《道德真经注疏(原题顾欢)》Vol. 2

The Dao is a dim, profound, and elusive principle, so it can only be understood and recognized through inward reflection.

By yielding and adapting, one can preserve oneself. The commentator says that letting go of the self, accommodating others, and avoiding arbitrary action allow one to preserve one’s integrity. The annotator explains further that meeting circumstances with gentleness and humility, without going against human feelings, preserves both life and the Dao. Zhuangzi said, “I always follow the bends when I walk, so I have never injured my feet.” This speaks of not clinging to either favorable or adverse circumstances.

By being wronged, one can in time become upright. The commentator says that “bent” means restraining oneself to benefit others; in time, one will naturally unfold and become upright. The annotator instead interprets “bent” as suffering injustice: understanding that bending and unfolding are not absolute opposites allows one to endure slander without rushing to voice resentment, and ultimately to be vindicated. This speaks of not clinging to either slander or praise.

By occupying a low position, one can become full and abundant. Water flows toward low-lying ground; when people are humble and place themselves below others, De (Virtue/Power) gathers around them.

By willingly accepting loss and taking a low position, one can instead be renewed. The commentator says that when one would rather bear hardship oneself and put others first, all under Heaven will respect one; in time, one will renew oneself as well. The annotator explains that “low-lying” means humble: by yielding and not competing with others, one’s De grows richer. When one can live amid lowliness and hardship without craving honor or favor, one’s De is renewed day by day. This speaks of not clinging to high or low, honor or disgrace.

By seeking little, one can instead gain something. The commentator says that taking little for oneself brings greater gains; the Way of Heaven supports the humble, and the spirits dwell in places of stillness and emptiness.

By craving too much, one can instead become confused. Those with abundant possessions are often troubled by how to keep them safe; those who learn too much may likewise be confused by the many ideas they hear. The Jie jie says that worldly people think too much and desire too much, yet act without guiding principles, and so are easily confused. The annotator explains that “little” refers to the ways described earlier, such as yielding and humility: not clinging to either extreme, but abiding in the middle. “Much” means becoming caught between opposites such as favorable and adverse circumstances, and clinging to one side or the other. Holding to the middle brings gain; being trapped between the extremes brings confusion.

Therefore, the sage holds fast to the “One of the Dao”—the fundamental principle of not being fixed on either side of opposing extremes—and makes it the standard for all under Heaven.

“Embrace” means to hold fast; “pattern” means a guiding principle. The sage holds fast to the “One of the Dao” and thereby understands all things, becoming a standard and model for all under Heaven. (The Jiejie says this means concentrating on contemplating and practicing the Dao, and guarding the Dao within oneself.) The commentary explains that the sage holds to the root of the Dao and uses it to guide living beings, thus becoming a model for all under Heaven to study and follow.

He does not look only through his own eyes, and so he sees clearly.

The sage does not rely on his own eyes to see what lies a thousand miles away, but uses the eyes of all under Heaven to observe. Thus he can perceive things clearly and understand them fully. The commentary says that the sage sees through the distinction between self and things, and does not cling to his own appearance; therefore, his wisdom can illuminate matters with clarity.

He does not declare himself right, and so he becomes manifest.

The sage does not assume that he is right or that others are wrong, and so he becomes manifest in the world. The commentary says that the sage regards himself and others equally, neither insisting that he alone is right nor treating external things as wrong; thus his De becomes evident.

He does not claim credit for himself, and so he achieves merit.

“Claiming credit” means taking merit for oneself. The sage’s transformative influence spreads far and wide, yet he does not claim the good name or merit as his own; therefore, he accomplishes things for all under Heaven. The commentary says that the sage nurtures living beings but treats the people with humility, yielding the credit to others, and thus achieves great merit.

He does not exalt himself, and so he endures.

“Exalting oneself” means regarding oneself as superior or great. The sage does not consider himself noble or mighty, and so he endures without falling. The commentary says that the sage yields credit to others and does not boast of himself, allowing his De to endure and be passed down.

Precisely because the sage does not contend, no one under Heaven can contend with him.

The commentators say that among all the people under Heaven, whether wise or unwise, none can contend with one who does not contend. The subcommentators praise those who possess four virtues: they understand the principles of favorable and adverse circumstances, cultivate themselves through humility, and do not compete with external things. For this reason, nothing under Heaven can contend with them.

Can the words of the ancients, “Bend and yield, and you will preserve yourself,” really be empty talk?

The commentators explain that this saying, handed down from the ancients, is no falsehood. The subcommentators say that gentleness and humility preserve one’s own Dao. If one practices in accordance with the teaching and does not compete with external things, one can attain complete De, and all things will come to one.

Thus, one who can truly preserve oneself will have all things come to them.

The commentators say that “genuine” means real. One who can bend and yield can indeed preserve the body, allowing it to return safely to the life endowed by one’s parents, without harm.

Speak little; this accords with the natural Way.

The commentators interpret “few words” as cherishing one’s speech, and hold that this accords with the natural Way. The subcommentators say that “few” means scarce, so “few words” means speaking little. Another interpretation takes “few words” to mean forgetting words, while “the natural” is the utmost profundity of the mysterious Dao. The highest Dao is difficult to express in language; clinging to words instead leads one away from the truth. One should forget speech and set aside teachings in order to accord with the deep and mysterious Dao. Gu Huan says that “few” means little: if people cherish their vital energy and speak less, their conduct will accord with nature. Wang Bi says that speaking sparingly and remaining silent accords with the natural Way.

A gale cannot last through the whole morning; a downpour cannot last through the whole day.

A gale is a fierce, violent wind; a downpour is a sudden, heavy rain. Neither fierce winds nor heavy rains last long, so the text says they cannot endure.

Shu explains that gales and downpours often do not last even a full morning, much less an entire day. This is a metaphor for people who cling to teachings and become confused by them. They act rashly and rush to achieve results, but their resolve to understand the principles of things is neither firm nor lasting. That is why fierce winds and heavy rains serve as the comparison. Here, “morning” represents thoughts renewed from moment to moment, while “day” represents a lifespan of a hundred years. Whether viewed in terms of a fleeting instant or a long lifetime, all things in the world are subject to constant change.

Wang Bi holds that the energies of mountains and marshes communicate: Yin energy rises and collides with Yang energy, giving rise to gales and downpours. When Yin and Yang fall out of balance, the weather changes abruptly. Likewise, when people lose their inner harmony, they may suffer sudden illness, damage their bodies, and lose the root of life; they cannot endure. Cai explains that the Yang energy of Heaven descends and disperses to form wind, while the Yin energy of Earth rises and steams up to form rain. Gu and Lu point out that even though Heaven and Earth are so vast and the energies of Yin and Yang so abundant, the winds and rains formed when Yin and Yang clash cannot last long. How much less can a person, dwelling between Heaven and Earth with a life so small and brief, avoid quick ruin if they become absorbed in excessive talk and act recklessly and hastily?

Who brings about such fierce winds and sudden downpours? Heaven and Earth do.

Note: Here, “who” means precisely “who.” Who brings about gales and downpours? Heaven and Earth.

Even the winds and rains brought about by Heaven and Earth cannot last long. How much less can a person, dwelling between Heaven and Earth with a life so small, expect to endure if they cling to excessive talk? Their rapid decline is all too foreseeable.

If violent winds and driving rain cannot last for even a morning or an evening, how much less can human beings endure them? Though Heaven and Earth are wondrous and can give rise to violent winds and driving rain, even these intense changes do not last. How, then, could ordinary people who act with impatience and forcefulness endure for long?

Therefore, those who follow the Dao should act as the Dao does: quietly, without agitation. A commentator adds that those who cultivate the Dao should not cling to words and doctrines.

Those who delight in the Dao act in harmony with it; this is called “being one with the Dao.” A person of De can perceive the principles of the Dao in everyday affairs, adapt to the world while keeping the mind inwardly empty and open, and remain unbound by the many things that entangle people. In this way, they accord with the realm of emptiness and spontaneity. This, too, is called “being one with the Dao.”

“The Dao attains them” means that the Dao, in turn, responds to such people: they attain the Dao. By grasping its principles in concrete affairs, they bring their understanding into accord with the world around them, so that the two are no longer opposed.

Those who accord with De are, in turn, met by De.

Those who accord with the Dao are gladly welcomed by the Dao; those who accord with De are gladly welcomed by De; and those who accord with losing the Dao and turning away from De will meet with a corresponding response from that state of loss and rejection.

Here, “De” refers to virtue, which people may cherish, and “accord with De” means acting in a way that matches it. The commentary explains that the Dao is the constant Dao, while De is high De. When people understand the teachings without clinging to their words, their actions accord with high De, and high De naturally responds to them. The Dao is the root of De, and De is the Dao at work. So when speaking of the root, one says “Dao”; when speaking of its working, one says “De.”

“Loss” means caring only for oneself and thereby losing others. “Accord with loss” means acting in a way that matches this state of having lost the Dao. The commentary says that when the mind is agitated by striving and contention, and becomes confused through attachment to teachings, one’s conduct comes to resemble that of someone who has lost what is right. One therefore cannot become empty and still and accord with the Dao. “Losing the Dao” here means losing the Dao itself. The Scripture of the Western Ascension (Xisheng Jing) says: “In a former life, one never studied or asked about the Dao; now one has become a neighbor to those who have lost it.”

“Insufficient trust” means that those in higher positions lack trust in their subordinates; the subordinates then respond with distrust.

Clinging to words and rigidly adhering to teachings without grasping their underlying principle shows that one’s faith in the Dao is not yet sufficient. Even if one identifies with “loss” and is glad to pursue it, this still stems from a lack of faith within. The commentary explains that one cannot forget words but instead clings to them in search of principle. Though one claims to believe in the Dao, one’s understanding of its principles remains inadequate. Thus one becomes bound by teachings and fails to reach their source, still harboring doubt within the profound and mysterious realm of Daoist teaching.

Those who rise onto their toes cannot stand steadily. The commentator says that “tiptoeing” implies striving to get ahead: one who covets power and fame and single-mindedly pursues status cannot remain long on the path.

Those who take great strides cannot walk far. A person who considers themselves superior and places themselves above others will be rejected by everyone and find it difficult to act.

Those who show themselves off cannot see clearly. Some think their appearance is beautiful and their conduct accords with the Dao, unaware that their appearance may be unremarkable and their integrity coarse. The Imperial Commentary says that displaying one’s talents and elevating oneself invites criticism in one’s actions, making it hard to see things clearly. The subcommentary says this is because one cannot forget the self.

Those who presume themselves right cannot shine forth. If someone believes they are right and everyone else is wrong, others will reject them, and their De will be unable to show itself.

Those who boast of their achievements have no merit. If one boasts of one’s accomplishments as soon as something is done, one loses the true meaning of achieving something for others. The subcommentary says that when a person boasts about everything, others will not recognize their merit, and so they can accomplish little of substance.

Those who exalt themselves cannot last. People who like to boast and elevate themselves cannot remain established for long. The subcommentary says that pride and contempt for others reveal foolishness and short-sightedness. How could such De endure?

In relation to the Dao, these behaviors are like leftover food and extra limbs: superfluous and harmful.

The Commentary says, “‘Nourishing’ means coveting.” If people who boast and exalt themselves govern a state, they cannot last long. The Subcommentary explains: To show off and raise oneself above others, arrogantly looking down on them, is a sign of shallow understanding. How could people like this sustain their De (Virtue/Power)?

As for the Dao (the Way), such people are like leftover food and excess flesh.

The Commentary says: When people who boast and exalt themselves govern a state, they continually levy taxes and amass surplus goods, displaying their greed. The Subcommentary explains: “Leftover food” means food scraps; “excess flesh” means flesh beyond what the body needs. The Zhuangzi says, “attached lumps and hanging warts,” referring to excess flesh and warts that cling to the body and hang from it. Here, the point is that people who think themselves right and love to boast are as repellent in their conduct as leftover food and warts.

All things in the world despise such people.

