《道德真经取善集(李霖)》Vol. 2

When a ruler fails to treat the people with sincerity, they lose their trust in him.

The chapter “When the Great Dao Declines” describes how, as the Great Dao waned, the world underwent successive changes, and the people’s customs changed with it. The Dao descended into De; when De declined, people turned to punishments. Punishments, too, failed to curb disorder, and deceit and disrespect eventually took hold. This shows that when those in authority lack integrity, the people will not trust them.

“When the Great Dao Declines”

Only after the Great Dao declined did benevolence and righteousness emerge.

The Imperial Commentary says: “When the Dao is lost, people speak of De; when De is lost, they speak of benevolence; when benevolence is lost, they speak of righteousness.” Benevolence regulates relations between people, while righteousness establishes one’s own position, but both take people ever further from the Dao. Han Yu did not examine the original purpose behind the sages’ teachings on Dao and De. Instead, he treated benevolence and righteousness as fixed, definite categories and Dao and De as vague abstractions. He therefore criticized Laozi for looking down on benevolence and righteousness, calling his understanding shallow. Zhuangzi called people like this “those blinded by obscurity”—people whose vision is clouded and who cannot see what is true.

The Great Dao was the way of the remote past, when people followed nature and governed through Wuwei (non-action). In those days, benevolence and righteousness were not conspicuous, just as the light of the stars disappears in the brilliance of the midday sun. “Decline” here means to disappear from view. After the Three Sovereigns, people’s hearts were no longer simple and sincere. The Great Dao became hidden, and benevolence and righteousness arose as the Dao waned. When fish leave rivers and lakes and become trapped in shallow water, breathing moisture onto one another becomes especially important. Likewise, when people lose the freedom that comes from following the Great Dao, the kindness offered through benevolence and righteousness stands out all the more. The Three Sovereigns followed the Great Dao; the Two Emperors promoted benevolence and righteousness. Zhuangzi said, “The Dao is obscured by partial achievements,” meaning that the Great Dao is hidden by limited accomplishments and practices.

Once cleverness and contrivance arise, serious hypocrisy follows.

Emperor Xuanzong of the Tang commented: “Those who use their cleverness often make laws. Once laws appear, wrongdoing also flourishes, and serious hypocrisy arises.”

Hui is based on wisdom, while wisdom is the application of hui. Wisdom can be small or great. Zhuangzi said, “Set aside small cleverness, and great wisdom will become clear.” Confucius, too, spoke of “liking to show off small cleverness.” Both remarks show that wisdom has different degrees. The Supreme One understood “small wisdom” here to mean treating deliberate artifice as cleverness, excessive scrutiny as insight, and presumptuously making laws. Once this kind of wisdom appears, deceit and hypocrisy among the people increase.

If people could observe things from near and far without interfering rashly, allowing all things to follow their nature and not damaging their simple, genuine character, sincere customs would flourish. How, then, could serious hypocrisy arise?

When relations among the six kinds of kin are discordant, filial devotion and parental affection become apparent. Here, “six kinds of kin” broadly refers to relatives such as parents and siblings.

Zhong Hui says: If everyone among the nine generations of kin lived in harmony, there would be no occasion for filial respect and affection to show themselves. It is discord among the six kinds of kin that makes filial devotion and parental affection stand out. Shuns father, Gusou, was stubborn and unruly, so Shun came to be known for his great filial piety. Zeng Xi disciplined his son Zeng Shen severely, while Zeng Shen became renowned for his skill in caring for his father.

Only when a state is benighted and disorderly do loyal ministers appear.

Prince Shu says: The Dao is hidden within what has no form, while reputation arises from some lack or deficiency. When the Dao is hidden without form, there are no distinctions of size or rank. When reputation arises from deficiency, different levels emerge, such as benevolence, righteousness, and wisdom. Benevolence means loving; righteousness means making distinctions. Once love and distinctions take hold, the Great Dao declines. Wisdom means knowing, and insight means discerning clearly; once knowing and discerning arise, great falsity also begins to grow.

Filial devotion means that each person cherishes their own kin; parental affection means that each person loves their own children. Such qualities become visible precisely because the six kinds of kin are not in harmony. Loyalty means loyalty to one’s own ruler; loyalty to another person’s ruler is regarded as treachery.

“Benighted” means lacking clarity; “disorderly” means lacking good governance. Only in benighted and disorderly times do loyal ministers come forward to support and save their rulers. The Commentary says, “Only in a troubled age can loyal ministers be seen.” Long Pang, for example, became renowned for his loyalty to Jie of Xia, while Bi Gan won praise for his loyalty to Zhou of Yin. This chapter says that the Dao is hidden in what is subtle, while fame arises from deficiency.

Chapter Nineteen: “Abandon Sageliness and Discard Wisdom”

Abandon what is called sageliness and clever wisdom, and the people will benefit a hundredfold.

Zhong Hui says: Eliminate the various rules and methods devised by sages, and cast aside the clever schemes and calculations of the wise; then people can return to simplicity and sincerity, and the benefits will be a hundredfold. “Sage” here means establishing institutions; “wise” means inventing devices. Those who are sage and wise make laws and issue decrees in the hope of forbidding wrongdoing and preventing disorder. Yet they do not realize that once laws are enacted, wrongdoing also begins to multiply, and once orders are issued, deceit follows. The people lose their natural, authentic way of life and gradually fall into confusion. If these laws and decrees were abolished, the people could recover their normal state and return to simplicity. Would the benefits not be far greater than a hundredfold? Zhuangzi says, “Smash the reputation of the sages and set the thieves free; only then will the world begin to be governed.”

Cast aside the name of benevolence and righteousness, and the people will once again be filial to their parents and loving toward their children.

Wang Yuanzhe says: In an age of abundant virtue, mutual affection between parents and children was enough. Now benevolence and righteousness are deliberately promoted, and names and realities become entangled with one another; gains and losses grow confused, and the people’s natural dispositions are disturbed. When things flourish exceptionally at the end of a cycle, their roots must be in decline. This is the natural order. Filial devotion and parental love are the roots of benevolence and righteousness. Someone asked, “Confucius and Mencius expounded the Way of Yao and Shun, teaching people specifically through benevolence and righteousness. Laozi, however, advocates returning to what is authentic. How should we understand this?” The reply was: “Summer takes growth as its work, while autumn takes gathering in as its virtue. The former makes all things flourish, but can easily lead them away from their roots; the latter withers all things, yet brings them back to their roots. The Great Dao moves like the seasons, and sages respond to the circumstances of their times. Once you understand this, you will see that the teachings of Confucius and Laozi follow one another in sequence.”

Cast aside cunning and greed for profit, and thieves will have no way to arise.

Wang Yuanzhe says: When cunning and the desire for profit prevail, the people’s desires swell and a life grounded in the essentials declines. In the end, some are bound to become thieves. The three matters discussed above all arise because secondary concerns harm what is fundamental.

“Cleverness” refers to artifice and cunning. Here, it means the sort of thinking that seeks profit through deceit and pursues wealth and goods. People forget what is right when they see an opportunity for gain. If this calculating impulse is cut off, the people will understand shame; if thoughts of greed and indulgence are abandoned, they will understand what is right. Then thieves will not arise. If deceit and the pursuit of profit are not abandoned, but are merely prohibited by continually adding more laws, theft will only increase. Zhuangzi says, “Cut off the fingers of Gong Chui, the legendary master craftsman, and people throughout the world will each reveal their natural skill.” He also says, “Destroy jade and pearls, and thieves will not arise.”

“These three” refers to the calculating cleverness, artificial adornment, and pursuit of profit mentioned earlier. They are not sufficient as foundations for governing. Therefore, people must be given something to return to: the practices of self-cultivation described below.

Ma Jiji says: “The simple nature is naturally complete, while ornamentation is deficient. These three have already strayed from the root and are left with only outward adornment; that is why they are insufficient. Therefore, people’s nature must be directed toward the four practices of self-cultivation that follow.”

“To manifest plainness and embrace simplicity” means to reveal one’s pure, simple nature and hold fast to what is uncarved.

The Prince of Shu says: “The text says ‘manifest plainness,’ not ‘preserve plainness’; ‘embrace simplicity,’ not ‘return to simplicity’; ‘lessen selfishness,’ not ‘be without self-interest’; and ‘reduce desires,’ not ‘have no desires.’ This is because one must first reveal one’s pure nature in order to preserve it; first embrace simplicity in order to return to it; first lessen selfishness in order to become selfless; and reduce desires so that one is gradually no longer drawn along by the things one covets.”

By manifesting plainness, one sees the simplicity of one’s nature and keeps external things from mixing with it. By embracing simplicity, one preserves the wholeness of one’s nature and keeps external things from damaging it.

“To lessen selfishness and reduce desires” means to diminish self-interest and desire.

The Imperial Commentary says: “To devote one’s thoughts entirely to one’s own interests is selfishness. Nothing is better for cultivating the mind and nature than lessening selfishness and reducing desires. When desires are few, the mind can be settled and distinguish what is within from what is without. Once one sees clearly where truth and falsity belong, De can be preserved and one’s nature can return to its original state.”

Ma Jiji says: “‘Manifest plainness’ refers to the practice to which the sage returns. When nothing external is mixed with it, it is called ‘plainness.’ Nothing is better for cultivating the mind and nature than lessening selfishness and reducing desires. When desires are few, the mind can be settled and distinguish what is within from what is without, discerning truth from falsity. De is preserved, and one’s nature can return to its original state.”

Ma Jüji says: “Manifesting the Uncarved” refers to the wisdom of the sage. What is unmixed with anything else is called “uncarved.” Manifesting what is genuine allows one to see the Dao. Seeing the Dao keeps one from acting recklessly; without reckless action, one no longer clings to the wisdom of the sage. “Embracing the Uncarved” refers to benevolence and righteousness. The “uncarved” is a whole piece of material that has not been worked. To embrace it is to preserve one’s nature; preserving one’s nature means not being confined to a fixed use. When one is not confined to a single course, there is no need to make a point of proclaiming benevolence and righteousness. Having few selfish thoughts and few desires addresses cunning and private gain. Taking oneself as one’s own possession is called “selfishness”; craving things outside oneself is called “desire.” Cunning and private gain arise from these. As selfish thoughts and desires diminish, cunning and private gain also decline. The chapter “Rifling Trunks” in the Zhuangzi makes the same point: proclaiming the wisdom of the sage, benevolence and righteousness, and cleverness in pursuit of profit brings harm, much as this chapter explains.

“Selfishness” means making oneself the center. Reduce selfish thoughts, and cunning and private gain will no longer burden you. “Desire” means a craving that arises when one’s nature is stirred. Reduce desire, and cunning and private gain will no longer disturb the heart. Li Tian says: This chapter teaches that to remove harmful effects as they spread, one must begin at their root; to curb a flood, one must first block its source. If no contrivances are devised, original simplicity will appear. If moral principles are not deliberately embellished, deep simplicity can be preserved. If cunning and the pursuit of profit are not practiced, selfish desires will fade. Then the natural harmony of Qi will flow freely on its own, nourishing people in their daily lives without their realizing it.

Cutting Off Learning Brings Freedom from Worry, Chapter Twenty

“Cut off learning, and there will be no worry.”

The Imperial Commentary says: Learning aims to investigate the principles of things. When people devote themselves single-mindedly to this inquiry, repeatedly weighing good and bad and examining orderly and chaotic times, how could they be free of worry? Learning aims to reach an understanding of the Dao. Once one has seen the Dao, one lets go of attachment to learning and continues to diminish, until one reaches Wuwei, where nothing is left undone. In this way, one can follow the natural course of life and be at ease wherever one is; thus there is no sorrow.

Sima Guang says: Learning cannot be abandoned because people hope to seek the Dao through it. But if they forsake the root and chase after the branches, they labor without result. In that case, it is better not to learn and to be free of worry.

“Abandon learning” means realizing the Great Dao. Those who truly realize the Great Dao are content in hardship and content in ease. They regard adversity and success as natural as the changing of the seasons. They neither cling to life nor loathe death, seeing life and death as ordinary as the alternation of day and night. Such people share in the joy of Heaven and Earth; all concerns dissolve from their hearts. What could they still worry about?

Here, “abandon” does not mean that people should stop learning. Laozi worried that people would become absorbed in scholarship, damage their original nature with ornate language, and disturb their minds in pursuit of breadth, making it impossible for them to realize the Great Dao. That is why he proposed “abandoning learning.” If people do not learn, how can they enter the Dao? Zixia said, “The gentleman reaches his Dao through learning.” The key to reaching the Great Dao is to forget self-interest and devote oneself wholly to the Dao. Only when learning has reached this point can it be called “abandoned.” As for those who do not learn, they are already empty and ignorant; what learning is there for them to abandon? Yang Ziyun failed to explore the Sage’s deeper meaning. He thought that people who do not learn may have no worries, but are no different from animals. How could he understand what the Sage meant by “abandoning learning”?

How great a difference is there between the responses “wei” and “e”? How far apart are good and evil?

The Imperial Commentary says: “Wei” and “e” sound similar; good and evil originally arise from the same nature. Those with shallow understanding divide them into opposing sides out of self-interest, while those who see clearly take the whole into account and know that they do not differ at their root. “Wei” and “e” may sound different, but both arise from sound; good and evil may be distinct, but either can depart from the Dao. This makes the point that learning and not learning, wisdom and foolishness, seem different from one another: the learned are like those who answer “wei” and do good, while the unlearned are like those who answer “e” and do evil. Yet the clever may go too far, and the dull may fall short; in their departure from the Dao, they are no different.

What people fear must also be treated with due respect.

The “Imperial Commentary” says: The force that brings all things to life and sets them in motion, yet does not worry over worldly affairs as a sage does, is the Dao. What people share in bearing good and bad fortune and calamity is “affairs.” Those who understand and follow the Dao have no worries; those caught up in worldly affairs have fears. When people fail to learn from what they fear, few can avoid being brought to a halt or thrown into confusion by it. For this reason, the exemplary person remains mindful of reverence and awe, examining and correcting themselves. The Book of Songs says, “Stand in awe of Heaven’s majesty.” Emperor Xuanzong of Tang said: Ordinary people fear negligence and wrongdoing; those of virtue fear becoming mired in worldly learning and deliberate action. These are things one must put aside, so one must remain vigilant.

People busy themselves with learning but fail to grasp its meaning. Things from outside keep pouring in, disturbing the mind instead. This is precisely what people should be on guard against. Unless one abandons attachment to learning, one cannot understand the Great Dao.

