《道德真经三解(邓锜)》Vol. 2

Whatever people find repugnant, those who follow the Dao do not make themselves at home in. Thus, in daily life, the noble person honors the left, for it symbolizes life and nurture; in war, the right is honored, for it symbolizes killing and destruction.

Weapons are ill-omened instruments, not things the noble person likes to use. When war is unavoidable, calm detachment is best. Even in victory, one does not regard it as something good. To treat victory as cause for celebration is to take pleasure in killing. Those who take pleasure in killing will, in the end, be killed themselves, and will be unable to fulfill their aims in the world.

Therefore, in joyful affairs, the left is honored; in funerals and other inauspicious affairs, the right is honored. The lieutenant general stands on the left because killing is not his primary role. The senior general stands on the right: even in a position of command, he regards war according to the rites for mourning. When many people have been killed, one should grieve and weep. Therefore, even victory in war should be treated with the rites of mourning.

“Shi” means the people, and “zhen” means uprightness. One who can guide the people back to the right path can become a king. Positioned in strength and central correctness, one also receives a response; though in danger, one’s actions accord with what is fitting. Govern the affairs of the world in this way, and the people will follow. This is auspicious. If they do not follow, what calamity could fail to arise?

Thus, however sharp and effective weapons may be, they are still inauspicious objects—how much worse to use them to flaunt strength and seek victory? All things may abhor them, so a person of the Dao does not rely on them as an everyday means.

In ordinary times, the noble person honors the left. The ancients associated the east with spring and the birth of life, and took it to symbolize benevolence; therefore, auspicious matters honored the left. The deputy general stood on the left. The Yijing’s line six in the fourth place, “the army withdraws and camps on the left,” was likewise treated according to auspicious rites. In warfare, however, the right is honored. The ancients associated the west with autumn and the killing of life, and took it to symbolize punishment and killing; therefore, inauspicious matters honored the right. The supreme general stood on the right. This shows that even in the position of commander in chief, one should regard war with the solemnity of mourning rites.

Weapons are inauspicious objects, not things a noble person takes pleasure in using. They should be used only when unavoidable, and then the highest course is to remain calm, detached, still, and free of contention. War should therefore never be praised as something admirable. To glorify war is to take pleasure in killing, as Qin and Chu did. Those who delight in killing cannot prevail under Heaven; in the end, all under Heaven came to belong to the Flame Han. Even after killing many people, one should feel grief and mourn for them. Thus, even when repeatedly victorious in battle, one should treat war with the solemnity of mourning rites.

The “De” (Virtue/Power) chapter says: “Pure Yangzi once said, ‘I have three swords for cutting through the desires of the world.’” The Perfected One of Ziyang said: “First observe the signs in the heavens and understand the ‘Five Thieves’—the forces, such as Yin-Yang and the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water), that influence the transformations of all things. Then examine the terrain and bring stability to the people. Only after the people are secure and the country prosperous can one speak of using troops; only when warfare has ended can the sage be seen.” Although this describes a sophisticated approach to military strategy, weapons are ultimately inauspicious objects, and some people abhor them. Thus, a person who has the Dao does not use them as everyday tools.

Therefore, in ordinary affairs, the gentleman prizes the left. He understands strength but holds to weakness, cultivating “wood fluid”—a term in Neidan (internal alchemy) for the vital essence associated with the Wood Phase. In warfare, he takes the right-hand position. He understands what is manifest but holds to what is hidden, seeking “metal fluid”—a term in Neidan for the vital essence associated with the Metal Phase. Even when taking something, he must act in accordance with what is right; he must not seize it by force of arms.

Weapons are inauspicious objects, not tools for a gentleman to use. When using them is unavoidable, calm detachment is best. Do not regard warfare as a fine thing. If one takes pleasure in killing, weapons become instruments of slaughter. Those who delight in killing will ultimately face retribution and will be unable to fulfill their aims under Heaven. Therefore, the deputy general stands on the left and is received with auspicious rites; the supreme general stands on the right and is received with funeral rites. Those who are fond of fighting are sure to invite hostility. How could one fail to act with caution?

Chapter 32: The Dao Is Ever Nameless

The Dao is forever without a fixed name. It is simple and unadorned; though it may seem small, nothing in the world can control it. If lords and kings can hold to the Great Dao, all things will naturally come to them. When the Qi of Heaven and Earth come together, sweet dew descends. No one commands it, yet the dew spreads evenly.

When things begin to be divided and named, names come into being. Once names have arisen, one should know when to stop. Knowing when to stop makes it possible to avoid danger. The Great Dao in the world is like streams and valleys flowing into rivers and seas.

The scripture says: The Dao (the Way) exists eternally, yet has no fixed name. Its nature is undifferentiated and simple; it may seem small, but nothing under Heaven can control it. If rulers and kings can hold fast to it, all things will naturally return to them. When the Qi (vital energy) of Heaven and Earth mingles, sweet dew descends. No one needs to command it: all things are naturally nourished and each finds what is fitting. Once things begin to be distinguished and named, people too should understand where to stop. Knowing when to stop keeps one from falling into danger. The Dao moves through the world as streams flow into rivers and seas.

Deng Qi explains: The Dao, eternally without a name, is the source of Heaven and Earth. When distinctions first arise and names are established, it becomes the source of the myriad things. “Simplicity” may seem small, yet it is the single, unchanging body of the eternal Dao. Who in the world could control it? If rulers and kings can attain the Dao, become examples for all under Heaven, and hold fast to it, the myriad things will naturally submit to them. When the Qi of Heaven and Earth mingles, sweet dew descends. It moistens all things and brings the benefit of growth. This is not something human effort can bring about; it is the natural harmony of all things. Once things have names, one should also know to stop at the proper limit. Knowing when to stop is what allows one to avoid danger.

The Dao is to the world as rivers and seas are to streams and valleys: vast as the world is, all things ultimately return to the Dao; numerous as streams and valleys are, they ultimately flow into rivers and seas; different as the myriad things may be, they all submit to rulers and kings. If one holds a title but does not know when to stop, where else could one turn?

Deng Qi also offers an explanation from the perspective of cultivation: “Dao” and “eternal” originally have no names; they refer to the primordial Qi that precedes Heaven and Earth’s division. Though invisible and seemingly small in form, nothing in the world can control it. Here, “rulers and kings” can also refer to the ruler within the human body. If one can hold fast to this primordial Qi, body and mind will have somewhere to return and find their support.

De Yi says: The Great Dao and the constant Dao originally have no name; they are a primordial energy that existed before Heaven and Earth. Though its form is subtle, who in the world would dare to make it submit? Here, “lords and kings” refers to the masters of a person’s body and mind. If one can preserve this primordial energy and not treat it lightly, everything within the body will naturally fall into accord.

The energies of Heaven and Earth mingle, and all things become rich and full; men and women unite, and all things multiply. By gathering Jing (essence) and bringing Shen (spirit) to stillness, one can cause sweet dew to descend. None of this requires anyone’s command: it harmonizes naturally and evenly, ultimately returning to the state of an infant. As things begin to take on distinctions, names arise as well. Once names have been established, one should know when to stop and not act recklessly, for reckless action brings danger. Thus it is said: knowing when to stop keeps one from danger. All things return to a person’s body, just as all things under Heaven return to the Dao and the waters of streams flow into rivers and seas. Is this not vast indeed?

“Knowing Others Is Wisdom,” Chapter 33

The original text says: To understand others is wisdom; to know oneself is true insight. To overcome others is strength; to overcome oneself is true fortitude. Knowing contentment is wealth; striving to fulfill one’s aspirations is having resolve. By keeping to one’s proper place and position, one can endure; when one’s name remains after the body has died, one may be called long-lived.

The Jing (scripture) also says: Understanding others is wisdom, and knowing oneself is clarity. Overcoming others is merely having strength; overcoming oneself is true fortitude. The contented remain wealthy over time, and those who strive to fulfill their aspirations have resolve. By dwelling in peace without losing one’s proper place and position, one can endure; when one’s name does not perish though the body dies, one may be called long-lived.

Dao Yi says: A person who cultivates the Dao carries within the heart the principle that “knowing the water brings clarity.” Overcoming others is strength; overcoming oneself is true fortitude. The contented remain wealthy over time, and those who strive to fulfill their aspirations have resolve. By dwelling in peace without losing one’s proper place and position, one can endure; when one’s name does not perish though the body dies, one may be called long-lived.

Dao says: The person who cultivates the Dao has a mirror of water within the heart. It reflects the arising, passing away, and transformation of all things in the world; nothing can hide its traces. Water symbolizes wisdom. To understand others is a form of wisdom. The way of the sages lies in restraining private desires and bringing words and actions into accord with propriety and righteousness. Only by understanding the constant Dao and holding a generous heart can one be impartial; impartiality brings clear insight. To understand oneself is true clarity. Amid fortune and misfortune, those who uphold what is right will ultimately prevail. To bully the weak with force or oppress the few with the many is merely to have the strength to defeat others. If, even for one day, one can restrain private desires and bring words and actions into accord with propriety and righteousness, all under Heaven will return to benevolence and virtue. Only one who can overcome oneself can be called strong. The greatest wealth is knowing when one has enough; the greatest misfortune is never knowing when enough is enough. What matters most is knowing when to stop; what is most dangerous is not knowing when to stop. Those who know contentment are truly wealthy. The noble person presses continually forward because of the aspirations held in the heart. To keep to one’s place without readily moving away from it, and without losing one’s proper position, is the way of constancy. The Sixth Five line of the Hexagram of Constancy in the Book of Changes says, “Upholding what is right while afflicted, one endures and does not die.” This means that by remaining centered and upright, one does not lose one’s foundation. Even when the physical form perishes, life endures: this, too, illustrates the Way of constancy without end.

De says: Know yourself and know your opponent, and you will win a hundred battles; know yourself but not your opponent, and victory and defeat will be evenly matched; know neither yourself nor your opponent, and you will lose a hundred battles. All methods of nourishing life must be grounded in the mutual harmonizing of Yin and Yang, without favoring either side. One must first understand others, then understand oneself. Without clear insight, how can one succeed if one does not understand the harmonizing of Yin and Yang and has lost balance? Victory over others does not depend on strength alone; it follows its own principles. Overcoming oneself, however, requires strength and cannot be achieved through empty talk alone. Once one has attained status and position, one must also know when to stop. Thus, those who know contentment can remain wealthy for a long time. Those who strive to put this into practice without growing weary are people of resolve. When advancing and withdrawing, waxing and waning, and regulating and applying oneself, one never departs from one’s proper position; this may be called constancy without end. Even if the physical form perishes, one does not fall into danger; even if one dies, one has not truly vanished. In stillness, though the physical form perishes, form and spirit together reach the mysterious; this may be called a lifespan that endures without end.

“Vastly Pervading Is the Great Dao,” Chapter Thirty-Four

The Great Dao flows everywhere, seeming to be present in all places and to reach through everything above, below, and on either side. All things depend on it to grow, yet it does not refuse them or claim them as its own. When all things achieve their form, it does not take credit for their accomplishments. It cherishes and nurtures all things without becoming their ruler, and it remains in a state of having no desires or demands. In this respect, it may be called “small.” All things turn toward it, yet it does not rule them; in this respect, it may be called “great.” Thus the sage never considers himself great, and so is able to accomplish greatness.

The scripture says: The Great Dao flows everywhere, and nothing can control or direct it. All things depend on it to be born, yet it does not refuse them or claim them as its own. When all things achieve their form, it does not take credit for their accomplishments. It covers and supports all things without becoming their ruler, and so it remains in a state of having no desires or demands. This may be called “small.” All things turn toward it without knowing that it is their ruler; this may be called “great.”

The Daoist explanation says: From the perspective of all things, Heaven and Earth are Heaven and Earth; from the perspective of the Dao, Heaven and Earth are simply part of all things. Thus the Great Dao flows everywhere, is present in all places, and cannot be controlled or directed by anything. All things depend on the Dao to be born, but the Dao does not claim them as its own. All things depend on the Dao to take form, but the Dao does not rule them. When things are accomplished, the Dao does not claim credit. The Dao remains in a state of having no desires or demands. Drawn together, it seems too small to fill a handful; this is called “small.” All things turn toward it without knowing that it is their ruler; unfolded, it is vast enough to fill the Six Directions (the four quarters of Heaven and Earth); this is called “great.” The sage can accomplish great undertakings, yet never considers himself great, and so is able to accomplish greatness. Heaven and Earth establish their respective positions, and the sage puts his strengths to use, enabling all things to fulfill their potential. People make plans, and spirits and gods take part in making plans; the common people, too, can participate and put their abilities to use.

The De tradition explains: The Taiji Dao (the fundamental Dao that is the source of the cosmos) flows everywhere, extending for one hundred and eight thousand li and encompassing Heaven and Earth, which span six hundred and forty thousand li. It never considers itself great, and so is able to accomplish greatness. Heaven and Earth establish their positions, and the sage enables all things to put their abilities to use. People and spirits and gods make plans together, and the common people, too, can participate and put their abilities to use.

The scripture uses the “Supreme Ultimate Great Dao” to describe the fundamental Way that encompasses Heaven, Earth, and all things. The Great Dao is vast and boundless. It operates everywhere, embraces Heaven and Earth, and rises, descends, and flows between them. Look toward it and its traces cannot be seen; follow it and its end cannot be found. It seems to be everywhere, and can be felt in every direction. Heaven, Earth, and all things depend on it to grow, yet cannot say what it rests upon. All things depend on it to come to completion, yet it does not appear as a ruler. From the perspective of Qi (vital energy), it seems minute; from the perspective of all things, its scope is immense.

Thus, the sages grasp the patterns of Heaven and Earth’s movement and the Qi of Yin-Yang. In an instant, they can encompass the changes of a year, a day, or even a single hour; in a moment, they can grasp the pivot of creation and transformation and accomplish great works. Afterward, they cleanse their thoughts, carefully guard against delusion, and withdraw to a quiet place. This is why it is said that sages can accomplish great things.

Chapter 35: Holding to the Great Image

When one holds to the general principle of the Great Dao, people everywhere will come and follow. Even when they do, they will not be harmed. Then one cleanses the mind, carefully guards against delusion, and withdraws to a quiet place. This is why it is said that sages can accomplish great things.

Chapter 35: Holding to the Great Image

When one holds to the general principle of the Great Dao, people everywhere will come and follow. If they follow without being harmed, they can be tranquil, peaceful, and at ease. Music and fine food can make travelers stop along the way; the words of the Great Dao, by contrast, are bland and without flavor. Look at it, and there is nothing to see; listen to it, and there is nothing to hear; use it, and it is never exhausted.

The scripture says, “the image of what has no image.” This is called the “Great Image”: the Great Dao, which has no specific form yet encompasses all things. If one holds to the Dao and guides people everywhere to follow, what harm could there be? It does no harm; instead, it brings tranquility, peace, and ease to the world. Music and food can hold travelers’ attention; the words of the Great Dao are bland and without flavor. It cannot be seen or heard, yet even when used, it is never exhausted.

The Dao says: The Great Dao is elusive and indistinct, yet within it are the images of all things. The sages hold to the Dao and act in accordance with it. Even when they guide people everywhere to follow, they cause no harm, because the Dao brings tranquility, peace, and ease to the world. The sound of the Dao is too subtle to hear, and its effects can never be exhausted.

