the parts that accord with Confucius all align with the principles of the Book of Changes. Several hundred years after Laozi, Buddhism arose, and its teachings were even more profound and subtle. Yet if we look at the ultimate state it attains, it can almost be confirmed by Laozi’s teaching. Annotations to the scriptural passages appear in the full text.

Ye Mengde said: Laozi’s discussion of Qi (vital energy) advocates concentrating the breath and becoming gentle, like an infant. Mencius’s discussion of Qi, by contrast, advocates cultivating a vast and vigorous energy, keeping it upright and unharmed until it fills the space between Heaven and Earth. The two claims may seem directly opposed: to agree with Laozi would appear to mean rejecting Mencius, while agreeing with Mencius would appear to mean rejecting Laozi. Yet in my view, they do not contradict each other.

When a person’s Qi disperses, it contends with external things and becomes forceful. When Qi is gathered within, the person becomes gentle. Strength cannot overcome strength; what overcomes strength must be weakness. Therefore, concentrating the breath is precisely the way to cultivate upright Qi. To nurture upright Qi and keep external things from harming it, one must not only hold fast to one’s resolve and prevent one’s Qi from being disturbed, but also, as Zengzi did, hold fast to what is essential. When one grasps what is essential to the utmost, then, after deep accumulation, one returns to subtlety. Thus cultivating upright Qi is also a path toward gentleness.

Those who grasp the principle in its deepest sense will ultimately understand that the Dao (the Way) was never divided into two. This discussion appears in Casual Remarks from Beneath the Cliffs at Shilin.

Dong Sizjing says that Laozi’s Dao (the Way) takes stillness, Wuwei (non-action), and following nature as its foundation. Its function lies in empty stillness and clarity: it responds to the myriad things without becoming entangled or obstructed by them. Its guiding principles for conduct are compassion, frugality, humility, and non-contention. Its method of governance is to have few desires, keep matters simple, and refrain from intervening in the lives of the people ahead of time on the strength of one’s own subjective will. Laozi’s teaching is complete in every respect, whether for cultivating oneself or governing the people. If put into practice, the simple and honest form of government of high antiquity could be restored.

Yet in Laozi’s time, worldly society prized ornamentation, and the ways of simplicity had vanished. Laozi upheld the Dao of pure, unadorned authenticity and acted in response to the circumstances of his age, often waiting until he was moved by events before responding. Though his teaching was sufficient for cultivating oneself and governing others, he had no position from which to put it into practice, and so it could not be implemented throughout the world. Perhaps this was because he understood that the times have their own limits. Even so, he could not bear to let the transmission of the Great Dao end. He therefore taught without distinction and showed particular concern for people in the West whose customs differed from those of his own land. His compassion for the troubles of his time and concern for later generations were truly profound. Fortunately, these principles were not lost: Laozi waited at the western pass for the Zhou royal entourage to arrive—a reference to the story of his journey west after leaving the pass—and Confucius met him in eastern Lu, saying that he was like a divine dragon. Laozi’s writings and teachings were thus passed down.

Shang Zhangren, Huang Shigong, Le Chenggong, Gai Gong, and others further explored and practiced Laozi’s intent, gathering the Dao’s power within themselves. For them, the world around them had already become a realm of simplicity like that of Fuxi. Later, this line of teaching was transmitted further: Emperor Wen of Han used it to govern the state; Zhang Liang, whose courtesy name was Zifang, used it to assist the Han dynasty; and Cao Shen used it to govern the state of Qi. They truly helped restore the continuity of the Dao’s transmission after the harsh rule of the Qin dynasty. This, too, is clear evidence. If someone in later generations can go further and attain the ideal state, then the place they govern will also become as simple and generous as it was in the age of Fuxi.

Some readers encounter the book’s reserved and generous language but fail to see that, in a state of deep, empty stillness, one must carefully examine the exceptionally rigorous and thorough aspects of inner cultivation, for these are the foundation of handling affairs of state and the tasks of daily life. They learn only the outward appearance of generosity and easygoingness, as though they were muddled. In time, they become indecisive, indulgent, and careless. Some then criticize Laozi’s teaching of stillness and emptiness as impractical, or even dismiss it as contrary to the right way. Alas, what a pity.