“Desolate—there is no end to it.”

The Heshang Gong commentary explains: The world is in turmoil, and people seek advancement through endless study and the pursuit of fine words, thereby disturbing their minds and spirits. This is precisely what they should be on guard against. Unless they abandon this attachment, they cannot understand the Great Dao.

“Desolate—there is no end to it.”

The Heshang Gong commentary explains: The world is in turmoil, and people pursue learning and literary embellishment without restraint. “Desolate” means that order has been lost. If one does not abandon attachment to learning, one’s upright nature will fall into ruin; the distress caused by this loss of order will have no end.

The crowd is delighted, as if attending a lavish sacrificial feast or climbing a terrace in spring to look out over the distance.

Wang Yuanzhe explains: The transformations of Heaven and Earth, through which all things come into being and change, are boundless, and all things continually grow. Only the sage can comprehend past and present without being shaken by change. The crowd, however, shifts with changes in the world and recklessly pursues things: when they see something beautiful, they rejoice and want to possess it, taking this way of life to be wonderful. In spring, all things flourish, and people too can easily turn away from stillness and become restless, abandoning the root to pursue the branches. A terrace is a place from which one can look out in every direction. When people do not understand the fundamental principle, they pursue external things and give rise to all kinds of emotions; this is exactly what happens.

All things grow warm and flourish through Yang Qi, and take shape through the condensing force of Yin Qi. Yang governs movement; Yin governs stillness. “Xixi” describes a restless, cheerful, and exuberant disposition. “Grand sacrificial feast” refers to beef, rich in flavor; a “spring terrace” is a high place from which one looks out over the surrounding landscape. Here these images illustrate how people, through the contrivances of learning, chase after external things and lose their original nature. This is what they look like.

The taste of the Dao is bland and flavorless. It is inwardly full, yet does not appear ornate; this is what those who have cast aside worldly learning cherish. Deliberately pursuing learning leads one to lose the Dao and stray from the stillness of one’s nature, turning instead to single-minded pursuit of external things. Their hearts bustle with excitement: gaining a little understanding is like tasting rich delicacies to satisfy the palate; broadening one’s knowledge and experience is like climbing a high terrace to enjoy the view and delight the mind. The more they sink into these pleasures, the farther they drift from the Dao.

I alone seem still and unmoving, as though no signs have yet appeared, like an infant who has not learned to smile.

The Imperial Commentary says: The Dao De Jing speaks of “returning to the state of an infant.” An infant’s desires and thoughts have not yet arisen; the infant regards those near and dear and those distant and unfamiliar alike, and remains still and unmoving. Harmony gathers within, but no outward signs of cleverness or brilliance have yet emerged. Hence the image of an infant who has not yet learned to smile.

“Fearful” here carries the sense of being still, without movement or flow. In stillness, one can experience the Dao’s flavor of no flavor and return to the original state of one’s nature. How is this different from being an infant?

When I set out, it is as though I were riding in a carriage, yet I seem to have no fixed destination.

The Imperial Commentary says: “At times riding the six dragons to govern Heaven” means responding to the times and guiding the movement of Heaven and Earth. “Riding along” means acting in accord with the occasion and following principle, without clinging to any one position; hence it appears as though one has no fixed destination.

“Riding along” also suggests movement and transformation. When still, the Perfected One is like an infant; when acting, they respond to the transformations of all things, moving with change and attaching themselves to no particular direction.

Everyone else seems to have more than enough.

Ma Jiji says: Human nature originally has neither excess nor deficiency. What is called “excess” consists of things outside one’s nature. Enjoying lavish banquets and climbing a spring terrace to take in the view are both forms of seeking something extra. That is why the text next speaks of “more than enough.”

Everyone devotes themselves to learning, believing that increasing their knowledge is beneficial, and so they seem rich and well supplied. I alone seem to have forgotten things and accumulated nothing.

Ma Jiji said: To “seem to have forgotten” does not mean truly forgetting. It means only that one does not regard those things as precious or cling to them. Those who learn nothing at all are the ones who truly forget. A person who has attained the Dao is not one who refuses to learn; rather, as worldly learning keeps growing and spreading, that person deliberately abandons it in order to put an end to its harmful effects.

To abandon worldly learning and awaken to the Great Dao, one must lessen one’s accumulated knowledge and experience. This is what is meant by “in seeking the Dao, one must diminish day by day.”

My heart is truly like that of a fool: plain and undivided.

Ma Jiji said: This sentence follows from “I alone seem to have forgotten.” Everyone devotes themselves to learning and considers themselves clever; I alone abandon worldly learning, so I appear to be a fool. Yet the fool’s heart is simple and unadulterated. Though it seems dull, it is not truly foolish. The Zhuangzi says, “‘Pure’ means not damaging the original reality of a person’s spirit.”

“Foolish” means not displaying cleverness; “pure” means not mixing things together. Learning easily leads people to chase knowledge and clever contrivances. Abandoning worldly learning and casting off such contrivances makes one seem foolish. This is what is meant by “great wisdom appears foolish.”

People of the world are radiant and conspicuous; I alone seem dim and unaware. People of the world are sharp and exacting; I alone seem broad and unformed.

The Zuanwei says: “‘Sharp and exacting’ means severe and astute; ‘broad and unformed’ means generous and unhurried.” People of the world use learning to govern the realm: their institutions are strict, their laws harsh, and they prize stiff self-restraint and forced conduct. As a result, the people cannot live in peace. Those who have attained the Dao take Heaven as their model and follow the Great Dao. They respond to the nature of things, making the realm broad and settled and allowing the people to preserve their inborn nature. The Zhuangzi says, “The highest Dao is dim and still, silent and without words.” This expresses precisely that meaning.

“Brightly perceptive” means conspicuous cleverness; “not bright” suggests darkness and obscurity. “Sharp and exacting” means harsh and petty, while “dull and unassuming” means generous and tolerant. Ordinary people devote themselves to becoming clever, scrutinizing minute details and guessing at hidden motives, thinking this is true discernment. But such discernment is not the illumination spoken of by the Great Dao. Those who have truly realized the Great Dao cast aside scheming and calculation, forget the distinction between self and other, and no longer discriminate at every turn. They therefore seem somewhat dull or dim. This is only how they appear on the surface; it does not mean they are naturally foolish.

Apply conspicuous cleverness to governing, and governance becomes harsh and cumbersome. As the saying goes, when someone is excessively shrewd and exacting, no companions wish to draw near. Apply an apparently dim attitude to governing, and it appears generous and tolerant: one treats things leniently and does not make unreasonable demands of others.

“Vague, as though obscure; silent, as if there were nowhere to settle”: it is indistinct and dark, so still that it seems to have no fixed place of return. The imperial commentary says: Deep stillness and a settled disposition are the Dao in its entirety; responding to change without losing one’s root is the Dao in its function.

Everyone has something to rely on and displays their abilities; I alone seem foolish and unpolished. The imperial commentary says: The cassia tree bears fruit that can be eaten, so it is felled; the lacquer tree yields lacquer that can be used, so it is tapped. People know only the benefits brought by what is useful, and do not know that the useless, too, has its value. Everyone relies on their abilities to seek usefulness; this is “the usefulness of what is useful.” I alone seem foolish and lowly; this is “the usefulness of what is useless.” The Commentary says that when the mind does not follow the standards of Virtue and righteousness, it is called “stubborn.” The ancients called settled, cultivated land “fine” and wilderness “lowly.” To be stubborn is not to show off one’s cleverness; to be lowly is not to display outward refinement. The spirit person, one who has realized the Great Dao, therefore does not display their abilities and is not regarded as a useful material.

“Use” means the way something serves a purpose. Most people study so they can be useful in the world; this is what is called “the use of usefulness.” But how could they know that setting aside ordinary learning, though it seems useless, is in fact what is truly useful?

“Simple” describes a plain, uncontrived manner; “rustic” describes a rough, unadorned manner. Those who scrutinize everything and distinguish every matter clearly divide root from branch. Such people cannot be content with a plain state that seems useless.

I alone differ from other people: what I prize is drawing nourishment from the mother.

Ma Jüji says: This sentence follows on from the preceding idea, “before the baby has begun to smile.” A baby takes its mother as its root. Before it has grown, it knows only how to depend on its mother to live. It seems to have no worldly use and appears plain and ignorant, like someone who has never studied and does nothing.

Ma Jüji also says: A baby takes its mother as its root. Before it has grown, it feeds on the root; once grown, it feeds on the branches. The Dao is the root, and learning is the branches. Others pursue the branches, while I hold fast to the root: this is how I differ from other people. The sage does not deliberately set out to distinguish himself, yet naturally stands alone. Because worldly people are sunk in conventional learning, changing this tendency requires a departure from worldly ways; without such a distinction, it cannot be changed.

This chapter takes “abandoning learning” as its central theme; every sentence in it implies setting aside worldly learning. If one does not abandon such learning, the more one sees and hears, the more easily knowledge pulls one along and causes one to lose one’s original nature, letting dust settle over the mind. That is why the chapter ends by saying that one prizes “drawing nourishment from the mother”: here, “mother” refers to the Dao. Only by avoiding the burden of worldly learning can one nourish the Dao; those who possess the Dao therefore differ from worldly people.

End of Volume Three of Collected Insights into the True Classic of the Way and Its Virtue.

Collected Insights into the True Classic of the Way and Its Virtue, Volume Four

Compiled by Li Lin, a layman of Raoyang in the Song dynasty

Chapter Twenty-One: The Form of Great De

The form of great De follows only the Dao.

The Imperial Commentary says: The mutual transformations of Yin and Yang are called the Dao; through it, the myriad things receive life, and this is called De. The Dao is eternally nameless.

The Imperial Commentary says: The alternation of Yin and Yang is the Dao. Through it, the myriad things receive life; this power of bringing forth the myriad things is called De. The Dao is originally nameless and cannot be depicted in any concrete form, so it must be made manifest through De. De has definite expressions and forms. Though the myriad things differ from one another, all receive their vitality from the Dao; thus De can reveal the Dao. To cultivate one’s nature and return to De is to bring De to its highest level, where it becomes one with the original state. Therefore, one should simply follow the Dao.

The Collected Subtle Interpretations says: The Dao is originally nameless and can be made manifest only through De. The highest De has no fixed fundamental form; it takes shape in accordance with the Dao. A person of expansive De may outwardly seem to resemble many different forms. How could one see clearly what he is? Only faint traces of his bearing in accord with the Dao can be discerned. Conduct that accords with ritual propriety is the fullest expression of flourishing De. Yet a person of flourishing De may look dull and foolish. How could one see clearly what he is? Only by observing how he acts in accordance with the Dao can one glimpse something of him. Seeing with the eyes, hearing with the ears, smelling with the nose, speaking with the mouth, holding things with the hands, and walking with the feet—all can accord with the Dao. Therefore, one should simply follow the Dao.

The Dao is only indistinct and elusive, difficult to see clearly.

The Imperial Commentary says: The Dao’s essential nature is exceedingly subtle and formless, yet its functioning is mysterious; in this way it brings forth the myriad things. And yet the myriad things are all expressions of the Dao. “Indistinct” suggests that it seems to have an image one could compare to something; “elusive” suggests that it seems to leave traces one could follow. But what is called “being” is also close to “nonbeing.” Thus it is said that the Dao is indistinct and elusive, difficult to understand. To observe it in this way is to accord with the Dao, and thereby one can attain it.

Gu Huan says: If one says that it truly exists, it has neither color nor sound. If one says that it truly does not exist, it nevertheless has reliable traces and subtle substance. Since its essential nature cannot be fixed as either being or nonbeing, it is called indistinct and elusive. To observe it in this way is to accord with the Dao, and thus one can attain it.

Ma Juji says: When something seems to exist within nonbeing, this is called “indistinct”; when something seems not to exist within being, this is called “elusive.” This is the state of the Dao. The Dao appears indistinct, elusive, and formless, and ultimately returns to formlessness; therefore, it cannot be grasped.

Wang Yuanze says: The Dao encompasses Yin and Yang. When Yin and Yang first arise, at their most subtle, they seem to be both absent and present. This is what is called “indistinct and elusive.”

Within the indistinct and elusive, there seems to be an image; within the elusive and indistinct, there seems to be a real thing.

What can be seen is called an “image,” and what has a body is called a “thing.” In a state that is indistinct and hard to grasp, images and things are already present. It is like thunder and wind arising in the open sky, or water and fire emerging from the earth. From this, all kinds of transformations take shape, and the spirits and deities set things in motion. This is the subtlety of the Dao (the Way). Thus, in indistinctness, there seems to be an image; in indistinctness, there seems to be a thing.

In deep obscurity, a subtle essence is contained. “Yao” means darkness at its deepest; “ming” means light concealed within. In this darkness, the source of the utmost Yin is contained. Tianyi—the primordial Qi (vital energy) from which the myriad things arise—emerges from it, and subtle Qi is born from it as well.

This subtle Qi is utterly real, and it contains signs that can be trusted. Wang Yuanze says that “essence” is the starting point from which form develops. Essence is inherently real, but it is called “most real” because the myriad things can lose their original order, while people often mix in what is contrived. The vital essence in the depths of darkness enables the myriad things to form their distinct kinds. As they come into being, each receives a fitting nature and life, measure, and pattern. Since each follows definite principles, its course can be inferred in advance without error. This is what “trustworthy” means. Zhuangzi says, “Before things take form, they are already distinguished.” Essence is the utmost reach of Heaven’s De (Virtue/Power); “real” means free of falsity, and “trustworthy” means without error.

From ancient times to the present, neither the name nor the substance of the Dao has ever disappeared. Heshang Gong says that “self” means “from”: from ancient times to the present, the Dao has always existed and has never departed. Wang Yuanze says that the constant Dao and its constant name have never changed. Ma Jiji says that as the myriad things keep changing, their names change too. What was once called “right” may now be called “wrong”; the only thing that endures on its own through past and present is the Dao.

Through this, the Dao examines the root and beginning of the myriad things. Wang Bi says that “the myriad beginnings” refers to the origins of all things; in its nameless state, the Dao examines how they begin.

“Survey” means to look over comprehensively, and “beginning” means the origin. The Dao is always present, so it can survey the roots and beginnings of all things. “Survey” is used here as in “I have surveyed many people”: it means to see and examine.

How do I know that the many beginnings of all things are like this? By relying on this principle.

Su Ziyou says: The sage can know why the myriad things return to unity because the mind and spirit are pure. “Model” means a standard. Unity is the source of the many things. The sage holds fast to the essential root, which is simple and few, in governing the world; when things become numerous, people are easily confused. The sage embraces unity and does not depart from the pure Dao. Then people throughout the world leave behind complexity and return to the root. That is why the sage can serve as a model for the world.