The Dao’s substance seems indistinct, yet it contains signs. The sage grasps it and acts in accordance with the Dao. Even after traveling throughout the world, the sage causes no harm, because the Great Dao brings people calm, harmony, and well-being. The Book of Documents says, “The sovereign establishes the Great Norm.” This means that the ruler sets a standard of impartial correctness: neither favoring one side nor the other, but following what is right; acting not from personal preference, but in accordance with the proper way; acting not from personal dislike, but taking the right path. When there is no favoritism or factionalism, the kingly way is broad and open. When there is no factionalism or favoritism, the kingly way is level and fair. When it neither strays nor tilts, the kingly way is upright and straight.

People gather around the standard of impartial correctness and return to it. The people gladly accept it, as though it were food; even those who have erred understand when to stop. When the Great Dao appears in words, it is so plain as to have no taste. It is not like sweetness, which pleases from the inside out. So I withdrew from the gathering. Look at it with the eyes, and it remains unclear: sight alone cannot discern it. Listen to it with the ears, and it remains indistinct: hearing alone cannot perceive it.

Therefore, the sage takes the thirteen hexagrams of the Book of Changes as models, provides for the various things and puts each to its proper use, and makes implements to benefit all under Heaven. The people use these implements every day without understanding their principles. Hence it is said that the Dao’s function is inexhaustible.

The function of De (Virtue/Power) cannot be clearly seen with the eyes; sight alone cannot discern it. It cannot be clearly heard with the ears; hearing alone cannot perceive it. Therefore, the sage takes the thirteen hexagrams as models, provides for the various things and puts each to its proper use, and makes implements to benefit all under Heaven. The people use them every day without understanding their principles. Hence it is said that its function is inexhaustible.

The “Great Image” refers to the Dao that precedes Heaven and Earth and governs all things. The sage acts in accordance with the Great Dao and can therefore face the affairs of the world in peace, without coming to harm. For one who has attained the Dao, neither knives nor saws can injure him, and neither water nor fire can damage him. His spirit and body are settled, his heart is at peace, and his nature and life are secure.

The sage uses the way of the “Great Image” to bring joy to the people of the world, guiding them as one might with bait. Even those who have committed grave errors can turn back, reflect, and learn to stop, because they know the Great Dao is a way they can follow. The words of the Great Dao sound plain and flavorless, and the “bait” used to draw people has no taste. It cannot be seen or heard, yet when put into practice it has great spiritual efficacy and inexhaustible effects.

“If You Would Contract It” — Chapter 36

If you would contract something, you must first let it expand fully. If you would weaken something, you must first allow it to grow strong for a time. If you would abolish something, you must first let it flourish for a while. If you would take something, you must first give it. This is called “subtle insight”—discernment that emerges from the minute. The soft can overcome the hard; the weak can overcome the strong. Fish cannot leave the depths. A state’s sharp instruments—that is, its methods of political maneuvering and law enforcement—must not be casually displayed to the people.

The scripture explains: when something has expanded to its utmost, it will contract; when it has grown strong to its utmost, it will decline; when it has flourished to its utmost, it will be abolished. If you would take something, you must first give it. If you would gain something, you must first let it undergo loss: this is subtle insight emerging from the minute. The soft can overcome the hard; the weak can overcome the strong. Even if a fish tries to assert its strength, it cannot escape the depths, where it is vulnerable. Therefore, a state’s sharp instruments must not be displayed to the people.

The Dao says: Within, one has King Wen’s clear understanding; outwardly, one is gentle and compliant, able to endure great hardship. This was King Wen’s way. “It is beneficial to hold firmly to the right path amid hardship” means concealing one’s light in darkness. To remain in inner hardship and still keep one’s purpose upright was the way of Jizi.

The moon must first wane before it gradually grows bright; the sky must shift from darkness to clarity before dawn arrives; cold must come before heat; the earth must first store and nurture before all things can grow. These are the expedient ways by which Heaven and Earth bring forth the myriad things. As for spring plowing and autumn harvest, which bring the people a hundredfold benefit, these are expedient ways in daily life. Confucius said, “One may establish principles together with someone, yet not necessarily share with them the ways of adapting to changing circumstances.” The sages regarded this as profoundly important.

The soft can overcome the hard, and the weak can overcome the strong. Fish and dragons cannot leave the deep abyss. This shows the subtle principle that what is hidden first later comes to light. Thus softness, weakness, and depth are powerful means of rivers and seas; they must not reveal anything extraordinary, for once they do, danger follows. Displaying strength and power is a state’s instrument of authority, and it must not be shown lightly; once displayed, danger follows. If secret matters are not kept strictly confidential, calamity is sure to arise.

De says: Know strength, yet remain steadfast in weakness, and you can become the valley where all the streams of the world converge. Know brightness, yet remain in darkness, and you can become the world’s standard. The Dao is a hidden, subtle operation. The “Three Thieves” each fulfill their proper role and work in coordination. De is what is attained; what is attained forms a standard.

Broadly speaking, cultivation involves deliberate effort. Though it is called deliberate effort, stillness governs it. Yin and Yang must be brought into harmony, and the timing of the fire must be properly regulated. The effects of hidden softness and of diminishing and taking lie within oneself, so one waits in stillness for change. The effects of outward strength and of stirring and giving come from outside, so one acts in response to stillness. This is the pattern: first hidden and latent, then clear and manifest.

All things are born from water and in the end return to water. Water is utterly soft and weak, yet fish and dragons cannot leave the deep abyss. Even a person of supreme strength cannot separate from the Water of Heaven One—the Daoist name for the essence of water and the source of life. Therefore, a state’s instrument of authority must not be displayed, for displaying it rashly invites calamity. The supreme treasure within the human body must not be displayed either, for displaying it rashly brings punishment. This clearly explains the Dao of adapting to changing circumstances practiced by Heaven and Earth and the sages; it is not the rhetoric of persuaders who maneuver through advances and retreats.

Chapter Thirty-Seven, “The Dao Always Acts Without Action.”

The Dao always follows its own nature, taking no contrived action, yet nothing remains unaccomplished. If rulers can hold fast to this principle, the myriad things will change of themselves and each will find its proper place. If change gives rise to excessive desire and artifice, I will settle it through the “unhewn simplicity of the nameless”—a state of plainness kept true and untouched by human shaping. Holding fast to this simplicity also reduces desire. Govern with stillness and freedom from desire, and the world will naturally return to the right way.

The scripture says that the Dao constantly follows its own nature, taking no contrived action, yet nothing goes undone. If rulers can hold fast to the Dao, the myriad things will change of themselves. If desire arises amid these changes and people no longer understand Wuwei (non-action), I will settle them through the unhewn simplicity of the nameless. This nameless simplicity also keeps people from coveting. Only through stillness can the world naturally be set right.

Daoist thought holds that the Dao is rooted in Wuwei and is constantly free of desire. Though it takes no action and has no desires, it can accomplish everything and is not led astray by desire. If rulers can hold fast to the Dao, the myriad things will change of themselves. The Yellow Emperor, Yao, and Shun governed in peace while sitting with their robes hanging loosely and their hands folded. This is what is meant by governing through Wuwei: what did they do? They simply put themselves in order and governed the world facing south. Hence the saying, “When I do not act recklessly, the people transform themselves.” If desire and artifice arise amid change, people may become fixated on human intervention; they should then be settled through the unhewn simplicity of the nameless. The Dao is constantly without action, and the unhewn simplicity of the nameless also lessens desire. When people’s desires grow in the course of governing the world, guide them through stillness. When the heart is still, the world will naturally return to what is right.

The commentary on De (Virtue/Power) explains that the Dao’s constant non-action is a tranquil Dharma body—the embodied state of mind and being that expresses a pure nature—yet it can accomplish everything. If rulers govern the world in accord with the Dao and restrain desire through stillness, the world will naturally return to what is right.

“Higher Virtue” refers to people who truly possess noble De (Virtue). They do not make a point of displaying their virtue, and so they are truly virtuous. “Lower Virtue,” by contrast, never forgets its own virtue and deliberately guards its reputation for being virtuous; for this reason, it cannot be considered truly virtuous. Higher Virtue follows its natural course and has no intention of doing anything. Lower Virtue deliberately acts and does so with a clear purpose.

A person of the highest benevolence acts without seeking anything in return. A person of the highest righteousness acts with full awareness of why they are doing so. When it comes to the highest form of ritual, if someone performs a ritual gesture and receives no response, they roll up their sleeves and forcibly compel the other person to comply. Thus, only after the Dao (the Way) is lost do people speak of De; only after De is lost do they speak of benevolence; only after benevolence is lost do they speak of righteousness; and only after righteousness is lost do they speak of ritual. Ritual means that loyalty and trust have grown weak, and it marks the beginning of disorder. The self-important claim to foresight is merely the showy surface of the Dao, and the starting point of folly.

Therefore, a person of great stature takes their stand in what is solid and plain, and does not remain among what is shallow and showy. They abide in what is genuine and do not pursue outward ornament. For this reason, they let go of showiness and choose substance and truth.

Here, “Wuwei (non-action)” means following what is natural without deliberate effort to force things; “action” means arranging things intentionally and acting with a purpose.

Those of the highest De do not worry about losing De, and so truly possess it. Those of lesser De are always afraid of losing it, and so do not truly possess it. Those of the highest De follow their nature, act without contrivance, and seek nothing deliberately. Those of lesser De act with intention and pursue a definite purpose.

Those of the highest humanity do good without deliberately seeking a reward, and their De naturally accords with them. Those of the highest righteousness act with intention and purpose, and so humaneness accords with them. Those of the highest propriety insist on ritual and act with deliberate formality. If the principle of righteousness does not answer them, they may even roll up their sleeves and force others to comply.

Thus, only after the Dao is lost do people speak of De; only after De is lost do they speak of humaneness; only after humaneness is lost do they speak of righteousness; only after righteousness is lost do they speak of propriety. Propriety arises as loyalty and trust grow ever weaker, and so it becomes the beginning of disorder. Those who rely on foreknowledge and consider themselves farsighted grasp only the Dao’s outward display; they become the beginning of folly.

A great person grounds themselves in what is solid and does not dwell in what is shallow. They hold to what is genuine and do not chase after what is showy. Therefore, they set aside the showy and shallow and choose what is solid and genuine.

Qian (Heaven) is the firmest and strongest force under Heaven. Its patterns of movement are constant and straightforward, so it can clearly discern dangers. Kun (Earth) is the gentlest and most yielding force under Heaven. Its patterns of movement are constant and simple, so it can clearly discern obstacles. The upper section of the Daodejing speaks of the “constant Dao,” the “constant name,” the “Supreme Ultimate,” and “empty clarity”; these belong to the Dao of the precelestial realm. The lower section speaks of “Superior De,” “not possessing De,” Qian and Kun, and the conduct of De; these belong to the Dao of the postcelestial realm. This is also like the Zhouyi, which is divided into upper and lower parts.

Heshang Gong’s interpretation is indeed remarkable. Heaven and Earth do not claim to possess De, and for that very reason their De is genuine; this is called “Superior De.” The myriad things accord with the De of Heaven and Earth without losing or defying it, and so they do not display De as a name; this is called “Inferior De.” Superior De acts without action, yet the four seasons continue their course. It makes no deliberate effort, and so it is called Wuwei (non-action). Inferior De takes action, and thereby brings the myriad things to completion. Since it acts, it is called action. Thus, the myriad things of Heaven and Earth embody both Superior and Inferior De.

Human beings are also among the myriad things. The most intelligent and esteemed of them are people, who therefore stand alongside Heaven and Earth as the “Three Powers,” governing the De through which the myriad things come into being. The most intelligent and esteemed among people are the sages, who oversee the affairs of order and disorder across generations. Thus, in an age when benevolence was put into practice, people took action without aiming at any particular achievement. Heaven and Earth possess great De, and those above and below naturally respond to one another—why make a deliberate effort? Governing the realm with reverence and rectitude was enough. Such was the age of Yao and Shun.

Later, when King Tang of Shang and King Wu of Zhou overthrew the old dynasties through revolution, they followed Heaven’s will and answered the people’s wishes. This was governing through righteousness and taking action, as in the age of Shang and Zhou. If the benevolence of Yao and Shun had been met with a fitting response, putting ritual norms into practice could have brought a response in turn. But after the Zhou dynasty declined and its rituals fell into disuse, the Five Hegemons prized strife, invoking benevolence and righteousness as a pretext for military force. They used names and claims to pursue gain, yet still hoped to meet the demands of the times through the righteousness of Shang and Zhou. How difficult that was! At this point, one could hardly speak of righteousness at all: some would roll up their sleeves, stretch out their arms, and seize an opponent by the throat to fight for power.

King Xiang of Zhou once went hunting at Heyang. In reality, this was an assembly of the feudal lords convened by Duke Wen of Jin in the name of the Son of Heaven. How could that have been proper conduct according to ritual? Thus, when the Dao was lost, people spoke of De; when De was lost, they spoke of benevolence; when benevolence was lost, they spoke of righteousness; and when righteousness was lost, they spoke of ritual. By the time ritual was being especially emphasized, loyalty and trust had already grown weak, and disorder had begun.

Therefore, the more one clings to superficial knowledge and cleverness, the more one tends to appear intelligent. Treating the Dao as decorative refinement is the beginning of folly. A person of stature should take a firm stand on substance rather than superficiality, and value what is real over what is showy. So one gives up the showy and chooses what is true.

A skilled merchant knows how to hide precious goods so that it looks as though he has none. A noble person of great De (Virtue and Power) may appear plain and foolish. Having attained the innate Dao—the Way as it is in itself, untouched by distinctions acquired later—and fulfilled the De of a noble person through it, one is like someone dressed in coarse cloth with a jade hidden in the breast, yet does not consider oneself virtuous. This is called “highest De.”

A lower level of De holds fast to virtue without losing it and keeps one’s conduct in accord with nature. This is called “having no De.” Highest De follows the innate Way of Wuwei (non-action): it acts without deliberate effort and has nothing it deliberately sets out to do. Lower De, by contrast, takes deliberate action and belongs to the practices of ordinary life acquired after birth. Highest benevolence takes action without making any particular aim its purpose; it gives priority to the innate unity of Qi (vital energy). Highest righteousness takes action and also has definite methods; here, the timing of the celestial circuit—the method in Neidan (internal alchemy) of guiding Qi through the circuit and mastering its rhythms—serves as a secondary aid.

At the level of highest ritual, people follow ritual but receive no response. They then reach out and forcibly pull the other person along. This shows that they do not understand the constant Dao: acting recklessly brings danger. Only after losing the Way of Heaven do people speak of the Way of Earth; only after losing the Way of Earth do they speak of the human way; only after losing the human way do they speak of the myriad things; and only after losing the myriad things do all manner of deluded thoughts arise. Ritual is artificial adornment. It shows that loyalty and trust have already grown faint, and marks the beginning of disorder.

Before understanding arises, there is the radiance of the Dao; before wisdom takes shape, there is the beginning of ignorance. Thus, the great person establishes themselves in the depth of the Dao and does not remain with shallow appearances; they dwell in true De and do not remain amid empty display and delusion. Therefore, one should set aside that side and choose this one.

“Those of Old Who Attained the One,” Chapter 39.

In ancient times, those who attained the unity of the Dao (the Way), whether people or things, each received its benefit: heaven attained it and became clear and bright; earth attained it and became peaceful; spirits attained it and became wondrous; valleys attained it and became full; the myriad things attained it and were able to grow; and rulers attained it and became the guiding standard for all under heaven. What they reached at their root was this One.