Others believe that Laozi’s words conceal profound teachings and secret formulas. For example, they interpret “being” and “nonbeing” in the opening chapter as Jing and Qi, or Water and Fire, in alchemical practice; “empty the mind and fill the belly” as a method for refining lead; skill in warfare as a method for gathering lead; the character chong, made up of the elements “water” and “middle,” as the true One Water within Qi; and the thirty spokes converging at a wheel’s hub as a symbol of the six Qi in each of the Five Viscera, corresponding to the timing of the Fire Phases over a month. These interpretations will be set aside here. A person’s nature must be realized through their own insight, while methods of cultivation must be transmitted by a teacher. Even if the scripture does contain secret teachings, only someone who has already completed the practice can pass them on carefully by word of mouth and prevent misunderstanding. How could written words on a page alone make them clear? Moreover, this scripture explains the foundations of Dao and De (Virtue/Power), and the principle of Wuwei. Its meaning transcends concrete forms while remaining subtle and comprehensive. How could one rashly mix into it the teachings of other schools and scattered techniques? Bai Juyi wrote, “The Ancient Emperor, the Most High, spoke five thousand words, yet said nothing of medicines, nothing of immortals, nothing of ascending by day into the blue sky.” His words are truly apt.

Shao Ruoyu, also known as Benlaizi, wrote the Explanation of the Laozi during the Shaoxing era of the Southern Song. In the preface to the book, he wrote:

According to the Records of the Grand Historian, Laozi served as keeper of the archives of the Zhou dynasty, an office responsible for the classics. When the Zhou dynasty fell into decline, he left. The Keeper of the Pass, Yin Xi, said to him, “You are about to go into seclusion. Please be sure to write something for me.” Laozi then wrote two sections, upper and lower, explaining the meaning of the Dao and De. They amounted to more than five thousand characters. Afterward, he departed, and no one knew where he ultimately went.

The Records of the Grand Historian mentions “upper and lower sections,” so later readers said that the upper volume was about the Dao and the lower volume about De. But when examined in light of their meaning and principles, the Classic of the Dao and De originally discusses the Dao and De as interwoven; it does not divide into two parts, one devoted exclusively to the Dao and the other to De. This is merely a view passed down among ordinary people, and I have removed it. Nor do I know who, without carefully grasping the text’s meaning from beginning to end, divided the whole book into eighty-one chapters, pursuing nothing but formal symmetry and claiming that the number of chapters symbolizes the yang number. Such claims are idle and useless talk, so I have removed them as well.

Many people have annotated this book. Some discuss its principles in ways that do not accord with its meaning, or cite examples without evidence. For instance, explaining the “mysterious female” (the hidden source from which the Dao generates and transforms all things) as the mouth and nose does not accord with the text’s meaning. Explaining “the followers of death” as nirvana, the Buddhist state of liberation, likewise does not fit the surrounding passage. As for annotations based on subjective conjecture, with scattered and inappropriate wording, I will not list them one by one. These commentators have not yet truly attained the Dao.

Confucius set his heart on seeking the Dao. The Dao has no shape or form, so he began with De, taking it as his foundation. Once the foundation was established, the Dao could unfold from it. This is a process of gradual progress. How could one stop at De and not continue to seek the Dao? That would be like reaching the doorway and refusing to enter the room.

Many others mistake methods of cultivation for the Dao. They take foul liquids for Jing and Qi, dull muddiness for simplicity, slow or quick movements for one’s nature, standing motionless with hands clasped for Wuwei (non-action), avoiding flavorful foods for tranquility, coming and going by chance for naturalness, and abandoning one’s wife to live alone for purity. Such people cannot be spoken to about the highest Dao.

The eighth volume of the Baopuzi says: “Though the Five Thousand Words comes from Laozi, most of it is general discussion, and its contents are brief. It does not care to explain matters fully from beginning to end. What basis is there for what it says?” This remark is directed at those who are preoccupied with the art of the bedchamber, a method of health cultivation, and the arts of the yellow and white, techniques for refining gold and silver. They cling to methods of deliberate action and use minds intent on profit and desire to speculate about the Dao of non-action; as a result, they cannot understand the connections running through the book from beginning to end. There is even less to say about those who understand less than they do.

Some people regard only those able to rise into the air and fly as superior adepts, while ranking those who cultivate their virtue as inferior. Yet rising into the air, becoming invisible, and transforming the appearance of things are uncanny arts if used to break prohibitions. Confucius did not speak of the strange, violence, rebellion, or spirits and ghosts, because such things are of no benefit to people.

In speaking of long life and enduring vision, Laozi’s book chiefly seeks to help people continue along the path of the Dao; it is not devoted to pursuing the arts of the immortals. Immortals dwell on the Three Mountains, yet remain within the earth. They ride phoenixes to pay court to the Heavenly Emperor, yet remain within the sky. They live peacefully between heaven and earth for tens of thousands of years. But this merely lengthens a brief lifespan: when that lifespan is spent, they still die in the end. If they do not continue along the path of the Dao, how are they any different from the Dapeng tree, which lives for such a long time? I say this not to argue over right and wrong, but because I fear that some people will become so absorbed in the arts of the immortals that they stop advancing along the path of the Dao.