Not clinging to one’s own views, one can see clearly.

The Imperial Commentary says: When one is not obscured by personal views, one can illuminate all things; this is seeing clearly. Emperor Shun of Yu opened his eyes and ears wide and broadened his field of observation. This may be called not clinging to what one personally sees. He could discern all kinds of things and understand human relationships. Is this not seeing clearly? King Cheng was open-hearted and unobstructed, without shutting himself off. This too may be called not clinging to what one personally sees. His heart was bright, open, and clear. Is this not also seeing clearly?

Not claiming to be right, one’s name becomes renowned.

The Imperial Commentary says: If one does not favor what one personally deems “right,” but follows only what is truly right, one’s achievements will be great and one’s name will be renowned; people throughout the world will also trust one. This is what “renowned” means.

Lü Jifu says: If one judges by what the people of the world recognize as right and does not cling to one’s own view, then what is recognized as right will not be confined by personal understanding. Hence the saying: “Not claiming to be right, one becomes renowned.”

Not boasting of oneself, one can accomplish great things.

The Imperial Commentary quotes the Book of Documents: “If you do not boast of yourself, no one in the world will contend with you for credit.”

Wang Anshi says: When one does not boast of oneself, good deeds are not undermined; thus one can establish achievements.

Not vaunting oneself, one can endure.

The Imperial Commentary quotes the Book of Documents: “If you do not vaunt your own worthiness, no one in the world will contend with you over ability.”

Lü Jifu says: Let the myriad things each act according to their innate abilities, while I do not boast of this. Thus one can endure. By not boasting of one’s achievements, one’s good deeds are not lost, and one can therefore accomplish things.

By not boasting, one can endure.

The Imperial Commentary cites the Book of Documents: “So long as you do not boast, no one under Heaven can compete with you in ability.”

Lü Jifu says: Let the myriad things each act according to their innate abilities, while I do not boast. Thus one can endure.

Precisely because he does not contend with others, no one under Heaven can contend with him.

The Imperial Commentary says: Everyone wants to be first; only you are willing to remain behind. This is called bearing the world’s filth. Such a person always stays where there is no contention. Who, then, could contend with him?

Su Ziyou says: Forget the self, and you will not compete for superiority. Not claiming to be right, not showing off, not boasting of one’s achievements, and not praising oneself are all expressions of non-contention. That is why this passage concludes with “not contending.”

Could the ancients’ saying, “Yield, and you will be preserved,” really be empty words?

The Old Man of the River says: The ancients followed circumstances and yielded, and so preserved themselves. These words are no empty claim.

One who truly preserves himself will ultimately return to the Dao.

The Imperial Commentary says: The sage acts like water, touching all things without being diminished. He preserves himself and responds to things as precisely as an ink line…

Could the ancients’ saying, “Yield, and you will be preserved,” really be empty words?

The Old Man of the River says: The ancients followed circumstances and yielded, and so preserved themselves. These words are no empty claim.

One who truly preserves himself will ultimately return to the Dao.

The Imperial Commentary says: The sage acts like water, touching all things without being diminished. He preserves himself and responds to things as precisely as an ink line, following the grain of things without losing what is straight. He knows that occupying a low place brings fullness, and so is not burdened by arrogance and complacency. He also knows that things can be renewed after they have grown worn, and so leaves no trace of self-display. He acts in accordance with his nature without deliberately thinking of himself as acting: this is yielding carried to its utmost. Thus he can preserve himself and return to the Dao. He can nurture his body and live out his natural years, without feeling that he is deliberately pursuing longevity. Such a person is called one whose De is complete. Could this really be empty talk?

Zhong Hui says: One who can truly hold to yielding will naturally receive the result of preserving himself whole.

This chapter discusses nourishing life, and its central point is to forget the private self. When you are not attached to yourself, you can respond flexibly to change without treating your own views as a standard. You can yield to benefit others without claiming your own positions as private property. When you understand that low places can hold abundance, you will not boast of yourself; when you understand that what has grown old and decayed can also be renewed, you will not think yourself superior. Follow your nature without insisting on controlling it, and you can preserve yourself through flexible adjustment. The chapter begins and ends with the image of bending to explain how wholeness is achieved.

Chapter Twenty-Three: “Few Words Are Natural”

Speaking little accords with nature.

Gu Huan said: “‘Few’ means little. If people can cherish their Jing and speak little, their conduct will accord with nature.”

The Zuānwēi says that when someone asks the perfected person—one whose cultivation has reached a high level—for guidance, the perfected person responds; when encountering things, they act or remain still according to the moment. In this way, they accord with nature.

Lu Dian said that nothing can force a thing to become what it is, and nothing can force it not to become what it is. This is called nature.

A gale cannot blow all morning; a downpour cannot last all day.

Wang Yuanzhe said: “Wind and rain arise from the interaction of Yin and Yang. Gales and downpours arrive with excessive force because that interaction has become excessive, so they cannot last long.”

A whirling wind is a gale, and a sudden rainstorm is a downpour. The time from morning until noon is called “the whole morning”; the time from morning until evening is called “the whole day.” Gales and downpours are forceful phenomena that depart from the ordinary course of things. So even though Heaven and Earth produce them, they cannot make them last for a whole morning or an entire day. If people’s words do not accord with nature, they will speak too much and eventually fall into difficulty.

Who brings about such winds and rains? Heaven and Earth. Even Heaven and Earth cannot make them last long, so how much less can people?

Heaven and Earth bring forth the myriad things. The wind scatters the clouds, allowing each thing to take shape; rain nourishes the myriad things, allowing each to grow. Heaven and Earth do not deliberately add to the life of things or hurry them to maturity, so the myriad things can develop naturally between Heaven and Earth and endure over time. If wind and rain arrive with violent force and suddenness, they throw Yin-Yang out of balance. If someone deliberately drives such changes, the myriad things will be harmed, and they will not endure.

Wind and rain arise through the mutual response of Yin and Yang; when they are violent and sudden, that response has gone too far. Even Heaven and Earth, vast as they are, cannot withstand excessive change. How much less can a person, who lives between Heaven and Earth and is so small, withstand it? From this we can see that too much talk and hurried action quickly bring things to ruin.

Therefore, one who acts in accordance with the Dao:

Wang Bi says: “‘Acting in accordance with the Dao’ means conducting oneself in every action according to the Dao. The Dao brings things to completion and supports them through formlessness and Wuwei. One who acts in accordance with the Dao takes Wuwei as a guiding principle and does not teach through words. Their influence continues without end, yet seems to leave no trace, allowing the myriad things to preserve their original nature and become one with the Dao. Hence the text says, ‘Those who follow the Dao are one with the Dao.’”

“Those who follow the Dao are one with the Dao.”

The Heshang Gong commentary says: “‘Those who follow the Dao’ refers to the myriad things that delight in the Dao. One who acts in accordance with the Dao takes Wuwei as a guiding principle and does not teach through words. Their influence continues without end, yet seems to leave no trace, allowing the myriad things to preserve their original nature and become one with the Dao. Hence the text says, ‘Those who follow the Dao are one with the Dao.’”

“Those who follow the Dao are one with the Dao.”

Heshang Gong also says: “‘Those who follow the Dao’ refers to people who delight in the Dao. ‘Are one with the Dao’ means that they accord with the Dao.”

“Those who follow De are one with De.”

Heshang Gong says: “‘Those who follow De’ refers to people who possess De. ‘Are one with De’ means that they accord with De.”

“Those who follow loss are one with loss.”

Cai Zihuang says: “Deliberate action, eagerness to compete, and attachment to doctrines that leads to confusion: this is called ‘loss.’ If one accords with this kind of ‘loss,’ one cannot open oneself to the Great Dao. The phrase ‘the Dao is lost’ means that the person has lost the Dao within themselves.”

The Dao is inherently spontaneous. Those who act in accordance with the Dao, once they have understood it, do not cling to words; this is being in harmony with the Dao. One who attains the Dao is said to possess De. Those who accord with De speak little; this is being in harmony with De. To turn away from the Dao is to lose the Dao. Those who have lost it speak at length; this is being in harmony with having lost the Dao.

The Dao welcomes those who are in harmony with it; De welcomes those who are in harmony with it; and the loss of the Dao welcomes those who are in harmony with that loss.

The Riverbank Elder says: The Dao willingly welcomes those who are in harmony with it; De willingly welcomes those who are in harmony with it; and the loss of the Dao willingly welcomes those who are in harmony with that loss.

When trust is insufficient, others will not trust you.

Zhong Hui says: If my trust in the Dao is insufficient, the Dao will not respond to me, and so both sides lose the chance to be in harmony. This is precisely what is meant by saying that the loss of the Dao willingly welcomes those who are in harmony with that loss.

When trust is insufficient, others will not trust you.

Zhong Hui says: If my trust in the Dao is insufficient, the Dao will not respond to me, and the two sides will therefore fall out of harmony. The Dao welcomes those who are in harmony with it; when someone trusts the Dao, the Dao responds to that trust. When someone is in harmony with having lost the Dao, the Dao loses that person. This is the meaning of “When trust is insufficient, others will not trust you.”

The central theme of this chapter is “speaking little.” To speak little means to act in accordance with the Dao. The Dao and people respond to one another and accord with each other, so they are in harmony with nature. Thus the text goes on to say that the Dao welcomes those who are in harmony with it, while the loss of the Dao welcomes those in harmony with that loss. The roots of gain and loss lie in whether speech is sparse or abundant. Those who speak much are liable to invite trouble from others and, within themselves, deplete Jing and Qi. If people wish to endure, they should speak little and preserve what is within.

Chapter Twenty-Four: Those who rise onto their toes cannot stand firm; those who take great strides cannot walk far

Rising onto one’s heels in an effort to stand taller makes it impossible to stand firm; taking great strides in an effort to walk quickly will not carry one far.

The Imperial Commentary says: Trying to stand firm on tiptoe and taking great strides in order to travel far both go against one’s ordinary nature. They force the body in pursuit of comfort, and so are difficult to achieve. If one takes De as one’s standard and follows what comes naturally, then anyone with feet can reach their destination.

Rising onto tiptoe to stand higher, or taking oversized strides to walk faster, goes against the natural way of standing and walking and therefore cannot last. Those who cultivate themselves and follow the Dao should not rush to achieve results, but should accord with what is natural. Only then can they stand firm and travel far.

People who show themselves off cannot see things clearly. As Wang Anshi said, those who do not try to display themselves can see things more fully.

People who assume they are right and criticize others find it difficult to make their own strengths stand out. Heshang Gong explains that such people are obscured by the crowd and therefore cannot rise to prominence.

People who boast about themselves cannot accomplish great deeds. Gu Huan says that when someone helps others but claims the credit for himself, the achievement belongs to him and no longer to those he helped.

People who are self-important cannot endure for long. Guo Xiang says that those who boast, rely on themselves, and refuse to forget their own achievements will lose the support of others and so cannot last.

From the perspective of the Dao, self-display, self-righteousness, self-congratulation, and self-importance are like excess food and extra flesh. The Imperial Commentary explains: When people show themselves off, their wisdom is not enough to understand all things fully. When they assume they are right, their benevolence is not enough to bring them into accord with others. When they claim good deeds as their own, those deeds lose their original meaning. When they boast of their abilities, they damage their accomplishments. The Dao takes depth as its foundation and simplicity as its standard. How could arrogance, indulgence, and inflated ambition accord with the Dao? Such behavior is like food left over after eating too much, or flesh that has grown beyond what the body needs.

The Dao has no private self; without a private self, there is no grasping. Self-righteousness, self-congratulation, and self-importance are all contrary to what is natural, and from the perspective of the Dao are merely excess food and burdensome extra flesh. Enough food to satisfy hunger is sufficient; eating too much does harm. A whole body is sufficient; extra flesh becomes a burden.

All things abhor these behaviors, so those who have the Dao do not act this way.

Earlier, we discussed how behavior that exceeds the limits of one’s nature becomes excessive. Heaven cuts it down, Earth transforms it, and people despise it. Therefore, one who has the Dao does not act this way. This chapter goes on to explain that cultivating oneself and practicing the Dao should follow what is natural and reasonable. If one hastens to display oneself and establish a reputation, one cannot truly cultivate oneself and practice the Dao. Self-promotion and similar conduct also run counter to what is natural and reasonable. Like surplus food or burdensome actions, they easily invite people’s dislike, so one who has the Dao does not adopt them.

There is a whole and undivided presence that came into being before Heaven and Earth.

“Hunlun” here refers to a state in which Qi, form, and substance are all present but have not yet separated from one another. It is in accord with this undivided wholeness, and is therefore complete in itself, lacking nothing. The “Taiji” described in the Book of Changes is just such a state. Heaven and Earth also depend on it for their generation, which is why it is said to have come into being before them. Yet although it is called “a presence,” it is not an ordinary thing that comes from nothing into being and is subject to birth and extinction.

Kumārajīva held that the subtle principle exists eternally, which is why it is called “a presence”; the myriad principles cannot divide it, which is why it is called “the undivided whole.”

Silent and still, vast and without form.

The Heshang Gong commentary explains: “silent” means without sound, and “vast” means empty of form. Prince Shu, by contrast, says that “silent” means still, while “vast” means far-reaching: in stillness there is no lingering echo, and empty space stretches without bounds.

It stands alone and does not change.

Sima Guang holds that nothing can rival it, which is why it is said to “stand alone”; although it undergoes change, it never loses the constant Dao, which is why it is said not to change. Zhong Hui explains that it is boundlessly vast and has no equal, hence “stands alone”; it has remained constant from ancient times to the present, hence “does not change.”

The Dao’s true substance stands distinct and alone, matching nothing among the myriad things. It endures through countless ages without decline, constant from ancient times to the present.

It circulates everywhere and never ceases.

The function of the Dao is present everywhere. Whether entering or leaving, coming or going, it flows on without end. This is what is meant by the Dao’s function.

Zhong Hui says that the Dao is everywhere, and so it is called “circling movement”: it moves throughout all things. Wherever it reaches, passage is unobstructed; therefore there is no danger or hindrance.

The wondrous workings of the Dao extend through all things. It embraces everything, reaches everywhere, and has no end. The Book of Changes says, “Change and movement never cease; they circulate through the six voids—the space formed by above and below and the four directions.”

The Dao can be the mother of all things under Heaven.

The Imperial Commentary says that all things rely on the Dao to be born.