If heaven could not remain clear and bright, it would likely collapse; if earth could not remain peaceful, it would likely be shaken; if spirits could not remain wondrous, they would likely lose their efficacy; if valleys could not remain full, they would likely dry up; if the myriad things could not grow, they would likely perish; and if rulers could not serve as a standard for all under heaven, but insisted on holding themselves in lofty honor, they would likely fall. Thus, honor takes lowliness as its root, and high rank takes what is beneath as its foundation. Rulers call themselves “orphan,” “widow,” or “unworthy”—all humble forms of address—precisely to place themselves in a low position. Is this not taking lowliness as one’s root?

Only when the parts of a cart are joined together does it become a cart. If one examines only the individual parts, one cannot find the cart as a whole. Therefore, the sage does not wish to shine with precious luster like jade, nor to stand rigid and apart like a stone, but follows the Dao of the whole. Great De (Virtue/Power) is not confined to a fixed role, and the Great Dao cannot be limited to any single kind of object.

The Dao says, “The One” is Taiji (the Supreme Ultimate), the undivided source of all things, and can be represented by a circle. Thus the Book of Changes says that Taiji gives rise to the Two Forms, Yin and Yang. The Two Forms are two distinct forms. Great De is not confined to a fixed role, and the Great Dao is not constrained by the forms of objects.

“Dao” says: What is called “the One” is the wholeness of Taiji (the Supreme Ultimate). Thus the Book of Changes says that Taiji gives rise to the Two Modes (Yin and Yang), the Two Modes give rise to the Four Images, and the Four Images give rise to the Eight Trigrams. The Eight Trigrams are used to determine fortune and misfortune, and from these, great undertakings are accomplished.

Heaven, Earth, spirits, valleys, the myriad things, and rulers all follow the One as their fundamental principle. If Heaven loses its unity, it will split apart; if Earth loses its unity, it will quake; if spirits lose their unity, their efficacy will cease; if valleys lose their unity, they will dry up. If the myriad things lack the One to sustain their life, they will perish. And if rulers cannot hold to the One as their foundation, however exalted their status, they will eventually fall. The exalted take the lowly as their root, and the high take the low as their foundation. When rulers call themselves “orphaned,” “bereft,” or “unworthy,” meaning lonely, lacking in virtue, or inept, are they not making the lowly their foundation?

Take a cart apart and count its components one by one: at that point, there is no longer a “cart.” “Gleaming like jade, standing apart like stone” describes outward form. The sage does not seek only such outward display. The sage therefore values a thing’s function, not its outward form; is content with what is inwardly real, and does not pursue surface splendor.

“De” says: What is called “the One” is being free of thought and action—neither indulging in contrived thought nor acting deliberately—so that the spirit has no external support. “Gleaming like jade, standing apart like stone” describes outward form; the sage does not seek only such a display. The sage therefore values function, not form; is content with what is real, and does not pursue splendor.

“De” is explained in this way: The substance of the Dao is free of thought and action, yet wondrously returns to unity. When the Dao divides and gives rise to the myriad things, this is called “Mandate” (ming). When the myriad things appear through the One Qi, this is called “nature” (xing). When Yin-Yang transforms, forms take shape, and activity begins, this is called “life.” When transformation reaches its end and the course of Qi is exhausted, this is called “death.”

“Mandate” is the primordial Qi, which nothing can do without. The six Yang energies in a person gather in the head, so the head corresponds to Qian; when Heaven obtains the One, it becomes clear and bright. The five internal organs reside together in the abdomen, so the abdomen corresponds to Kun; when Earth obtains the One, it becomes stable and peaceful. The heart is where the spirit is governed, and from it arise all manner of functions; when Shen obtains the One, it becomes luminous and perceptive. The deep, empty, still spirit-energy of the valley does not die. This is called the “Mysterious Female,” the deep source that gives rise to transformation. When the valley obtains the One, it becomes full. Golden sand—a Daoist cultivation term for the refined essence gained through practice—enters the five organs like mist spreading and wind and rain coursing through them. It permeates the limbs and gives the complexion a healthy glow. When the myriad things obtain the One, they grow.

When cultivation is thus perfected and its achievements made manifest, one can accord with the virtue of Heaven and Earth, with the radiance of the sun and moon, with the rhythms of the four seasons, and with the auspicious and inauspicious signs revealed by spirits. When rulers and lords obtain the One, they become the proper standard for all under Heaven. Thus Heaven does not split apart, but remains clear and bright; Earth does not shake, but remains stable and peaceful; spirits do not cease, but remain perceptive; valleys do not dry up, but remain full; the myriad things do not perish, but continue to live; rulers and lords do not fall, but remain firmly established. All this is because they return to the One.

The sage takes what is most lowly as a root, yet is held in honor; takes what is lowest as a foundation, yet stands as high as Heaven. That is why rulers and lords call themselves “solitary,” “bereft,” and “unworthy.” Is this not a way of taking the lowly as one’s root? Is it not so? If a cart is dismantled and each of its parts counted, in the end there is no “cart.” If the Dao is dismantled and each of its components counted, then there is no “Dao.” Therefore, the sage does not wish to shine like fine jade or stand out like an isolated stone. Instead, the sage keeps themself hidden and puts their abilities to practical use.

Chapter Forty: “Returning Is the Movement of the Dao”

Returning and changing toward the opposite are how the Dao moves; softness and weakness are how the Dao functions. The myriad things under Heaven arise from “being,” and “being” arises from “nonbeing.”

The Daodejing says: “The movement of the Dao (the Way) is cyclical and returns; its way of acting is gentle and yielding. All things under Heaven arise from ‘being,’ and ‘being’ arises from ‘nonbeing.’ This shows that all things move from beginning to end, then return from the end to the beginning.”

The Yijing explains: “‘Return’ (the Fu hexagram, symbolizing the return of Yang energy and the revival of all things) brings success; the force of firmness turns back. When one acts in accordance with the natural course, advancing and retreating meet no obstruction, and friends come to help without harm. ‘Returning along its course; on the seventh day it comes back’ means that after a period of decline, Yang energy returns at the seventh stage. This is the regular course of Heaven. Might the Fu hexagram reveal the very heart of Heaven and Earth, ceaselessly bringing life into being?”

When one Yang returns, the count of days accords with Heaven’s movement. Since Heaven is characterized by activity, “returning” describes the Dao’s movement. In the Lin hexagram (symbolizing Yang energy’s gradual growth and approach), the force of firmness increases. Yang energy continues to turn back, just as Heaven moves. At this point, two Yang lines arrive in the Lin hexagram, and the count of months accords with Earth’s movement. Since Earth is characterized by stillness and stability, weakness and yielding describe the Dao’s way of acting.

The Tai hexagram (symbolizing the joining of Heaven and Earth and the free flow of Yin and Yang) says that the small withdraws and the great arrives, bringing good fortune and success. Heaven and Earth interact, allowing all things to flourish; those above and below communicate, and their intentions accord. Yang energy is within and Yin energy without; firmness is within and yieldingness without; the noble person is within and the petty person without. Thus the way of the noble person grows, while the way of the petty person declines.

Three Yang lines join to form Tai, whose sequence of change accords with that of all things and human life. Since human beings are chiefly concerned with life and nurture, all things under Heaven arise from “being.” In the tenth month, the Kun hexagram (symbolizing yieldingness, receptivity, and storage) gathers all things in. “Being” then returns to “nonbeing,” and all things return to their starting point, completing the cycle from beginning to end and from the end back to the beginning.

Deng Qi explains: In the Bo hexagram, one Yang line is at the top; in the Fu hexagram, one Yang line is at the bottom. In the Guai hexagram, one Yin line is at the top; in the Gou hexagram, one Yin line is at the bottom. Yin and Yang move and change within the Qian and Kun hexagrams, like doors opening and closing. The Kan hexagram symbolizes the moon and water, yet corresponds to the middle son; the Li hexagram symbolizes the sun and fire, yet corresponds to the middle daughter.

The Perfected One of Ziyang once said, “The sun occupies the position of Li, yet is instead Yin; Kan is paired with the moon palace, yet is instead Yang.” He also said, “If you do not understand the principle by which Yin and Yang are reversed, do not make rash judgments based on shallow understanding. If you can seek out the patterns of Yin and Yang’s reversals and changes in everyday things, even the dust and sand between Heaven and Earth can be turned into treasures.” Thus it is said, “The reversal is the movement of the Dao”: things transform in the opposite direction, and this is how the Dao operates. The lunar mansion Bi and the solar mansion Fang symbolize the crow and the hare respectively; the Li and Kan hexagrams together form their foundation.

The highest goodness is like water: it nourishes all things but does not contend with them. Thus it is said, “The weak are the Dao’s way of functioning”: gentleness and weakness are how the Dao works. All things under Heaven arise from “being” through “nonbeing,” so it is said, “Being is born from nonbeing.” “Being” can also transform into “nonbeing,” so it is said, “Nonbeing is born from being.” Being and nonbeing give rise to each other; difficulty and ease bring each other to completion. In this way, all things are brought into harmony and fulfillment.

Chapter Forty-One: When the Highest Type of Person Hears of the Dao

When a person of the highest capacity hears of the Dao, they strive to put it into practice. When a person of middling capacity hears of the Dao, they half believe and half doubt. When a person of the lowest capacity hears of the Dao, they laugh aloud. If it were not laughed at, it would not be worthy of being called the Dao.

Ancient teachings put it this way: the bright Dao seems dim; advancing along the Dao seems like retreating; the level road seems rough and uneven. Lofty De seems like a low valley; the purest whiteness seems stained; expansive De seems deficient. Firm and vigorous De seems slack and indolent; the unadulterated essence seems altered. The greatest square has no corners; the greatest vessel is completed only at the end; the grandest sound is scarcely heard; the greatest image has no definite form. The Dao is hidden and obscure, and has no fixed name. Only the Dao is good at providing all things with what they need, allowing them to fulfill themselves.

Laozi says: Those of the highest capacity hear of the Dao (the Way) and put it into practice at once. Those of middling capacity hear it and seem to understand, yet do not fully grasp it; at times they remember, at times they forget. Those of the lowest capacity hear it and burst out laughing. If it did not invite ridicule, it would not be worthy of being called the Dao.

“Jian” means “to attain.” Thus, the most incisive teaching says: the bright Dao seems dim; advancing along the Dao seems like retreating; the level, open road seems like a rough and winding path. The highest De (Virtue/Power) is like an empty valley; great whiteness seems stained; expansive De seems deficient; the highest De seems faint; and pristine substance seems liable to change. The greatest square has no corners, the greatest vessel takes a long time to complete, the finest music makes no sound, the greatest image has no fixed form, and the greatest Dao remains hidden and unnamed. Only those who have attained the Dao are skilled at yielding and giving, and in this way they bring themselves to fulfillment.

The Dao can be explained this way: those of the highest capacity are good people. Those of middling capacity half believe in the Dao and half doubt it; at times they remember, at times they forget. As for the claims that the square has no corners, the great vessel is slow to complete, harmony makes no sound, the great image has no form, and the great Dao is hidden and unnamed, these all show that the Dao is not confined to outward forms. Only those who have attained the Dao are skilled at yielding and giving, and in this way they bring themselves to fulfillment.

The Dao says: The superior person is a good person, the middle person a gentleman, and the inferior person an ordinary member of the world. When the Great Dao first appears, people will slander it. Gradually, gentlemen will come to doubt it. In the end, only good people will believe in and follow it. People differ in their natural abilities and dispositions, and that is why there are superior, middle, and inferior types. But what harm can slander do to doubt? What harm can doubt do to belief? Each person believes for themselves, doubts for themselves, or slanders for themselves. What can any of that do to the Great Dao? Simply keep practicing diligently. The wise of the highest kind believe in the Great Dao and do not doubt it. Those who are ambivalent—at times close to it, at times distant—are people of the middle kind, who may rise to become superior people or fall back to become inferior ones. Those who hear of the Great Dao and laugh without restraint are people of the lowest kind: they slander it and refuse to change. Thus it is said: If a teaching is not ridiculed, it is not worthy of being called the Great Dao. This is indeed an important oral instruction.

Thus an ancient saying goes: Those who understand the Great Dao seem dim and ignorant, because when Heaven and Earth first came into being, all was in a state of undifferentiated chaos. Those who cultivate the Great Dao seem to be moving backward. This is explained through the Zhen and Xun trigrams of the Classic of Changes, which show how things wane and wax. A level road seems uneven, because things gather according to their kind. The highest virtue seems as empty and still as a valley. This is explained through the Kan trigram: virtue is deep, yet does not become self-satisfied. What is purest white seems to have been stained, because those who are skilled at hiding brightness in obscurity thereby reveal their light. Vast virtue seems somehow deficient. This means that the way of Earth diminishes what is full and directs its benefits toward what is humble. Establishing virtue seems like idleness. This means that the way of Heaven reduces what is full and adds to what is humble, so things wax and wane. A level road seems uneven, because things gather according to their kind. The highest virtue seems as empty and still as a valley. This is explained through the Kan trigram: virtue is deep, yet does not become self-satisfied. What is purest white seems to have been stained, because those who are skilled at hiding brightness in obscurity thereby reveal their light. Vast virtue seems somehow deficient. This means that the way of Earth diminishes what is full and directs its benefits toward what is humble. Establishing virtue seems like idleness. This means that the way of Heaven reduces what is full and adds to what is humble.

What is true in essence seems to undergo change, because the way of Heaven is not fixed and unchanging. The greatest square has no corners, because Heaven encompasses Earth. The greatest vessel is often the last to be completed. This is explained through the Guimei hexagram, formed from the Zhen and Dui trigrams, which conveys the great principle between Heaven and Earth. The greatest sound cannot be heard. This means that thunder, wind, water, and fire do not oppose one another, but draw close to and are connected with one another. The greatest image has no fixed form, because the sun, moon, and stars move across the sky, making it difficult to say that they have any one unchanging shape. The Dao is hidden and nameless, elusive and profound. It exists within the myriad things, yet has no fixed name. Only those who embody the Dao can move and transform with Heaven, Earth, and the myriad things, and bring one another to fulfillment. In this way, they become a Heaven and Earth in their own right. Hence it is said: “Those skilled at giving can bring themselves to fulfillment.”

The De says: Ancient immortals once said that unless a person has accumulated causes and conditions over nine successive lifetimes, it is difficult for them even to hear of the Great Dao. A superior person has passed through nine lifetimes, and so, on hearing of the Great Dao, practices it diligently. The sages say that those of at least middling natural ability can also achieve something. Hence it is said: “Those skilled at giving can bring themselves to fulfillment.”

Deng Qi said: The immortals of antiquity once said that a person who has not passed through nine lifetimes cannot hear the Great Dao. Those with the highest capacity have accumulated nine lifetimes, and so, once they hear the Dao, they practice it diligently. A sage said, “People of middling capacity or above can be told about profound principles.” Those of middling capacity are simply ordinary people; when they hear the Dao, they half believe it and half doubt it. A sage also said, “Such people may move upward, or they may move downward.” Those of low capacity have perhaps passed through only one or two lifetimes, and so they laugh when they hear the Dao. A sage said, “People below middling capacity are not fit to be told about profound principles.” If people did not ridicule it, the Dao would not be worthy of being called the Dao; these words simply describe the situation as it is.