The Commentary says: These people hold high office, and their actions are often aimed at harming others, so everyone fears and despises them. The Subcommentary explains: Excess flesh is useless, and boasting is a useless act. People in the world who see it will despise it. How could someone who keeps the Dao set their mind on boastful, self-important behavior?

Therefore, those who have the Dao do not take up such a position.

The Commentary says: A person who has the Dao does not hold office in a state like this.

There is a being, complete and undivided, that came into existence before Heaven and Earth.

The Commentary says: This refers to the Dao. The Dao has no form. It rests in a state of undivided chaos, yet exists before Heaven and Earth and gives rise to the myriad things. The Subcommentary explains: “A being” refers to the Dao. The Dao seems nonexistent, yet truly exists; it is not a specific thing, yet it can give rise to the myriad things. Undivided and unformed, it can generate all kinds of things. In other words, although the Dao itself is not chaotic, it gives rise to the myriad things within undivided chaos. The Zhuangzi says, “It makes spirits and ghosts numinous, makes the Lord on High numinous, and gives birth to Heaven and Earth.” This means that the Dao gives numinous power to spirits and ghosts and to the Lord on High, and generates Heaven and Earth. It also says that the Dao existed before Heaven and Earth and does not grow old on that account.

It is silent and still, vast and formless, standing alone and never changing,

Stillness means that there is no sound; emptiness means that there is no form. “Standing alone” means that nothing exists in opposition to it. “Unchanging” means that, although it brings forth and transforms the myriad things, it remains constant in itself.

The commentary explains: The Dao is profound and unfathomable; neither sound nor form can reveal it. It depends on nothing and undergoes no movement or change. To say that it “stands alone” does not mean that it exists by itself in opposition to other things.

“Moving everywhere without danger” means that the Dao circulates throughout Heaven and Earth and reaches every place. It enters Yang Qi without being scorched, dwells in Yin Qi without decaying, and passes through the myriad things without harm.

The Jie Jie says that the sage keeps and practices the “One”—that is, the Dao’s root and source—within himself, allowing it to flow through his limbs, joints, nine apertures, and entire body. This is why it is called “moving everywhere without danger.”

“To be the mother of all under Heaven” means that the Dao nurtures the myriad things as a mother nurtures her children. The Jie Jie says that by keeping to the Dao and cultivating the “One,” one can become the mother of all under Heaven.

The Dao is everywhere, so it is said to “move everywhere.” Wherever it reaches, it penetrates all things, and thus its movement is without danger. The Dao opens and transforms Yin and Yang, steadies Heaven and Earth, and nurtures all living beings, helping them grow and protecting them. It can therefore be called the mother of all things.

“I do not know its name; I call it Dao” means that I cannot see the Dao’s form and do not know what name to give it. But seeing that all things are brought forth by the Dao, I call it “Dao.”

The Dao cannot be fully understood through human knowledge. The name “Dao,” as explained in the first chapter, refers to the nameless source that precedes the beginning of all things in Heaven and Earth. Here, the name is used to express the Dao’s power to penetrate and bring forth the myriad things.

If one must force a name upon it, one may call it “Great.”

We do not know its name, so we reluctantly call it “Great.” “Great” means that it is so high that nothing is higher, so vast that it has no boundary, and able to contain everything. A commentary explains that the substance of the Dao has no limits, which is why it is called “Great.” Since it surpasses what “great” usually means, this is only a name given out of necessity. A name designates the substance; a style name expresses its De. The Dao can contain all things. “Great” describes its substance, so we call it “Great” and give it the style name “Dao.” People usually receive a name first and a style name afterward. Here the style name comes before the name to show that the Dao is the opposite of the ordinary world.

“Great” is called “Passing Away.” This means that the vastness of the Dao is not always above, like Heaven, or always below, like Earth. It also moves and transforms, with no fixed place. A commentary explains that “Passing Away” means moving and going forth: the Dao has immense power to transform living beings and bring them to the state of a sage.

“Passing Away” is also called “Far-Reaching.” This means it extends without limit, spreading Qi throughout Heaven and Earth and reaching everywhere. A commentary says that it can transcend the Three Realms—the Realm of Desire, the Realm of Form, and the Formless Realm—and reach as far as the Three Pure Ones (Sanqing), the three pure heavens described in Daoism.

“Far-Reaching” is also called “Returning.” Though the Dao reaches without limit, it does not become cut off from the world; it also returns to human beings. A commentary explains that “Returning” means coming back: after the Dao has perfected itself through cultivation and reached the realm of sages, it can still return to the world and compassionately rescue living beings. Another interpretation says that in delusion, people see the Three Pure Ones as beyond the Three Realms; upon awakening, they understand that the Three Realms are the Three Pure Ones all along. Thus, to return to the mundane world is also to dwell in the Great Luo Heaven, the highest heaven in Daoism.

Thus, the Dao is great, Heaven is great, Earth is great, and the king is also great. The Dao is great because it encompasses Heaven and Earth and contains all things; Heaven is great because it covers all things; Earth is great because it bears all things; and the king is great because he can govern the world.

Between Heaven and Earth there are four kinds of greatness, and the king is one of them.

The commentary explains that there are “Four Greats” between Heaven and Earth: the Dao, Heaven, Earth, and the ruler. The ruler is one of them. As master of the people, the ruler is connected to the flourishing and decline of all things; this is cited to show why rulers should be vigilant. The subcommentary adds that rulers possess the Virtue (De) to teach and transform the world, and so stand alongside Heaven and Earth.

In the Zhuangzi, “within the realm” means the space between Heaven and Earth. The Dao has no boundaries, yet can encompass Heaven, Earth, and all things. Though it is said to lie within Heaven and Earth, its reach is in fact boundless.

The Jie Jie instead interprets the “Four Greats” as the lungs, heart, liver, and spleen, with the kidneys’ Water as the source of life. The ruler is one of these, like the spleen, whose Qi governs the circulation of vital energy and blood, carrying them throughout the body. Here, the body’s organs are used as a metaphor for the ruler’s governance of all directions.

“Humanity models itself on Earth” means that a ruler should emulate the Earth’s steadiness and gentleness. When seeds are sown in the Earth, the five grains grow; when it is dug, sweet springs gush forth. It bears the work done upon it without complaint and benefits all things without claiming credit.

“Earth models itself on Heaven” means that the Earth emulates the sky. The sky is still and unmoving. It gives to all things without seeking repayment, and brings them to life without demanding anything in return.

“Heaven models itself on the Dao” means that the sky emulates the Dao. The Dao is quiet and wordless; it secretly sets vital essence in motion, allowing all things to arise and change naturally.

“The Dao models itself on what is natural” means that the Dao takes what happens of itself as its rule. It follows the inherent nature of things, without being forced or controlled by external power.

The nature of the Dao is to accord with nature; there is nothing it needs to take as its model.

The commentary explains that a ruler must model himself on the Earth, taking calm and steadiness as his guiding principles. Stability gives rise to wisdom. Hence the text below says that agitation causes one to lose mastery. Having become still like the Earth, one must also model oneself on the clear, empty stillness of Heaven, nurturing all things universally and without partiality. The sun, moon, and stars in the heavens are like the radiance of wisdom: the Earth symbolizes stability, while Heaven symbolizes wisdom. One must go further and model oneself on the Dao’s emptiness, openness, and vastness, embracing all things; finally, one must realize the wondrous principle of nature on which the Dao rests. This is what is called the state of “profound mystery.” The Dao is the trace that becomes manifest, while nature is the root. Since the root governs the trace, the text says that the Dao takes nature as its model. Another interpretation holds that the Dao’s nature is itself nature, with nothing else available to serve as its model. Its essential reality transcends cultivation and learning; hence the saying, “The Dao models itself on nature.”

“Heavy” is the foundation of “light.”

The commentary says that a ruler who lacks gravity will not be respected; if one’s self-cultivation lacks steadiness, one will lose one’s spirit. The flowers and leaves of plants are light and thin, so they wither easily; only deep, substantial roots allow them to grow for a long time. The commentary uses this to warn practitioners against frivolity and agitation, citing an old saying: “If a gentleman is not dignified, he will command no respect.”

“Stillness” is the master of “agitation.”

The commentary says that a ruler who is not still will lose his authority; if one’s self-cultivation lacks stillness, the body will fall into danger. The commentary explains that stillness means Wuwei (non-action), while agitation gives rise to desire. Desire brings birth and death; through Wuwei, one can endure forever. Stillness can restrain agitation, and so it is called its master.

Therefore, the sage travels all day without leaving the carriage that carries his luggage and baggage.

Jizi means composure and quietude. The sage follows the Dao throughout the day without departing from steadiness and calm. The commentary explains: A gentleman who understands the principles teaches people all day long. Though he lives amid worldly affairs, he always remains steady and quiet. His body is active, while his mind remains still.

Even with splendid palaces, one can dwell in them at ease while remaining detached from the world.

Rongguan refers to splendid palaces; Yanshe refers to the sleeping quarters where the consorts lived. Detached means keeping one’s distance and not becoming absorbed in them. The commentary explains: A person who remains steady and quiet keeps the heart empty, calm, and untroubled even when surrounded by magnificent palaces and comfortable quarters, and does not take them as a source of pleasure. Living amid worldly affairs, that person remains untouched by them.

How lamentable, to be ruler of ten thousand chariots…

Here, “how lamentable” expresses grief and reproach, while “ruler of ten thousand chariots” refers to a king. The commentary explains: The king governs a royal domain extending a thousand li and commands ten thousand chariots. He should remain steady and quiet, yet instead indulges his desires, lives extravagantly and debauchedly, imposes heavier taxes and excessive labor service, and becomes absorbed in hunting and women’s charms while neglecting the realm. This is cause for deep lament. The commentator also explains that although the king occupies the exalted position of ruling all under Heaven, he indulges his desires, neglects his own person, and depletes his vital energy and life force, risking the loss of his throne.

Yet he treats himself with contempt and acts recklessly toward all under Heaven.

The king holds the highest position, yet acts with heedless impulsiveness. The commentator takes this as a criticism of rulers of the time, who were extravagant, self-indulgent, and debauched, thereby depleting their own Jing and Qi. Another interpretation is that it also means treating life as unimportant: though an emperor, one ought to preserve the One in pursuit of longevity, but fails to cultivate it and ultimately loses one’s life. Even jade ornaments and gold vessels offer no help in preserving oneself.

Heedlessness makes one lose one’s ministers; agitation makes one lose the throne.

A ruler who acts in haste will lose his position. A person who is impatient in cultivating himself will also deplete his spirit. Those whose thoughts are troubled and whose temper is impatient cannot live long. Indulging desires and growing more reckless and impatient day by day will bring a state to ruin outwardly and harm the self inwardly. When loyal and worthy ministers flee and hide, the ruler has lost his ministers; when the ancestral temple falls, the ruler has lost his throne.

Those skilled in following the Dao (the Way) leave no wheel tracks behind. They experience the Great Dao within themselves and need not leave their homes. They take Wuwei (non-action) as their way of acting, leaving no trace of deliberate effort in what they do. The practitioner’s state of mind accords with the principle they have realized, so no outward traces can be seen. This means that the conduct of the body is pure.

Those skilled in speaking make no errors in their words. “Skillful speech” here means both weighing one’s words before speaking and understanding the intent of verbal teaching without clinging to its literal form. Once one grasps the principle within, one no longer clings to the words themselves. “Speech without words” means that although one speaks throughout the day, one never departs from the Great Dao; one neither speaks with deliberate intent nor remains entirely silent. Speech and silence are therefore no different, and one incurs no blame through one’s words. This means that the conduct of the mouth is pure.

Those skilled in calculation use no counting rods or other calculating tools.

Those who know how to plan affairs by means of the Dao can hold fast to a single-minded purpose and do not change it lightly. Even when there are many matters to consider, they need not calculate each one in turn; understanding comes naturally. The commentary says that when one realizes all things are equally illusory, and grasps things as they are without departing from this illusory nature, one can see the real through the false. There is no need for laborious calculation; matters become clear of themselves. This shows that the activity of thought has already been purified.