Che Huibi says that the Dao harmonizes Yin-Yang, steadies Heaven and Earth, and nurtures all living beings. Like a parent, it gives birth to and sustains all things, so it can be called their mother.

I do not know the Dao’s original name, so I provisionally call it “Dao.”

Heshang Gong says: I cannot see the Dao’s form and do not know what to call it. I see that all things are born from the Dao, so I provisionally call it “Dao.”

If I must give it a name, I will call it “Great.”

Emperor Xuanzong of Tang says: I see something that brings all things into being, yet reveals no name. So I use the word “Dao” to express its De in permeating and nurturing all things, and also to indicate that it embraces emptiness. Its essential nature is vast, so I provisionally call it “Great.”

Lü Jifu says: When the Dao is in operation, it fills the whole Great Void, the boundless expanse; when it is inactive, there is no way to know where it is. So vast is it—how could the word “Great” fully describe it? This is only a name given as a makeshift.

“Great” is also called “Going Forth.”

The Imperial Commentary says that the Dao moves without stopping, so it is called “Going Forth”—moving onward.

Gu Huan says: “Going Forth” means proceeding onward. Other things, however great, eventually reach their limits and come to a stop. The Dao’s greatness has no bounds, and there is no point of rest that could bring it to an end.

Prince Shuo says: The Dao is so great that even beyond the four directions of Heaven and Earth, nothing can exceed its vastness; it is so small that nothing, down to the tiniest hair, lies beyond it.

“Going Forth” is also called “Far-Reaching.”

The Imperial Commentary says that the Dao responds to things and moves without end, so it is called “Far-Reaching.”

Sun Deng says: The movement of all things has a point at which it stops. But the farther one pursues the Dao’s movement, the more distant it seems, and its source cannot be traced.

“Far-Reaching” is also called “Returning.”

Shu Wang says: When the Dao is carried to the farthest extreme, it ultimately returns to simplicity. Its workings respond to each thing as it arises and are inexhaustible; that is why it is called “far-reaching.”

Sun Deng says: All things are in motion, yet each has a point at which it comes to rest. The Dao, too, is in motion. The farther one pursues it, the more remote it seems, and yet people cannot investigate its source.

What is called “far-reaching” must ultimately return to the root.

Shu Wang says: The Dao reaches the farthest place and, in the end, returns to simplicity. Thus “far-reaching” means “returning.” To return is to come back to the root. The Dao’s harmonious Qi (vital energy) fills the space above and below, in all directions, so it is called vast and profound. Yet it never departs from itself, so it is also near at hand. The Dao is far beyond the limitless, moving without end; it is also close, within oneself, though people do not perceive it.

Thus, the Dao is great, Heaven is great, Earth is great, and the king is also great.

The Imperial Commentary says: The Dao covers and supports Heaven and Earth. Heaven covers all things, and Earth bears all things. The king dwells between Heaven and Earth and stands alongside them; therefore, he too is called “great.”

The Dao covers the myriad things and contains Heaven and Earth; nothing lies beyond it. That is why it is called “great.” Heaven and Earth are the greatest among things that have form: Heaven is so vast it cannot be measured, and Earth so immense it cannot be gauged. That is why they are called “great.” All the lands under Heaven belong to the king, and everyone within the four seas is his subject. The king’s De (Virtue/Power) reaches everywhere; that is why he is called “great.” Heaven and Earth are the greatest among things that have form: Heaven is so vast it cannot be measured, and Earth so immense it cannot be gauged. That is why they are called “great.” The king’s De accords with Heaven and Earth, and the Way he follows joins Heaven, Earth, and humanity—the three foundational powers. The emperor’s position is supremely honored; that is why the king, too, is called “great.”

Between Heaven and Earth there are four great presences, and the king is one of them.

The Imperial Commentary says: Only below the Dao do defined realms and forms arise. Thus “within the realm” refers to the bounded world. Heaven and Earth are still, while the sage can act. The king can connect Heaven, Earth, and humanity, bringing the human way to its fullest expression. He is therefore one with the Dao in substance and shares the work of Heaven and Earth; all are called “great.” The king is the highest embodiment of the human way.

The Dao has no boundaries by nature. Here, “within the realm” means that although it is present in the bounded world, it is not confined by its limits. It can contain everything and has no boundary.

Humanity takes its model from Earth; Earth takes its model from Heaven; Heaven takes its model from the Dao; and the Dao takes its model from what is natural.

Shu Wang said, “Humanity takes the earth as its model; a king does so as well, and thus holds a great position. The earth takes Heaven as its model, and is therefore vast. Heaven takes the Dao as its model, and is therefore vast. The Dao takes what is natural as its model, and is therefore vast.”

“Natural” here means occurring of itself, without depending on human arrangement. From the perspective of those who cultivate the Dao, the Dao’s naturalness may be called subtle. From Laozi’s perspective, it may still seem to follow something. But Laozi has not failed to express the Dao’s most subtle principle. Rather, he carries the idea of “taking a model as one’s model” to its limit, and so says, “The Dao takes what is natural as its model.”

“Humanity” here refers to the king. The king follows the earth’s stability and stillness, and therefore does not act rashly; as a result, the affairs of the world can be accomplished. The earth follows Heaven’s Wuwei (non-action): it does not deliberately make things grow, yet all things are nurtured. Heaven follows the Dao’s naturalness: it does not create things directly, yet all things are transformed. The Dao itself takes itself as its root and exists naturally. It was already there before Heaven and earth came into being, and follows nothing else. To have nothing to model oneself on is to be natural of itself; hence the saying, “The Dao takes what is natural as its model.”

This chapter speaks of the Dao as an undivided whole: it came into being before Heaven and earth, has an independent nature, and yet its workings extend throughout all directions, above and below. It is difficult to describe by name, so it can only be called “great.” Heaven, earth, and the king all take the Dao as their model; the Dao itself relies on nothing and is natural of itself.

The Root of Heaviness in Lightness, Chapter Twenty-Six

Heaviness is the root of lightness; stillness is the master of restlessness.

Heshang Gong said: If a ruler is not composed, he loses his dignity; if one who cultivates himself is not composed, he loses his spirit. The blossoms and leaves of plants are light, so they wither easily; their roots are deep and heavy, so they can live for a long time. If a ruler is not still, he loses his authority; if one who cultivates himself is not still, his body falls into danger. When the dragon is still, it can transform; when the tiger is restless, it readily declines and dies young.

Lü Jifu says: Light things are affected first; heavy things respond afterward. Response is brought about by being affected, so heaviness is the root of lightness. A tranquil person can govern external things, while a restless person is governed by them. Restlessness is often governed by tranquility, so tranquility is the master of restlessness.

Liu Zhongping says: Lightness arises from heaviness, so heaviness is the root of lightness. A tranquil person governs external things, while a restless person is governed by them. Restlessness is often governed by tranquility, so tranquility is the master of restlessness.

Liu Zhongping also says: Lightness arises from heaviness, so heaviness is the root of lightness; restlessness arises from tranquility, so tranquility is the master of restlessness.

Therefore, the noble person travels all day without leaving behind the baggage cart that carries supplies. Even when splendid scenery lies before him, he can remain settled and at ease, detached from it.

The Imperial Commentary says: Splendid scenery belongs to external things, while a settled dwelling concerns oneself. Only after the self is secure can one appreciate external things.

When traveling, lightness makes it possible to move quickly, but one cannot do without supplies. When viewing scenery, lively activity can bring pleasure, but one also needs a tranquil place to dwell. With supplies at hand, one will not fall into hardship halfway along the way and can then continue onward. With a tranquil dwelling, one can remain detached and at ease, and then appreciate the scenery. Why is this so? Because heaviness is the root of lightness, and tranquility is the master of restlessness.

As the ruler of a state with ten thousand chariots, how can one treat the affairs of the world lightly?

Lü Jifu says: Even when traveling all day or viewing splendid scenery, one must act this way. How much more so for the ruler of a state with ten thousand chariots, who bears a weighty charge and a long road ahead in governing the world: how could he fail to remain tranquil and steady? To act only when circumstances demand it, to respond only when affected, and to rise only when truly compelled—this is what it means to be steady. By following the way of Wuwei (non-action), one can remain tranquil. If one’s actions always arise from the belief that one may do as one pleases, and one cannot attain Wuwei, then one is treating the world lightly and lacks steadiness. Without steadiness, one becomes restless and can no longer remain tranquil.

Lu Dian says: The world is both the supplies the ruler needs and the foundation of his settled dwelling; he must not abandon it. Therefore, the classic says: “As the ruler of a state with ten thousand chariots, how can one treat the affairs of the world lightly?”

Being frivolous loses the support of one’s ministers; being impatient loses the authority proper to a ruler.

The Imperial Commentary says: If a ruler is not dignified, he has no authority and so loses his ministers. To issue no commands first, yet expect others to respond, is to overstep one’s proper station and so lose the throne.

Lu Dian says: Dignity is the virtue proper to a ruler; composure is the standard ministers should uphold.

Immortal Songling says: Once the mind and spirit become unsettled, the subtle spirit is harmed. The spirit is like the ruler within the body.

This chapter admonishes rulers to take dignity and composure as their foundation. The stability of the world depends on whether a ruler can remain dignified and composed. How, then, could he treat himself carelessly? Those who cultivate the Dao should likewise take dignity and composure as their foundation: cherish the body and do not let external things exhaust it; quiet the heart and do not let external things disturb the spirit. When the body is whole and the spirit at peace, the Dao is fully embodied.

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Skillful Action

Those skilled at walking leave no wheel tracks or footprints.

King Shu says: Those skilled at walking may seem unhurried, yet arrive quickly; they may seem not to have acted, yet have already arrived. Thus they leave no wheel tracks or footprints.

Lu Yu says: When one acts in accord with principle, one’s traces do not appear different from those of the myriad things; therefore, one leaves no wheel tracks or footprints.

Zhong Hui says: Those skilled in following the Dao do not make a show of their achievements.

Su Ziyou says: When one acts in accord with how things are, one leaves no trace.

A carriage leaves wheel tracks, and walking leaves footprints, so action cannot ordinarily be entirely without traces. Those skilled in following the Dao seek the Dao within themselves and need not go out the door. Their action seems to arise from non-action, so they leave no wheel tracks or footprints. This is what is meant by “arriving without action.”

Those skilled at speaking speak without flaw or fault.

Du Guangting says: To be skilled at speaking is to grasp the intent without clinging to words. Thus one’s speech has no flaws and invites no reproach.

Lü Jifu said, “Those with true wisdom speak little; those who love to speak often lack wisdom.” Speech inevitably has its flaws and errors. If we understand what gives rise to speech, then the words we utter can come from a mind that does not cling to speaking. Those skilled in expression grasp the meaning without becoming bound by words. Their speech therefore has no obvious flaws and invites no blame.

Lü Jifu also said, “Those with true wisdom speak little; those who love to speak often lack wisdom.” Speech is bound to fall short and make mistakes. If we understand when and why to speak, our words can arise from a state that does not cling to speaking. Thus, those skilled in speech have no flaws or errors in their words.

Those skilled at planning can arrange things properly without counting rods or calculating tools, the devices used for reckoning in ancient times.

The Imperial Commentary says: “When one understands the fundamental Way, one can handle all things. How much more so those matters that cannot be measured with numbers? Thus, even without calculation, one can discern the myriad changes as clearly as counting one or two.”

Those skilled at closing a gate need neither bolts nor bars, yet no one can open it.

Wang Anshi said: “Those skilled at closing a gate leave all things unable to find a way in. So even without bolts or bars, it cannot be opened.”

Sima Guang said: “A state is secured not by relying on the defenses of mountains and rivers.”

The nine apertures of the human body—the eyes, ears, nostrils, mouth, and the two lower openings—are gateways through which the spirit enters and leaves. Those skilled at guarding these gateways keep the spirit within and prevent it from being dissipated outward. Though there is no bolt within, how could the spirit easily escape?

Those skilled at binding relationships need no ropes, yet what they bind cannot be undone.

Gu Huan said: “When relationships are bound by the Dao, they are naturally firm even without ropes; when they are bound by external things, they are insecure even if tied down. Thus, those who restrain others through force may see even an army of three divisions disperse, while those who gather people’s aspirations through the Dao can make even an ordinary person steadfast and unchanging.”

Sima Guang said: “The people are governed not by enclosing them within borders.”

Du Guangting said: “Those skilled in cultivation forget their many distractions and focus on a single thought. Even when facing circumstances that could scatter an army of three divisions, they gather their aspirations through the Dao and become as steadfast as an ordinary person who cannot be made to change.”

Sima Guang said: “The people are governed not by enclosing them within borders.”

Du Guangting said: “Those skilled in cultivation forget their countless concerns, focus their minds, and quietly unite with the Dao, becoming attuned to the true Way. Countless attachments cannot disturb them, and various views cannot tempt them. This is what it means to be skilled at binding. How could such a bond easily be undone?”

Therefore, the sage is always skilled at helping people, and so no one is abandoned.

Cai Zihuang says, “‘Benefiting things’ means doing good. Hongji says, ‘Rescuing living beings in the ten directions also means rescuing those in the place where one oneself abides.’ By constantly extending benevolence in secret, one protects living beings and spreads its benefits evenly. All living things thereby receive its help, and in the end return to the Great Dao.”

Even toward stubborn fools and those who spread slander, Emperor Shun continued to offer instruction and did not abandon them. Confucius, for his part, guided the shallow and ignorant by explaining both sides of an issue, until he had made the principles clear.

Always do good and rescue all things; then nothing will be abandoned.

The Imperial Commentary says: “Goodness is the continuation of the Dao’s activity. The Dao itself cannot be named ‘good’; once the name ‘good’ is established, the Dao becomes manifest and can be used to transform the world. The sages apprehend the Great Dao and bring relief to all under Heaven. They therefore embody these five kinds of good conduct, so that neither people nor things are abandoned. Yet when the sages love people and benefit things, allowing all things to flourish and everyone to live in accord with their nature, they do not act from deliberate design. They simply return to unity, seek no additions from outside, and follow things as they are. When people lose the Great Dao, all under Heaven commonly lose their quiet, still, and natural nature. Things cannot flourish as they should, and people cannot live in accord with their nature; they fall ever deeper into distress. Who but the sages could rescue them?”

The New Explanation says: “All things have their own natural order, yet they may violate that order and act against it. All things have their constant nature, yet they may violate that nature and bind it. All things have their proper allotment, yet they may violate it and bring it to an end. The sages feel compassion for this, and so use the benevolence they themselves cherish to bring relief. When things have violated their order, they clear what is blocked. When things have violated their nature, they remove what obstructs them and restore them to their natural state. When things have violated their allotment, they reconnect what has been severed and restore it.”