The so-called “Dao” is the True Qi contained in the Yin-Yang of Heaven and Earth. Even the tiniest creatures and beings with a spirit possess this nature—how much more so human beings? The True Qi of Heaven and Earth interacts and blends, and all things are thereby brought to life. Men and women unite, and all things thereby reproduce. Chunyang said, “Recall the moment your parents brought you into the world, and clap your hands to make people laugh.” This is precisely the principle he meant. Thus, even the most profound and mysterious things under Heaven should not be despised for that reason.

When the two Qi of Yin and Yang interact, following the natural course of the Dao gives rise to ordinary people; using them in reverse provides a method for refining the elixir and cultivating oneself. That is why the Yi can be used to work out the way of reversal. Following the normal course, one becomes a person: after ten months, the fetus is fully formed. Using the process in reverse, one can practice the methods of the elixir and thereby enter the opening through which sagehood is attained. Those of low capacity laugh when they hear this. They do not know that by laughing so, they first mock their own parents, then themselves, and in the end they will be laughed at by their descendants. What is there to laugh at? The “Gate of the Mysterious Female”—the wondrous gate of generation and transformation—is the root of Heaven and Earth. Thus it is said that if people do not laugh at it, it is not worthy of being called the Dao.

For this reason, an old saying goes: The bright Dao seems dim because it conceals its workings within. The level Dao seems uneven because it appears in the generation and transformation of all things. The advancing Dao seems to retreat because softness can overcome hardness. The highest De seems empty because the weak can overcome the strong. The purest white seems stained because it knows how to be honored yet remains in a lowly place. Vast De seems insufficient because it holds to the source and to unity. Establishing De seems like idleness; the greatest achievement seems incomplete, yet its workings never fail. Unadorned purity seems altered; fullness at its utmost seems empty, yet its workings are inexhaustible.

The greatest square has no corners, because all things arise from the undivided Dao. The greatest vessel is often completed last, and when its time comes, it can fully serve its purpose. The grandest sound is heard only rarely, like the roar of a dragon or the bellow of a tiger. The greatest image has no fixed form, because it is one with the Dao. The Dao is hidden and unseen, and has no fixed name; its mystery returns to the One. Only the Dao can skillfully nourish all things, enabling each to fulfill itself.

Yin and Yang divide, and softness and hardness take turns in their operation; thus the six lines of the Yi form their patterns. When the right moment arrives, one rides the six dragons to govern the way of Heaven. The Dao of Qian, Heaven, changes without cease, enabling all things to settle into their own natures and destinies. These words are truly grand.

The Dao (the Way) gives rise to the One, the unified state at the beginning of all things. The One differentiates into Two, Yin and Yang; when Yin and Yang join, they form Three, from which all things come into being. All things bear Yin on their backs and embrace Yang, blending the two vital energies until they reach harmony. People dislike being called “orphaned,” “bereft,” or “unworthy,” yet rulers and nobles use these names for themselves. In this way, they place themselves in a low position.

Sometimes, losing something brings a benefit; sometimes, gaining something brings a loss. Humility benefits a person, while arrogance and self-satisfaction invite harm. I teach others the principles that others use to teach people. Thus, those who act with force and violence often meet an untimely end. I take this as the foundation of my teaching: to uphold softness and weakness.

The Dao is the circle of the Taiji (Supreme Ultimate), expressed through coming and going, movement and stillness. The Dao gives rise to One: the two forms of Heaven and Earth, Yin and Yang, each receiving either an odd or an even sign. One gives rise to Two, forming the Four Images; Two gives rise to Three, forming the Eight Trigrams (Bagua). The three-line trigrams of the Earlier Heaven arrangement are the fundamental numerical pattern of the Yi Jing. Three then gives rise to the myriad things: firmness and softness rub against one another, and the Eight Trigrams stir one another, transforming into the sixty-four hexagrams. Thus, the myriad things carry Yin on their backs and embrace Yang; the Qi of Heaven and Earth blends, bringing them into harmony.

The Qi of Heaven and Earth converges to give rise to human beings. People, in turn, live in harmony with the myriad things, forming the principle of the “Three Powers”: Heaven, Earth, and Humanity. Human beings thereby become the stewards of the myriad things. People dislike being called “orphan,” “widower,” or “one who lacks grain,” because these names seem lowly and humble. Yet rulers and nobles adopt them as honorable titles. By placing themselves humbly, they make their dignity more apparent; by taking the lower position, they leave nothing above them. Thus, things may seem to diminish yet ultimately benefit: the noble takes the lowly as its root, and the high takes the low as its foundation. Things may also seem to increase yet ultimately suffer loss: when the sun reaches its zenith, it begins to decline; after the moon is full, it gradually wanes.

The principles others teach, I teach by the same rule. Yet I cannot get people to diminish and thereby benefit; often, instead, they increase and thereby suffer loss. So the pursuit of learning adds to knowledge day by day, while the pursuit of the Dao reduces desires and attachments day by day. Those who are yielding and gentle can preserve their lives for a long time: this is diminishing and thereby benefiting. Those who are forceful and assert themselves often meet an untimely end: this is increasing and thereby suffering loss. These words, then, are the foundation of my teaching, which goes beyond no established rule.

De (Virtue) says: The Dao is originally empty and formless, yet it can bring being forth from nonbeing; this is called “the One.” Before the Five Phases had formed, before one’s parents had given birth to oneself, where was one? At that time, one still dwelt in the Dao’s emptiness. When the Dao and things respond to one another, an image appears between them. This is “the Dao gives birth to the One.”

The former master, De, said: “The Dao is originally empty and formless, yet it can bring being forth from nonbeing; this is called the One. Before the Five Phases had formed, before one’s parents had given birth to oneself, where was one? At that time, one still dwelt in the Dao’s emptiness. When the Dao and things respond to one another, an image appears between them. This is ‘the Dao gives birth to the One.’” The former master also said: “Hold fast to that single point of true nature within emptiness, and it will not perish, even after ten thousand ages. Once you understand the One, you will understand all things.” Thus, “the One gives birth to Two.” “Two” refers to Qi (vital energy); “Two gives birth to Three,” and “Three” refers to nature. These three reunite as one. Then they can transform and give birth to the myriad things, enabling all things to carry Yin and embrace Yang, and to find their way wherever they may be. Bringing Yin and Yang Qi into mutual balance and harmony is the practice by which a person regulates the firing process within themselves.

The practice of the firing process within the human body often places one in a position like that of the orphan, the outcast, or the unworthy—regarded by others as lowly. That is why people of shallow understanding laugh when they hear of the Dao. Yet princes and nobles use these very titles to describe themselves. Why? Because the noble take the lowly as their root, and the high take the low as their foundation. Some things in the world seem to diminish when they are in fact increased; to draw them in, one must first let them expand. Other things seem to increase when they are in fact diminished; before taking them, one must first give them something. I teach others the principles they teach, but in reverse; yet none of them can do as I do, treating what is inverted as upright and what goes against the current as following its course. Alas! Those who strive to dominate and prevail often meet an untimely end. It is because they take what is proper for what is inverted, and what follows its course for what goes against it. How sad! So when I say that I will take these principles as the foundation of my teaching, I am surely not mistaken.

“Chapter Forty-Three: The Softest Thing in the World”

The softest thing in the world can pass through and move freely among the hardest things in the world. What has no form or substance can enter where there is no gap. From this I know that Wuwei (non-action) is beneficial. The teaching that uses no words, and the benefits that come from following nature, are surpassed by few things in the world.

The scripture says: The softest thing in the world can pass through the hardest things in the world. Because it has no form or substance, it can enter places with no gaps. From this, I know that Wuwei (non-action) is beneficial. The benefits of teaching without words and letting things follow their natural course are rarely attained by anyone in the world.

The explanation of the Dao says: Water is the softest thing in the world; wherever it flows, it nourishes all things. Yet from the perspective of Qi (vital energy), water also seems to be the firmest thing in the world: Qi can move through water, and so the Qi within it becomes clear. Grass is the softest thing in the world; wherever it grows, it can take root. Yet from the perspective of wind, grass also seems to be the firmest thing in the world: wind can pass through grass, and so the wind above it must make it bend low. Wind is Qi with sound, while Qi is wind without sound. Water is Qi with form, and grass is wind with form. Thus it is said that what has no form can enter places with no gaps.

Clouds rise with dragons, and wind stirs with tigers. When a sage arises, the myriad things become manifest: all this follows the principle that things of the same kind respond to one another. From this, we know that Wuwei is beneficial in itself. Heaven speaks no words, yet the four seasons proceed as they should. The sage rectifies himself and sits facing south: this is “teaching without words.” Earth follows Heaven’s timing and bears all things, allowing the myriad beings to grow. The sage lets his robes hang and folds his hands, and the world is governed: this is the benefit of Wuwei. Few in the world can achieve these things.

The explanation of De (Virtue/Power) says: Overcoming hardness with softness and strength with weakness does not mean that softness and weakness alone can prevail; they can also pass through the hardest things in the world. “Knowing the masculine, yet keeping to the feminine; knowing the white, yet keeping to the black” means understanding what is strong and bright while holding to what is soft and dim. Few in the world can do this.

The meaning of “De” is that the supple can overcome the rigid, and the weak can overcome the strong. This means not only that softness and weakness can prevail, but also that they can move freely among the hardest things under Heaven. Know strength, yet hold to weakness; know brightness, yet hold to obscurity. In this way, you avoid striving relentlessly to display your strength.

Yin Qi rises, while Yang Qi moves downward. Strength appears at the beginning and end, while softness and refinement appear in the middle. In this way, one can prevail over ceaseless striving and contention. In cultivation, advancing the Fire—applying the proper timing and driving the inner alchemical Qi mechanism—is especially like being caught in a dangerous struggle, and can easily lead to competing and showing off one’s strength. Thus, the sharp weapons of the state must not be displayed to others; to flaunt them invites disaster. They seem to be there, yet also seem absent, and so enter naturally into a realm where nothing obstructs them.

“Having” means that some domineering people do not meet a good end; “not having” means that even the most foolish and stubborn people do not change their nature. “Having” contains “not having,” and “not having” in turn contains “having”: is this how one comes to understand the Dao? Acting willfully without the Dao inevitably brings loss; following nature without reckless action when one has the Dao instead brings increase. Therefore, I know that Wuwei (non-action) is beneficial.

Neither movement nor stillness grows weak; the sinews remain constant, Jing and Qi stay pure and firm, and Shen and Qi do not change. This is teaching without words. At dawn, the hexagram is Zhun; at dusk, Meng; at midday, Gou; at midnight, Fu. These refer to using the hexagrams of the Yi to explain how Yin-Yang Qi moves with the times. The natural Water and Fire circulate without cease between Heaven and Earth: this is precisely the benefit brought by Wuwei. Few in the world can equal one who reaches this state. Indeed, so it is.

Chapter Forty-Four: Name and Self

Name and life—which is closer to you? Life and wealth—which matters more? Gain and loss—which brings greater distress? Therefore, excessive attachment must exact a heavy price, and hoarding too much must bring great loss. Those who know contentment will not be disgraced; those who know when to stop will not fall into danger. In this way, they can endure.

The Jing says: Name and life—which is closer to you? Life and wealth—which matters more? Gain and loss—which brings greater distress? Therefore, excessive cherishing must exact a heavy price, and hoarding too much must bring great loss. Those who know contentment will not be disgraced; those who know when to stop will not fall into danger. In this way, they can endure.

Handing the world over to someone else without feeling that anything has been lost is like never having possessed it in the first place. Accepting the world without feeling that anything has been gained is like having possessed it all along. To say “never having possessed it” or “having possessed it all along” means not regarding the world as something one lacks, nor as something that belongs to oneself. If one truly thinks it is one’s own, even giving someone a single hair would stir up greed and possessiveness—how much more so the whole world?

Perhaps only the Five Emperors understood that the world belongs to all under Heaven and is no one’s private property. Yao, Shun, Yu, and Tang each yielded the throne to the next in accordance with Heaven’s mandate. They regarded their own status and the title of ruler of the world as lightly as a pair of worn-out shoes cast aside, and so they achieved lasting renown.

The Deer Terrace treasury of King Zhou of Shang was filled with valuables, and the Jutiao granaries were stocked with grain—there was certainly no shortage of either. But when the army’s vanguard turned against him, and blood on the battlefield ran so deep that wooden pestles floated upon it, all those goods and stores passed into other hands. So which matters more: one’s life or one’s possessions? Which deserves greater concern: gain or loss? Clinging too tightly to possessions inevitably leads to enormous waste; the more one hoards, the heavier the eventual loss tends to be. This is often how things unfold in the world: consequences return to the one who set them in motion.

Knowing contentment brings lasting satisfaction, so one avoids disgrace. Knowing when to stop makes it possible to hold one’s limits over time, so one avoids danger. No misfortune is greater than failing to be content and failing to stop. Knowing what is enough and when to stop allows one to remain secure for the long term.

De says: A title or status is the position one occupies; the body is the foundation one must protect. To occupy a fitting position without losing the foundation one must protect is the highest wisdom. To lose the foundation and fail to attain a fitting position is the lowest folly. This is an unalterable principle.

In the way men and women live together as husband and wife, their title or status represents their position. In the way the human body corresponds with Heaven and Earth, the body is the foundation that must be protected. For men and women to lose the foundation they must protect and also fail to rest in a fitting position is the lowest folly. This is an unalterable principle.

When men and women unite, their Jing and Qi combine and bring forth the myriad things. This follows the worldly way of reproduction, yet it can also cause them to lose the foundation they must protect. The Qi of Heaven and Earth mingle—“yinyun” describes the Yin and Yang energies spreading and interweaving—and the myriad things are thereby nurtured. This is to occupy the position proper to Heaven and Earth without losing one’s foundation. When husband and wife follow the ordinary course, they give birth to ordinary people. Practitioners reverse the movement of Yin and Yang in Heaven and Earth, refine an elixir, and seek to become perfected beings—those who, in Daoism, attain the Dao and long life. Ordinary people are ultimately bound by the way of reproduction between husband and wife and die; perfected beings pursue long life by means of the way of Heaven and Earth.

Which is closer and more precious: one’s reputation or one’s body? Within the body is an elixir weighing 384 zhu, an ancient unit of weight. A single zhu of elixir can transmute one jin of ordinary mercury into yellow or white metal. The elixir itself does not diminish, while the metal obtained continues to increase. But if you abandon your own numinous tortoise—a metaphor for the inner foundation of life—and only covetously gaze at what others have gained, you will set out on a dangerous path. Which matters more: the body or material wealth?

To drink wine as though it were water, make indulgence a daily habit, and let desire exhaust one’s Jing and scatter one’s original vitality—then try to replenish them with mineral and plant medicines, or assist cultivation by swallowing saliva, holding the fists firmly, and other such methods: to continue depleting oneself in this way is to hope for an early death. Which is the true calamity: gain or loss? Thus, those who prize reputation too highly inevitably deplete themselves greatly; their harm runs deeper than that suffered by those who hoard wealth. Those who know contentment will not be disgraced; when their work is complete, they withdraw. Those who know when enough is enough will not fall into danger; when the time comes to stop, they stop. In this way, they can endure without decline.