A recluse of Mount Yangu, Jiang Mao, said: “The Dao is deep, mysterious, and remote, and difficult to explain in words. People call it ‘Dao’ only by borrowing a name to refer to it; in truth, the name is not the Dao itself. The Five Classics speak of the Dao only in broad terms, while Lao Dan, Lie Yukou, and Zhuang Zhou discuss it in greater detail. Their accounts may be more or less extensive, but all aim to explain the fundamental nature of the Dao.”

Someone asked: “Did Laozi write his book in two parts, ‘Dao’ and ‘De,’ as he composed it, or did later readers arrange it that way?” I replied: “We cannot know for certain. I once saw an old copy of the Laozi in the home of a book collector. Its wording was broadly the same as in the versions circulated today, with only a few differences, and its meaning was essentially the same. But the order of the sections differed from the arrangement we have today, so I suspect later readers divided it into sections.”

The person said: “The Dao encompasses everything, but the five thousand characters of the Laozi describe only the ‘Dao’ that can be put into words. To divide it further into ‘De’ seems unreasonable.” I replied: “Dao and De are the same in substance, though their names differ. What is wrong with calling it Dao in one place and De in another?”

The person said: “How can you say that? I have read the Five Classics and the writings of the various philosophers. Whenever they discuss Dao and De, they distinguish between greater and lesser, and between what comes first and what comes later. They cannot all be treated as one and the same; this is clear from the texts.” I said: “Zhuang Zhou once said that some scholars, limited in their understanding, dissect the beauty of Heaven and Earth and analyze the principles of the myriad things because they regard Dao and De as separate. I deeply lament that later scholars have been so unfortunate. Do you, too, wish to follow that path?”

The person said: “Please explain the reasoning.” I said: “I have heard that what is everywhere is called Dao, while what each person receives from the Dao is called De. Dao is the common foundation that all follow; De is the portion each person receives individually. Take water as an example. A lake or sea and a small pool in a courtyard differ in size, but how do they differ in being water? A river rushing along and a stream surging through a ditch differ in form, but how do they differ in being water? Water is like the Dao: it reaches everywhere. Lakes, pools, rivers, and streams differ in the amount and form of their water, just as people differ in what they receive from the Dao. Is that not precisely what we mean when we say they are the same in substance but different in name?

“Those who study the Dao reflect on it with care and observe it with their spirit, cultivating themselves diligently until they are inwardly full and self-sufficient. Then their De is fulfilled, and they can establish themselves. As they continue to advance in De until it accords with the Dao, they return to their original unity. From this perspective, the Dao is no greater than De: when the Dao spreads throughout the world, De becomes manifest; when De is perfected, the Dao recedes from view. Thus, sages take the Dao as their model and achieve complete excellence, while exemplary people understand the Dao and fulfill their own De. This is the difference between the two.”

The person asked again: “The Dao is mysterious and formless. Does De, then, have visible traces?” I said: “The Dao has no fixed position or shape, but De may be fulfilled or deficient. Whatever is fulfilled or diminished appears clearly to the mind and eye; how could it leave no trace? When something accords with the Dao, there is no separate De to name. Only when we distinguish things from the perspective of De do their individual qualities become discernible. So the Dao has no fixed name, while De has definite expressions. Laozi lived in an age when the teachings of the Dao were undergoing change, and everything he said aimed to explain the principle of returning to what is perfectly right. His formulations may differ, yet they run together from beginning to end. If we consider their ultimate meaning, why separate them from one another?”

Someone asked about “De.” I added: “The workings that arise in the mind have no limit, so the movement of life within the body never ceases. To die and be reborn, to be born and die again: the beginning and end of life circle without end. Laozi said: ‘Of those who enter life and death, three in ten belong to the class of the living, three in ten to the class of the dead, and three in ten move recklessly toward death.’ These three classes together make up nine tenths. Of the whole ten, only one tenth can go beyond these limits of life and death. What does this one tenth refer to? I think it means those who can return to the root of life. Those who set their hearts on seeking the Dao may be able to discuss this principle if they cultivate themselves and await the right moment, acting when the way is straight and adapting when it turns.”