This is called “inheriting illumination” (xi ming): receiving and putting the illumination of the Dao into practice.

The Imperial Commentary says: “‘Inheriting’ does not mean flaunting the illumination of the Dao. Those who inherit its illumination may be radiant, but they do not show it off.”

Lü Jifu says: “The five kinds of good conduct mentioned above are principles of nature and life shared by all things. Only the sages can understand the constant Dao and follow it. Those who inherit the illumination may be radiant, but they do not show it off.”

Lü Jifu says: The five situations discussed above are all principles inherent in human nature and Heaven’s mandate. Only the sage, through wisdom that sees into the constant Dao, guides them as they arise naturally. Though the sage acts, speaks, plans, withdraws, and restrains himself, no one knows why he does so. His understanding is therefore hidden and does not appear; it cannot be seen. This is called “inheriting the light” (xi ming): secretly taking up and applying wisdom.

Thus, the good person is the teacher of the person who is not good, while the person who is not good provides support to the good person.

The Imperial Commentary says: “Support” means to benefit from something. It is precisely because there are people who are not good that the benefits of goodness become apparent.

Prince Shou says: The good person teaches those who are not good, and so is their teacher. Without what is not good, we would not know what is valuable about goodness; therefore, those who are not good also provide support to the good.

Do not honor your own teacher, nor value what you rely upon for support.

Su Ziyou says: The sage has no deliberate intention to teach, and so does not regard those who are not good as his support. The people of the world have no deliberate intention to seek learning, and so do not honor any particular teacher. The sage not only forgets the world himself, but also enables the people of the world to forget him.

Liezi once studied under Lao Shang and took Bo Gao as a friend. In time, he was able to ride the wind. After nine years, he no longer considered Lao Shang his teacher or Bo Gao his friend; his inner and outer cultivation had both advanced. This is what it means not to honor one’s teacher. After Confucius met Taigong Ren, he took leave of his companions and departed from his disciples. This is what it means not to value one’s sources of support.

Even so, to know that one still has great delusions is called “the subtle essence” (yao miao), the profound and subtle heart of the Dao.

The Imperial Commentary says: The profound subtlety of the Dao cannot be grasped by seeing various good deeds, nor does it depend on cleverness. The seven sages once lost their way and had nowhere to turn to one another for directions. This accords with the meaning here.

Li Tian says: This chapter discusses how the sage secretly applies the subtle Dao, while its outward traces remain unseen. Although the constant Dao is said always to be good, its subtlety lies in clinging neither to goodness nor to what is not good. Thus the sage can carry out instruction without being confined by words; no matter how ingenious the calculations, they cannot determine the reason behind it. Honoring a teacher and drawing on support are paths of gradual cultivation; going beyond reverence and reliance is a gateway to sudden realization. In this way, one accords with “inheriting the light” and saves all things.

Know what is strong, yet remain steadfast in weakness, like the stream of the world.

Du Guangting says that the Highest Clarity tradition has the “Way of the Female One,” as well as the “Methods of Three Flights and Five Females.” These practices all aim to make the will gentle and humble, and the spirit calm and quiet, in pursuit of long life.

Wang Yuanze says that a stream lies in a low place, where it can receive and channel the waters from everywhere. By remaining steadfast in weakness, one can receive all kinds of principles with an open, quiet mind without being constrained by external things. This is why it is called “the stream of the world.”

Strength means action; weakness means stillness. Those who attain the Dao understand action but do not pursue reckless activity. They remain in stillness without departing from their true nature, and so willingly stay in a low place. The Dao then returns to them, like water flowing into a deep stream. This is why it is called “the stream of the world.”

If you become the stream of the world, constant De will never depart.

Lü Jifu says that a stream receives water from the valleys and carries it onward to the rivers and seas. It receives without refusing, and flows out without storing up. In this way, all things can move freely without obstruction. When one is able to flow freely, constant De will never depart.

Wang Yuanze says that constant De is settled and unchanging; it is the Dao as embodied within oneself. “Never depart” means being devoted to one’s nature, keeping to one’s proper place, and seeking nothing outside oneself.

In this way, one returns to the state of an infant.

Wang Yuanze says that an infant holds within itself harmonious Qi, remains whole and undivided, and has yet to develop desires or thoughts. This is the original state of one’s nature, whole and undivided, never scattered or lost. When De reaches its fullest depth, it is as though one has returned to the beginning. Such a person may be called “great.” Mencius said, “A great person does not lose the heart of an infant.”

The feminine takes softness and stillness as its basis. An infant's bones are soft and its sinews supple, its breath is not hurried, and its desires and thoughts have not yet stirred, so its De (Virtue) has not strayed from its original state. Therefore, one whose De is deep and concealed is likened to a newborn child.

Know the brightness, yet keep to the darkness.

Wang Yuanze said: Black is the color of the north. To speak only of stillness is not enough to account for it. When the sages established their norms, if they did not take the concealment of darkness as their root, they could not reveal the true appearance of the myriad things. The flourishing growth of spring and summer arises from the mysterious winter, the deep winter when all things lie hidden. This is the proof.

Only then can one become the model for all under Heaven.

Lü Jifu said: White can receive all colors. Among things it represents brightness, in the Five Phases it belongs to Metal, and in number it corresponds to four. Black is not stained. Among things it represents obscurity, in the Five Phases it belongs to Water, and in number it corresponds to one. To know brightness and keep to darkness is to remain untainted by the myriad things. Like dark water, one finally returns to embracing the One (holding fast to the root and keeping undivided). Having embraced the One, one can bend and stretch, yield and lower oneself, and bear injury, and so one can become the model for all under Heaven.

Here, "white" means clear and manifest, untainted by external things, and "black" means quiet and profound, corresponding to "one" in number. The Zhiren (Perfected Person), whose virtue and wisdom have reached the highest level, understands principles yet quietly keeps to the undivided. All under Heaven take him as their standard and imitate his conduct, and so he becomes the pattern for all under Heaven.

Becoming the model for all under Heaven, the constant De will not go astray.

Lü Jifu said: To become the model for all under Heaven, whatever the circumstances, one does not depart from the One, and so the constant De does not go astray. "Not departing" means only not leaving one's original place, which does not necessarily mean being free from deviation. "Not going astray" means being free of error.

In this way one returns to Wuji (the Limitless, the origin without boundary and beyond definition).

Lü Jifu said: The infant concentrates its Qi (vital energy) and attains softness only because it has not lost the harmony of its whole life. To return to Wuji, one can no longer use the infant alone to explain it.

Luo Shi said: "Tui" (error, deviation) means a falling away. If one can discard cleverness and intelligence and hold to simplicity and plainness, so that one's actions accord with the right moment and one's virtue corresponds, one can become a model for the myriad things. When manifest, one acts concretely; when concealed, one returns to the Dao. The root of the Dao is inexhaustible, and so it accomplishes Wuji. This Wuji has two aspects: first, the limitlessness of wisdom, and second, the limitlessness of the life of wisdom (huiming).

Knowing what is honored yet keeping to what is humble: this is an unconventional way of acting. If one can set aside cleverness and intelligence and remain content with simplicity and plainness, so that one's actions accord with the moment and one's virtue (De) matches what one does, then one becomes a standard that all things take as a model. When it shows outwardly, it takes form as conduct; when it withdraws, it returns to the Dao. The root of the Dao is inexhaustible, and so it can achieve wuji (the boundless state, without limit). This contains two meanings: wisdom is inexhaustible, and the life of wisdom (huiming, the spiritual life of the cultivator) is also inexhaustible.

Knowing what is honored, yet keeping to what is humble.

Du Guangting says: "Honor" (rong) means noble glory, and "disgrace" (ru) means lowliness and humiliation. A ruler who possesses all under heaven and governs the four quarters embodies honor. When he calls himself "the orphan," "the lonely one," or "the one without grain" (titles of humility used by rulers), he is placing himself in a lowly position.

In this way one becomes the valley of the world.

Prince Shu says: To know honor yet keep to humility is to treat others with a modest attitude and to respond with skill. Therefore one becomes the valley of the world.

Becoming the valley of the world, the constant De is made full.

Liu Zhongping says: A valley is empty yet responsive. It can contain and bear all things. Therefore the constant De is made full, and in the end one returns to pu (the uncarved block, the original state of unadorned authenticity).

Su Zhe says: Not knowing and not acting is less thorough than knowing and not acting. To know strength yet keep to weakness is to recognize one's nature. To know brightness yet keep to darkness is to see one's nature. To know honor yet keep to humility is to return to one's nature. When all delusions have been dispelled, one feels no regret in lowliness, and the mind opens as wide as an empty valley. When things arrive, one responds naturally. In this way De is made full, the pure nature is no longer mixed with anything, and therefore it is said, "return to the uncarved block."

Songling Xian says: "Full" (zu) means sufficient, and "return" (fu) means to come back, and "uncarved block" (pu) means the true origin. From knowing strength to finally keeping to humility, these three practices already contain the essentials of cultivating the Dao. Like an empty valley, one is able to contain all things. Therefore the constant Dao and the highest De (shangde) are made full through them, one can return to the true origin, and become one with the Dao. Thus it is said, "return to the uncarved block."

Plants that flourish are said to be in their prime, and those that wither seem to be in decline. The honor and disgrace that people speak of are no different. The Perfected person (zhiren, one whose attainment is lofty) understands what honor is but does not claim it as their own. They cast off ostentation, return to the root, and constantly keep to humility and lowliness. Though they dwell where the multitude despises, they are not burdened by it, because their hearts are empty and tranquil, and so they can become the valley (gu) of the world, hollow and open, able to embrace all.

A valley is empty, and so it can receive the myriad things. It responds to what comes to it but does not hoard or conceal things. When virtue (de) reaches this state, it is complete and without flaw, and nothing more can be added. Therefore it is said that constant virtue is sufficient. The uncarved block (pu, the natural state before refinement) is the complete embodiment of the Dao (the Way). To return to the uncarved block is to possess the Dao in its entirety.

Kings and dukes often call themselves "orphan," "widower," and "unworthy," titles that express their own lowliness. Thus, by embracing simplicity and plainness, the people of the world will come to submit. Returning to the uncarved block is a state without limit, what is called "the uncarved block without a name." The uncarved block appears small and insignificant, yet nothing in the world can subdue it. Given this, it is enough to hold fast to softness, obscurity, and lowliness. Why must one insist on appearing strong, bright, and glorious? To keep the root is to take it as the mother; to understand change is to grasp the offspring it gives birth to. Keeping the root is the constant Dao, and understanding change is the Dao of responding to circumstances.

When the uncarved block is scattered, it becomes the various vessels (qi).

The Imperial Commentary says: What transcends form is called the Dao; what has form is called vessel (qi). Vessels are the manifestations of the Dao once it has been dispersed. Each has its shape and name, and each has its function and boundaries. People use each according to its particular characteristics.

Zhong Hui says: The uncarved block is the Dao. To hold to the uncarved block is to preserve the simple Way. When the uncarved block is scattered, it becomes vessels for nourishing and for the use of people.

When the Way of the sage takes concrete form, it is called vessel. Vessels are the manifestations of the Dao once it has been dispersed. Each has its shape and name, and each has its function and boundaries. People use each according to its particular characteristics.

Zhong Hui says: The uncarved block is the Dao. To hold to the uncarved block is to preserve the simple Way. When the uncarved block is scattered, it becomes vessels for nourishing and for the use of people.

When the sage employs these vessels, they can become the chief of all the officials.

When the Dao’s substance is whole and undivided, the sage uses it to cultivate himself. When the Dao’s workings branch out, the sage uses them to govern the world. Once things take form, they can be named; once their functions are assigned, each can perform its own role. The sage therefore assigns responsibilities and directs subordinates so that the world may be governed. This is what is meant by “officials and leaders.” The Book of Changes says, “Understand both the subtle and the manifest; know both the yielding and the strong.” This expresses the same idea as “becoming the one whom all look up to.”

Emperor Xuanzong of Tang said: When De is held within and fully integrated, it returns to simplicity. When constant De is put to use outwardly, it branches out into various implements. Once it enters the realm of concrete things, there are distinctions between the refined and the coarse. Thus, when the sage puts the Dao to use, he becomes the leader who governs the officials.

Hence it is said: “The greatest institutions leave no trace of division.”

Su Ziyou said: After returning to simplicity, the sage divides simplicity into various implements to respond to the myriad things. This is like a ruler assigning affairs and appointing officials: it follows the circumstances inherent in things. Though arrangements are made, nothing is forcibly divided.

Cao Daochong said: The most complete institution shows no trace of cutting things apart.

Taken as a whole, this chapter makes constant De its foundation. To preserve constant De, one must understand change: know strength while holding to yielding, and De will not change; know brightness while resting in obscurity, and De will not stray; know honor while accepting disgrace, and De will remain whole. At this point, one does more than return to the childlike state of simplicity: one becomes inexhaustible and joins with the Dao as one. The Dao has existed unchanged from ancient times to the present. When De accords with the Dao, it too may be called constant. Use the reality of this Dao to cultivate yourself; when using it to govern the world, appoint people according to their abilities. Hence it is said: “The greatest institutions leave no trace of division.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine: “When One Would…”

When one would take possession of the world and forcibly govern it, I believe this ultimately cannot be done.

Zang Xuanjing said: “Would” means being about to; “desire” means wanting to act at every turn. This passage refers to someone planning to seize the world by force at every opportunity and govern it through artificial contrivance.

Wang Yuanzhe said: “Take” means to possess things and expresses a self-centered mind; “act” means deliberate contrivance and expresses forced interference. Those who are selfish and fond of contrivance are already burdened by anxiety and distress themselves. How could they have any strength left to govern others?

Master Su Ziyou said: The sage possesses all under Heaven not by seizing it. Rather, the myriad things turn to him, and he accepts only because he has no choice. The sage governs all under Heaven not by deliberately arranging everything, but by following the natural state of the myriad things. He is also constantly beset by cares and troubles—how could he have time to control the people?

Master Su Ziyou also said: The sage possesses all under Heaven not by forcefully taking it, but because the myriad things turn to him and he accepts only because he has no choice. He governs all under Heaven not by deliberately acting, but by following the natural course of the myriad things and removing only what obstructs them. If he were to seize by force and arrange things at will, he could not govern all under Heaven well.