Chapter 45: Great Completion Seems Incomplete

What is most complete seems to have something missing, yet its function never wears out. What is most full seems empty, yet its function is never exhausted. The most upright person seems somewhat bent; the most skillful craft seems clumsy; the most eloquent speaker seems tongue-tied. Movement can ward off cold, while stillness can overcome heat. Clear stillness and Wuwei (non-action) are the model the world should follow.

Great achievement appears to have flaws, yet its function never wanes. Great fullness appears empty, yet its function is inexhaustible. Thus, the most upright seems somewhat crooked, the most skillful seems clumsy, and the best at argument seems inarticulate.

Here it is said that agitation can overcome cold, while stillness can overcome heat. To remain calm and still is the right way for all under Heaven.

The circuit of the heavens—the path taken by the celestial bodies in one full revolution—measures 365¼ degrees, less than 366, yet continues in its course. All the lands under Heaven together measure less than ten thousand li in each direction, yet life continues without end. This shows that great achievement may seem incomplete, yet its function never wanes.

The circumference of the heavens measures 1,080,000 li; the four directions of the Earth together measure 640,000 li. The regular paths of the Sun and Moon measure 504,000 li, and the height of Heaven above the Earth is 84,000 li. Heaven covers all things without favor, Earth bears all things without favor, and the Sun and Moon shine upon all things without favor. Things sometimes rise in open space and sometimes draw inward and lie hidden. When things reach their end, they change; through change they become able to flow freely, and only then can they endure. This shows that great fullness may seem empty, yet its function is inexhaustible.

When Qian, which symbolizes Heaven and strength, is still, it is focused; when it moves, it is straight. Without straightness, it cannot form corners. If Kun, which symbolizes Earth and yielding, cannot form corners, it cannot take on a square shape. This is why the most upright seems somewhat crooked. Bending and straightening respond to one another, and benefit arises from this.

Water in Kan, one of the Eight Trigrams and a symbol of water, governs wisdom; in the position of Zhen, a trigram symbolizing thunder and the arising of life, it gives rise to trees. From root and shoot to flower and fruit, each is orderly and pure. Water nourishes all things without competing with them: this is how the most skillful seems clumsy.

Heaven issues no commands through officials, yet the four seasons proceed as usual. This is how the best at argument seems inarticulate. A noble person should speak little and do much. Agitation can overcome cold, and stillness can overcome heat; this is a necessary principle. Therefore, the sages constantly abide by the Way of calm and stillness, making it the standard for all under Heaven.

“De” means that one gathers and brings one’s virtue to fullness without becoming self-satisfied. One moves and rides with the Six Jia (the six Jia cycles within the sexagenary cycle, marking the passage of time) and meets the Northern Dipper. The waxing moon is diminished like gold, and the waning moon is diminished like silver, yet their function neither declines nor renews. When fullness becomes excessive, it overflows. As the sun and moon move toward the full moon, it is as though the Yang Qi of Heaven and Earth reaches its height. It does not decline or run out. The sun and moon meet between Heaven and Earth, as though the Yin Qi of Earth bears all things.

What is most upright seems crooked, like a measuring worm bending its body in order to stretch out. The highest skill looks clumsy, because in bringing forth the myriad things, one simply holds to the source and acts with single-minded focus. The best debater seems inarticulate, because one who transcends past and present does not speak lightly. Restlessness can overcome cold, like Fire and Water Not Yet Joined (the name of a Yijing hexagram, symbolizing water and fire failing to unite); stillness can overcome heat, like Water and Fire Already Joined (the name of a Yijing hexagram, symbolizing water and fire harmonizing). Purity and stillness can become the standard for all under Heaven, bringing both body and spirit to subtle perfection and joining with the Dao to become true.

Chapter Forty-Six: When the Way Prevails Under Heaven

When the Dao prevails under Heaven, warhorses are put to work plowing fields and carrying manure to fertilize them. When the Dao does not prevail under Heaven, warhorses give birth in the countryside. No transgression is greater than greed; no misfortune is greater than not knowing contentment; no fault is greater than always wanting to acquire more. Therefore, one who knows contentment and is content with it can remain content always.

The scripture says: When the Dao prevails under Heaven, warhorses are put to work plowing fields and carrying manure to fertilize them. When the Dao does not prevail under Heaven, warhorses give birth in the countryside. To see something desirable and become greedy for it is the greatest transgression; to be wealthy yet not know contentment is the greatest misfortune; to covet desirable things and set one’s heart on obtaining them is the greatest fault.

Therefore, to know contentment and be content with it is called remaining content always.

The Dao says: Because Tang of Shang and King Wu of Zhou followed Heaven’s will and answered the people’s wishes in their campaigns, the realm became peaceful. They released their warhorses on the southern slopes of Mount Hua and sent their oxen into the wilds of Peach Grove. The horses were retired to plow fields and fertilize the soil. This was the scene when peace reigned throughout the realm. By the Spring and Autumn period, the realm had lost the right way. The feudal lords controlled the rites, music, and authority to wage war; peoples on the frontiers repeatedly invaded the Central Plains, and warhorses were bred in the suburbs, as conflict could break out at any moment.

The Five Hegemons of the Spring and Autumn period relied on force and acted under the pretext of benevolence and righteousness. The greatest fault is to let greed run unchecked. Men aboard warships killed one another until there were so many severed fingers in the boats that they could be scooped up by the handful. The greatest calamity is to know no contentment. Jin asked the state of Yu for passage to attack Guo, and Yu brought disaster upon itself by coveting an immediate gain. The greatest failing is to welcome temptation. Thus, one who is content with what satisfies them can remain content.

De says: When the realm follows the Dao, matters within the human body also fall into order. The Yang Qi of the Qian trigram symbolizes the horse and represents strength that never ceases. True lead and true mercury are terms from Neidan cultivation. Practitioners refine them into pure Yang Qi, embrace and preserve their original Qi, focus the Shen, strengthen their foundations, and settle body and mind. When the realm follows the Dao, it is like warhorses retired to plow and fertilize the fields: all things rest in their proper place. By contrast, where armies are stationed, brambles grow; after a great war, famine follows. When the realm has lost the Dao, warhorses breed in the suburbs.

The moment one sees something to covet, the heart becomes unsettled; this is a grave failing. Knowing contentment keeps one from disgrace; knowing when to stop keeps one from danger. To know neither contentment nor restraint is the greatest calamity. The Perfected One of Ziyang said, “If you do not accumulate good deeds and cultivate hidden virtue, all kinds of demons will arise to obstruct your actions.” Seeing an elixir and greedily wanting to obtain it is also a grave failing. Thus, one who knows contentment can remain content.

“Without Leaving the Door” (Chapter 47)

Without leaving one’s home, one can understand the world; without looking out the window, one can know the Dao—the patterns by which Heaven and Earth operate. The farther one travels, the less one knows. Therefore, the sage need not travel in person to understand things, need not see with their own eyes to recognize patterns, and need not act recklessly to bring things to completion.

The scripture says: Without stepping beyond the doorway, one can understand the world; without looking out through the window, one can know the Dao—the patterns by which Heaven and Earth move. The farther one travels, the less one knows. Thus, the sage understands how things work but does not insist on acting personally; gives things names without necessarily seeing them with their own eyes; and accomplishes things without claiming the credit.

The Dao is explained this way: The sage probes the workings of things, fully understands human nature, and thereby comprehends the Mandate of Heaven. Matters beyond the reach of people’s ears and eyes can still be understood by reasoning from principle. Thus, one can sit quietly and infer changes that have unfolded over a thousand years. The farther the mind ranges outward, the less it knows. Once one grasps the root, the Dao, all things become clear.

Therefore, the sage opens the gateways in all directions, brightens the eyes of those in every quarter, and lets their voices be heard. The sage draws widely on the knowledge of people throughout the world but does not act autocratically; takes the world’s renown as their own name without seeking personal acclaim; and regards what all have accomplished together as their achievement, without claiming the credit.

De (Virtue) comes from sitting at ease with the mind and spirit transcendent, even reaching a state in which the body remains while the spirit has departed. One no longer feels there is anything in the world that needs to be sought, so why leave the doorway? With no obstruction to coming and going, one no longer feels there is any Way of Heaven to peer into, so why look outside through the window? Thus it is said that De is complete and wondrous. The wondrous has no fixed bounds, and its effects reach ever farther.

The trigrams possess the qualities of uprightness and clear insight. Things themselves have no fixed form that can be grasped, so the less one’s knowledge is constrained, the more one can understand things. The wondrous reaches outward: the farther it extends, the closer it draws. The less reason can claim to know, the more one can comprehend. Thus the sages looked up to observe the patterns of the heavens and down to examine the forms of the earth, knowing without traveling. The plow and the oar were modeled on the images of the thirteenth hexagram of the Classic of Changes (Yijing); their names could be given without ever seeing them. The sages prepared all kinds of things and put them to use, making tools to benefit the world. Without deliberate action, everything was accomplished.

Master Kangjie (Shao Yong, a Northern Song Confucian philosopher, whose courtesy name was Yaofu) said: “To hear clearly and see sharply, and to be born a man—these are gifts bestowed by the transformations of Heaven and Earth; surely one is not wholly lacking. One must seek the Moon’s Cavern to understand the myriad things; without setting foot on Heaven’s Root, one cannot know humanity. When the Qian trigram meets the Xun trigram, one can observe the Moon’s Cavern; where the earth meets the high sky, one can see Heaven’s Root. Between Heaven’s Root and the Moon’s Cavern, one moves freely back and forth; the thirty-six palaces, symbolizing the totality of Heaven, Earth, and the myriad things, are spring everywhere.”

He also said: “When the heart of Heaven returns to the place of the Fu hexagram, it is without mind. When the heart reaches the state of no-mind, there is nowhere to seek it. If no-mind means that Heaven’s Root is absent, then why does gold still arise in water?” He also said: “One rushes to Wu and hurries through Yue in search of the blue sky, not knowing that the sky is right before one’s eyes.” Even Shao Yong, with all his wisdom, had no need to leave the door or peer through the window. How much less, then, did the sages?

Chapter Forty-Eight: Each Day, Learning Adds More

Pursuing learning makes knowledge increase day by day; cultivating the Dao makes desires and deliberate contrivance diminish day by day. Keep diminishing them until one reaches Wuwei (non-action). Through Wuwei, nothing remains undone. Thus, in governing the realm, one should consistently follow the principle of not disturbing the people and not acting recklessly. Once decrees multiply and everything is forced into action, the realm can no longer be governed.

The classic says, “In pursuing learning, one adds knowledge day by day. In seeking the Dao (the Way), one lets go of attachment day by day. Keep letting go, again and again, until you reach Wuwei (non-action). Wuwei does not mean doing nothing; it means that nothing remains unaccomplished. Thus, those who can govern the world act without needless interference. If they deliberately intervene in everything, they are not fit to govern the world.”

At the level of the Dao, this passage means: noticing each day what you still lack, while remembering each month the skills you have already acquired, is how learning advances day by day. To restrain selfish desires and return to ritual propriety and righteousness in a single day is to turn the people of the world toward benevolence and virtue; this is how seeking the Dao gradually lets go of selfish desire. Learning and seeking the Dao cannot be wholly separated, but they differ greatly. One must first pass through learning to enter the path of seeking the Dao. Without learning, one does not understand the Dao; hence the saying that learning increases day by day.

Once you truly draw near to the Dao, learning is no longer the foundation. If you still treat what you have gained through learning as fundamental, it can instead hinder your pursuit of the Dao. You must therefore let go of attachment to what you have learned in order to enter the Dao. Seeking the Dao means more than letting go a little each day: you must keep letting go until the distinction between self and things dissolves, finally reaching Wuwei. One who practices Wuwei leaves nothing undone. Once the principles of the world are understood, what is there to do deliberately? Thus, when sages govern the world, they keep body and mind free from the disturbance of affairs and remain at ease. If they strain deliberately to pursue their aims at every turn, they are not fit to govern the world.

At the level of De (Virtue/Power), the passage means that continually accumulating and increasing one’s abilities in everyday conduct is learning that grows day by day. Once one has reached a wondrous state of Wuwei, where the principles of things are understood, what is there to do deliberately? Thus, when sages govern the world, they keep body and mind free from the disturbance of affairs and remain at ease. If they strain deliberately to pursue their aims at every turn, they are not fit to govern the world.

De refers to people continually accumulating knowledge in daily life: what they have learned increases day by day. This is called “increasing through learning.” Cultivating the Dao, by contrast, seeks the wondrous and practices Wuwei (non-action), so that attachments in the heart diminish day by day. This is called “decreasing through the Dao.” There are 3,600 methods of cultivation, and those who study the Dao often settle on one method and regard it as fundamental. This is to keep adding to what they have learned. Who can understand that the truly subtle method of attaining immortality lies beyond these 3,600 approaches? The key to cultivating the Dao is to keep diminishing one’s attachments.

Diminish them again and again, and ultimately you can reach Wuwei. Wuwei does not mean doing nothing at all, but acting in accordance with the natural course of things. Though it appears to be non-action, it can accomplish great things. Therefore, governing the world should rely on non-interference and minimal disturbance. If illness can be prevented before it arises, there is no need to wait until it has taken hold before treating it. To use medicine and aggressive treatment only after an illness has developed is like digging a well when you are already thirsty—is that not too late? So, acting only after problems have appeared is not enough to govern the world.

Chapter Forty-Nine: The Sage Has No Fixed Mind

The sage has no fixed opinions, but takes the people’s hearts as his own. I treat those who are good with kindness, and I treat those who are not good with kindness as well; in this way, goodness is brought to completion in De. I trust those who are trustworthy, and I treat those who are not trustworthy with trust as well; in this way, trustworthiness is brought to completion in De.

In governing the world, the sage remains humble and attentive, enabling the hearts of all under Heaven to return to simplicity and become one. The people all turn their eyes and ears toward the sage, and he treats them as he would children, helping them remain innocent.

The scripture says: The sage has no fixed opinions, but takes the people’s hearts as his own. Thus, I treat those who are good with kindness, and those who are not good with kindness as well; this is my De reaching goodness. I treat those who are trustworthy with trust, and those who are not trustworthy with trust as well; this is my De reaching trustworthiness.

When governing the world, the sage always remains humble and attentive, enabling the hearts of all under Heaven to return to simplicity and to be of one mind with the people. The people turn their eyes and ears toward the sage, and he treats them all as he would children.

From the time Shun personally farmed, made pottery, and fished until he became emperor, all he did was learn from others and make their strengths his own good deeds. Yu said, “When I look at the people of the world, even ordinary men and women each have some skill that surpasses my own.” Thus, the sage holds no fixed opinions and takes the people’s hearts as his own.

I treat good people with kindness, and that is simply goodness. I also treat those who are not good with kindness. Why? If they are taught and transformed, how can we know they will not become good people? So I use De (Virtue) to help people become good. I trust those who are trustworthy, and that is simply trustworthiness. I also trust those who are not trustworthy. Why? If they are taught and transformed, how can we know they will not become trustworthy? So I use De (Virtue) to help people become trustworthy.

When the sage governs the world, he remains careful and focused in carrying out his duties, helping the hearts of all under Heaven return to simplicity and sincerity. Yao was composed and steady, sincere and respectful, and able to yield to others. His benevolence reached in every direction and extended up to Heaven and Earth. The people looked up to him as they did to the sun and moon, and loved him as they did their parents. All eyes and ears turned toward him, attentive to how the world was governed.

The sage also cares for the people as one would protect a newborn infant, watching over them as though fearing they might come to harm. Thus it is said that the sage cherishes all the people as children.

The sage is the ruler of the spirit; “constant mind” refers to the spirit. The common people are like the body’s five organs and six bowels. Each of the five organs has its own spirit, with the heart governing the spirit as a whole; each has its own essence, with the kidneys storing essence. The sage does not cling to personal opinions, but takes the people’s wishes as their own. In this way, the sage can govern the spirit.

Thus, when a person does not indulge in reckless thought or deliberate action, the spirit can remain subtle and focused. When the true Qi—the vital energy within the body—flows in harmony, the spirit can govern it; when the true Qi is obstructed, the spirit can still direct it. When the spirit is calm, the mind is at peace; when the mind is at peace, the Qi is harmonious. Once the Qi is harmonious, the interactions of generation and restraint among the four images—the four forms of Yin-Yang change—the Five Phases (Wood, Metal, Water, Fire, and Earth), the nine orifices (the openings of the eyes, ears, nose, mouth, and so on), and the three essential points or gateways of the body can all proceed as they should. That is why it is said that eating at the proper times regulates the body, and acting in accordance with the moment steadies the transformations of all things. Is this not what that saying means?

When the true Qi is peaceful, it brings harmony to the whole body. Once the Qi is harmonious, the cycles of generation and restraint among the four images, the Five Phases, the nine orifices, and the three essential points can all proceed as they should. The scripture therefore says again that eating at the proper times regulates the body, and acting appropriately steadies the transformations of all things. Is this not the same principle?

I meet good Qi with good will, and I meet harmful Qi with good will as well. This is doing good through De (Virtue/Power). What can harmful Qi do in the end? It, too, will eventually turn toward what is good. The same is true of trustworthiness in dealing with people.

The sage’s place in the world is like the spirit’s place in the heart: without forcing stillness, the sage is still; without deliberate action, the sage still accomplishes things. In this way, the sage reaches a state of easeful Wuwei (non-action). When Qi arrives in a good state, I respond by treating it well; when it arrives in a harmful state, I bring it into harmony through the De of equanimity. This, too, guides it toward goodness. The same approach should be taken toward trustworthiness and its absence.

The sage shares one heart with the people of the world, just as the spirit blends with the Qi of the five organs. The people focus their eyes and ears, while the five organs bring their dispositions into unity. The sage regards all the people as children, just as a person nurtures an infant within their own body. These words are truly profound!

After Shun gained possession of the world, he selected worthy people from among the multitude and appointed Gao Yao; the unkind withdrew. After Tang of Shang gained possession of the world, he likewise selected worthy people from among the multitude and appointed Yi Yin; the unkind withdrew. Once the unkind had departed, was this not precisely how the world was made peaceful, harmonious, and secure?

Human beings move from birth toward death. According to the ancients, about three out of ten belong to the long-lived, and about three out of ten meet death early. Another three out of ten are alive by nature, yet through reckless action enter peril. Why is this so? Because they pursue the preservation of life too intensely and, as a result, place too much importance on life.

It is said that those skilled in preserving life, while walking on land, do not encounter rhinoceroses or tigers; when they enter the ranks of an army, they are not harmed by weapons. The rhinoceros finds no place to gore them with its horn, the tiger no place to seize them with its claws, and weapons no opening in which to wield their blades. Why is this so? Because they have not entered a peril that leads to death.

The scripture also says: in outward appearance, birth is life, and entering is death. About three out of ten belong to life, and about three out of ten belong to death; another three out of ten move toward death through reckless action. Why is this so? Because they pursue life too intensely and treat themselves too indulgently. It is said that those skilled in applying the Way of preserving life, while walking on land, do not encounter rhinoceroses or tigers; when they enter the ranks of an army, they are not harmed by weapons. Thus the rhinoceros finds no place to gore them with its horn, the tiger no place to seize them with its claws, and weapons no opening in which to wield their blades. Why is this so? By following the Great Dao, they do not enter peril that leads to death.

The Dao teaches that Heaven belongs to the category of life, comprising three out of ten; Earth belongs to the category of death, likewise comprising three out of ten; and three out of ten move toward death through reckless action. Those skilled in preserving life are not harmed by rhinoceroses, tigers, or weapons because they follow the Great Dao and have not entered a peril that leads to death.

Here, “Dao” refers to the fact that in the activities of Heaven, Earth, and human beings, three-tenths of each lies in a part prone to decline or death.

A cycle of Heaven and Earth lasts 129,600 years. Heaven is counted by the Ten Heavenly Stems: from Jia to Geng are seven positions, totaling 90,720 years, the generative number of Heaven; Xin, Ren, and Gui are three positions, totaling 38,880 years, the death number of Heaven. Earth is counted by the Twelve Earthly Branches: at the summer solstice, the count begins with the Yin hour and ends with the Xu hour. These nine positions total 97,200 years, the generative number of Earth; Hai, Zi, and Chou are three positions, totaling 32,400 years, the death number of Earth.

A year of Heaven and Earth has 360 days. From the Yin hour, when all things begin to grow, to the Xu hour, when they draw inward, there are 270 days, the generative number of Earth; the three months of Hai, Zi, and Chou make up 90 days, the death number of Earth. According to the Zhouyi (Book of Changes), the counting numbers of the stalks for Qian and Kun add up to 360, corresponding exactly to a year. From Jia to Geng are 252 days, the generative number of Heaven; Xin, Ren, and Gui together make up 108 days, the death number of Heaven. Thus the generative and death numbers of both Heaven and Earth can be summed up as seven-tenths and three-tenths. Shao Kangjie, a Song-dynasty scholar of the Yijing, referred to this when he said, “Three-tenths of the interaction between Heaven and Earth.” The number of Kun is 108, a number also used in Buddhism to structure practice through the day and night.

A person’s day has 100 ke, or divisions. It is commonly said that a person takes 13,500 breaths in a day; after subtracting the four ke called “cessation,” 12,960 breaths remain. From the Yin hour to the Xu hour there are about 9,720 breaths, the generative number of human beings; the three periods of Hai, Zi, and Chou account for about 3,240 breaths, the death number of human beings. This is why it is said that, in human activity too, three-tenths lies within the realm that tends toward death.

Shao Kangjie said that if Heaven did not pause in its course at the transition between winter and spring, it could not bring forth and nurture the myriad things; likewise, if people did not rest through the night, they could not attend properly to their affairs. So one should not act rashly at night. Acting at an inopportune time can lead to danger. People still dare to act because their vitality is abundant.

Those who know how to preserve life can walk on land without encountering rhinoceroses or tigers, and stand amid military ranks without being harmed by weapons. This is because their De is deep and they are gentle and pure like infants: venomous insects do not sting them, fierce beasts do not attack them, and birds of prey do not seize them. The rhinoceros has no opening to use its horn, the tiger no opening to use its claws, and weapons no opportunity to strike. Saying that they have “no opening” does not mean they lack these abilities. Rather, neither side intends to exert its force, so that force has no opportunity to take effect. Those skilled at preserving life do not deliberately place themselves in mortal danger, and so they escape death.

People are often delighted when a swallow flies into their home, but may be startled when a sparrow swoops overhead. Crossing water or fire without selfish intent, and moving metal and stone through the power of utmost sincerity, follow the same principle.

Laozi says, “Those who pass beyond ‘three’ can live; those who fall into ‘ten’ will die.” Of the ten parts associated with life, three belong to the first three “threes.” These correspond to the half-pound of gold at the waxing quarter moon. When lead encounters Gui Water and begins to sprout, it must be gathered and refined at once. Of the ten parts associated with death, three belong to the last three “threes.” These correspond to the half-pound of silver at the waning quarter moon. Once the gold has passed the full moon, it should no longer be sampled. People live because they are in the stage of the first three “threes” and obtain lead-gold; their actions lead toward death because they are in the stage of the last three “threes” and fail to obtain mercury-silver. Each of the three “threes” contains a “ten,” which is why it is said, “Those who pass beyond ‘three’ can live; those who fall into ‘ten’ will die.” This is what is meant by three parts out of ten.

As for ordinary people, the gold after the full moon should no longer be sampled. People live because they are in the stage of the first three “threes” and obtain lead-gold; their actions lead toward death because they are in the stage of the last three “threes” and fail to obtain mercury-silver. Each of the three “threes” contains a “ten,” which is why it is said, “Those who pass beyond ‘three’ can live; those who fall into ‘ten’ will die.” This is what is meant by three parts out of ten. Of ordinary people whose actions lead toward death, roughly seven out of ten meet this fate. Why are there so many? Because people cling to life and pursue pleasure excessively, so this outcome is hard to avoid.

I have heard that those skilled at preserving life walk on land without encountering rhinoceroses or tigers, and enter the ranks of an army without suffering harm from weapons. Nothing under Heaven can overcome them. The Perfected One of Ziyang says, “Lead the White Tiger home and raise it there; give birth to a luminous pearl, round as the moon.” “White Tiger” and “luminous pearl” are terms in Neidan (internal alchemy), symbolizing the state achieved by regulating body and mind and refining Jing (essence) and Qi (vital energy). If danger never comes, so much the better. Even if it does, one can turn it around and put it to one’s own use. What harm could that do?

Entering the ranks of an army without being harmed by weapons is like the gentleman who, in ordinary life, honors the left, but in war honors the right. If one does not stand on the right, what harm could there be? The softest thing under Heaven can command the hardest thing under Heaven. The rhinoceros is fiercer than the tiger and has a horn on its head; yet even with its horn, it finds no target on which to use it. The tiger has claws but nowhere to strike. Weapons have sharp edges but nowhere to be wielded. Why is this so? Because those skilled at preserving life have not fallen into a place of death.

To be beyond the reach of death is like being skilled at closing a door: one uses no bolt, yet the door cannot be opened. It is like being skilled at tying knots: one uses no cord, yet the knot cannot be undone. How could such a person fall into a place of death?

“Chapter 51: The Dao Gives Birth.”

The Dao (the Way) brings forth all things and leaves them nowhere to dwell. Why is this? Because they have no place to escape death. Having nowhere to escape death is like being skillful at closing: even without a bolt, nothing can be opened. It is like being skillful at binding: even without a cord, nothing can be undone. Could there be anywhere they can flee to avoid death?

Chapter Fifty-One: The Dao Gives Birth to All Things

The Dao brings forth all things, and De (Virtue/Power)—the Dao’s nourishing action within all things—nurtures them. Each thing takes shape, and circumstances—the right time and conditions—allow it to grow and mature. Thus, there is nothing that does not honor the Dao and cherish De. The Dao is honored and De cherished not because anyone commands it, but because everything happens naturally.

So the Dao brings forth and nurtures all things, enabling them to grow, develop, and mature, while also providing them with nourishment and protection. It creates all things but does not claim them as its own; it acts but does not rely on its accomplishments; it enables all things to grow but does not rule over them. This is called “Mysterious De,” a profound and unseen virtue.

The scripture says: Heaven’s Dao brings forth all things, Earth’s De nurtures them, the transforming forces of nature give them form, and circumstances allow them to grow and mature. Thus, there is nothing that does not honor the Dao and cherish De. Yet the Dao is honored and De cherished not because anyone orders it, but because everything happens naturally. The Dao and De bring forth and nurture all things, giving them form; the transforming forces of nature enable them to grow and develop, circumstances allow them to mature, and the sun and moon provide them with nourishment and protection. The Dao and De create all things but do not claim them as their own; they act but do not rely on their accomplishments; they enable all things to grow but do not rule over them. This is called “Mysterious De.”

The Dao (the Way) is said to give life to and nurture the myriad things; De (Virtue/Power) is said to nourish and sustain them. “Things” refers to the distinct forms that the myriad things each take, while “tendency” refers to how they ultimately come to fulfillment.

Thus, there is nothing among the myriad things that does not honor the Dao and value De. The Book of Changes says: “Great indeed is the primal power of Qian, symbolized by the Qian trigram! Through it, the myriad things begin to grow, and it governs the heavens. Clouds move and rain falls, and the various kinds of things take shape. The Dao of Qian—the Way of Heaven—transforms and changes, so that each thing receives its fitting nature and life.” This is what it means to say that the Dao gives life to and nurtures the myriad things.

The Book of Changes also says: “Perfect indeed is the primal power of Kun, symbolized by the Kun trigram! Through it, the myriad things grow, following and receiving the Dao of Heaven. The earth is vast and bears all things; its De accords with Heaven and Earth and has no bounds. It embraces what is vast, bright, and generous, allowing all kinds of things to grow and flourish.” This is what it means to say that De nourishes and sustains the myriad things.

Thunder and rain arise, bringing release and renewed life; the shells of fruits, grasses, and trees split open. In this way, the myriad things each take shape: this is what is meant by “things.” The Dui trigram symbolizes autumn, when the myriad things delight in ripening. In this way, they move toward fulfillment: this is what is meant by “tendency.”

No one commands the myriad things to honor the Dao and value De. This happens of itself, naturally. Why do the myriad things honor the Dao and value De? Because the Dao gives them life and nurtures them, while De nourishes and sustains them, helping them grow, develop, ripen, and come to fulfillment, while also caring for and sheltering them.

Therefore, the sage lets the myriad things grow without claiming ownership of them; acts without relying on the merit of those actions; and guides them as they grow without ruling over them. Why is this so? This is the deep and subtle De of the Dao of Heaven. What have I to do with it? This is therefore called “mysterious De”—profound and subtle virtue.

The section on “De” says: The Qian hexagram represents Heaven, so it is called the father and gives rise to the three female hexagrams, Xun, Li, and Dui. The Kun hexagram represents Earth, so it is called the mother and nurtures the three male hexagrams, Zhen, Kan, and Gen. Qian and Kun stand in vertical columns, while the six child hexagrams are arranged horizontally. Thunder, wind, water, fire, mountains, and marshes thus appear, and the movements of the four seasons—spring, summer, autumn, and winter—take shape. In this way, all things grow together, and none fails to honor the Dao and cherish De.

Ziyang says: “First take Qian and Kun as the vessel; then use the medicines of the Crow and the Hare to refine them. When these two medicines have moved into the Yellow Path, how could the Golden Elixir fail to form?” The language of alchemy here describes the harmonizing of Yin and Yang and the return to the root and source. The Dao is honored and De is cherished, not because anyone commands it, but because this happens naturally, of itself.

Thus, the Dao of Qian brings all things into being, while the De of Kun nurtures and sustains them. Zhen and Xun enable them to grow and develop; Kan and Li bring them to form and maturity; Gen and Dui nourish and complete them. In this way, all the affairs between Heaven and Earth are accomplished. The sage gives life to all things but does not claim them as his own. He places himself behind them, helping bring the patterns of Heaven and Earth to completion. He takes action but does not rely on his achievements; he refrains from forcing things, and the people are naturally transformed. He occupies a position of leadership but does not treat the people as his private property, and so he can rule the state. This is called “Mysterious De”—profound and natural Virtue.

All things under Heaven share a common source, and in this way every affair under Heaven can be accomplished. The sage gives life to all things but does not claim them as his own. He places himself behind them, helping bring the patterns of Heaven and Earth to completion. He takes action but does not rely on his achievements; he refrains from forcing things, and the people are naturally transformed. He occupies a position of leadership but does not treat the people as his private property, and so he can rule the state. This is called “Mysterious De.”