Someone asked about “destiny.” I continued: “Someone asked: ‘Lao Dan, Lie Yukou, Zhuang Zhou, and Meng Ke were all people of ancient times who attained the Dao. Each set out his own teaching in hopes that later generations would believe him. Why, then, do their words seem so sharply at odds? Lao Dan said: “My greatest trouble comes from having this body.” Lie Yukou said: “Those who turn inward seek proof within themselves.” Zhuang Zhou said: “My body does not belong to me.” Meng Ke, however, said: “All things are complete within me. There is no greater joy than examining myself and finding sincerity, free of deceit.” Some reject the body, seeing it as a source of trouble and something that does not belong to them. Others value the fact that all things are complete within themselves and believe that they can stand on their own. Do these views not contradict one another?’”

I replied: “You have not thought carefully enough. You have seized on what they said without understanding why they said it. The limbs, bones, five organs, and six viscera together are called the body. Our capacities for seeing, hearing, speaking, bearing ourselves, and thinking may also be called the body. The name ‘body’ is the same, but it refers to different things: in one case, the physical form; in the other, our nature. Lao Dan and Zhuang Zhou speak of the physical form, while Lie Yukou and Meng Ke speak of our nature.

“From the perspective of physical form, the limbs, bones, five organs, and six viscera bring their corresponding troubles simply by being present. Without them, those troubles could not arise, so we should not cling to them. To ‘have nothing’ does not mean destroying the body; it means not making it an object of attachment in action, speech, or silence. From the perspective of our nature, seeing, hearing, speaking, bearing ourselves, and thinking all accord with a single principle, and the principles of the myriad things are complete within us. By turning inward, we can find fulfillment within ourselves. Heaven is high and Earth is low; if we look up and down and examine what lies between them, what principle is not already complete within us? What, then, do we lack? Thus, when Lao Dan and Zhuang Zhou speak of the body, they emphasize not clinging to physical form; when Lie Yukou and Meng Ke speak of the body, they emphasize turning inward to contemplate our nature.”

Someone asked about “breath.” I added: “What rises and falls with the transformations of Yin and Yang, waxing and waning according to the rhythm of midnight and noon, is breath. Its movement is like a wheel that never stops; its cycle is like a circle without end. It connects with primordial Qi and flows day and night without pause. This is the ‘blended Qi’ spoken of by Laozi and Lie Yukou. Knowing how to preserve the breath is knowing how to nourish Qi; knowing how to nourish Qi is knowing how to enter the Dao. Holding to the One and meditative stillness, which gathers the spirit and settles the mind, are therefore no different in essence. Laozi said: ‘Continuous, unbroken, it seems to exist and yet not to exist; use it, and it will never be exhausted.’ Go back and seek along these lines, and you will come to understand.”

Someone asked about “Qi.” I added: “Zhuang Zhou says that those who nourish the body regulate their breathing through blowing and exhaling. This is only a relatively shallow practice. The foundation for bringing both body and spirit to their utmost refinement is to receive and follow the source of Qi. Laozi said: ‘The gate of the Mysterious Female is the root of Heaven and Earth.’ Does the foundation of the way to immortality lie here too?”

Someone asked: “Confucius said, ‘Have no preconceptions; have no self’—do not rely on subjective assumptions or cling to the self. Laozi said, ‘If I had no body, what troubles would I have?’ Gautama, the Buddha, said, ‘There are no eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, or mind.’ When people are alive, they have outward form and appearance, and inward thoughts and perceptions. Why should these be made into ‘nothing’?” I said: “Because ‘nothingness’ is the destination of all goodness and the foundation to which the myriad teachings return. If people can let their outward concerns subside and settle their minds in nothingness, they can accord with the Dao. Do sitting in forgetfulness, regulating the breath, and facing a wall not all lead to the same destination?”

Jiang Mao, whose courtesy name was Zhongchang, was from Sanqu. “Recluse of Mount Yangu” was his chosen name. He cultivated his virtue in the countryside and taught students the Confucian classics. During the Shaoxing era, a high-ranking official recommended him to the court. After being summoned for an audience, he firmly declined office and returned home. Scholars held him in great respect. His life is also recounted in the Collection from Mount Yangu.

End of Volume Five of Laozi Yi.

1. The character “san” was originally written as “wang”; corrected according to the Wanli edition.

2. The two characters “bu ru” were originally written as “bu jian”; corrected according to the Wanli edition.

3. The character “zhao” was originally written as “ming”; corrected according to the Wanli edition.

4. The character “fu” was originally written as “jiao”; corrected according to the Wanli edition.

5. In “xiang sui,” the character “sui” was omitted in the original; restored according to the Wanli edition.

6. The character “zhi” was originally written as “fan”; corrected according to the Wanli edition.

7. The two characters “quan yue” may need to be moved to before “ru fo zhi bu xiang tong.”

8. The three characters “gai zhi fu” were omitted in the original; restored according to the Wanli edition.