When Shun withdrew to avoid Yao’s son, he did not seize all under Heaven by force. “Governing through Wuwei (non-action)” does not mean actively making one arrangement after another to govern all under Heaven.

All under Heaven is a numinous vessel; it cannot be manipulated through human contrivance.

The Imperial Commentary says: All under Heaven is bounded by physical form, laws, and the space between Heaven and Earth, so it appears to be a vessel. Yet its source is beyond measurement, and its operation has no fixed limits. Those who force things to happen will fail; those who insist on holding on will lose them. That is why all under Heaven is called the “numinous vessel.” To command the myriad things and direct the people, one must be guided by the Dao, which is not confined by any vessel; only then can all under Heaven be at peace. Therefore, those in high positions should practice Wuwei, allowing all under Heaven to run its course of its own accord.

The Zhuangzi says: Tian Gen was traveling in Yin Yang when he came to the bank of the Liao River and happened to meet the Nameless Man. He asked, “May I ask how to govern all under Heaven?” The Nameless Man replied, “Go away! You shallow-minded person—why ask about such an unpleasant subject?”

Those who force things to happen will fail; those who insist on holding on will lose them.

Sima Guang said: Deliberate action harms what is natural; stubbornly holding on goes against the principle of change and free passage.

All under Heaven is a numinous and wondrous vessel. It cannot be manipulated by force or held fast through stubborn insistence. The myriad things take nature as their own nature, so one can only follow them, never force them into being. One may allow them to pass through changes, but cannot bind them and refuse to let go. Each thing has its own constant nature; if people alter it artificially, they will surely fail. All things undergo comings and goings and change; if people insist on fixing them in place, they will eventually lose them.

Thus, among the myriad things, some advance and some follow; some warm and nurture, while others blow and exert force; some are strong, while others are frail; some carry, while others overturn.

All things follow their own patterns of change: sometimes advancing, sometimes following, like the coming and going of the sun and moon; sometimes warm, sometimes cold, like the turning of the seasons; sometimes flourishing, sometimes declining, like the rise and fall of the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, and Water); sometimes growing and supporting life, sometimes withering and falling, like plants in bloom and decay.

All things are governed by the times and constrained by their allotted fate, and so cannot avoid being caught up in these forces. Only the sage can remain unrestrained by external things, standing apart from all things. To come and go independently, without relying on anything external, is called “being solitary and self-contained.” Such a person is supremely noble. Thus, even when the sage exercises wondrous authority, there is still ease and composure to spare. Though all things change in countless ways, the sage’s heart remains calm and constant.

If one is intent on making one’s actions conspicuous, one invites ruin; if one clings to what one possesses, one will lose it. When something moves ahead, something else must follow behind, as the body is accompanied by its shadow. As soon as warmth arrives, cold may follow, like the alternation of heat and cold. Where there is flourishing, decline will eventually come; what has just been built to support things may soon be destroyed. These are the ordinary patterns of natural change, unfolding continually from morning to night: things naturally turn into their opposites. How, then, could one deliberately impose one’s will and cling to it?

Therefore, the sage rejects extremes, extravagance, and excess.

Heshang Gong says: “Extreme” refers to indulging in excessive food and drink, sounds, and sights; “extravagance” means being particular about clothing and food; “excess” means building palaces, terraces, and pavilions. If these three practices are abandoned, and one dwells in moderation and harmony and practices Wuwei (non-action), all under Heaven will be transformed and nurtured of itself.

Lu Dian says that when the sage governs all under Heaven, he follows the course of things without forcing action and lets them develop without clinging to control. Thus, rejecting extremes is practicing compassion; rejecting extravagance is practicing frugality; and rejecting excess means not daring to place oneself ahead of the people. These three principles are the means by which to govern all under Heaven.

This chapter says that governing the world cannot be achieved by seizing it through force or by imposing one’s will. A sage governs the world only when there is no other choice, and does so through Wuwei (non-action). Forcing things inevitably leads to failure; clinging stubbornly to control inevitably brings loss. Thus the sage understands that things repeatedly transform and avoids three kinds of excess. Governing a state in this way can prolong its fortune; applied to self-cultivation, it can preserve life for a long time.

Chapter Thirty: Using the Dao to Assist the Ruler

Those who use the Dao to assist a ruler do not flaunt their strength throughout the world by relying on military force, because the consequences of doing so always return to them.

Su Ziyou says: When a sage uses troops, it is always because there is no other choice. If there is no such necessity, yet one seeks to dominate the world through military strength, then even if one wins for a time, disaster will return as retribution. King Ling of Chu, King Min of Qi, Qin Shi Huang, and Emperor Wu of Han all suffered for this: some died, while others brought calamity upon their descendants. They were hated by people and rejected by spirits and deities; none could escape retribution.

Ministers should serve their ruler in accordance with the Dao. To dominate the world through military force is to assist the ruler in a way that goes against the Dao. If those who assist a ruler through the Dao do not rely on military strength to flaunt their power, how much more should the ruler personally follow the Dao? This is because the harm caused by military force readily returns to its source. When the Dao brings the world into submission, none will be unwilling to submit of their own accord. But if one sends troops to attack others and kills their fathers, they will kill one’s own father in return; if one kills their elder brothers, they will kill one’s own elder brothers in return. This is precisely the meaning of “Treat others as they treat you.”

Where armies have been stationed, brambles and thorns grow. After a great war, there will surely be years of famine.

The Imperial Commentary says: When those in high positions overuse the labor of the people, fields are left uncultivated and grow thorn bushes. When rulers act against the seasons, years of calamity follow. The Book of Odes says, “Bring peace to the states throughout the realm, and year after year there will be abundant harvests.” When the realm is at peace, the people live in harmony; when the people live in harmony, Heaven and Earth, too, manifest a harmonious Qi.

When farming is neglected and no one tends the fields, thorn bushes grow everywhere. Excessive killing damages the harmony between Heaven and Earth and therefore inevitably brings calamities from Heaven. First farming falls into neglect, then disaster strikes, and at last famine comes.

Therefore, one skilled in warfare stops once victory has been won; they do not dare use victory to flaunt their strength.

Lü Jifu says: “‘Fruit’ means defeating the enemy. King Tang attacked Xia Jie at Mingtiao. He called himself ‘I’ and raised his forces at Bo. These are all instances of defeating an enemy. The use of arms arises from necessity; it is not undertaken simply to flaunt one’s strength.”

“Fruit” can mean victory. After King Tang defeated Xia Jie, he still said that he was ashamed before De; when he returned to Bo, he remained as wary as if standing at the edge of a deep abyss.

After victory, one does not boast of one’s skill, brag about one’s achievements, or grow arrogant on account of one’s power. One always regards the use of arms as a last resort. This is what it means to win without flaunting one’s strength.

Chang Jifu says: After victory, one does not boast of one’s skill, brag about one’s achievements, or grow arrogant on account of one’s power; moreover, one wins only because necessity leaves no choice. This is the meaning of winning without flaunting one’s strength. If, after victory, one boasts of one’s skill and achievements and grows arrogant by relying on one’s power, then one is bent on flaunting strength, rather than acting from necessity.

When things reach the height of their power, they turn toward decline.

Wang Yuanzé says: The decline that follows a peak is an inevitable law of how things develop. Among ancient states that suffered this calamity, the Qin dynasty is one example.

The strength of things is like an army relying on force. When things become excessively powerful, they decline; when an army grows too powerful, it invites defeat.

This is called being out of accord with the Dao.

The Imperial Commentary says: The Dao has no fixed end or beginning, and it does not change along with external things.

Wang Yuanzé says: Those who understand and follow the Dao can embrace countless changes without clinging to any one thing. They therefore have no attachment to being at the height of power or to decline.

What is out of accord with the Dao quickly perishes.

Lü Jifu says: All things grow from youth to full strength, then pass from full strength into decline. This is the natural course of things. The Dao prizes holding to softness: only by taking weakness as strength can one endure without falling into danger. To rely on military force to dominate the world is to abandon gentleness and esteem strength. Strength inevitably gives way to decline. This is merely the ordinary course of things, not the way the Dao enables the myriad things to flourish without end. Hence it is said: “When things reach the height of their strength, they move toward old age. This is called being contrary to the Dao; what is contrary to the Dao will soon perish.”

The Dao has endured since high antiquity and does not grow old with the passing years. Those who attain the Dao can delay aging and preserve their bodies; decline and ruin come from being contrary to the Dao. A military force that exerts its strength will also bring defeat upon itself—how could that accord with the Dao? Since it is contrary to the Dao, how could it endure? Thus it will soon perish. This chapter cautions ministers: in assisting the ruler, they should follow the Dao and must not rely on military force to dominate the world. The Dao prizes overcoming hardness with softness and winning people’s willing submission; it does not advocate seizing victory by force. To prevail through force is like things growing too strong and eventually growing old. How could that accord with the Dao?

Chapter Thirty-One: Fine Weapons

What are called “fine weapons” are inauspicious instruments.

Wen Gong says: The finer the weapons, the more people they injure.

The Zuanwei says: To delight in adorning halberds, spears, and armor with finery, so they can be admired and played with, is to esteem instruments of ill.

“Fine” means to decorate or embellish; “auspicious” means fortunate and good. “Fine weapons” refers to sturdy armor and sharp weapons. Weapons are instruments of ill and belong to what is harmful; they should not be embellished.

All things detest weapons, so a person who has the Dao does not use them or draw near to them.

The Imperial Commentary says: Only auspicious affairs have auspicious omens. Weapons are instruments of ill, so they are called “inauspicious.” Weapons should be put away in ordinary times and used only when circumstances leave no alternative. A person who has the Dao displays virtue and takes no pride in showing military might; therefore, they do not draw near to weapons.

King Shuwang says that “fine weapons” means sturdy armor and sharp arms. Weapons are inherently dangerous, and so are inauspicious instruments. The preceding passage has already explained in detail that nothing in the world escapes harm from weapons, and therefore they should be loathed. A person who follows the Dao takes compassion as the core of their nature, and so does not initiate the use of weapons.

Weapons are instruments of ill omen. Once they are used, all things loathe them. Those who follow the Dao understand that weapons harm all things, and so loathe them. They take compassion as the core of their nature, and so do not initiate war.

In ordinary life, the noble person honors the left; in battle, the right is held in esteem.

Gu Huan explains: The left belongs to Yang, whose way is to give life, so it is honored in ordinary times. The right belongs to Yin, whose way is to kill, so it is honored when using weapons.

Weapons are inauspicious instruments, not instruments a noble person should use.

The Imperial Commentary explains: The left belongs to Yang and governs life; the right belongs to Yin and governs killing. Yang symbolizes benevolent rule, while Yin symbolizes punishment. The noble person values benevolent rule and stands in awe of punishment; therefore, weapons are not instruments for the noble person to use.

Wang Yuanzhe says: In governing the state, one should follow things as they are and avoid imposing one’s will. In treating the people, one should be compassionate and generous. For these reasons, one should not valorize the use of weapons.

Weapons should be used only when there is no alternative.

The Collected Subtlety explains: “Dare not take the lead, but act as the guest; dare not advance an inch, but retreat a foot”—both describe actions taken only when unavoidable. Those skilled in warfare respond when provoked from outside and act when compelled; ordinarily, they act only when there is no alternative.

In using weapons, calm restraint should be the highest aim. Even in victory, one should not regard it as something admirable.

The Imperial Commentary explains: To quell disorder and avert calamity, one acts only when forced to; this is the use of weapons when there is no alternative. Since one harbors no desire to defeat others, calm restraint should be the highest aim. And since one has no wish to prevail over others, using weapons is not a cause for celebration; victory, therefore, is nothing to boast about.

Cheng Xuanying says: “Calm restraint” means Wuwei (non-action). The noble person takes Wuwei as their guiding principle, and so, even when using weapons, does not regard it as something worthy of praise.

Zhang Junxiang said, “Not allowing external things to disturb you is called ‘calmness’; bringing peace to the mind is called ‘tranquility.’ Calm and tranquil detachment accords with the Dao. Since the Dao is held in reverence, how can the use of weapons be regarded as a good thing? To regard the use of weapons as good is to take pleasure in killing people.”

Wang Yuanze said, “Weapons are meant for warfare and killing. To decorate them excessively so that they appear splendid and attract attention is tantamount to treating killing as something beautiful. To regard the use of weapons as good is to take pleasure in using them; to take pleasure in using them is to delight in sending people to their deaths. One who delights in killing cannot prevail in the world.

“The ‘Collected Subtleties’ says: ‘A violent person who delights in killing should not be allowed to prevail in the world. If he succeeds, he will surely defy Heaven’s De (Virtue), kill recklessly, and regard the people as no more than grass. How could Heaven protect such a person? Without Heaven’s protection, how could he truly prevail? One who delights in killing must not be allowed to prevail in the world. A ruler should not kill at will. This is precisely what Mencius meant when he said, “One who does not delight in killing can unite the world.”’”

In auspicious ceremonies, the left is honored; in funerary rites, the right is honored.

Cheng Xuanying said, “‘Auspicious occasions’ refers to court ceremonies; ‘inauspicious occasions’ refers to funerals and burials.”

Heshang Gong said, “The left belongs to Yang and governs life; the right belongs to Yin and governs killing.”

The assistant general stands on the left, while the supreme general stands on the right.

Heshang Gong explained, “The assistant general is of lower rank and stands in the Yang position, which symbolizes life, because he does not have sole charge of killing. The supreme general is of higher rank and stands in the Yin position, which symbolizes killing, because he has sole charge of it.”

In military formations, the right is honored. This shows that war is approached with the attitude of a funerary rite.

When many people have been killed, they must be mourned with grief and sorrow.

Cao Daochong says: The people of the world are all the ruler’s people. In war, whether friend or foe, they are all human beings. When too many are killed, people are left grieving and weeping. Yang Hu says: Victory in war is nothing to celebrate.

After a victory, the dead should be treated according to the rites for a funeral.

The Imperial Commentary says: The Book of Changes holds that war brings calamity upon the world. Even when a battle is won, some people will inevitably suffer from the war. Therefore, when those in high positions confront a victorious army, they should treat it with funeral rites.

Heshanggong says: In ancient times, after a victory, the general would take the place reserved for the presider at a funeral, wear plain mourning clothes, and weep for the dead. This shows that the noble person values virtue and looks lightly on weapons. Only when there is no other choice does one punish those who bring disorder; one takes no pleasure in it, but responds as one would to a death.

Lü Jifu says: Treating victory with funeral rites shows that weapons are inauspicious things and war is not worthy of praise. Grieving and weeping for the dead shows that one takes no pleasure in killing.