Chapter 52: All Under Heaven Has a Beginning

All things under Heaven have a beginning, which may be regarded as their mother. Know this source, and you can understand the things that arise from it. Once you understand those things, return to and abide by their source, and you will remain free from danger throughout your life.

Block the openings through which desires enter, and close the gates through which the senses pursue the outside world, and you will not be worn out throughout your life. Give free rein to desire and continually invite trouble, and you will be beyond rescue throughout your life. To perceive what is subtle is called clarity; to hold fast to weakness is called strength. After using brightness, return to inner insight and bring no calamity upon yourself. This is called inheriting the Constant Way.

All things under Heaven and Earth have an origin, which may be called the mother of all things. Knowing the “mother” enables one to know the “children” born from it; here, “children” refers to particular things. After knowing particular things, one must still hold fast to the common origin they share. Then one will suffer no harm throughout life. This is called inheriting the constant Dao.

“Block the openings” means closing off the paths through which the senses reach outward in greedy pursuit; “openings” carries the sense of pleasure and sensation. “Shut the gates” means drawing the gates inward so that the mind and spirit do not scatter outward. In this way, one can live a whole lifetime free from disturbance and exhaustion. If one opens the mind’s apertures, chases external things, and busies oneself responding to every affair, one may find it impossible to save oneself throughout life.

To perceive things in their subtle beginnings is called clarity; to see their evident signs clearly is also discernment. Holding to weakness is called strength, because the yielding can overcome the hard. Using outward radiance is the function of the “child”; returning to inner clarity and stillness is the root of the “mother.” If one can both return to inner clarity and make use of its radiance, one will not bring harm upon oneself. To be clear-sighted and free from calamity is to inherit the constant Dao.

Before it is named, the Dao is the foundation of Heaven and Earth. At the metaphysical level, it is called the Dao. Once names and forms arise, it becomes the source of the myriad things. At the physical level, it is called a vessel—that is, a particular thing. All things share a common beginning; this beginning is taken as their root. The sage understands the root and can therefore grasp the myriad things. The myriad things are the children, and the Dao is their mother. Having understood the myriad things, one still holds fast to the Dao as their root, and so avoids danger throughout one’s life.

In “block the openings,” “openings” can be understood as the senses and desires that give pleasure and turn outward. The myriad things emerge from Zhen, the eastern direction, and mature and become manifest in Dui, the western direction. Zhen is the eldest son and symbolizes thunder; Dui is the youngest daughter and symbolizes a lake. The elder brother brings the myriad things to growth, and the younger sister brings them to completion, hence the name “Returning Maiden,” one of the sixty-four hexagrams of the Book of Changes. The Image Commentary says that thunder above a lake symbolizes Returning Maiden. From this, the noble person learns to carry things through to the end while also anticipating their possible drawbacks. The Judgment Commentary says that Returning Maiden embodies the great principle of Heaven and Earth: without the union of Yin and Yang in Heaven and Earth, the myriad things cannot flourish. Returning Maiden also symbolizes the end and beginning of human life.

As the Returning hexagram develops into the Qian hexagram, it is like a door opening; as the Meeting hexagram develops into the Kun hexagram, it is like a door closing. Thus one is told to block the senses and shut the gates, and not to act recklessly throughout one’s life. The way of Kun gathers and stores the myriad things; the way of Qian knows and opens their beginnings. Metal and Water engender one another, and things turn from reversal to forward movement. In the month of the Rat, the Returning hexagram appears with one Yang line: this is the beginning of the gates opening again. Wood engenders Fire, and when Fire rises, it may bring calamity. In the month of the Horse, the Meeting hexagram appears with one Yin line: this is a sign that the gates are beginning to close. Thus, if one indulges the senses and insists on acting, one’s life will be beyond saving. The way of Qian takes the lead; the way of Kun gives form to the myriad things.

Only one who can perceive subtle signs may be called wise. When Yin energy first appears, like frost underfoot, one should know that solid ice is on its way. When a forceful tendency begins to grow, one should likewise foresee that the eighth month may bring danger. To hold to weakness is true strength: the softest force under Heaven can pass through the hardest things under Heaven. To use brightness is to understand the myriad things; to return to clarity is to hold fast once more to the root. In this way, one brings no calamity upon oneself and remains free from danger throughout life. One who holds to this Dao inherits and follows the constant Way.

“The world has a beginning” means that all things between Heaven and Earth share a common origin: the Primordial Qi (the source Qi before Heaven and Earth were divided), the Taiji (the fundamental state from which all things arise), the Original Yang (the primordial Yang Qi), and the Great One (the original, unified Dao). Since all things in the world came into being from this source, it is fitting to call it the mother of all things.

Once we know the “mother,” we can also know the “children” born from it. In cultivation, regulate and nourish the breath with undivided attention, making body and mind gentle and supple. Can you be as pure, gentle, and weak as an infant? Know all things, then turn back and hold fast to their source, returning to your original nature and life. This is called constancy. In this way, you will not bring calamity upon yourself throughout your life. If you do not hold fast to the source or understand the constant Dao, but act recklessly as you please, you will invite danger.

Block the apertures through which sensory desires enter, and preserve inner stillness. Close the gate of the Mysterious Female (a symbol of the primal gateway that gives birth to all things), so that the breath continues without interruption, almost imperceptible. Then you can remain settled throughout your life without acting rashly. If you indulge the senses and mistake deluded thoughts for the constant Dao, busily pursuing worldly achievements and using Yin Qi to extinguish Yang Qi, you may be beyond saving for the rest of your life unless someone who truly understands the Dao guides you.

Only one who can perceive what is subtle may be called discerning. “The counsel that seeps in and the impressions that touch the skin” refer to rumors and slander that gradually take hold, leading people to believe appearances too readily. Only one who holds to softness may be called strong, for the soft can overcome the hard, and the weak can overcome the strong. Use your own brightness, then return to inner awareness. The mutual generation of child and mother means that the source and all things give rise to one another. Lead and mercury, terms from alchemy, refer to different elements that are harmonized and regulated by one another in the process of refinement. If you recklessly manipulate the wondrous fundamental principles, your body will suffer calamity; therefore, do not bring disaster upon yourself. To practice this principle for a long time until it becomes familiar and refined is called “inheriting constancy”: receiving and holding fast to the constant Dao.

Chapter 53: If I Had Even the Slightest Understanding

If I had even a little understanding of the Great Dao and walked along it, what I would fear most would be straying from it. The Great Dao is broad and level, yet the people delight in crooked paths. The courts and palaces are lavishly renovated, while the fields lie fallow and the granaries stand empty. People wear fine clothes, carry sharp swords, eat and drink to excess, and possess wealth in abundance. This is called flaunting a life of robbery and theft. How could it accord with the Dao?

The text says: If I were upright and steadfast in my understanding of the Great Dao and walked along it, what I would fear most would be straying from it. The Great Dao is broad and level, yet people delight in taking shortcuts. The courts are decorated lavishly, while the fields lie fallow and the storehouses stand empty. People wear fine clothes, carry sharp swords, covet sumptuous food, and have an excess of wealth. This is called the ostentatious extravagance of robbers and thieves; it does not accord with the Dao.

If I could uphold an upright and principled character, possess the wisdom to discern how things stand, walk the Great Dao, and put it into practice throughout the world, I would be worthy of awe.

The Great Dao is broad and level, yet people prefer to take shortcuts. The court is made splendid, while the fields lie fallow and the granaries stand empty. Officials wear fine clothes and carry sharp swords; they feast and indulge in excess, with wealth left over. This is called flaunting riches before thieves, and it is wholly contrary to the Dao.

The Book of Changes says, “Carrying a load on one’s back while riding in a carriage invites robbers.” Carrying a load is the way of a commoner; riding in a carriage is the privilege of a noble. When a commoner rides in a noble’s carriage, robbers will think of seizing it. When those above are negligent and those below are violent and unruly, robbers will think of attacking. To store wealth carelessly is to teach robbers to steal; to dress provocatively can invite licentious conduct.

The Book of Changes’ saying, “Carrying a load on one’s back while riding in a carriage invites robbers,” speaks precisely of bringing robbery upon oneself. Those who steadfastly follow the right path should be able to perceive subtle changes and recognize clear signs. Understanding the principles of softness and firmness, they become people whom all look up to. If one can walk the Great Dao with this discernment and put it into practice throughout the world, one will inspire awe.

The section on De says: “If I understand a little of the Great Dao and walk along its middle, yet know only how to teach the Dao to others, this is truly something to beware of.” The Great Dao is originally broad and level, but people refuse to walk steadily upon it. They always want shortcuts and quick results.

Thus Perfected Ziyang said: “If you do not understand true lead as the foundation, no matter how much effort you make, it will all be wasted. Forcibly abstaining from marital relations merely severs Yin and Yang; deliberately fasting from grains only leaves the stomach and intestines empty. Plants, minerals, gold, and silver are all impurities; clouds, rosy mists, the sun, and the moon are only hazy illusions. Even when breathing exercises (methods of regulating the breath) and visualization (methods of concentrating the spirit and contemplating images) are added, they are still unlike the Great Dao of the Golden Elixir.” Therefore, the scripture says: “The Great Dao is very level, yet people prefer to take side paths.”

Here, the court is likened to the human body, the fields to daily affairs, the storehouses to inner fullness, and fine ornamentation to outward adornment. If the body appears orderly while affairs are neglected, the heart is empty while the exterior is lavishly decorated, and one wears a sharp sword to encourage aggression, rejects food and relies on medicines to nourish oneself, hoards wealth, and boasts of licentiousness and theft, such a life will not last. How could this be the Great Dao?

Perfected Ziyang also said: “If you do not understand Yin and Yang, and host and guest, how can you know what to draw near and what to keep at a distance? People who merely sit in their chambers and guard the coccyx point, near the base of the spine, do not know how many they have mistakenly harmed.” This is precisely the situation being described.

Chapter Fifty-Four: What Is Well Established Cannot Be Uprooted

What is well established has a foundation that will not waver; what is well held will not be lost. In this way, the ancestral sacrifices of one’s descendants will never cease. Cultivate yourself, …

Those skilled in following the Dao (the Way) to establish themselves will not have their foundations shaken. Those skilled in upholding De (Virtue) will not lose it. In this way, their descendants can make offerings to them from generation to generation without interruption.

When moral cultivation is put into practice in one’s own life, De becomes genuine and pure. When it is practiced in the family, De accumulates and benefits others. In the community, De endures over time; in the state, it grows abundant and full; and throughout the world, it is put into practice everywhere.

Thus, to understand an individual, one looks at that person’s own circumstances. To understand a family, community, state, or the world, one likewise examines the actual circumstances of each. In this way, the De of an individual corresponds to genuineness and purity; the De of a family, to accumulated abundance; the De of a community, to lasting continuity; the De of a state, to fullness and prosperity; and the De of the world, to universal practice.

How do I know that the world is as I have described? I know it by this principle.

Those who are skilled at establishing the Dao understand that when Yang Qi first stirs and all things awaken, one should remain like a hidden dragon, in no haste to act. Their foundations are firm and cannot be shaken. Those who are skilled at holding to De cleanse their hearts, carefully observe their precepts, and withdraw into quiet seclusion. Their virtue is secure and will not be lost.

Thus, those who are skilled at establishing and upholding the Dao and De do not serve lords and princes, but set their aspirations on noble undertakings. This is like the line “Taking up the father’s unfinished work” in the first six line of the Yijing: carrying on what earlier generations left incomplete, with one’s heart set on following in their footsteps. Hence the descendants can continue the ancestral sacrifices without interruption.

Cultivate oneself through Dao and De, and one becomes sincere and honest. Govern a family through them, and the family will have abundance to spare. Govern a village through them, and it will enjoy lasting peace. Govern a state through them, and the state will prosper. Govern all under Heaven through them, and peace will prevail everywhere.

Extend this from one person to many, and virtue becomes more sincere; from one family to ten thousand, and virtue becomes more abundant; from one village to ten thousand, and virtue endures longer; from one state to ten thousand states, and virtue grows more flourishing; from one realm under Heaven to innumerable realms under Heaven, and virtue becomes universal. How do I know that this holds for innumerable realms under Heaven? Because Dao and De are firmly rooted and cannot be uprooted or lost.

When explaining “De,” Deng Qi says: “Zixian once said that, counted by the months, one ‘return’ each month is reckoned as a turn. There are nine turns in a year: nine returns that come together again. The key is to calculate punishment and virtue according to ‘two and eight,’ so that ‘five and six’ return to the midst of Wuxu and Ji. This refers to the rules governing the movements of Yin-Yang, seasonal cycles, and the Five Phases in Daoist Neidan cultivation. The bathing of the Crow and the Jade Hare—figures for the sun and moon—takes place at a crucial juncture that can neither be left behind nor skipped. The hidden dragon is in a state of ‘do not act’; it truly must not be forced to rise. Hence it is said: what is skillfully established cannot be uprooted; what is skillfully held cannot slip away.

This Daoist method began with Fuxi and has been passed down from generation to generation through oral instruction and transmission from heart to heart. It continues to the present day. It does not depend on writing, yet it has never been apart from writing. Is this merely a matter of the descendants of the Shang dynasty being numerous and passing things down through the generations? People of every age may be called descendants of the Dao, so why worry that no one will carry on the sacrifices? Apply this principle to cultivating oneself and governing one’s community, and then to governing the state and the world: there is nowhere it cannot be put to use.

Thus, when the sage regards the bodies of all under Heaven as his own, he can see what is real within them; when he regards their households as his own, he can see what their family estates have left over; when he regards their communities as his own, he can see the Way that endures; when he regards their states as his own, he can see abundance; and when he regards the whole world as his own, he can see the principle that encompasses all things. From this, we can see that the sage’s insight reaches not only billions of years into the past, but also billions of generations into the future. Through this, I have come to understand the matter.

Chapter 55: The Abundance of One Who Holds De

One who holds De (Virtue/Power) in abundance is like an infant. Venomous creatures do not sting it; fierce beasts do not attack it; birds of prey do not swoop down on it. Its bones are weak and its sinews soft, yet its grip is firm. It does not yet know sexual union, yet it can become erect: this shows that its Jing (essence) and Qi (vital energy) are abundant. It cries all day without becoming hoarse: this shows that its harmonious Qi is full. To understand harmony is to understand the constant Way; to understand the constant Way is to be enlightened. Deliberately trying to increase one’s life and forcing oneself to live long instead bring calamity. Using the mind to force Qi into submission is to overreach. When things grow excessively strong, they grow old; this is called being out of accord with the Dao (the Way). What is out of accord with the Dao soon perishes.

Those who understand how to cultivate De deeply are like newborn infants. Venomous creatures will not sting them, fierce beasts will not harm them, and birds of prey will not swoop upon them, because they have not entered a life-threatening danger. An infant’s bones are weak and its sinews soft, yet it can grip tightly. It does not yet understand sexual union between man and woman, yet its genitals become erect naturally; this shows that its Jing and Qi are abundant to the utmost. An infant cries all day without its voice growing hoarse; this shows that its breath is harmonized to the utmost. To understand harmonization is to understand the constant Dao. To understand the constant Dao is to be wise. By holding to the constant Dao and acting with wisdom, one can add to life; this is called good fortune. To use the will to force the breath is called straining. When things become excessively strong, they grow old; this is called departing from the constant Dao. Once one has departed from the constant Dao, it is best to stop early.

Those who know how to nourish life have deep De and are like infants: walking on land, they do not encounter rhinoceroses or tigers; entering battle, they are not harmed by weapons. A rhinoceros cannot gore them with its horn, a tiger cannot wound them with its claws, and blades cannot pierce them. Why? Because they have not entered a life-threatening danger. Thus it is said that venomous creatures will not sting them, fierce beasts will not harm them, and birds of prey will not swoop upon them.

An infant’s body is not yet fully developed in any respect: at five months, its eyes can only just respond to light; at eight months, it begins to grow teeth; and only by the age of three have its lips developed enough for speech and eating. Before then, it knows almost nothing of worldly affairs. Precisely because it has neither knowledge nor desire, it has not entered a life-threatening danger. Thus an infant’s bones are exceedingly weak and its sinews exceedingly soft, yet its hand grips tightly on its own. It does not yet understand sexual union between man and woman, yet its genitals become erect; this shows that its Jing and Qi are abundant to the utmost. It cries all day without its voice growing hoarse; this shows that its breath is harmonized to the utmost.

To understand harmonization is to understand the constant Dao, and thus to be wise. By holding to the constant Dao and acting with wisdom, one can add to life. Observe your actions and examine the signs of good and ill fortune; through repeated cycles, one will ultimately attain great good fortune. If you do not grasp the principle in your heart, do not deliberately try to drive the breath. The unsteady, hurried rushing about seen nowadays are all signs that the breath has been disturbed. The heart-mind governs the Qi, and the Qi in turn directs the body. When Qi moves naturally in accordance with the heart-mind, this is called harmonization; when the heart-mind forcibly controls the Qi, this is called straining. When the heart-mind grows too forceful, the body declines. Things that become excessively strong will eventually grow old; this is called departing from the constant Dao. Once one has departed from the constant Dao, it is best to stop early.

Deng Qi explains: A person of deep De is pure and gentle like a newborn infant, tending the breath with single-minded focus until body and mind become supple. When Yin Qi arises, it moves water; when Yang Qi arises, it moves fire. Water and fire are paired with Wood, causing lead and mercury—metaphorical terms in Neidan practice—to rise and descend, blending together. After ten months, the “embryo” of internal alchemical cultivation matures and is complete. After a further three years, the practitioner sheds the old shell and reaches a new state.

Here, “stinging creatures” refers to the corpse worms, deities believed in Daoism to dwell in the human body and harm life; “beasts that crouch” refers to the Dragon and Tiger; and “the crow that struggles” refers to the Crow and Hare, symbols of the sun and moon. If practitioners can preserve an infant’s purity and harmony, the Three Peng (Three Corpse Spirits) have no way to administer poison, and the Yin-Yang forces of Metal and Wood, the sun and moon, and other powers cannot disturb them. Why is this so? Because they do not fall into the realm of death.

An infant’s bones are weak and its sinews soft; within it, Metal Lead and Wood Mercury remain in a state of unsettled rising and sinking. The infant’s firm grasp symbolizes how the patterns of heaven and earth have yet to reveal themselves readily. Though an infant does not understand sexual union, its body naturally differentiates. When a fetus has spent three months in the womb, the kidneys first begin to develop, a sign that its Jing and Qi are abundant. An infant can cry all day without its voice growing hoarse because its Dantian, the place within the body where Jing and Qi are cultivated, is secure, and its Qi Sea, where Qi gathers, is wholly integrated and harmonious—harmony brought to its utmost.

To understand “harmony” is to understand constancy, and thus to experience the Dao, which has neither beginning nor name. To understand constancy is to be called enlightened: one does not cling to what one has gained. To remain constant and clear-sighted is to open broadly into the realm of the wondrous spirit; this is the auspicious Way. All this means following what is natural, practicing Wuwei (non-action), and thereby leaving nothing undone. Therefore, in governing the world, one should always take non-interference as the foundation. Those who deliberately impose their will cannot govern the world. When the mind forces the breath into action, this is called striving for strength. When the mind and Qi strive for strength, they decline; when things grow excessively strong, they grow old. This is called being out of accord with the Dao. Since it is out of accord with the Dao, it is better to stop early.

“Chapter Fifty-Six: The One Who Knows Does Not Speak” is the chapter title. It begins: “Those who truly understand speak little; those who like to speak much do not truly understand.” Later, “blocking” means closing off and restraining. The text then repeats that when the mind and Qi strive for strength, they decline, and when things grow excessively strong, they grow old. It concludes: “Being out of accord with the Dao, it is better to stop early.”

One who understands the Dao does not cling to words; one who delights in speaking does not necessarily understand the Dao. Therefore, rein in the senses and desires, close the gates through which external temptations enter, blunt your sharp edges, untangle what is confused, soften your radiance, and merge with the dusty world. This is called “mysterious sameness”: becoming one with the profound and mysterious Dao. Such a person cannot be drawn near or pushed away, made to prosper or harmed, exalted or debased. Thus, they become the most honored person under Heaven.

The scripture says, “One who understands the Dao does not speak readily; one who delights in speaking does not understand the Dao.” So rein in the senses and close the gates; blunt your sharp edges and untangle what is confused; soften your radiance and merge with the dusty world. This is called being mysteriously in accord with the Dao of Heaven. Thus, no one can draw such a person near or push them away, make them prosper or suffer harm, raise them to prominence or lower them into obscurity. They are therefore the most honored person under Heaven.

Daoists say that the ancients studied to cultivate themselves. One who truly understands the Dao does not show off or speak at length. Today, some people study to display themselves before others; they delight in speaking, yet may not understand the Dao. What has Heaven ever said? The seasons follow their course. What has Earth ever said? All things grow as they should. One who understands the Dao does not speak at length, just as Heaven and Earth rely on no words, yet bring all things to fruition through their cycles and transformations.

In ancient times, people reverently taught the people the seasons, observed the sun, moon, and stars, and established the calendar. They plowed in spring and harvested in autumn, arranging farm work according to the seasons. All this shows that true effectiveness does not lie in empty talk. Only when the Great Dao declined were benevolence and righteousness promoted; only when cleverness came to the fore did great hypocrisy arise. Rather than speak idly, restrain your words: there is no need to say what is not in accord with the Dao. Rather than open the mind’s gates indiscriminately, act with care: there is no need to do what is not in accord with the Dao.

Blunt the competitive sharpness of all things so that they retain the substance of their achievements; untangle the many disturbances in people’s lives so that affairs can proceed smoothly; soften the radiance of the sun and moon so that you may merge with the ordinary world. Even if this is called “Heaven’s mystery,” it is what is meant by “mysterious sameness.” Thus, one who embraces this Dao does not serve kings and lords, but regards their own cultivation of the Dao as a noble pursuit. No one can draw them near or push them away, make them prosper or suffer harm, raise them to prominence or lower them into obscurity. The Son of Heaven cannot make them a subject, nor can the feudal lords make them a friend. How could such a person not be revered throughout the world?

De (moral cultivation) says: Those who recognize the original mind, see their innate nature, and thereby understand the root of life keep themselves deeply hidden, afraid only that others might discover them. How could they willingly show themselves and proclaim their insights everywhere? They are like someone who sees a leopard through a tube and catches sight of just one spot. Such people deserve neither esteem nor contempt. The Son of Heaven cannot treat them as subjects, and the feudal lords cannot treat them as friends. Are such people not precisely the most honored under Heaven?

De says: Those who recognize the original mind, see their innate nature, and thereby understand the root of life keep themselves deeply hidden, afraid only that others might discover them. How could they willingly show themselves and proclaim their insights everywhere? But those who see a leopard through a tube, catching sight of just one spot, hurry to boast of it to others, afraid that no one will know. How could they not proclaim it everywhere? Thus it is said, “Those who truly understand say little; those who say much do not understand.” The Perfected Person of Ziyang, a Daoist figure, said, “If you do not understand the principle of reversal and cyclical movement within it, do not hold forth about what you have glimpsed through a tube.”

Therefore, those who have truly attained the Dao block the apertures on the Yin side and close the gateways on the Yang side. They blunt boastful speech and dissolve clamor and confusion; they draw in their outward radiance and blend with the dust of the world. This is called “Mysterious Unity”—being in accord with the profound and wondrous Dao. The mysterious Dao is one with the myriad things, while the shared source of the myriad things is hidden deep in mystery. Mystery upon mystery: this is the gateway to all wonders. The Dao cannot be brought near, nor is it distant; it cannot be made remote, nor is it far away. It cannot be fully expressed in words. To dissolve clamor and confusion, draw in one’s radiance, and blend with the dust of the world is called “Mysterious Unity.” The mysterious is one with the myriad things, while their shared source is hidden deep in mystery. Mystery upon mystery: this is the gateway to all wonders. The Dao yields no benefit that can be taken from it, nor is there any increase; it suffers no harm, nor is there any loss. It cannot be made honored, nor does it hold any rank; it cannot be made contemptible, nor is it base. For this reason, it is the most honored under Heaven.

Chapter 57: Governing the State with Rectitude

Govern the state through the right way, direct warfare with stratagem, and gain the world through Wuwei (non-action). How do I know this should be so? The reasons are these: the more prohibitions and taboos there are under Heaven, the poorer the people become; the more sharp weapons people possess, the more disorderly the state becomes; the more skills people acquire, the more strange things arise; the more numerous and explicit the laws and decrees, the more thieves and bandits there are.

Therefore the sage says: I take no arbitrary action, and the people naturally transform themselves. I do not meddle and disturb them, and the people naturally grow prosperous. I cherish stillness, and the people naturally become upright. I have no greedy desires, and the people naturally become simple and unspoiled.

The scripture says, “Govern the state by upright methods that accord with the constant Way, and thieves will grow ever more numerous.” Thus the sage says, “When I do not act arbitrarily, the people become naturally simple and sincere. When I do not burden them, they become naturally prosperous. When I cherish stillness, they become naturally upright. When I have few desires, they become naturally unspoiled.”

The scripture also says, “Govern the state by the right Way, use unconventional methods in warfare, and win all under Heaven by not disturbing the people. How do I know this is so? I know it from this principle: the more prohibitions there are under Heaven, the poorer the people become; the more weapons people possess, the more disorder there is in the state; the more the people flaunt their skills, the more strange and unusual things appear; the more detailed and explicit the laws, the more numerous the thieves. All this is caused by rulers taking action and interfering excessively.”

So the sage says—here, the Three Sovereigns are meant—“When I do not act arbitrarily, the people become naturally simple and sincere. When I do not burden them, they become naturally prosperous. When I cherish stillness, they become naturally upright. When I have few desires, they become naturally unspoiled.”

Daoists believe that if a state’s policies are not upright, it cannot be governed in peace; if a military commander does not know how to win through the unexpected, victory will be difficult; and if those who govern the world cannot let the people live in peace and free from disturbance, they cannot gain the world. How do I know these principles? I understand them through this very principle.

The people of the world do not fear poverty; they fear a life without security. They do not fear having few people; they fear unequal distribution. When resources are distributed fairly, the people will not be trapped in poverty. When those above and below are in harmony, a small population will not be a cause for concern. When life is secure, the state will not be overturned. If prohibitions are imposed everywhere and the people are restricted at every turn, they will only become poorer.

In ancient times, people used hollows in the earth as wine vessels and raised cups to drink in observance of ritual. They made drums from earth and played simple instruments, yet this was enough to communicate with spirits. In those days, ritual and music came first, while the people remained unadorned and true to their nature. Later, people arranged offerings in halls and beside doorways, played bells, chimes, zithers, and flutes, and prepared a full array of ritual vessels. Yet the spirits sometimes did not accept the offerings. This was because later generations placed ritual and music first, and even a noble person might lose sincerity. The more ingenious devices people possessed, the more readily the state fell into disorder.

Once people began exchanging goods and redistributing what was scarce, they gradually used useless things to harm what was useful, looked down on everyday necessities, and pursued rare objects. Later came ingenious devices such as flying wheels, curved arrows, and wooden oxen and gliding horses. The people’s skills multiplied, and strange objects continued to appear. In time, laws and regulations grew ever more elaborate, and all kinds of wrongdoing increased. Each new order gave rise to yet more ways to deceive. The denser the laws and regulations, the more thieves there were.

Thus the sage says: When I do not act recklessly, the people transform themselves; this is using the Dao to nurture the people. When I do not create needless disturbances, the people enrich themselves; this is guiding the people through De. When I cherish stillness, the people set themselves right; this is encouraging them toward goodness through achievement. When I have few desires, the people return to simplicity; this is leading them through the power of my own example. The different ways of governing associated with emperors, kings, and hegemons are all contained within these principles.

When governance is lenient and not overly exacting, the people remain simple and honest; when governance is strict and minutely scrutinizing, the people become crafty and uneasy. Misfortune and good fortune depend on each other: even within misfortune, good fortune may lie hidden.

When government is generous and relaxed, the people remain simple and honest. When its commands are strict and exacting, the people become damaged and unsettled. Misfortune may conceal good fortune, and good fortune may conceal misfortune. Who can know where their changes will end? Can there really be no constant principle among them? What is upright may turn into the strange, and what is good may be regarded as evil. The people have been confused by this truth for a long time. Therefore, the sage is principled without harming others, pure without being harsh, upright without being unrestrained, and bright without showing off.

The Jing says: when government is lenient and generous, the people are simple; when its commands are discerning and severe, the people are broken and diminished. Thus misfortune and good fortune depend on one another and lie concealed within each other. When their changes reach an extreme, is there still a fixed right way? What is right may become strange, and what is good may become evil. The people have long been lost in this confusion. Therefore, although the sage is principled, he does not injure others; although pure, he does not wound them; although upright, he does not act without restraint; although radiant, he does not show off.

The Daoist classic gives these examples: under the rule of Yao and Shun, the people were honest and simple, and every household seemed worthy of ennoblement. An old man once sang while working the earth by the roadside: “When the sun rises, I work the fields; when it sets, I rest. I dig a well for water to drink and till the land for grain to eat. What merit does the emperor have in this?” This is what is meant by saying that every household could be ennobled. Under the rule of Jie and Zhou, the people suffered, and every household seemed deserving of punishment. At dawn on the Jiazi day, King Zhou of Shang led his great army into battle. The Shang soldiers at the front of the Zhou army turned their weapons around and attacked those behind them, and the Shang army was routed; blood flowed across the battlefield so deeply that it floated pestles. The phrase “every household deserving of execution” describes the disorder of the realm at that time, when guilt seemed to extend to everyone.

Yao abdicated the throne in favor of Shun, and Shun in turn abdicated in favor of Yu, rather than passing it to his own sons, Dan Zhu and Shang Jun. This shows that good fortune may be contained within misfortune. When Tang of Shang and King Wu of Zhou launched their revolutions in accord with Heaven’s will and the people’s wishes, this too showed that misfortune may lie concealed within good fortune. Misfortune and good fortune depend on each other. When their changes reach an extreme, can there still be a fixed, unchanging right way?

Shun once exiled, expelled, and punished the Four Evildoers. This shows that the right way may also appear unconventional. At the end of the Shang dynasty, Weizi left, Jizi was imprisoned, and Bigan was disemboweled. The good deeds of these benevolent men could also seem contrary to convention in the eyes of the world, and even bring disaster upon them. The people have long been lost in this truth. Therefore, although the sage is principled, he does not wound others with sharp edges; although pure, he does not cut others down or injure them; although upright, he does not act recklessly; although radiant, he does not show off.