Those skilled at closing a gateway can make it impossible to open even without a bolt. The annotation says that those who skillfully restrain their desires in accordance with the Dao and guard their spirit close the gateway of desire more firmly than a bolt could secure a physical door. The Jie Jie explains this as closing the Qi, holding firm, and shutting both the “Heavenly Female” above—the gate through which Heaven’s generative energy enters—and the “Earthly Male” below—the gate through which Earth’s generative energy enters. The Imperial Commentary says that one forgets words and actions, does not stray into side paths, and keeps the mind from being deluded by external things; external things, in turn, no longer burden the mind. The commentary further says that outside there are no objects to covet, and inside there is no thought pursuing desire. Even if the root of desire stirs, it can be put to use without becoming tainted. In this way, the gateway is closed without being closed: though it is said to be closed, no deliberate bolt is drawn. Thus no bolt is needed, and no one can open it.

Those skilled at tying knots can make them impossible to undo without binding them with rope.

Those who are skilled at using the Dao to bring something to completion bind the hearts and intentions of people, as though tying them with a rope that cannot easily be undone. The Imperial Commentary says: To observe and understand the true nature of things, one should be empty and still, letting go of thoughts. If one can become empty and still and let go of thoughts, the heart will accord with the Dao. Even without a rope to bind it, how could it be undone?

The Explanatory Commentary says: The superior adept, one who has awakened to the Dao, understands the principles of things. They consider others before themselves, make a great vow to teach and save living beings, and hold firmly to their pledge; the commitments they make are without fault. This is not the binding of worldly ropes, so it cannot be undone. There are many kinds of vows, but in general they fall into five: first, the resolve to enter the Dao, in which one gives rise to a natural aspiration for the Dao and enters its gate; second, the resolve to subdue the mind, in which one overcomes various obstacles and delusions; third, the resolve to know the truth, divided into nine grades corresponding to rebirth in the Nine Palaces; fourth, the resolve to transcend, divided into three grades corresponding to birth among the Three Pure Ones (Sanqing): as an Immortal, a Perfected One, or a Sage; and fifth, the unsurpassed resolve, in which one directly attains the fruit of the Dao, reaching the realm of the Great Luo. To bind the heart skillfully is to hold fast to these five resolves without ever changing, showing the firmness of one’s vow.

The Sectional Commentary says: This means binding and holding fast to the hun and po souls. The sage embraces the hun and po, and so they cannot be undone.

Thus, sages are always skilled at helping and saving people.

The Commentary says: Sages constantly teach people to be loyal and filial in order to protect their lives. The Explanatory Commentary says: Here, “sages” refers to those whose three forms of action—body, speech, and mind—are pure, and whose six faculties—eye, ear, nose, tongue, body, and mind—are liberated. They can make great vows to save living beings, and so remain in the world. When living beings call upon them, the sages respond, treating all with equal compassion and never abandoning anyone.

The sage does not abandon anyone, and gives people of every rank a fitting place to settle.

The sage is always skilled at protecting all things. They often teach the people to follow the seasons, so that all things are spared harm.

For this reason, the sage abandons nothing. They do not disdain stone while valuing only jade, but regard them equally. The commentary explains that rescuing people is mentioned first because kindness extends to sentient beings; rescuing things comes next because benevolence also reaches insentient things. Here, “rescuing people” chiefly refers to the common people, while “rescuing things” further includes all kinds of life.

This is called inheriting and putting the principle of the Way of Heaven into practice. “Inheriting” means receiving and applying it. Because the sage is skilled at protecting all things and abandons nothing, they may be said to be carrying forward the enlightened Way.

A good person is the sage’s teacher. Here, “good person” means someone who follows the enlightened Way described earlier. With vast compassion in their heart, they put others first and themselves second, guiding living beings and serving as a model for all.

A person who is not good is also a resource for the good person. “Resource” means something that can be relied on and put to use. When the sage encounters someone who acts wrongly, they still teach that person to become good and use the occasion to carry out their instruction. The commentary explains that the sage continually teaches living beings in the world, treating even those who are not good as an opportunity to cultivate merit. Living beings are thereby taught, and the sage’s De (Virtue/Power) is fulfilled.

If you do not honor your teacher, you will lose your support.

If you do not value your resources…

The phrase “making no one obey” means not insisting that others submit to oneself. The Imperial Commentary holds that revering and cherishing one’s teacher still preserves the distinction between teacher and student, and between teaching and learning. If one can forget these distinctions while learning, and avoid clinging to the form of “teaching” while instructing others, one will not insist on honoring teachers or depending on them. When the hierarchy between teacher and student is set aside, the Dao can naturally nurture and transform all things.

“To know, yet be deeply deluded” means that even someone who believes they know a great deal remains deeply confused if they cling to distinctions. The commentary explains that the preceding passage describes sages guiding ordinary people in learning the Dao and cultivating themselves. This passage goes further, showing that ordinary people and sages are equal in their inherent nature, thereby dissolving the distinctions between teacher and student, and between sage and ordinary person. This is a gradual progression from the more accessible to the profound and subtle.

To grasp this meaning is called “the essential subtlety”: understanding what is both fine and crucial. The commentary explains that neither teacher nor student clings to their respective roles, and sages regard ordinary people as equals. Although worldly wisdom may believe itself to understand, it remains “deeply deluded” if it is still trapped by distinctions. In principle, only by setting these distinctions aside does one truly reach the essential subtlety.

“To know the male and keep to the female, becoming the stream of the world” means to recognize the firm and prominent aspect while remaining settled in the soft, humble aspect. “Male” symbolizes honor and prominence; “female” symbolizes lowliness and gentleness. Even when people understand their own status and dignity, they should remain humble and gentle, without striving to overpower others or win. Then people throughout the world will turn toward them, as streams flow into a deep ravine.

The commentary says that “ravine” also carries the sense of a passageway. “Male” symbolizes firmness, agitation, and force; “female” symbolizes gentleness and stillness. Advancing impulsively with force leads easily to decline, while gentleness and yielding help one endure. Thus, letting go of force and keeping to gentleness is an important way to conduct oneself. The Sectional Explanation interprets this in terms of cultivation: “male” refers to the Hun soul. A Dao cultivator should follow nature, protect the self, close the breath and gather the spirit, and bring the Hun and Po souls to rest.

By remaining humble like a deep ravine, one’s constant De (Virtue/Power) will never leave them, and they can return to the pure, gentle simplicity of an infant.

One should return to a state like that of an infant: calm and peaceful, without thoughts of distinction. Here, “stream” refers to the mouth. The Jie Jie says that when circulating Qi, one holds the breath and stills body and mind, reaching a state of Wuwei (non-action). “Not growing old” means preserving vitality like a child and returning to an infant-like state. “Separation” can mean dispersal; the infant here is a metaphor for wisdom free of distinctions. If people can remain still at all times, their De (Virtue/Power) will not dissipate. They can then return to their original nature and to wisdom free of distinctions.

Keep to the hidden and obscure, and be a model for all under Heaven.

The commentary uses “white” as a metaphor for brightness and visibility, and “black” for silence and concealment. Even when a person understands things clearly, they should rein in their brilliance, remain quiet, and avoid showing off—as though dwelling in darkness, unable to see what lies outside. In this way, they can become a model for all under Heaven and keep their De intact. The Shu explains: “‘Model’ means a standard.” Promoting oneself and showing off before others can invite setbacks; it is not wise. Concealing one’s brilliance, restraining one’s actions, remaining humble and still, and avoiding contention with external things are the ways of a person with De. One who understands the respective advantages and dangers of visibility and concealment can serve as an example for those cultivating the Dao.

When you become a model for all under Heaven, your constant De will not go astray.

The commentary says that when a person becomes a standard for all under Heaven, De can remain within them without deviation. The Jie Jie says this refers to following the Dao and holding to the One, cultivating oneself until one becomes an immortal, and serving in this way as a model for all under Heaven.

Then return to the boundless and inexhaustible.

The commentary says that when De does not go astray, one can live long and return body and mind to the boundless. The Jie Jie further says this refers to following the Dao and holding to the One, cultivating oneself until one becomes an immortal, and serving in this way as a model for all under Heaven.

When De does not stray from the right path, life can endure and ultimately return to the boundless Dao. The commentary explains that this means holding fast to the Way of life from beginning to end, without letting it stray. In the subcommentary, “wu” is interpreted as “deviation,” meaning a departure from the path; “the limitless” refers to the Dao. If a person can set aside displays of cleverness and instead remain quiet and inward, their virtue will not stray. They will then return to emptiness and clarity, and to the highest Dao.

Know what glory is, yet willingly remain in a lowly place, and you can become the valley of the world. Here, “glory” is a metaphor for honor and “humiliation” for low status and impurity. Even when occupying a position of honor and prominence, one should remain humble and not become arrogant or extravagant when favored. Honor and disgrace can transform into one another, and favor may become the source of calamity. One should therefore stay alert and self-possessed, placing oneself low even amid splendor. In this way, like an open valley that can receive all the rivers, people will turn toward you.

As the valley of the world, your constant virtue will become abundant. The commentary explains that “abundant” means settled and at rest: by being humble and receptive like a valley, virtue can come to rest within you.

In the end, return to the uncarved simplicity. Here, “uncarved” refers to what is genuine and untouched by adornment. In other words, return to your natural, original state and stop deliberately embellishing yourself. The section commentary calls this holding fast to nature; the subcommentary says that moving from understanding the way of strength to willingly remaining lowly are both important parts of cultivating the Dao. A valley is empty and can receive all things and sounds; thus constant virtue becomes abundant, and one can return to the emptiness and origin of the genuine.

When uncarved simplicity is divided and dispersed, it forms the various particular vessels.

“Instrument” means a tool or a function. When the original nature of the myriad things, the Uncarved, disperses, it becomes the various instruments and functions. When the Dao disperses and transforms, it becomes the divine powers: it moves through the sun and moon and takes form as the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water).

When a sage puts the Great Dao into practice, he becomes the head of the officials and a teacher to the people. By holding De within and being in accord with the Dao, he can return to the Uncarved. When De is put into practice in the world, it branches out into many specific functions. Once things enter the realm of form and function, they differ in refinement and coarseness. Thus, by putting the Great Dao into practice, the sage can lead people of every kind of ability. The commentary explains that “dispersal” means distribution, “instrument” means function, “official” refers to a ruler, and “head” to a teacher. The sage can return to the Uncarved and the true, reaching back to the mysterious root, and must also proceed from that root into the world to help living beings, applying the Dao’s simple, generous, and peaceful principles in teaching. The Scripture of Ascension to the West says that as the Dao gradually spreads, it becomes a ruler who governs the world and a teacher who guides the people. The sage puts this simple Dao into practice through governance and instruction.

Therefore, the greatest governance does not harm or divide the myriad things. The sage governs the world by means of the Great Dao without causing people harm. In cultivating himself, he uses the Great Dao to restrain desire without injuring his spirit. “Great governance” means that the sage uses his expansive power to embrace and govern the myriad things. He nurtures living beings and shapes their lives without claiming credit or setting himself up as their master; this is why it is called “not cutting.” Here, “cutting” means controlling and harming.

If someone wants to possess the world, become its ruler, and govern the people through deliberate action, I believe he will never succeed.

All under Heaven is sacred and precious, and cannot be governed through forceful action. The commentary explains that all beings possess spiritual potential and can receive the Dao; therefore, the living beings of the world and the imperial throne are both called “sacred vessels.” If all under Heaven is governed through Wuwei (non-action) and quietude, the myriad things can each find their proper place. If they are forcibly interfered with, beings will lose their true nature.

Taking action can instead spoil things’ original simplicity. Insisting on control and imposing instruction can also cause people to lose their authenticity and give rise to deceit and hypocrisy. The commentary adds that indulging in deliberate action harms oneself, while greed and attachment may lead to the loss of one’s state.

Thus, things sometimes take the lead on their own and sometimes follow others. The commentary explains that “things” here means the myriad things, and “sometimes” indicates that circumstances vary: to “lead” is to go first of one’s own accord, while to “follow” is to go after someone else. This shows that power and precedence are not fixed.

“Sighing” is warmth, while “blowing” is cold. Where there is warmth, cold must also follow. Warmth serves as a metaphor for wealth and honor, and cold for poverty and low status. Things may first rise to wealth and honor, then fall into poverty and low status, just as summer is hot and winter bitterly cold. The weather shifts unpredictably between warmth and cold, and a person’s fortunes likewise have no fixed course.

Some things are strong and flourishing; others are weak and declining. After strength and flourishing come times of weakness and decline. Prosperity does not last: in the end, it wanes. Thus the next passage of the Daodejing says, “When things are strong, they grow old,” and the Xisheng Jing likewise says, “What flourishes must decline.” Flourishing and decline are always in flux.

Some things are secure, while others are in danger. “Carried” means secure; “turned around” means endangered. Even what is secure may turn into danger. This shows that rulers governing a state, and individuals cultivating themselves, should not insist on acting willfully. The Heshang Gong edition reads “joined” instead: to join and continue is to achieve success, while to be abandoned and ruined is to suffer failure. Success and failure, security and danger, are never fixed. The Zhuangzi says, “What is made is also destroyed.” These changes are listed to show that nothing in the world is constant. Therefore, in governing a state or cultivating oneself, one should not cling to a particular course of action or set of circumstances.

For this reason, the sage rejects extremity, extravagance, and excess. “Extremity” means craving sights and sounds; “extravagance” means indulging in fine carriages, clothing, and food; and “excess” means building palaces, towers, and terraces on a grand scale. The sage sets aside these three desires, dwells in balance and harmony, and practices Wuwei (non-action), refraining from unwarranted interference. Then the world can govern itself naturally. If one cultivates oneself and governs the state in this way, the state can remain peaceful for a long time, and one’s life can be prolonged.

One who assists a ruler through the right Way does not rely on military force to make the world submit.

This means that a ruler should govern the state through virtue, without wielding weapons to flaunt strength. By following what is right and practicing virtuous government, enemies will naturally submit. The Jie jie explains “weapons” in terms of inner cultivation: careless speech can lead to conflict; when the mind and spirit are restless and the hun and po are unsettled, one’s spirit becomes dispersed. The commentary adds that this can also be understood as disciplining body and mind. When the three karmic actions—those of body, speech, and thought—and the six sense faculties—eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, and mind—are driven by desire, they are like weapons within.

The use of military force often brings retaliation.

The results of one’s actions easily return to oneself. When faced with a mistake, one should reflect on one’s own conduct rather than simply blame others. The Jie jie explains this as calming the mind and acting with single-minded focus, so that body and mind return to the right Way. The commentary says that wielding weapons in the world creates enmity; likewise, when the mind is ruled by greed, anger, and delusion—the three poisons—it invites retribution and may even lead to rebirth in the three paths of suffering: hell, hungry ghosts, and animals.

Where an army has been stationed, thorns and brambles grow.

War leaves farming neglected and fields uncultivated. Wherever armies pass, they often harm the people and damage their property; weeds spread, making crops difficult to grow. The commentary also compares this to the mind: where desire runs unchecked, only harmful karma grows, and wholesome wisdom struggles to arise.

After a great war, there will surely be years of famine.

The baleful energy brought by war harms the Five Grains. When harvests fail, the people suffer as well.

Those who practice goodness should stop once they have achieved their aim.

“Achievement” means acting decisively, and “stop” means bringing things to an end. Those who cultivate the Way and practice goodness should decisively put an end to violent impulses and refrain from taking part in warfare.

They dare not use this to flaunt their strength and seek victory.

In their conduct, they do not use boldness to show off their strength or seek a reputation for being powerful.

When an undertaking is complete, do not boast about yourself. Here, “do not” means to restrain oneself: those who cultivate the Dao should act decisively, yet curb any fierce desire to prevail, and never flaunt their strength through force.

Do not claim to be powerful on the grounds that you act decisively.

Act resolutely, but do not praise yourself for it. Be humble and yield; do not claim the credit or the good name for yourself, and do not use arrogance to oppress others. Here, “vaunt” means to boast, “claim credit” means to praise oneself and take the merit as one’s own, and “be arrogant” means to bully others through pride.

Even decisive action should be taken only when necessary; do not provoke conflict. The commentary explains that those who cultivate the Dao should be humble and gentle, neither asserting their strength over others nor boasting of themselves to the outside world. If military action truly cannot be avoided—for example, when Yao attacked the Congzhi or Yu attacked Youhu—it arose from necessity, not from a fondness for warfare. When an enemy invades, one may also use force to stop them. This is a decisive response, not an act of aggression meant to flaunt one’s strength.

This is what it means to act decisively without flaunting one’s strength.

When all things reach the height of their strength, they begin to decline. Plants that grow too luxuriantly wither, and people who reach the peak of strength grow old. Strength cannot last forever, just as intense heat eventually gives way to coolness. This is the natural course of things.

This is called failing to accord with the Dao (the Way).

“Withering and aging” means becoming stagnant and declining, unable to follow the Dao.

What fails to accord with the Dao soon moves toward its end.

Those who do not act in accordance with the Dao soon move toward destruction. “End” means death. When things become strong to the utmost, they grow old; armies that become too powerful also fall into decline. Since this is neither humble nor yielding, it does not accord with the true principle, and the practice should be stopped.

Fine weapons are inauspicious things.

“Auspicious” means fortunate and good. Weapons disturb the spirit and damage the Qi (vital energy) of harmony, so they are harmful things and should not be adorned. Some commentaries say that those who speak lightly of using military force often cannot preserve themselves. When they put themselves in danger, their weapons become useless; thus weapons are inauspicious things. “Fine” means ornate, while “auspicious” means fortunate and good. Even if a long halberd shines like frost and a precious sword gleams, these are only outward adornments. Weapons remain instruments that bring calamity, not tools needed in an age of peace. In inner cultivation, greed, anger, and delusion—the “Three Poisons”—and the “Six Roots” of eye, ear, nose, tongue, body, and mind can also be likened to weapons. To sharpen the senses without restraint and grasp at things in the outside world is likewise harmful conduct.

All things in the world detest weapons.

Once used, weapons take life, so there is nothing that does not detest them.

Therefore, a person of the Dao does not place himself where weapons are used.

A person of the Dao does not reside in a state or situation where war must be waged.

In ordinary life, the gentleman esteems the left.

This honors gentleness and humility.

In war, the right is esteemed.

This honors strength. The point here is that the principles of military strategists and gentlemen are opposed: they honor different things. The commentaries also say that only someone who possesses the virtues of a gentleman may be called a gentleman. The left belongs to Yang and symbolizes good fortune and the uses of daily life, whereas in warfare the right is held in esteem.

“To value hardness” means to esteem toughness and a combative spirit. The way of using weapons discussed here is the opposite of the way of the noble person: each values different things. The left belongs to Yang and governs good fortune and life; the right belongs to Yin and governs misfortune and death. This means that in times of peace and stability, the noble person upholds civil rule and gives precedence to the left. Only in times of disorder does the noble person value the right and resort to force. This also serves as a metaphor for those who cultivate the Dao: they prize true wisdom and seek long life, though expedient wisdom may sometimes be used to kill. Hence the scripture says, “A thousand thousand are beheaded; ten thousand ten thousand are cut down.”

Weapons are instruments of ill omen.

Weapons and armor are instruments of ill omen.

They are not things the noble person values. The noble person regards moral virtue as a capacity and a tool, and does not esteem strategies of war. Another interpretation is that this also refers to speaking words that bring about war and turmoil. A heart that is sinister and domineering is like holding an axe that can wound its owner; this is why weapons are called instruments of ill omen.

They are used only when there is no other choice.

This means that weapons are taken up for self-defense only when the age is declining and disordered, and calamity is about to befall the people. Weapons are not something that noble and benevolent people enjoy using. They are used only when necessary to quell violent disorder and rescue people from danger. Expedient wisdom is the same.

One should regard calm detachment as best.

This means not coveting territory or treating the people’s wealth as a source of gain.

Even when victorious, one should not regard victory as something worthy of praise.

Though victorious, one does not treat victory as a gain to boast about. The noble person’s heart is set on Wuwei (non-action), so even when using weapons, does not regard this as admirable. This also serves as a metaphor for those who cultivate the Dao: even when using expedient wisdom, they still put the true Dao first and do not depart from the root.

To regard victory as admirable is to take pleasure in killing people.

If one praises skill in using weapons, one loves war, and thus loves killing.

Those who love killing cannot fulfill their aims in the world.

A ruler who takes pleasure in killing should not be allowed to prevail over all under Heaven. To regard sharp weapons as fine things is to delight in war, which is to delight in killing. A ruler who holds other people’s lives entirely in his own hands should not impose punishments at will. Everyone under Heaven detests bloodlust; condemned by all, such a ruler will naturally find it hard to achieve his aims.

In auspicious ceremonies, the left side is honored, because it symbolizes the force of life.

In funerals and other inauspicious ceremonies, the right side is honored, because it belongs to Yin and symbolizes death and destruction.

The deputy general stands on the left because his rank is lower, and he occupies the side that symbolizes the force of life. This shows that he does not hold sole authority over killing. Another interpretation says there is originally only one general; when at rest, he is called an attendant, hence the title “deputy general.”

The supreme general stands on the right because his rank is high and he commands the power to kill. Exercising authority and deciding matters of killing beyond the borders of the state are duties he bears on his own, hence the title “supreme general.” Killing belongs to Yin, so even though he holds high rank, he should stand on the right.

This means that killing should be treated as a funeral affair: the supreme general stands on the right, just as the right is honored in funeral rites, because the dead return to Yin. The left is the auspicious side, and the right the side of mourning. The deputy general stands on the left and the supreme general on the right to show that even when one commands the army, killing should be treated as a matter of mourning.

When many people have been killed, one should weep with grief and sorrow.

The commentator says: This is because the commander feels that his virtue is shallow. Unable to guide others through the Dao, he has instead harmed innocent people.

The imperial commentary says: Life is precious, yet people now wage war against and kill one another. Those with compassion feel sorrow and weep in grief.

The explanatory commentary says: Wherever armies campaign, many people are often killed. The commander therefore grieves and pities those who are wounded or dead. He knows this is not acting in accord with the Dao, and fears that innocent people have been harmed. The phrase “a sheep’s mouth kills” here refers to killing the enemy; “the multitude” means the soldiers. Because his virtue is shallow and he cannot guide others through the Dao, he has instead harmed the innocent; compassion rises in his heart, and he weeps. This shows that he takes no pleasure in war.

Wang’s commentary says: When even one common person laments, the royal way is shaken; when the people of a region are at odds, the order of Yin-Yang is affected. According to legend, Zou Yan was wronged and frost fell in the sixth month; when the wife of Qiliang wept for her husband, her cries supposedly brought down the city wall. If an ordinary man or woman can move Heaven and Earth, how much more grievous and dispiriting must it be to see corpses strewn across a battlefield, bones scattered in rivers, bodies pecked by crows and hawks, and blood staining the grass and trees?

After victory, the dead should be treated according to the rites of mourning.

In ancient times, when a general won a battle, he had to stand in the place reserved for the officiant at a funeral, wear plain mourning clothes, and weep for the dead. This showed that the noble value virtue and despise war: war is used to punish disorder only when there is no other choice, and victory is no cause for celebration. It should therefore be treated like a funeral. Laozi knew that wars would continue in later generations, and grieved over this.

The Imperial Commentary says: After winning on the battlefield, warriors are often granted titles and placed in the honored position on the right. Yet honoring the right is not auspicious, so a victory is treated according to the rites for the dead. If war is an instrument of ill omen, why wear plain mourning clothes to express grief?

The Subcommentary says: The noble and the good value acting in accord with the Dao. Only when an event truly cannot be avoided do they bury those killed in battle with funeral rites. In the end, military force is inferior to civil governance. This shows that expedient measures are inferior to the fundamental Way. A state resorts to force only when it has no choice; likewise, one adopts expedient measures to respond to change only when there is no choice. From this, we can see that expedient measures are secondary, while the fundamental Way is more precious.

The Dao is ever without a name.

The Commentary says: The Dao can bring about the transformations of Yin-Yang; it can contract and expand, make things exist and make them perish. Therefore, it has no fixed name.

The Imperial Commentary says: The Dao takes responding to the myriad things as its constant. It always adapts to things, but this response does not arise from human intention. Hence it is said, “The Dao is ever without a name.”

The Subcommentary says: The Dao is the empty, still, and all-pervading principle. It is ever clear and settled; formless and soundless, without name or written character, still and independent. It lies beyond the bounds of ordinary speech, elusive and hard to grasp, subtle and difficult to see, and beyond all partial judgments. How could it be sought through words and images alone, or measured by human thought and intelligence? Hence the text below calls it “the beginning of Heaven and Earth,” and also says, “I do not know its name.”

The uncarved, natural state, though small, is such that nothing under Heaven dares treat it as a subject.

The Dao is simple and subtle. Though faint and formless, it has a pure, profound foundation. No one under Heaven dares treat the Dao as something to control or command. The commentaries explain that “simple” means pure and sincere in its natural state, while “subtle” refers to what is difficult to perceive. Though the Dao may seem imperceptible, it transforms and nurtures Yin-Yang and gives life to the myriad things. People live within it every day, yet may not know it is there. Though Chao Fu, Xu You, Wang Ni, Nie Que, and others were commoners, they were honored because they possessed the Dao. Even the Son of Heaven could not treat them as subjects, and the feudal lords could not regard them merely as ordinary friends.

If a ruler can uphold the Dao and practice Wuwei (non-action), the myriad things will naturally submit and receive the influence of Virtue. People from distant lands and different regions will also come to join them.

When a ruler’s actions accord with Heaven and Earth, Heaven and Earth will be in harmony and send down auspicious signs such as sweet dew. The commentaries explain that when a ruler’s Virtue accords with that of Heaven and Earth, and the movements of Yin-Yang proceed in order, the seasons become harmonious, the sun, moon, and stars follow their proper courses, and auspicious signs such as lingzhi mushrooms and sweet dew appear.

The people will need no commands: they will naturally settle into their proper places, and order and balance will prevail.

Heaven sends down auspicious signs. Nothing commands or instructs the myriad things, yet they naturally harmonize, balanced and in accord with one another. Virtue accords with Heaven and Earth, and its radiance matches the sun, moon, and stars. The people need not wait for orders or teachings; they can naturally settle into peace and stability. The power of the Dao is beyond measure: by keeping to the Dao, one can receive benefits such as these.

“Once the beginning is established, names arise” means that when the Dao began to create the myriad things, they acquired names. The Dao itself is nameless, yet it can govern the named things; it has no form, yet it can encompass what has form. People can use named and formed things to understand the nameless, formless Dao. Names can also guide those who are confused, helping them to gain insight.

“Once names have come into being” means that once the myriad things have names, they also develop desires and passions. If this leads them to turn away from the Dao and De (Virtue), they will bring harm and disgrace upon themselves.

“Heaven, too, will know when to stop” means that if people model themselves on the Dao and cultivate De, Heaven will naturally know where to stop, at what is fitting. The Dao is originally nameless, and borrows names for a time only to guide the myriad things. Its purpose is to lead people onto the right path and back to the root. Once we understand that words and names serve only to explain principles, we should set them aside at the proper time and grasp what is real. We should not cling to the tools used to express a principle and thereby forget the Dao we truly seek to understand.

“Knowing when to stop keeps one from danger” means that understanding when enough is enough prevents one from falling into peril. By setting names aside and grasping what is real, one can comprehend subtle principles and so remain safe. The commentary says that divine beings also protect those who know when to stop, keeping them from further danger.

The Dao in the world is like water from streams and valleys flowing into rivers and seas, joining with them. The seas lie low, so all the streams converge there. The way of the sage is open and embracing, so all beings are willing to turn toward it. It is precisely because the seas are skilled at remaining below that they become the gathering place of all the streams.

Knowing what others like and dislike is a kind of wisdom.

The commentators explain that seeing clearly the things before you, discerning other people’s innate dispositions, quickness of mind, and depths of understanding, and leaving nothing unknown is called “the wisdom of knowing others” (the ability to perceive what is in another person’s heart).

Those who know themselves are truly discerning.

The commentators say that someone who can recognize their own strengths and shortcomings is like one who hears no sounds with the ears and sees no shapes with the eyes: they turn inward and reflect on themselves. This is why it is called “clarity.” The Imperial Commentary says that wisdom uses the mind’s powers to know things, while clear insight integrates observation and perceives what is subtle. Wisdom still has things it cannot know; clear insight, however, can illuminate everything.

The subcommentary says that fully understanding the good and evil in one’s past lives, and the karmic consequences across the three ages of past, present, and future, is called “the wisdom of knowing past lives” (the wisdom of understanding one’s karmic ties from previous existences).

Being able to surpass others is merely a sign of strength.

The commentators say that surpassing others depends only on authority and force. The subcommentary says that overcoming others through wisdom and strength, using one’s authority to control things, subduing the heavenly demons and dispelling rival teachings, is called “the wisdom of subduing demons” (the wisdom of overcoming obstacles and suppressing heterodox teachings). Gu’s commentary says that being more capable than others shows only that one has strength. Anyone who is strong must have opponents, and when there are opponents, it is not always clear who is stronger. Only when one uses one’s nature to restrain one’s emotions can one be said to have conquered oneself. Those who conquer themselves are no longer controlled by themselves; this is what it means to be truly strong.

Being able to conquer yourself is what makes you truly strong.

The commentators say that if someone can conquer their own desires, nothing in the world can contend with them, and so they are called strong. The Imperial Commentary says that being able to overpower others is merely a sign of strength; being able to restrain one’s own mind and keep it gentle is what truly preserves strength. The subcommentary says that overcoming one’s own inner mind and controlling the desires that burden body and mind, so that they no longer arise, allows wisdom to grow ever stronger. This is called “the wisdom of ending delusion” (the wisdom of cutting off delusion and afflictions).

Those who know contentment are truly rich.

Note: A person who knows that having enough is enough can preserve good fortune and prosperity over the long term. That is why such a person is called well supplied.

Commentary: Keep to your proper place and know contentment, seeking nothing more. Such a person is not only well provided for in material things, but also rich in moral cultivation. Another interpretation is that one who can attend to both being and nonbeing can see through all kinds of circumstances and lacks nothing in wisdom. That, too, is why such a person is called well supplied: it refers to the wisdom of contentment.

One who can strive to follow the Dao is considered resolute.

Note: When a person works hard at doing good, they are devoted to the Dao, and the Dao responds to them in turn. The Jie Explanation says this means cultivating the Dao day and night without ever growing slack. The Imperial Commentary says that those who know when to stop and how to be content have no desires and may be called well supplied; those who strive in their practice without slackening may be called resolute and principled.

Commentary: Here, “resolve” means moral integrity. When resolve and strength are both firm, one makes a great vow and strives to put others before oneself, giving oneself up to help others. Even after reaching the place of practice, one never turns back.

One who does not lose what is properly theirs can endure.

Note: If a person restrains and cares for themselves, does not lose what they cherish, and cherishes the Jing (essence) bestowed by Heaven, they can endure. The Jie Explanation says this means not losing one’s unity.

Commentary: Respond to what others need, as a physician prescribes medicine according to the illness, so that everything is handled just right. Treat people and deal with affairs according to the principle of not losing what is properly theirs, and one can endure and remain steadfast.

One whose body dies but whose spirit does not perish is truly long-lived.

When the eyes do not dart about, the ears do not listen indiscriminately, and the mouth does not speak carelessly, one will not stir up resentment or ill will in the world, and so can live a long life.

The Sectional Explanation says: “Corpse liberation” means that a person gains new life after death.

The Subcommentary says: The aspiration and practice of cultivation have both been brought to completion, and inner cultivation and outward conduct are both perfected. In principle, one should therefore transcend life and death, beyond the limits of dying young or living long. The phrase “dies yet does not perish” explains that although the body dies, the person has not truly died; this does not take longevity in the worldly sense as the measure of life. The responsive body—the body that appears to suit the world—changes and vanishes, so this is called “death.” The sage’s fundamental nature endures, so in this sense it is called “long life.”

The Imperial Commentary says: “Death” is the natural end of embodied life; “perishing” means suffering an untimely death; and “long life” means reaching the end of one’s allotted years. If you assume your understanding surpasses that of others, you will surely invite disaster. Being content and acting with resolve allows you to follow the constant patterns of Heaven’s Dao. “Dies yet does not perish” means that although one’s allotted years have come to an end, one has not suffered an untimely death. This, too, can be called “long life.”

The Great Dao is vast and boundless!

The Commentary says: The Dao is everywhere. It seems to rise and sink, to exist and not exist. You cannot see it, and it is difficult to describe clearly.

The Imperial Commentary says: The Great Dao is vast and boundless. It has no fixed affiliation, yet responds to the myriad things. Whether on the left or the right, it cannot be confined to a single name.

It is on the left and on the right.

The Commentary says: The Dao may be on the left or on the right; there is nowhere it does not belong.

The Subcommentary says: “Vast and boundless” means that the Dao is unconfined and universally present. The Great Dao is mysterious and profound, vast and unattached. Through its compassion, it acts everywhere among the myriad things; when they respond, they can connect with it. The Dao itself belongs to neither Yin nor Yang, yet it can accord with every circumstance among the myriad things. It moves in accordance with the shapes of things, whether round or square, and there is nothing to which it cannot adapt. The Zhuangzi says: “It is on the left and on the right; it has principles and patterns.”

The myriad things rely on it to grow,

The Commentary says: “Rely” means to depend on. The myriad things all depend on the Dao to live.

Yet it neither declines nor refuses.

The Dao (the Way) never turns away or rejects the myriad things, nor does it hinder their growth and transformation. All things come into being through the Great Dao. It cherishes and aids them, guiding them with kindness, and never grows weary. One may also say that the myriad things do not thank the Dao, because their coming into being happens naturally of itself.

The Great Dao brings all things to completion, yet does not claim the credit. The myriad things grow and transform by relying on the Dao’s Qi of harmony and balance, while the Dao takes no pains over this. Even when their generation and transformation are complete, the Dao does not call itself their benefactor. It brings forth and transforms all things, while keeping its workings hidden and giving them the credit for their own existence. Thus it claims no fame.

The Great Dao nourishes all things, yet does not rule over them. Though it covers and nurtures them like clothing and bedding, it does not demand anything from them or control them as an earthly ruler would. In this sense, it may be called small. The Dao conceals its De (Virtue/Power) and does not display its achievements, seeming almost insignificant. It humbles itself and follows the myriad things, and so appears small. This is “not being small, yet appearing small.”

All things return to the Dao and receive the breath of life there, yet the Dao does not impose prohibitions or restraints as an earthly ruler would. In this sense, it may be called great. The myriad things come and go freely, each following its own nature. The Dao is vast and profound, and all things return to it, yet it does not rule over them. This is “not appearing great, yet accomplishing greatness.”

Therefore, the sage never considers himself great. Taking the Dao as a model, he conceals his De and reputation and avoids pride and self-importance. For this very reason, he is able to accomplish greatness.

The sage takes himself as a model of the Dao and teaches without relying on words. Then all things can be brought into order, and he achieves greatness. The Imperial Commentary says: The sage follows the Dao without clinging to accomplishments and never deliberately seeks to make himself known; thus he attains greatness. The subcommentary explains: The sage who has realized the Great Dao forgets himself and cares for all things. Quiet and humble, he does not exalt himself. He always places all things before himself and himself after them, never claiming credit or boasting of his greatness. Thus he becomes the leader of all beings and stands alone in honor among the Three Realms—the Desire Realm, the Form Realm, and the Formless Realm—and achieves greatness.

Hold fast to the “Great Image,” and the people of the world will come to you. The “Great Image” refers to the form and principles of the Great Dao. The commentary says that “hold fast” means to keep and preserve: when the sage holds to the Dao, the people of the world turn their hearts toward him and submit to him. In self-cultivation, the divine beings sent down from Heaven will also come to dwell within you. The subcommentary explains that this holding fast does not mean clinging to any particular object. It means keeping to the formless, unattainable image of the Great Dao. The sage described earlier, who forgets his own greatness, holds to this formless Dao and is always able to help all things. That is why the people of the world come to him. The Zhuangzi tells of Wang Tai: he did not teach people while standing, nor set rules before them while seated. People went to him with empty hearts and returned filled. Confucius praised him for being able to draw the people of the world to himself.

All things in the world come to the sage, yet he does them no harm. Then the state is secure, the family is at peace, and the world enjoys peace and order. In self-cultivation, if you do not harm the spirits, your body will be secure and long-lived. The Imperial Commentary says: When all things come to you without being harmed, they can dwell in peace and tranquility. The subcommentary explains: All beings turn toward the utmost sage and gain benefit without suffering harm. “Doing no harm” means relieving suffering; “peace and tranquility” means bringing happiness.

Music and fine food can make passing travelers stop.

“Morsels” are delicious foods. “Passersby” means travelers passing along the road. Music delights the ear, and food tastes good, so passersby often stop when they come upon them and lose themselves in their pleasures. If people can take delight in the Dao, they will find a settled home within it. The “One” spoken of here means not striving for fullness, but resting in emptiness and stillness, and moving through life like a passerby who does not linger among external things.

When the Dao is spoken of, it sounds plain and tasteless. It is not like the five flavors—sour, salty, bitter, sweet, and pungent—that can be tasted. The Dao’s essence is empty, still, and subtle; words about it, too, are plain and tasteless, unlike music, which is pleasing to the ear. Travelers stop for music, but few who study the Dao pay it much attention. People in the world lose themselves in pleasing sounds, yet find it hard to understand this tasteless Dao.

Look for it, and it cannot be seen. Here, “able” means “capable of.” The Dao has no form; it cannot be seen like the colors blue-green, yellow, red, white, and black. The Dao is profound and subtle, beyond form and color, and cannot be sought with the eyes.

Listen for it, and it cannot be heard. The Dao cannot be heard like the five tones—gong, shang, jue, zhi, and yu. As the saying goes, “The greatest sound is scarcely heard.” The Dao is not a sound like bells and drums, and cannot be heard with the ears.

Use it, and it will never be exhausted.

The function of the Dao in governing the state is to make the country prosperous and the people content; in cultivating oneself, it can extend life without end. Governing quietly through the Dao, one does not begin by instructing people with words, so explicit commands are neither seen nor heard. Yet a simple, honest way of life spreads widely, all things flourish, and each year brings abundance. Thus the Dao’s efficacy cannot be exhausted. “Already” here means “exhausted.” The words of the highest Dao are plain and profound. It has no fixed sound or form, and does not cling to seeing or hearing. Like a mirror, it reflects whatever comes before it; like the wisdom of a sage, it responds to what it encounters and thereby understands. This shows that what appears to be Wuwei (non-action) has an efficacy that is, in fact, inexhaustible.

If you wish to draw something in, you must first let it expand fully.

“Draw in” means to gather or contract. If one wishes to use expedient means to teach the people, so that they restrain their desires and cease coveting precious things, one should first let them indulge, allowing extravagance and desire to develop to their utmost, and then guide them to draw back. The commentary cites the example of Laozi traveling west to Shubin and teaching there: he first let people’s violence reveal itself, then guided them with the Dao.

If you wish to weaken something, you must first let it grow strong.

The commentary says that it is first made strong so that it will encounter calamity. The subcommentary explains that if one wants people to return to the softness and weakness upheld by the Dao, one should first let them grow strong to the extreme, then show them the principles of gentleness and humility.

If you wish to put an end to something, you must first let it flourish.

The commentary says that it is first allowed to flourish so that it will encounter calamity. Another subcommentary explains that if one wants to abolish violent and overbearing conduct, one should first let it develop to its utmost. Once violence has reached its peak, it can then be brought to an end.

If you wish to take something, you must first give it.

First give someone something in order to bring their craving to its height. The commentary explains: first allow their wicked conduct to run its course; this is called “giving.” Then guide them back toward the Great Dao and goodness; this is called “taking back.” Thus the Old Lord first reveals the confusion of ordinary life, letting people display their stubbornness and violence. Then he manifests spiritual powers, subdues the wicked, takes away their malice, and leads them toward the good path. The reasoning behind these four pairs of statements is much the same: begin with what is shallow, then proceed gradually to what is deep. Those of superior innate capacity can awaken as soon as they hear the true teaching; those of lesser capacity need expedient methods. This is “gradual treatment and guidance.”

This is called “subtle illumination.”

The commentary explains: The principles behind the four matters above are subtle, yet their effects are clear. The Imperial Commentary says: The Dao De Jing speaks of “straight words seeming contrary,” while the Classic of Changes speaks of “yielding in order to exercise expedient judgment.” “Expedient judgment” means temporarily departing from the usual course while still conforming to what is right. For a noble person, using expedient means depends on acting rightly; for a petty person, it becomes deceit and cunning. Confucius said, “You may be able to stand alongside someone in the world, yet not necessarily be able to share with them the way of exercising expedient judgment.” Indeed.

In the previous chapter, the Old Lord pointed to holding fast to the “Great Image”—the overall principle of the Great Dao—which belongs to the true and proper Way. This chapter goes on to discuss “contraction and expansion,” which belongs to expedient means. To gauge the capacities of living beings, the Old Lord therefore presents both expedience and truth, setting them side by side so that people may ultimately preserve their nature and life and return to the Great Dao. The deluded say this runs counter to morality, but they are simply lost and unawakened. When one intends to rein in the desires of living beings, one first lets them expand until their cravings become excessive and they are trapped by desire; only then does one make them contract. The principles of strength and weakness are broadly similar. This principle is exceedingly subtle, yet its effects are clear and evident; hence it is called “subtle illumination.” The commentary explains: The expedient Way discussed above is profound and hidden, yet its results are plainly effective.

The soft and weak overcome the hard and strong.

The commentary explains: What is soft and weak can endure; what is hard and strong readily declines. The commentary further explains: Softness and weakness represent the wisdom of truth, while hardness and strength represent expedient wisdom. Teaching and transforming living beings requires expedient wisdom; yet, considered closely, the wisdom of truth is superior.

Fish cannot leave the depths.

When a fish leaves deep water and loses its refuge, it is caught by external forces. This shows that a fish must change from strength to submission, but this situation cannot be applied in the same way to other things.

The authority of the state and the arts of governing should not be revealed lightly. To teach and transform living beings requires the use of expedient wisdom, which adapts to circumstances. Of expedient wisdom and true wisdom, which discerns what is real, true wisdom is more important.

A fish cannot leave deep water.

The authority of the state and the arts of governing should not be readily revealed to others.

“Sharp instruments” refers to expedient methods. The arts of governing should not be revealed to ministers responsible for state affairs, and methods of cultivating one’s person and nature should not be passed on to those unsuited to them. The explanatory commentary says: “To slip away” means to lose; “sharp instruments” refers to authority. A fish hidden in water, and methods hidden in the mind, are safe from harm by external forces. When a fish loses the water, it is caught by external forces; when methods are revealed to others, one becomes subject to their control. They should therefore not be shown lightly.

The Dao in its constant state is Wuwei (non-action), yet nothing is left undone. The substance of the Dao is settled and still, acting without contrivance; yet it can also work through its substance, responding to the myriad things and bringing them to transformation. Thus “non-action” speaks of the root, while “nothing left undone” speaks of its function. Together, they explain the relationship between root and function, stillness and transformation: though transformation is active, its root remains still.

Cai’s explanation says: “The substance of the Dao is settled and still; its true ground does not move. That is why it is called ‘non-action.’ It responds to the myriad things and works through transformation, enabling each thing to fulfill its function. That is why it is called ‘nothing left undone.’”

If rulers and lords can hold fast to the Dao’s principle of Wuwei, the myriad things will naturally be brought to life and transformed.

If rulers can hold fast to the Dao (the Way), all things will be transformed naturally, following the example of the sovereign. The subtle source—the mysterious fundamental principle—is still and tranquil, and so it always acts through Wuwei (non-action). All things depend on it to grow, yet it does not deliberately act. If rulers can hold fast to the Dao and practice Wuwei, all things will transform of themselves, and the world will remain simple and unspoiled.

If the ruler of a state with ten thousand chariots and the lords of the five ranks—Duke, Marquis, Earl, Viscount, and Baron—can hold fast to this Dao, people everywhere under Heaven will naturally turn toward it. Those who cultivate the Dao are the same. The scripture specifically mentions rulers because their teachings can benefit many things. When their De (Virtue/Power) is sufficient, all things submit and the Dao is held in reverence. If the emperor follows the Dao, the people need no commands to settle into their proper places. If dukes and marquises embody De, the people will be transformed without strict control. The Inner Explanation, a work on inner cultivation, says that when the mind returns to emptiness and stillness, the resources needed for daily life will not be lacking; the spirits will follow and be transformed, and evil will be subdued and brought back to the right path.

Once all things have been transformed, if desires and reckless actions arise again, I will settle them with the “nameless uncarved simplicity”—the natural simplicity untouched by human artifice.

“I” refers to the ruler himself; the “uncarved simplicity without a name” refers to the Dao in its unadorned, tranquil, Wuwei state. After all things have been transformed, if anyone again wishes to stir up a mind of cunning and deceit, the ruler should soothe and steady them through Dao and De.

From the perspective of cultivation, when people first begin practicing, they often hope to obtain some kind of reward. Their minds should be steadied through the simple, Wuwei Dao, so they do not cling to tangible things or become attached to methods that involve deliberate action. Gu Huan, however, understood “making” as the arising of a deceitful mind. If someone develops deceit amid a calming influence, the Dao should be used to settle and restrain the mind, returning it to undifferentiated simplicity, without discriminating thought. “Uncarved simplicity without a name” can also be understood as instruction and precepts.

After being soothed through “uncarved simplicity without a name,” the people will gradually stop making reckless demands. At that point, they should also be guided by the tranquil Dao. Cultivators should not crave tangible methods, but neither should they become attached to intangible methods such as “uncarved simplicity without a name.” The preceding passage uses “nonbeing” to loosen attachment to “being”; here, attachment to “nonbeing” is loosened in turn. Only by clinging to neither being nor nonbeing can one accord with the Middle Way.

In this way, all under Heaven will naturally return to stability and the right way.

Understand how to do this, and all under Heaven will naturally return to the right way and settle into order.

Commentary: “Stillness” means bringing things to rest. Earlier, “namelessness” was used to loosen attachment to what exists; then “having no desires” was used to loosen attachment to nonexistence. After letting go of both existence and nonexistence, even the state of having no desires must come to rest. Once the thought of clinging to “desirelessness” has been dispelled, even the idea of the “One Dao” dissolves. This is the successive removal of all attachments, reaching the state of “mystery upon mystery”: probing what is subtle and hidden, and investigating the principles of things and their nature.

At this point, nothing is separate from the true Dao. Barnyard grass and millet weeds, bricks and tiles—all embody the Dao. Hence the saying, “All under Heaven will be set right of itself.” This sentence sums up the principle that leads to the gateway of all wonders.

Imperial Commentary: After the ruler stills all under Heaven through the uncarved simplicity of namelessness—the Dao of simplicity and Wuwei—the people must not cling to “namelessness” and use it as an excuse to evade reality. Otherwise, they may chase appearances, lose sight of what is fundamental, and return to contrived action. Therefore, attachment to the “uncarved simplicity of namelessness” must also be relinquished. One should neither crave desires nor cling to desirelessness, but remain detached and still; then all under Heaven will naturally return to what is right.

It is also said that the Dao is always without desire and delights in stillness, and so can keep Heaven and Earth on the right course. Heaven and Earth are subjects of the Dao. When the ruler models himself on the Dao and carefully observes its precepts, the hearts of his subjects will naturally return to what is right.

Those of highest De do not regard themselves as having De, and so truly possess De: Those who have the highest virtue do not consider themselves virtuous; for this very reason, they truly possess virtue.

The commentary identifies “Superior De” as the unnamed rulers of antiquity. Their De was profound, yet they did not use it to instruct the people. Instead, they followed nature and nurtured the people’s lives and innate nature. Their De thus accorded with Heaven and Earth and enabled the people to flourish, yet remained unseen.

The subcommentary explains further that “Superior De” refers to those whose cultivation is deep and who accord with the Great Dao. They are at one with the realm of the Dao and do not cling inwardly to gain or loss. Hence it says they are “without De”; yet they do possess De, so it also says they “have De.” They cling neither to De nor to its absence.

“Inferior De” refers to rulers whose De falls short of Superior De and who already have titles. Their De is apparent, and their achievements can be spoken of. Precisely because their reputation and accomplishments are visible, their De is no longer the traceless kind described as Superior De.

“Superior De acts through Wuwei (non-action), and has no intention in acting” means that Superior De follows the Great Dao’s quiet spontaneity, acting without contrivance and without using action to display itself. The subcommentary says this Wuwei does not mean that it has no effect. Rather, its effect is subtle and wondrous, leaving no trace; hence the phrase “acts through non-action.”

“Inferior De acts, and has an intention in acting” means that Inferior De takes action while still keeping De in mind. It therefore issues directives and teaches the people, and also links these actions to its own reputation.

“Superior Benevolence acts, and has no intention in acting” refers to those of the highest benevolence who practice benevolence without using it to seek reputation or distinguish themselves. The commentary and subcommentary that follow this sentence are incomplete; the surviving text only explains that Superior Benevolence is the ruler of the highest benevolence and notes that “acting” involves taking action.

Superior benevolence refers to the benevolence of those who practice it being beyond compare, hence the term “superior benevolence.” They practice benevolence and bestow kindness, helping all beings to grow, yet do not cling to what they have done or demand repayment from others. The subcommentary explains that benevolence means compassion. Among the Three Treasures of Daoism, compassion comes first; among the Five Virtues, benevolence also ranks foremost. Yet, judged by strict principle, superior benevolence still falls short of inferior De. Compared with righteousness, however, benevolence takes precedence.

Superior righteousness means acting with a purpose when practicing righteousness. The commentary explains that righteousness lies in judging right and wrong and punishing evil. But seeking private gain in the name of righteousness—for example, killing people to establish one’s authority or imposing levies on those below to support one’s own comfort—is “acting with a purpose.” The subcommentary compares righteousness to the precepts in the scriptures: they correct faults and determine right and wrong, but are mainly suited to those still practicing through deliberate action, who have not yet reached a state of stillness, emptiness, and mystery.

Superior ritual means ritual propriety beyond compare. The creation and observance of ritual are, by nature, deliberate acts. But when ritual is reduced to outward form, its ornamentation flourishes while its substance withers. Elaborate formalities also distance people from the Dao, and so receive no response. The subcommentary observes that ritual prizes ceremonial decorum, as seen in the many rules of purification rites. The Great Dao is empty, still, hidden, formless, and shapeless. If one scorns simplicity and prizes ornament, values form over substance, and attends only to appearance and ritual propriety, then even if ritual can serve as a gradual means of instruction, it still cannot accord with the Great Dao. Inwardly it goes against the Dao; outwardly it cannot respond to things.

Lu’s commentary explains that jade and silk are objects used to convey the meaning of ritual during betrothal ceremonies. Titles of nobility and appointments each have their own rank, hence the phrase “making them so.” Rituals are numerous and the jade and silk are exhausted; those below can no longer provide for those above. Hence it is said, “no one responds.” When there is no response, punishments follow.

When rituals become numerous, no one responds. Lu says: Jade and silk gifts are used to express respect during formal visits, so ritual is called “upper.” Ranks and appointments each follow set rules, so ritual is called “action.” When ritual becomes elaborate, jade, silk, and other goods are used up. Those below can no longer supply those above, and so no one responds to the rituals. When no one responds, punishments are then carried out.

People then roll up their sleeves, thrust out their arms, and tug and fight with one another. The commentator says: When rituals become too elaborate to manage, resentment and disputes arise between those above and below, so people grab one another by the arms. The Imperial Commentary says: Ritual requires reciprocity; when someone does not respond, it is regarded as a breach of ritual. If one person performs a ritual gesture toward another and the other does not respond, the first becomes angry and reaches out to seize the other’s arm. The subcommentary explains that “still” means to pull or tug. Ritual depends on give and take, so people blame one another; if the other person’s observance is even slightly lacking, they seize one another by the arms in anger. This illustrates a possible harm of using ritual to transform people. The Zhuangzi says, “Lu’s wine was weak, and Handan was besieged,” describing a similar situation.

Thus, only after the Dao (the Way), the fundamental order of natural non-action, is lost does De (Virtue/Power), its concrete expression, appear:

The commentator says this means that De’s influence became apparent only after the Great Dao had declined. The subcommentary says that “De” here refers to high De. Living beings sensed the decline of the Great Dao, and its transformative influence withdrew. Then low De appeared: adapting to things and to the circumstances of the time.

Only after De is lost does Ren (benevolence) appear:

The commentator says benevolence became apparent only after the influence of De had declined. The subcommentary says that as De gradually waned, benevolence and kindness arose in its place.

Only after Ren is lost does Yi (righteousness) appear:

The commentator says distinctions between people and principles of righteousness became clear only after Ren had declined. The subcommentary says that when benevolence was no longer practiced, Yi arose in its place.

Only after Yi is lost does Li (ritual propriety) appear:

The commentator says ritual began to be practiced only after Yi had declined, as when jade and silk are used during formal visits. The Imperial Commentary says: after the “loss of the Dao” comes the “loss of De,” followed by “the loss of Ren, after which Yi appears.” The subcommentary adds that when benevolence was no longer practiced, Yi arose in its place.

When ritual propriety prizes outward forms, it neglects inner substance, and loyalty and trust grow steadily weaker.

Ritual propriety is a sign that loyalty and trust have faded, and the beginning of disorder.

Commentary: When ritual propriety slightens inner simplicity and instead prizes contrived ceremonies and ornamentation, upright people become fewer, while disorder and corruption spread. Exegesis: Displaying refinement only on the surface does not come from the heart. It does not deepen trustworthiness; instead, it weakens loyalty. It does not stop the roots of excess and violence; instead, it encourages confusion.

“Foreknowledge”—believing oneself to be ahead of others in insight—is the superficial glitter of the Dao. To think one understands when one does not is the beginning of folly.

Commentators explain that “premature knowing” means believing one already understands without first investigating deeply. The Dao is pure and subtle, so profound that it is difficult to grasp; it has no form or image. Graceful words, striking bearing, and other outward displays that can be seen at a glance are not the Dao’s true reality. They are merely the Dao’s superficial trappings, the beginning of delusion. If people are guided by such appearances from the outset, they will find it difficult to perceive what is real.

Thus, the great person—one of virtue who can support living beings—should dwell in honesty and simplicity, not amid the shallow, restless turmoil of worldly life. They should hold fast to what is true and sincere, and not pursue outward show.

Do not exalt ornate language. The Imperial Commentary says: Intentional action shows that one has already strayed from the Dao’s purity; ritual and righteousness are merely outward adornments of De. Therefore, the sage acts through Wuwei (non-action) and keeps to what is deep and essential. The explanatory commentary says: Those who understand the Great Dao and transcend the world should set their minds on the true substance of Dao and De. How could they attend to superficial things like foreknowledge and cleverness?

Therefore, cast aside what is superficial and choose what is deep and essential.

The commentary says: Cast aside practices that are showy but empty in order to preserve what is deep and essential. The explanatory commentary says: Those who understand the Great Dao and transcend the world should value the true substance of Dao and De. How could they set their minds on superficial things like foreknowledge and cleverness?

Therefore, cast aside what is superficial and choose what is deep and essential.

The commentary says: Cast aside ornament and shallowness; choose what is genuine and substantial. The explanatory commentary says: To cast aside ornament and shallowness is to discard outward norms such as benevolence and righteousness; to choose what is genuine and substantial is to return to simplicity and natural purity. Moreover, the sage who possesses supreme De understands the Great Dao without making distinctions. How could such a sage cling to one side or the other, or fix the mind on casting aside and choosing? What is meant here is that the sage does not deliberately cast things aside, yet naturally leaves them behind; though they are left behind, the sage does not think of this as having cast anything aside. The sage does not deliberately choose, yet naturally accords with what is genuine; though in accord with it, the sage does not think of this as having chosen anything. There is no deliberate casting aside of one thing or choosing of another. Such, too, is the relation between one side and the other.

Of old, those who attained the One:

The commentary says: “Of old” means the past; “the One” refers to Wuwei, which is the Dao. The Imperial Commentary says: “The One” is the subtle Qi of emptiness, stillness, and harmony. The explanatory commentary says: “Of old” means ancient times. This describes the state manifested by those who attained the Dao at the beginning of antiquity. The examples that follow are listed one by one, using events of ancient times to explain the principle at work in the present.

Heaven attained the One and thereby became clear.

The commentary says: Heaven attained the One and so could manifest the clear appearance of the heavens. The sectional commentary says: “The One” refers to the clear Qi within the Mud Pill Palace at the crown of a person’s head, the Daoist name for the spirit aperture in the brain. This clear Qi flows downward, so the sky is bright and pure. The explanatory commentary says: Heaven received the Qi of the Dao; Yang Qi gathered to form heaven, and clear Qi rose upward.

Earth attained the One and thereby became still.

The commentary says: Earth attained the One and so is settled and motionless, without wavering. The explanatory commentary says: Heaven and Earth alike received the Great Dao; Yin Qi gathered to form the earth, which rests quietly below. Another explanatory commentary says: Heaven received the Qi of the Dao; Yang Qi gathered to form heaven, and clear Qi rose upward.

Earth receives “Dao” as its foundation, and so can remain stable and calm, undisturbed. In the cultivation interpretation, this refers to the Dantian (energy center), where Jing and Qi are nurtured in Neidan practice, remaining undisturbed while the spirit rests within the body.

Spirit receives “Dao” as its foundation, and so can transform in wondrous ways, beyond what can be measured by physical form. Here, “spirit” also refers to the mind: the mind governs spiritual activity and is therefore called numinous. The commentary says that the Dao of spirit is profound and unfathomable, and that, through receiving “Dao,” boundless spiritual wisdom becomes manifest. The Zhuangzi says, “It spiritualizes spirits and emperors, and gives birth to Heaven and Earth.” This means that the wondrous Dao can command spirits and ghosts, communicate with the Celestial Emperor, and bring Heaven and Earth into being.

The valley receives “Dao” as its foundation, and so can remain full without running dry. The cultivation interpretation identifies the “valley” as the Flowery Pool Palace within the body, a Daoist internal alchemy term for a place associated with bodily fluids. It is said to produce the sweet spring of nourishing fluids, and is therefore called full. The commentary, by contrast, explains the valley as the ravines and hollows of mountains and rivers: because the valley receives “Dao,” its springs continue to flow, filling the river channels with water.

All things depend on “Dao” to grow and come into being. Though their forms differ, all things receive “Dao” in common, and thereby exist.

When the lords and kings receive “Dao” as their foundation, they can become rightful rulers of the realm and bring order and fairness to the world. The cultivation interpretation identifies the “lords and kings” here with the spleen: the spleen occupies the center and can harmonize the four directions. The commentary says that emperors, dukes, and lords should all understand “Dao” and govern the realm through Wuwei (non-action). Tang Yao (Fangxun) and Yu Shun (Wenming) are examples of such rulers.

“To bring these principles to their conclusion” means to pursue the reasoning above further…

“Attainment” refers to the six situations listed below. The Imperial Commentary holds that all things have their own names through the workings of the Dao. Only when the Dao’s workings are preserved can distinctions and names be established; when those workings are lost, the substance of things also perishes. Thus, the sky’s clarity, the earth’s stability, the spirits’ efficacy, and the abundance of grain all depend on the Dao’s wondrous workings. The Explanatory Commentary says that “attain” means “to obtain”: the six things mentioned above all obtain the same Dao. The Inner Commentary takes this also to refer to the six methods of cultivation practiced by a person. The Sectional Commentary says that Heaven and Earth, human beings, spirits, springs, and all things each come into being through the One—the Dao—and so the passage speaks of “attainment.”

If the sky cannot remain clear, it may collapse. The notes explain that Heaven and Earth undergo Yin-Yang transformations and the alternation of day and night. One cannot demand that the sky remain clear forever; otherwise, the Way of Heaven might fall into disorder, and the sky would cease to be what it is. From the perspective of Neidan (internal alchemy), the Sectional Commentary explains: if the “Mud Ball” (the upper Dantian, or energy center, in the head) cannot maintain unity, signs of aging will appear, such as a withered brain, white hair, and fallen teeth. This is called “collapse.”

If the earth cannot remain stable, it may shift. The notes explain that the earth has differences of height and lowliness, firmness and softness, and also follows the movement of the seasonal nodes and the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water). One cannot pursue stillness without change; otherwise, the earth will lose its constant nature. The Explanatory Commentary says that “arise” means “shift.” If the earth cannot remain stable through the Dao, it may suffer disasters such as collapse and sinking; ancient accounts of Mount Qi’s collapse and the shaking of the three rivers are examples. From the perspective of cultivation, the Sectional Commentary says that if the Dantian (the energy center where Jing and Qi are cultivated and stored in Neidan practice) cannot maintain unity, Jing and Qi will dissipate. This is what “may shift” means.

If the spirits cannot remain wondrously efficacious, they may fade away.

If Shen (spirit) seeks only to keep displaying its marvelous transformations, ignoring the rise and fall of its fortunes—as in the different states called “ruler,” “prisoner condemned to death,” and “at rest and discarded”—it may be exhausted and lose its numinous function. When the mind and spirit are scattered and cannot remain centered on the One, the body grows weak and ages prematurely. Thus it is said that Shen may “wither.” “Wither” means to decline and cease to function. When Shen does not follow the Dao (the Way), the workings of wisdom become dull and sluggish; its efficacy is lost, and it may ultimately perish.

A valley cannot seek only to be filled, or it may run dry. Valleys naturally alternate between fullness and emptiness; if one seeks only to keep filling them, they lose their nature as valleys. The commentary also says that when the mind and spirit lose “guarding the One”—steadfastly holding to the Dao—the body’s “Flowery Pool” (a Daoist term for a place in the mouth or body where fluids are generated) no longer produces saliva. This is therefore called “drying up.” When mountains, rivers, and valleys depart from “guarding the One,” calamities follow: springs run dry, and the waters cease to flow.

All things cannot seek only to grow, or they may perish. Their growth and gathering in should follow the seasons, with life and death in turn. If they seek to grow forever, they will instead move toward destruction. All things come to life through attaining the Dao; if they lose the Dao and turn away from their original nature, they will soon die out.

Feudal lords and kings cannot regard themselves as solely exalted and above others, or they may be overthrown. They should humble themselves, show courtesy to worthy people, and earnestly seek talent. If they lose the Dao and turn away from their original nature, they too will perish, just like all things.

A ruler should lower his bearing, honor the worthy, and earnestly seek talented people. He must not think only of elevating himself and pursuing prestige while long treating others with contempt, for he may fall and lose his position. The commentator says that when the sage speaks of the Dao, his fundamental concern is the people. Though he cites the example of Heaven and Earth being clear and peaceful, in the end he is urging rulers to be humble and still, and to follow the Way of softness and quietude, so that they will not meet destruction. The subcommentary explains that “fall” means to suffer defeat and ruin. If a ruler does not follow the Dao and hold fast to his honored position, but instead turns away from principle and damages his De, the state may collapse and its ancestral shrines fall into peril. Xia Jie and Shang Zhou were examples of this.

Thus, honor must have lowliness as its foundation.

The commentator says that anyone who seeks honor should make lowliness the foundation. Yu the Great and Hou Ji once worked the fields themselves; Shun once made pottery by the river; and the Duke of Zhou, too, humbled himself to live among ordinary people. The section-by-section explanation says that anyone who seeks longevity should make primordial Qi—the vital energy at the root of life—the foundation; “foundation” may therefore also be understood as “source.” The subcommentary explains that “honored” means lofty, while “lowly” means humble. A ruler who has attained the Dao can humble himself; one who has lost the Dao becomes arrogant and self-important. Arrogance, then, becomes the foundation of lowliness, while humility is the root of honor. The contrast between gain and loss is meant to admonish people of precisely this.

However high one’s position, it must be founded on what is low.

If a ruler wishes to preserve his nobility, he should make humility his foundation. It is like building a wall or a house: you must begin at a low level before you can raise it higher. If the foundation is unstable, whatever rises above it will eventually collapse.

The Jie Jie says that Dao cultivators who nurture Jing and nourish the brain should make the Dantian—the area in the abdomen regarded as the basis of internal cultivation—their primary focus. The Dantian is therefore like a foundation. Gu Huan says that occupying a high position does not happen by itself: people of lower status uphold those who are noble, and what is high must be supported from below. Nobility is thus established through humility. How could humility not be its root? The wise attend to the root, remaining modest and avoiding collapse. The foolish pursue only outward prestige, straining to climb higher, and in the end fall.

That is why lords and kings call themselves “orphan,” “solitary,” and “unworthy.”

“Orphan” and “solitary” express loneliness. “Unworthy” originally referred to a wheel hub that could not gather many spokes around it, as the center of a wheel does; here it is used to mean “not good.” Though lords and kings hold exalted positions, they use these lowly titles for themselves to show that they take humility as their foundation. The commentary says that rulers should understand that arrogance brings ruin, while modesty is the basis of noble standing and flourishing. They therefore present themselves humbly, calling themselves “orphan,” “solitary,” and “unworthy.” Gu Huan explains that “unworthy” means “not good,” indicating that one’s virtue is insufficient to make one the leader of the people. People dislike all three titles, yet lords and kings use them for themselves. This shows that they take humility as their root.

Is this not precisely what it means to take humility as one’s root?

The phrase “Is this not precisely so?” is an exclamatory rhetorical question. The Jie Jie interprets it instead to mean: does this not say that the Dao’s essence returns to the primordial unity, the source of all things and the unified ground of being?

Thus, if you count the various parts of a cart, you will not find any one part by itself called “the cart.”

“Count” means to examine and enumerate one by one. When people inspect a cart, they see its spokes, wheels, hubs, crossbar, shafts, axle, and other parts, but no single part is called “the cart.” The cart comes into being only when these parts are joined together.

“Fulfillment” means reaching or accomplishing something. People can count the spokes, wheel, hub, crossbar, shafts, axle, and other parts of a cart one by one, yet find no single part that can be called “the cart.” Only when these parts are assembled does a cart come into being. Here the cart is used as a metaphor for rulers: by not relying on an exalted title to define themselves, they can attain true nobility.

The explanation says: The cart’s body, hub, rim, and other parts are only provisionally joined together. Although it is called a “cart,” if you take it apart and examine each piece, there is no independently existing “cart.” The Five Substances and the Four Great Elements are likewise illusory; the principle is the same. Since the body is insubstantial, where can nobility find a foundation? Therefore, those who hold high rank should remain humble and keep to a low position.

Cai says: Here, “praise” refers to both acclaim and blame. Rulers who possess the Dao hold themselves humbly. Since they do not cling to distinctions between nobility and lowliness, they do not take praise or blame to heart. Even when people repeatedly praise them for their De, they do not consider themselves noble; even when people repeatedly accuse them of lacking the Dao, they do not consider themselves lowly.

Gu says: A virtuous noble person cultivates body and mind through De and achievement, without displaying their De or leaving traces of self-glorification. In this way, their roots grow deep, and they are not shaken or uprooted by judgments of right and wrong, or by likes and dislikes.

“Not wishing to be gleaming like jade or lofty like stone”: One does not wish to appear precious like jade, nor aloof and lofty like stone. The Imperial Commentary explains that “gleaming” describes the appearance of jade, and “lofty” the appearance of stone. This means making humility and the absence of display one’s foundation.

“The Dao’s movement is reversal”: The commentary says this concerns adapting to changing circumstances. “Reversal” means what seems to go against ordinary expectations actually accords with what is right. When a sage adapts their actions to the time, this is the Dao in motion.

“The Dao’s function is weakness”: The commentary says this concerns its fundamental function. “Weakness” means gentleness, humility, and stillness. When a sage maintains gentleness and stillness and rests in what is real, this is the Dao’s ordinary function.

“All things under Heaven are born from being”: Heaven and Earth have form and position, so all things under Heaven arise from the formed Heaven and Earth.

“Being is born from nonbeing”: Things with form arise from what is formless.

Heaven, Earth, the spirits and deities, and all things—including flying and crawling creatures—are born from the Dao (the Way). The Dao has no form, so it is said that all things are born from “nothing.” This passage explains that what is fundamental surpasses outward display, weakness surpasses strength, and humility surpasses fullness.

The Imperial Commentary says: The relationship between what is real and expedient methods is like the relationship between nonbeing and being. Thus, when using expedient methods, what matters is returning to what is fundamental; when dealing with concrete things, one must also rely on the formless foundation. Yet the Supreme Dao is empty, still, and silent, beyond names; the nature of all phenomena is empty, and none depends on another. If one can forget both expedient means and what is fundamental, both being and nonbeing, one can transcend distinctions—like a cart in motion that does not cling to the name “cart.”

The Commentary explains: “Being” refers to responding to the Dao, that is, what is called the “Qi of the One without division.” The “wondrous root of the primordial One” refers to the deep and silent source. Heaven, Earth, and all things appear and are born from responding to the Dao, while responding to the Dao arises from the wondrous root. The wondrous root is supreme nonbeing.

When the highest kind of person hears the Dao, they diligently put it into practice: A person of the highest capacity hears the teaching and then practices it with diligence and full commitment.

The Commentary explains: A person of the highest capacity is intelligent and perceptive. As soon as they hear the Supreme Dao, they understand that all phenomena are empty. They therefore study and practice diligently, without further doubt or slackness.

When a person of middling capacity hears the Dao, they seem to remember it and then forget it: A person of middling capacity hears the teaching, sometimes keeping it in mind and sometimes seeming to forget it.

The Commentary explains: Here, the original text repeats the commentary on “When the highest kind of person hears the Dao.”

The commentators hold that people of middling capacity, on hearing of the Dao, understand that they can cultivate themselves to seek longevity and govern the state to bring about peace and order, and so readily accept it. Yet when they encounter wealth, beauty, fame, and honor, they are again led astray by desire, and their earlier faith in the Dao fades. The Imperial Commentary says that such people can move either upward or downward, and so remain doubtful: at times they believe in the Dao, and at times they forget it. The Explanatory Commentary says that their understanding is limited, and they cannot grasp the principles fully. When they restrain their desires and return to stillness, they can empty their minds and embody the Dao; as soon as they become involved in worldly affairs, they readily remain caught in the realm of form and desire, and their attitude becomes uncertain.

People of lesser capacity laugh when they hear of the Dao. The commentators explain that they are greedy and full of desires. Seeing that the Dao honors weakness, they take it for cowardice; seeing that it honors simplicity, they take it for vulgarity. That is why they laugh. In the Explanatory Commentary, the final phrase, “the lesser forget it,” means that people of lesser capacity forget the Dao as soon as they hear it.