Li Tian says: This chapter teaches that the noble person should make the Dao and virtue the foundation of governing the state, rather than treating warfare as a path to fame. To delight in military strength is to take pleasure in killing; without funeral rites, there is no way to express grief for the dead.

Chapter Thirty-Two: The Dao Is Ever Nameless

The Dao is ever nameless.

Wang Bi says: The Dao has no form and therefore cannot be named. Being nameless is the Dao’s constant state; hence the saying, “The Dao is ever nameless.”

Liu Zhongping says, “‘Constant’ means unchanged throughout the ages. The height of Heaven, the thickness of Earth, and the brightness of the sun and moon accompany the myriad things through their succession and transformation across generations, but they are not ultimately eternal and unchanging. Heaven appears above and thus may be called Qian; Earth below follows the Dao of Heaven and thus may be called Kun. Those that manifest brightness and display the celestial patterns may be called the sun and moon. All these things still fall within the reach of human understanding and naming; they are not wholly beyond names.

“As for the Dao, the growth and decline, fullness and depletion of the myriad things are mysterious and hard to fathom, but the Dao does not take part in them. Through the continual changes of past and present, the Dao seems serene and clear, existing naturally of itself. It is neither Yin nor Yang, neither soft nor hard, neither small nor great, neither round nor square, neither white nor black; nor does it belong to gong or shang among the five musical notes. You cannot see it when you look, hear it when you listen, or grasp it by touch. This is what is meant by ‘constant namelessness’: the Dao is constant, yet cannot be defined by a name.

“‘Though the uncarved simplicity is small, under Heaven none dares make it a subject’ means that the Dao’s simple essence may seem small, yet under Heaven none dares treat it as a subordinate to be put to use.”

The Lord of the River says: “Although the Dao’s simple essence is subtle and minute, it has no form. Therefore, under Heaven there is no one who can put the Dao to use.”

“Uncarved simplicity” refers to the Dao’s whole, undivided essence, before any particular things had taken shape. Viewed on the surface, this essence seems small; yet it is sufficient to be the root and master of the myriad things.

“‘If lords and kings can hold fast to it, the myriad things will naturally submit’ means that if lords and kings can hold fast to the Dao, the myriad things will naturally come to them in submission.”

Lü Jifu says: “The myriad things receive their beginning from the Dao and depend on it to live. How could anything under Heaven dare treat its own root and source of life as a subordinate to be put to use? This is the true master of the myriad things. All things have such a root. If lords and kings can hold fast to the Dao, they govern the myriad things through their true master. How could the myriad things fail to submit?”

The Dao is the master of the myriad things. When lords and kings hold fast to the Dao, they need not use force, rewards, or punishments to urge the myriad things on. Though the myriad things do not understand the reason, they submit of their own accord.

When the Yin-Yang Qi of Heaven and Earth mingle, sweet dew descends. No one commands it, yet it naturally and evenly nourishes all things. If the lords and kings can abide by the Dao, they need not rely on force to compel or rewards to entice: all things will submit of their own accord.

“Heaven and Earth unite and sweet dew descends; no one commands it, yet it is naturally even” means that when Heaven and Earth are in harmony, sweet dew descends of itself. No one issues an order, yet it naturally and universally nourishes all things.

The Imperial Commentary says that holding fast to the pure and simple Dao of Wuwei without losing it does more than bring all things to submit of their own accord. When one connects above with Heaven, reaches below to Earth, and accords with the movement of Heaven and Earth, one can bring them into harmony, so that all things receive their bounty. Sweet dew is an auspicious sign formed from the harmonious Qi of Heaven and Earth. The Commentary says that when an emperor’s De reaches upward to Heaven, downward to Earth, and bestows its bounty on all beings in between, sweet dew descends.

Wang Yuanzhe says that governing by holding to the simple Dao, free of name and desire, allows Yin and Yang to rise and descend according to their proper order, while harmonious Qi responds in turn. Sweet dew arises from the union of Yin and Yang and naturally nourishes all things evenly; no one makes it happen. This is because the Dao’s influence extends everywhere. He cites Mencius’s words, “Above and below, one flows together with Heaven and Earth,” to show that moving in accord with Heaven and Earth is no small benefit.

The first two interpretations both hold that when the lords and kings abide by the Dao, Heaven sends down sweet dew as an auspicious confirmation.

Wang Bi says that when Heaven and Earth are in harmony, sweet dew descends naturally without being sought. When the lords and kings preserve their true nature and follow the Dao of Wuwei, the people too will settle naturally, without being commanded.

Wen Gong says that when the lords and kings abide by the Dao, all things submit, the prevailing atmosphere becomes harmonious, and the people are transformed.

Lü Jifu says that Yin Qi is solemn and deep, while Yang Qi is bright and vigorous. Yin Qi comes from Heaven, and Yang Qi stirs on Earth. When Yin and Yang meet and unite, all things grow from them. This process may perhaps be described as a “pattern,” yet its form cannot be seen. Sweet dew descending when Heaven and Earth unite is a sign that harmonious Qi has reached its utmost. When the lords and kings hold to the Dao, all things submit, just as Heaven and Earth unite. Who, then, can see the Dao’s form? Thus, without any command, all things settle naturally.

Su Ziyou says: When Yin and Yang (yin-yang) energies rise and descend in mutual exchange, they blend into one and bring down sweet dew. The dew quietly moistens all things, reaching them evenly and without exception. The sage understands and embodies the Great Dao, using it to respond to the many affairs of the world. Like sweet dew, the sage leaves nothing untouched. Thus the sage can bring all things to fulfillment.

All four interpretations above speak of the sage embodying the Great Dao, after which all things turn toward him. This is like sweet dew reaching all things. The sage responds to every matter through the Great Dao, reaching everywhere like the dew, and so can bring all things to fulfillment.

Once names have been established, one must know when to stop. Knowing when one has enough makes it possible to avoid danger.

Cai Zihuang says: If one knows when one has enough, one can turn back from the far end of the growth of names to the root of namelessness. Then one is no longer bound by the changes of life and death and does not fall into danger.

Names are expressions of the Great Dao after it has dispersed and transformed. As soon as names begin to be established, one should know when one has enough and return to the nameless, unadorned source. Then one will not be altered by external things, but can remain calm and content, no longer falling into danger.

The Great Dao’s movement through the world is like streams and valleys flowing into rivers and seas.

The Imperial Commentary says: The nature of all things under Heaven is originally interconnected. The Great Dao moves through the world because all things accord with it through their nature, just as waters in streams and valleys gather into rivers and seas. Things of the same nature find affinity with one another; things of the same kind naturally respond to each other. When the sage governs the world, what deliberate action is there? The sage merely follows the nature of all things.

Lu Yu says: Streams and valleys flow naturally into the sea; the sea does not summon them. The people turn toward the Great Dao, though the Dao itself has made no deliberate effort to seek them.

Wang Yuanze says: The rivers and seas do not seek out water, yet water gathers there because they collect it in abundance. Water of the same nature naturally flows toward them. The Great Dao is the nature of the people. If the sage can gather and embody the purity and wholeness of this nature, all beings will turn toward him. This, too, is the result of following nature.

Su Ziyou says: The rivers and seas are where water gathers; the waters in rivers and valleys are its branches. The Dao is the source of all things, and all things are its farthest reaches. Since all water comes from the same source, the waters of rivers and valleys eventually flow into the rivers and seas. Since all things are born from the Dao, they naturally return to their common source.

This chapter explains that when lords and kings hold fast to the Dao, all things will naturally gather around them. It is like sweet dew descending from heaven: without any human arrangement, it moistens all things evenly. The Dao is the common foundation people follow, and it is also present in everyone’s nature. If lords and kings first understand and hold fast to this shared human nature, the people of the world will naturally gather around them, just as water flows into the sea. Everything happens of itself.

“Sweet dew descends from heaven, and without any arrangement it moistens all things evenly. The Dao is the common foundation people follow, and it is also present in everyone’s nature. If lords and kings first understand and hold fast to this shared human nature, the people of the world will naturally gather around them, just as water flows into the sea. Everything happens of itself.”

To understand others is to be wise. These are the opening words of Chapter Thirty-Three.

The Imperial Commentary says: The Tradition explains that wisdom is like the eyes: they can see a hundred paces away but cannot see their own eyelashes. Observing whether others are upright or corrupt, like distinguishing black from white, is the work of wisdom. It amounts only to understanding others.

To understand oneself is true clarity.

The Imperial Commentary says: The Book of Changes speaks of “returning to know oneself,” meaning that one turns back to oneself in order to understand oneself. The Tradition says that looking inward is what is called clarity. Using wisdom only to understand others makes it easy to become entangled with external things, with the mind struggling day after day. Turning one’s gaze back upon oneself and coming to know oneself allows one to grow quiet and return to the root, and thus to see oneself clearly. Such clarity is like the measure of Heaven and Earth and the mirror of all things.

Sima Guang says: Knowing oneself and overcoming oneself are especially difficult.

The Old Man by the River says: When a person can know whether they are worthy or unworthy, this is called listening inward and hearing what is silent, looking into the heart and seeing what has no form. That is why it is called “clarity.”

Cheng Xuanying says: Being able to see the things before one and discern the depth and extent of other people’s nature and abilities is called “wisdom.” Being able to know one’s own nature and destiny, as well as the good and evil deeds and their consequences across the three ages—past, present, and future—and to understand them without confusion is called “clarity.”

The Dao De Jing says: “Seeing what is subtle is called clarity; understanding the constant, unchanging principle is also called clarity.” What is subtle is the hidden depth of one’s nature; the constant principle is the proper path of life. If people can understand their nature and life, return to the root and recover their original reality, and avoid being obscured by external things, they may be called clear-sighted. If they know only the myriad things of Heaven and Earth, but do not know where their own life comes from or how to return to the root, that is profound ignorance.

“Outdoing others counts as having strength.” Wang Yuanze says: Strength can be used to outdo others, but not to overcome oneself. According to legend, Hou Yi was skilled at archery, while Ao, a figure famed for great strength, could row a boat on dry land. These are examples of using strength to outdo others. The character for “outdo” contains the element for “strength,” indicating victory through force; but strength alone is not enough to be called true excellence.

“Is overcoming oneself what counts as being strong?” Wang Yuanze says: To overcome oneself is to restrain selfish desires, follow the Dao, and maintain focus while guarding one’s Qi (vital energy). Confucius said: “Those who can restrain their desires and remain firm and unyielding are the ones who overcome themselves.” Yangzi said that overcoming one’s selfishness is called “conquering.” When people can restrain themselves and overcome the selfish impulse to pursue profit and satisfy desires, that is true strength. This does not mean domineering force, but the strength of holding to softness and abiding by the Dao.

“Those who know contentment are wealthy.” Emperor Xuanzong of Tang says: Knowing when enough is enough and being content prevents one from coveting more; this may be called being wealthy. Wang Yuanze says: Within human nature, all things are already complete. Living in poverty and seclusion does not diminish it; holding a high position does not increase it. Yet the ignorant may give up the precious nature they already possess in order to obtain things of status and prestige. Therefore, those who understand that their nature is already complete can regard the external things of the world lightly and remain unmoved by them. This is true wealth. Mencius said: “All things are complete within me.” Is that not wealth? The first interpretation regards knowing contentment and knowing when to stop as wealth; the second holds that human nature is already complete.

“Those who strive to put the Dao into practice have resolve.” Prince Shu says: When people of the highest caliber hear the Dao, they strive to put it into practice. Thus, only those who persevere in practice can be said to have resolve. Some take the pursuit of great fame and abundant profit as their aim, but that is not the resolve meant here. Only those who strive to put the Great Dao into practice truly have resolve.

Some people pursue illustrious reputations; others pursue great wealth. Neither is a true aspiration. Only those who strive to practice the Dao can be called people of purpose.

If you do not lose your root, your life can endure.

The Old Man by the River says: If people can regulate and care for themselves without exhausting the Jing and Qi they received at birth, they can endure.

Wang Yuanzhe says: If the mind and nature are not altered by external things, they can endure. This is the full realization of one’s nature. The Old Man by the River speaks of preserving Jing and Qi; Wang Yuanzhe speaks of preserving spirit. Taken together, their accounts are more complete. The Book of Changes says “Perseverance,” meaning endurance; for this reason, the noble person holds fast to unchanging principles. “Not changing one’s principles” means not losing one’s root, and so one can endure.

When the body dies but the Dao does not perish, that is true longevity.

Wang Bi says: Even if the body dies, as long as the fundamental principle of life has not perished, life is preserved. Though the body is no longer present, the Dao remains. How much less, then, would the Dao be cut off while the body is still present?

Lu Xisheng says: When the body dies but the Dao has not perished, this is called longevity.

Wang Yuanzhe says: After death, the worthy are called “ghosts” because they have fulfilled the Dao they practiced and returned to their original state. The sages are called “spirits” after death because they transcend life and death, having never truly been born or truly died. The foolish become “things” after death; even while alive, they are as if dead. Those who investigate the Dao and cultivate the spirit may undergo continual changes in bodily form, yet their true nature remains clear and still, without end. This is why they may be called long-lived. Here, cultivation is carried through to the very root of life.

Lu Dian says: The “unchanging” described in the Liezi, the “deathless” described in the Zhuangzi, and the “imperishable” described in Buddhism all accord with the idea here: that the true nature remains clear and still, without end, and may therefore be called long-lived. Here, cultivation is carried through to the very root of life.

Lu Dian says that Liezi’s “not transforming,” Zhuangzi’s “not dying,” and the Buddhist teaching of “not perishing” all mean the same thing here.

Thus, while alive, the sage regards life as continuous with death; this is called “spirit.” When the sage dies, he regards death as continuous with life; this is called “longevity.” This means that life and death have no fundamental difference. Since life and death are regarded alike, all things become one. The human body is merely a temporary dwelling, like a cicada’s cast-off shell or a snake’s shed skin. The cicada’s shell is dead, yet the cicada has not vanished; the snake’s skin has decayed, yet the snake has not been lost. For true life does not perish even when the body dies.

Some say that the Perfected Person, whose cultivation has reached the highest state, cannot be burned by fire or drowned by water; tigers cannot bite him, and rhinoceroses cannot gore him. Riding through empty space, he does not fall; encountering rocks, he is not obstructed. And he has never truly died. Someone then asks: if this is so, why speak of “dying without perishing”? Because the sage acts in accordance with the times. When it is time to act, he does not force himself to hold back; when it is time to stop, he does not force himself to act. He simply follows nature. Thus, there are things one can do but chooses not to do, and there is life that is not bound by death: the body may die, but the spirit does not perish.

Yan Zun says: In conducting oneself in the world, promoting benefit and removing harm, responding to things, and adapting to change, nothing is more important than understanding others. In restraining one’s perceptiveness, cultivating clear wisdom, establishing institutions for the people and the state, understanding the intent of the Great Dao, and knowing the heart of Heaven’s Dao, nothing is more important than knowing oneself. In directing affairs of government, governing the people, establishing laws and rituals, carrying out instruction and decrees, bringing peace to the realm, and winning the submission of the feudal lords, nothing is more honorable than surpassing others. In practicing Virtue, following the spirits, receiving the support of Heaven and Earth, harmonizing Yin-Yang, governing one’s household, protecting the state, bringing peace and happiness to the people, and inspiring reverence, humility, compassion, filial devotion, and respect for the law, nothing is wiser than knowing when one has enough. In letting the spirit wander in realms of manifest radiance and maintaining calm and peace, even amid high rank, distinction, splendor, and wealth, nothing is better than fulfilling one’s aspirations.

In fulfilling one’s duties, serving superiors and governing subordinates, completing what predecessors left unfinished, continuing their work, and sharing its benefits with the people, nothing is more essential than persevering over time. What Heaven and Earth cherish and all living beings depend upon—what people dwell in without weariness and enjoy without ceasing, while every blessing flourishes together—has no rival in winning affection. Nothing is more beautiful than longevity.

When achievements and their effects are complete, one does not claim them as one’s own.

Su Ziyou says: In the world, there are beings that nourish and bring forth the myriad things without refusing them; people are sure to give such beings a name and claim them as their own. There are also beings that avoid the myriad things and possess none of them; they turn away from the things of the world and do not nourish them. The only one that both nourishes the myriad things without refusing them and brings them to completion without claiming them as its own is the Dao.

It cares for and nurtures the myriad things, yet does not act as their ruler. Another version reads “clothes and covers”; “clothes and covers” means nourishing and sheltering the myriad things as clothing covers them.

Heshang Gong says: Though the Dao cares for and nurtures the myriad things, it takes nothing from them as a human ruler would.

Cai Zihuang says: “‘Clothes and covers’ means nourishing the myriad things as clothing covers them. Though the Dao shelters the myriad things, it does not rule over them; thus it may seem insignificant.”

To remain without desire from beginning to end may be called “small.”

Lü Jifu says: Whatever is great cannot be called small, and whatever is small cannot be called great. The Dao can accord with and assist people’s desires; in this sense, it may also be called “small.”

Lü Jifu says: Whatever is large cannot be called “small,” and whatever is small cannot be called “large.” The Dao, however, encompasses both large and small and runs through all things. Thus it can be present in what is great and manifest in what is small. All things depend on the Dao for their life, yet the Dao does not refuse them or claim credit. It nourishes all things without making itself their ruler. Precisely because it claims no credit and rules over nothing, and is always free of selfish desire, it is subtle to the utmost and may be called “small.”

Wang Yuanzhe says: What is called “small” here is in fact the truly “great.” For example, when someone realizes the Dao, desires and thoughts do not arise, and the mind is calm and single-minded. Does this not count as “small”? The Book of Changes says, “The Return hexagram is small, yet it can discern all things.” (“Return” refers to Yang energy at its first arising: weak, but gradually growing.)

All things turn toward the Dao, yet the Dao does not regard itself as their ruler. Thus it may be called “great.”

Wang Yuanzhe says: If one deliberately set out to rule all things, one would stand in opposition to them. The Dao rules all things without ever intending to do so. For this very reason, it fills Heaven and Earth and is everywhere; nothing can exist apart from it.

When the Dao returns to its most subtle depths, it appears “small” and distinct from all things. When it manifests amid countless transformations, it appears “great” and mingles with all things. Because it is distinct from all things, it covers and nourishes them without displaying any credit for governing them. It does not act as their ruler, and so it is always free of desire and may be called “small.” This is what “the Return hexagram is small, yet it can discern all things” means. The Dao mingles with all things, so it embraces them, yet no one can see where they ultimately return. It does not reveal itself as their ruler, and so may be called “great.” The Dao itself cannot be measured as large or small. To call it great or small is only to describe how it appears in its workings upon all things.

Therefore, the sage never regards himself as great, and for this reason is able to accomplish true greatness.

Cheng Xuanying says: This passage explains how the sage realizes and practices the Dao. The sage forgets the self and cares for all things, remaining calm, humble, respectful, and free from contention, and never regarding himself as great. Precisely because sages place all things before themselves and do not dwell on their merits or achievements, they become foremost among the sages, uniquely honored throughout the Three Realms, and attain greatness.

Du Guangting says: The sage cherishes the people and cares for all things, extending kindness to each, great or small. This may seem to be “small.” The sage lets all things develop according to their own nature and ultimately return to the natural order; this may be called “great.” Sages model themselves on the Dao to guide the world, extend their De to everyone, lead the people with a pure and gentle way of life, and govern the world through quiet, Wuwei (non-action). They accomplish things without claiming ownership of them or elevating themselves. Thus, their achievements can become vast and their sage De can endure. Precisely because they do not deliberately seek greatness, they attain honor and greatness.

Those who cultivate themselves should be expansive and free of attachment, like clouds without intention and water that takes the shape of its vessel. They can be on the left or the right; they adapt to whatever place they occupy, taking a square or round shape without clinging to any fixed form. When things come, they respond in keeping with the moment; by observing all things, they gain far-reaching insight. They do not use a single attitude to favor some people over others. Though they help all things widely, they do not boast of their virtue in benefiting everyone. Their compassion extends even to tiny creatures, yet they never claim them as their own. The many good deeds return to the Dao, but they do not set themselves up as master. In this way, their De is shown to be neither small nor great: they do not impose their will or boast of their achievements, and so they accord with the complete, genuine Great Dao.

The uncarved block—the natural state before it has been shaped—may seem small, yet no one under heaven can control it. The sage holds fast to simplicity and remains free of desire; this may be called “small.” This is what is meant by “never deliberately seeking greatness.” As for being beyond anyone’s control under heaven, the sage thereby stands alone in attaining honor and greatness, and so can also achieve “greatness.” This chapter explains that the Dao’s workings have no fixed boundaries and that the growth and transformation of all things depend on it. In relation to the distinct things of the world, it appears small; in merging with all things, it appears great. Thus the sage models himself on the Dao of simplicity, appearing humble and small, while attaining the highest honor and appearing great.

Chapter 35: Holding Fast to the Great Image

Hold fast to the “Great Image”—the formless, complete Dao—and all things under heaven will return to it.

Lü Jifu says: The Dao moves through the world like streams flowing into rivers and seas. All things return to the rivers and seas, yet do not know who their master is. This is because the Dao has no form. That which has no form is the “Great Image.” If so, who could hold back all things and prevent them from returning? Hence the saying: “Hold fast to the Great Image, and all things under heaven will return to it.”

“Hold fast” means to maintain and preserve. The “Great Image” is the Dao. It has no shape and represents the Dao in its complete essence. If so, who could hold back all things and prevent them from returning? Hence the saying: “Hold fast to the Great Image, and all things under heaven will return to it.”

To hold means to keep and uphold. The Great Image refers to the Great Dao. The Great Dao has no visible form; it is the complete and undivided body of the Dao. The sage upholds the Great Dao and uses it to govern the affairs of the world. The people then change their hearts and come to follow him. When Yu the Great Shun arrived at the ruins of Deng, a hundred thousand households came to join him. When the Great King of Zhou moved to Mount Qi, so many people followed him that it was like a market day.

To act in accord with the Dao and return to the Great Dao brings no harm. Instead, it brings stability, peace, and ease.

Lu Yu says: “If you welcome others with an open mind, what harm could there be? When you do not injure any of the myriad things, your heart can remain calm and at peace.”

Lü Jifu says: “If the Great Dao has been lost, even if all under Heaven come to follow, they will do so only temporarily and will eventually depart. Such allegiance cannot help but bring harm. But when the Great Dao is upheld and all under Heaven come to follow, people may cease clinging to distinctions in Daoist methods, yet they never turn away from one another. Thus they follow without bringing harm.”

Che Huibi says: “If one turns toward the cycle of birth and death and remains burdened by sorrow and grief, that is harmful. If one turns toward the Great Dao and reaches the ease and joy of Wuwei (non-action), that is harmless. The phrase ‘peace, balance, and well-being’ means: not being moved by the changes of life and death is ‘peace’; regarding all things without making distinctions is ‘balance’; and Wuwei with ease and joy is ‘well-being.’”

Once people return to the Great Dao, the state is stable, the people are prosperous, they rejoice, and all under Heaven is at peace. What harm could there be in that? This is the harmlessness meant by “peace, balance, and well-being.” “Peace” means there is no need to worry about ruin; “balance” means there are no dangerous or wrongful calamities; “well-being” means things flow freely and remain stable.

Pleasant music and tasty food can only make passersby pause for a moment.

Emperor Xuanzong of Tang says: “Music attracts people through sound, and food attracts them through flavor. Passersby enjoy them and pause briefly, but they do not stay for long.”

Lü Jifu says: “If there is music to enjoy and food to savor, those who stop are still only travelers passing through.”

Once the Great Dao is put into words, it sounds bland and tasteless. Look for it, and nothing can be seen; listen for it, and nothing can be heard. Yet in its use, it is never exhausted.

The flavors we can taste have already appeared, but the root that gives rise to all flavors has never shown itself. That is why the Dao is bland and tasteless. The colors we can see have already appeared, but the root that gives rise to all colors has never shown itself. That is why we cannot see it, even when we look. The sounds we can hear have already been produced, but the root that gives rise to all sounds has never shown itself. That is why we cannot hear it, even when we listen.

Though the Dao has no shape or sound, it can bring about sour and sweet, black and yellow, and the gong and shang notes (two of the five notes in ancient Chinese music). It has no particular awareness of its own, yet nothing can appear without it; it exerts no specific power, yet nothing can be accomplished without it. Thus, the Dao’s workings are inexhaustible.

This chapter describes the sage holding to the Dao in governing the world, so that people everywhere turn to him without distress. The Dao is bland and tasteless, unlike food that provokes craving; it has no sound or form, unlike music that delights the ear. Its workings are boundless. How could it be merely a temporary resting place for passersby?

Chapter 36: When You Would Draw It In

If you would make something contract, you must first let it expand. If you would weaken it, you must first let it grow strong. If you would abolish it, you must first let it rise. If you would take something from it, you must first give to it. This is called subtle insight: seeing the principles of change in things through their smallest signs.

Yin-Yang reflect, cover, and restrain one another. The seasons take turns, and all things grow and perish along with them. These are the patterns of all things and familiar changes in human life: gathering and dispersal, flourishing and decline, rising and collapse, loss and fullness. The first signs of change are often exceedingly subtle, so people cannot see them when they first appear. Only by closely examining the smallest indications can one discern how changes alternate.

Sages can foresee good and ill fortune; the worthy come close to this ability. At the height of summer, Yin begins to arise at noon; amid the deep cold of winter, Yang begins to arise at midnight. When King Goujian of Yue wished to weaken Wu, he urged the king of Wu to attack Qi. When Zhi Bo planned to invade the state of Chouyou, he presented it with a broad, spacious chariot. Thus a sage can see firm ice on the way from the thin frost first forming beneath one’s feet. Waning and waxing, fullness and diminishment, begin to shift long before they show in outward circumstances. Therefore, the valiant cannot remain strong forever, and the clever cannot remain free from setbacks forever.

Yan Zun said: Dao and De operate in the world, are recorded by the spirits, and also propel Heaven and Earth as they bring forth and nurture the myriad things and regulate Yin-Yang. When things develop to a certain point, they often turn into their opposites: what is real becomes illusory, what is clear becomes obscure, what flourishes declines, what is taut slackens, what exists perishes, and what lives eventually dies. This is the nature of things themselves and the law of nature.

Thus, things find their advantage in recurring change, and their function in bending and extending, advancing and withdrawing. Dao governs Heaven, Heaven governs the ruler, the ruler governs the ministers, and the ministers administer the people. All living things follow their own nature and the laws of nature, thereby preserving their lives. When tigers and leopards seek to seize their prey, they hide their sharp claws; when jackals and wolves seek to feed, they do not bare their teeth.

The sage sets aside private intentions and follows Dao; the wise person adapts to the circumstances of the world in order to meet the people’s needs. Candid advice is often hard to hear, so one should make room for frank words and discern what is right and wrong in them. When ministers are preparing to act, they should do their utmost to accommodate the ruler. Those who understand and apply these principles bring good fortune throughout Heaven and Earth, in all directions above and below. Those who do not know how to apply them may bring harm upon one another even within their own households and among close kin.

Thus, sons and younger brothers may at times be like tigers and wolves, while enemies may at times prove as close as fathers and elder brothers. Yet good may emerge from misfortune, and misfortune may lie hidden within good; their alternation in any given moment can determine whether things endure or perish. Therefore, if someone is disloyal, one must not trust them, however close they may be; if someone is not good, one should not draw near to them, however intimate the relationship. This is the principle that moves the worthy to sigh and commands the special attention of those of sage wisdom.

Lu Dian says: This is the most subtle art of adapting to circumstances between Heaven and Earth, and it is not practiced by sages alone. Adaptation lies hidden in what is deep and elusive, yet is carried out through yielding and compliant things. The Book of Changes says, “Adaptation is carried out through yielding,” and also, “The virtue of yielding is hidden from view.” Here, “Xun” means yielding and compliant; “hidden” means revealing oneself subtly and indirectly. What Laozi calls “concealing the light” is the quiet use of brightness; “subtle brightness” means keeping brightness faintly concealed. This is the same idea as the Shen’s saying that “the subtle and the manifest are connected.”

Lu Xisheng says: The sage’s thought is profound and subtle, and its most wondrous feature is the way adaptation and the constant Way work together. “The actual” takes conformity to the constant Way as its foundation, while “adaptation” temporarily alters the established norm when circumstances require it. Adaptation serves to fulfill the constant Way, and the constant Way is put into practice through adaptation. Though the two differ, they ultimately point in the same direction. Laozi uses the constant Way to guide people in establishing a teaching of “knowing constancy,” and uses adaptation to help the world; therefore, he speaks words that seem to contradict ordinary principles. This is also what the Book of Changes means when it says, “It exhausts the transformations of all things without omission, encompasses Heaven and Earth without excess.”

The Huainanzi says: