《道德真经注疏(原题顾欢)》Vol. 3

When practitioners hear of the Great Dao, they often burst out laughing.

The commentator says that people of the lowest kind are greedy, violent, and full of desire. Seeing that the Dao prizes gentleness and weakness, they take it for cowardice; seeing that it prizes simplicity, they take it for vulgarity. That is why they laugh. The subcommentator says that people of dull understanding cannot grasp the true Dao, which is remote, profound, broad, and subtle. They regard it as absurd and false, then slander it and clap their hands in laughter.

If people of the lowest kind do not laugh at it, it is not worthy of being called the Dao.

The commentator says that if people of the lowest kind do not laugh at it, it is not worthy of being called the Dao. The subcommentator likewise says that if ordinary people do not laugh at it, it is not worthy of being called the sacred Dao.

Thus, since ancient times, those who have spoken of the Dao have put it this way:

Here, “setting forth a teaching” means establishing an argument or framing an explanation. What follows gives six descriptions of the Dao practiced by those of the highest kind.

The bright Dao looks dark.

Those who clearly understand the Great Dao appear outwardly obscure and unknowing. The subcommentator explains that people who truly understand the Great Dao do not display their intelligence or abilities. Their conduct resembles that of ordinary people, so they seem dull.

The advancing Dao looks as though it retreats.

Those who devote themselves to seeking the Dao may appear to make no progress, or even to fall back. The subcommentator says that those deeply accomplished in studying the Dao continue to cultivate inwardly, while outwardly they seem to be declining.

The level Dao looks uneven.

The commentator says that “level” means flat. Those who truly follow the Great Dao do not try to set themselves apart; instead, they seem much like everyone else.

The highest De looks like a valley.

The commentator says that those who possess the highest De are like valleys: they are not ashamed to dwell in low, unclean places. The subcommentator says that such people are broad-minded and can contain all things, like a spacious mountain valley.

The purest white looks stained.

Those who are truly noble and pure may seem, by contrast, to have been sullied. This means that people of high character do not make a display of themselves. They can live among worldly people and conceal their sharp edges, appearing as though touched by worldly dust. Dongfang Sheng (Dongfang Shuo) kept his virtue pure while deliberately leaving behind traces that seemed sullied; this is what the passage means.

Those whose De is abundant may seem to lack something. Their inner De is in fact more than sufficient, but outwardly they are so modest that they appear deficient. As the Biography of Laozi says, a good merchant stores his goods deep away, so that he seems to have nothing; a person of profound De has an appearance that seems ordinary and simple.

Those who establish De may seem to act furtively. Here, “furtively” means concealing oneself and avoiding notice: people of great De hide their reputation and ambition, like thieves who do not want to be seen. The Daodejing says, “as though wary of their neighbors on all sides”; this too describes a manner that does not call attention to itself.

Those whose original nature is pure and simple may seem to have changed. “Substance” refers to one’s original nature, while “change” means alteration. Those who abide by what is genuine are calm when still and responsive to things when they act. Their outward appearance shifts with circumstances, so they may seem inconstant. The imperial commentary’s phrase “pure and whole, yet blending its light” means remaining inwardly undivided while restraining one’s radiance and blending with the world.

True vastness and squareness have no corners. “Corner” means an angle. Those who embody the Dao and put it into practice respond to things as they arise. They do not cling to outward rules or deliberately set up petty boundaries. The phrase “reaching the heights without fixed limits” means that those who understand the Great Dao are not confined by rigid frameworks.

Truly great talents often achieve greatness late in life. Ritual vessels such as the Nine Tripods and the Huli vessels cannot be cast in haste. Here they serve as metaphors for people who have succeeded in cultivating the Dao: they cannot realize the Great Dao in a short time, but must cultivate for a long time, until their minds become utterly empty and still. The Jiejie says that by holding fast to the “One”—the Daoist practice of focusing on the Dao—without slackening, one can attain the Dao in old age.

The greatest sound seems silent. A commentator uses thunder as an analogy: it waits for the right moment before it breaks forth. Those who cultivate the Dao should therefore cherish their Jing and Qi and speak little. The commentary adds that the utmost Dao is profoundly empty and still, and that the greatest sound makes no sound. Even when it emerges from the mysterious source, it remains inaudible. The legendary musician Shi Kuang could not hear it; this means that although the sound of the Great Dao fills the cosmos, it leaves no trace and is utterly silent.

The greatest image has no fixed form. Although the Dao may be called an “image” when it manifests, it has no concrete shape that can be seen or grasped. Even the legendary figure Li Lou, renowned for his keen eyesight, could not see its form. The Dao’s image seems to fill the void; thus it is said to have an image yet no form.

The Dao is hidden and far-reaching, beyond the power of names to identify. The root of the utmost Dao is deep and mysterious; it cannot be measured by concrete forms, nor fully explained through words and names.

Only the Dao is skilled at giving to and bringing all things to completion.

The Dao grants people Jing and Qi, enabling them to attain fulfillment. “Lend” means to give something temporarily. Only the nameless Dao holds such vast compassion: it can reach down to aid living beings, draw upon their good powers, nurture the myriad things, bring Heaven, Earth, and humanity into being, and guide all things toward fulfillment through various skillful means.

The Dao gives rise to One; One gives rise to Two; Two gives rise to Three; and Three gives rise to the myriad things.

The Dao gives rise to One means that the Dao first brings forth “One.” One gives rise to Two means that Yin and Yang emerge from One. Two gives rise to Three means that Yin and Yang produce clear Qi, turbid Qi, and the Qi that harmonizes the two, which then differentiate into Heaven, Earth, and humanity. Three gives rise to the myriad things means that Heaven, Earth, and humanity together bring forth all things: Heaven bestows, Earth nurtures, and humanity enables things to grow and reproduce.

Another interpretation says that the Dao gives rise to One when the movement of Qi begins in the void. Since primordial Qi has not yet differentiated, it is called “One.” One gives rise to Two when clear and turbid Qi separate and Yin and Yang appear. Two gives rise to Three when Yin and Yang move and form the Three Powers of Heaven, Earth, and humanity. Three gives rise to the myriad things when round Heaven covers above, square Earth supports below, and humanity dwells between them, directing their workings, so that all things can grow.

The myriad things bear Yin on their backs and embrace Yang.

There is nothing among the myriad things that does not turn its back to Yin and face Yang, like a person who turns their heart toward the sun. Yin and Yang are the subtle workings of the Dao: Yin is on the outside and is called “bearing”; Yang is within and is called “embracing.”

The myriad things harmonize themselves with Qi that is blended and balanced.

All things contain primordial Qi, which makes them gentle and balanced. The organs in the chest, the marrow within bones, and the hollow spaces in plants, for example, are all permeated by harmonizing Qi, allowing things to grow. Yang Qi acting alone becomes too hot to generate life; Yin Qi acting alone becomes too cold to form bodies. Only when Yin and Yang are connected through the Great Dao and regulated by blended, balanced Qi can the myriad things come into being.

People dislike only the names “orphan,” “widower,” and “unworthy,” yet kings and lords use these names to refer to themselves.

“Lonely,” “bereft,” and “unworthy” were terms for inauspicious circumstances, such as isolation or a lack of good fortune. Yet kings, lords, and nobles used these words to refer to themselves, showing that they were willing to occupy a humble position and emulate emptiness and gentleness. The commentaries explain that loneliness and widowhood were undesirable conditions that people usually shunned. When rulers adopted these terms for themselves, they showed that what is noble has lowliness as its root, and what is high rests on what is low. Their example also encouraged people to cultivate humility and deference.

Thus, at times, things gain by being diminished.

The commentary explains: if one only takes and cannot yield, one loses the spirit of humility. The Wenzi says that contention leaves people with less, while yielding leaves them with more. Yielding gives rise to ritual propriety and righteousness; contention brings disorder.

At times, things lose by being increased.

“Those who increase their status will eventually fall; those who greedily seek wealth and rank will see their governance decline.”

The commentary says: “When someone diminishes himself, people will support him; when someone magnifies himself, people will diminish him. Thus the rivers and seas can become the places toward which all streams flow because they are good at placing themselves below them. Humility and gentleness are the foundation of De (Virtue/Power). Is it not fitting, then, that people call themselves ‘orphan’ and ‘the bereft’?”

The explanatory commentary says: “‘Therefore’ links what follows to what came before. Here, ‘diminish’ means to lower or reduce oneself. When kings, dukes, and lords call themselves ‘orphan’ or ‘the bereft,’ they humble and diminish themselves. The people are then glad to support, respect, and serve them, and their commands can be carried out. Conversely, if rulers exalt themselves, take pride in their favor, occupy high positions arrogantly, and the people disperse, the rulers themselves suffer loss. The Book of Documents says, ‘Self-satisfaction brings loss; humility brings benefit.’ This is the principle at work.”

The commentary of Cheng says: “When you are humble and gentle, diminish yourself, and help others, people naturally rally to you, and so you can preserve the Way of life. When you boast and act arrogantly, exalt yourself, and put yourself above others, people will surely overcome you, and you will fall into danger and ruin. Danger and ruin are loss; preserving life is gain. The consequences of loss and gain follow this principle: diminishing yourself brings gain, while increasing yourself brings loss.”

The methods people usually teach—

The commentary says: “This means that people teach me to abandon weakness and pursue strength, to abandon gentleness and pursue firmness.”

I, too, teach them through the Way.

The commentary says: “This means that I teach people to abandon strength and turn toward weakness, to abandon firmness and turn toward gentleness.”

The Imperial Commentary says: “The Old Lord said that when a ruler wishes to establish instruction and teach the people, he should guide them with the way of weakness and humility that I have described.”

The explanatory commentary says: “Common people and Confucian instruction also praise humility and gentleness. The Daoist methods I transmit, however, take quietude and yielding as their foundation and value an empty mind and self-forgetfulness. This is what sets them apart.”

Those who act with force and violence do not meet a good end.

“Those who act with force” refers to people who do not believe in the subtle Dao, abandon De, and refuse to follow the teachings of the scriptures, relying instead on power and brute force. “They do not meet a natural death” means that their lives are cut short by fate, weapons, or execution under the law; they do not live out their allotted years.

“I will take this as the foundation of instruction.” Here, “father” means root or beginning. Lao Jun uses the fate of those who act with force as a starting point for warning people, then teaches Wuwei and De, making them the foundation of instruction. The imperial commentary says that forceful, hard, and impetuous people perish, while the gentle and yielding can preserve themselves; therefore, the teaching of gentleness and yielding is the foundation of all instruction. The subcommentary likewise says that although Lao Jun taught many methods, he consistently regarded gentleness and yielding as good and hardness and strength as bad, and made this the entry point for learning the Dao.

The softest thing in the world can pass through what is hardest in the world. Here, water represents the “softest,” and metal and stone the “hardest.” Though soft, water can penetrate hard things and reach everywhere. This is a metaphor for the Wuwei and yielding Dao, which can dissolve the burdens brought by action. The passage below says that nothing in the world is softer than water, and nothing is better at overcoming what is strong.

No material thing can enter a place where there is no opening.

“Without being” refers to the Dao (the Way). The Dao has no fixed shape or substance, so it can enter places without the slightest gap, reach the divine, and aid all living beings. The imperial commentary explains that “without being” means not being stained by the things of the dusty world and having no attachments in the heart. In this way, even when faced with something strong and stubborn, nothing can overcome it.

“To enter where there is no gap without being” means that although the Dao is formless, it can accord with a realm where there is no gap. The Dao’s nature is naturally pure and clear, and its wondrous body is wholly unified, without the slightest seam. If people are not disturbed by desire and allow both mind and surroundings to become still, with no attachments remaining in the heart, they can unite with the Dao. The commentary says that ordinary people are deluded, taking emptiness to be substantial; those who understand the Way know that although the myriad things appear to exist, their essence remains empty. Things made through deliberate action are coarse and therefore have gaps; the realm of Wuwei (non-action) is subtle and hidden, and therefore has no gaps. Once one understands that being and nonbeing are mutually present and connected, one can enter into the principle of having no gaps. The commentary by Che compares this to water and wind: neither has a fixed shape or substance, yet both can pass through. The Dao, too, is formless by nature, yet can reach deep into tangled afflictions, dispel attachments through awakening, and stir a person’s true nature. This is what “to enter where there is no gap without being” means.

From this, I know that Wuwei is beneficial. I see that the Dao acts without contrivance, yet the myriad things transform and take shape of their own accord. This is how I know that Wuwei benefits people.

The “teaching without words” is the Dao’s way of guiding without relying on speech, offering itself as an example.

The benefits brought by Wuwei, …

By following Daoist Wuwei (non-action)—the way of non-action modeled on the Dao—a person can cultivate the self and nourish the spirit. Applied to governing the state, it benefits the people without burdening or disturbing them. Sun Deng said: “The soft and weak can overcome the hard and strong; the formless can transform the formed. From this we can see that teaching through non-action greatly benefits people.”

Few in the world can do this.

“Those in the world” here refers to rulers. Few rulers can cultivate themselves and govern the state through the way of non-action, as the Dao does. “Teaching without words” does not mean keeping silent. In principle, being and nonbeing are interdependent and connected; in teaching, speech and silence can likewise work together. Because speaking and silence operate in tandem, this is called “teaching without words.” Because being and nonbeing are connected, this is called “the benefit of non-action.” This benefit is not deliberately imposed, yet it helps people; this teaching is not deliberately administered, yet it has an effect. This is a profound account that probes the limits of principle and sees into human nature. The ordinary teachings that govern the world rarely reach this depth. Hence the saying, “Few in the world can do this.” Gu Huan said: “When a ruler models himself on the Way of Heaven and acts with stillness and non-action, customs change of their own accord. This is called ‘teaching without words.’ When he models himself on the non-action of the Dao, all things transform of their own accord. This is ‘the benefit of non-action.’”

Which is more precious: one’s reputation or one’s life?

When your reputation has been established, you should step back once your work is done. Reputation is merely an adjunct to what is real. People chase after it, only to harm themselves. So the question is: which deserves greater care, your reputation or your body? The point is to let go of fame and achievement and preserve what is true in you.

The body is inward and real; reputation is outward and secondary. People often pursue an external reputation and lose their inner reality. A good reputation is originally sought for one’s own sake. But if you harm your body, or even lose your life, for the sake of fame, what use is that fame? The Lord Lao, out of compassion for this reversal of what is fundamental and what is secondary, asks in turn: which is truly closer to you, your reputation or your body? Why covet fame and forget yourself? Weigh them this way, and it becomes clear which is near and which is distant. The Zhuangzi also says that Boyi died beneath Mount Shouyang for the sake of his reputation.

Which is more precious, the body or possessions?

Accumulating too many possessions can harm the body. People pursue wealth, gain possessions, and lose their lives. So the question is: which is more precious, the body or possessions? The point is to give up possessions and preserve yourself. Possessions are meant to sustain the body, yet the deluded risk their lives for them. The Lord Lao therefore asks: which brings greater benefit—giving up possessions to preserve the body, or accumulating possessions and harming the body? The Zhuangzi says that Robber Zhi died on Mount Shuling for the sake of profit.

Which is more troubling, gaining or losing?

Excessive greed for gain harms one’s conduct. The more wealth one demands, the more one ultimately harms oneself. With fewer desires and less accumulation, one is better able to preserve oneself. Acquiring what one seeks is often a sign that one is being harmed; letting go of wealth can instead be a way of preserving oneself. To harm oneself is called misfortune; to preserve oneself is to live in peace and ease. Yet people take gain as good fortune and loss as misfortune. Have they not turned things upside down? That is why Laozi asks: between gain and loss, which is truly the misfortune?

Excessive attachment inevitably brings great depletion. Excessive desire for beauty drains the spirit; excessive love of wealth invites calamity. What one cherishes may seem small, yet what one ultimately loses may be far greater. That is why it is called “great depletion.” Here, “depletion” means loss. Those who seek fame also wear out their bodies, trouble their minds, exhaust their spirit, and damage their wisdom.

The more one hoards, the more one ultimately loses. In life, one stores great quantities of wealth in warehouses; after death, one buries wealth in the tomb. While alive, one fears that one’s possessions will be stolen; after death, one may still have one’s tomb dug up and coffin opened.

Storing great quantities of wealth in warehouses can invite theft and robbery. One may lose not only one’s possessions but also suffer personal harm, so the disaster of ruin is often severe. The Book of Documents says, “Ordinary people have no crime in themselves, yet they invite trouble because they keep jade discs in their possession.” The Zhuangzi recounts someone’s mockery: “The wheat grows green on the hillside. In life, you would not give anything away; why, then, have a pearl placed in your mouth after death?” Someone then used a golden hammer to pry open the corpse’s jaw, slowly parting its cheeks, all to avoid damaging the pearl in its mouth. This story illustrates the calamities brought by hoarded wealth.

Those who know contentment will not suffer humiliation.

Those who are skilled in cultivating De (Virtue/Power) seem to have something lacking. They do not seek fame or flaunt their achievements, as though they were vessels with flaws. Yet the effects of their De endure without fading.

Those who know contentment can put an end to greed for profit and rid themselves of desire, so they do not bring disgrace upon themselves. This explains the word “goods,” meaning material possessions.

Those who understand contentment know that wealth is illusory and insubstantial. They keep to their proper place without coveting more, remain calm and self-possessed, and are satisfied with the life they have. Thus they do not suffer disgrace. This explains the word “goods.”

Knowing when to stop allows one to stop in time. Wealth and profit do not burden body and mind, and sights and sounds do not disturb the eyes and ears; therefore one remains free from danger throughout life.

Once one understands that reputation is not real, one can stop at the right time and let go of attachment, preserving oneself and avoiding harm. Thus there is no danger. The preceding passage of the Dao De Jing says, “When your reputation is established, you should know when enough is enough.” This sentence sums up the word “fame.”

If people can know when to stop and be content, blessings and emoluments can remain with them for a long time. In cultivating oneself, the spirit is not overtaxed; in governing a state, the people are not disturbed. Thus things can endure.

Understanding when to stop in matters of reputation and when to be content with material possessions, and forgetting fame and profit, allows one to endure. This sentence sums up the word “fame.”

End of Volume Four of the Annotations and Commentaries on the True Classic of the Dao and Its Virtue.

Note: This commentary appears in the lower volume of the Explanation of the True Classic of the Dao and Its Virtue. In the Daoist Canon edition, it is attributed to Chen Xianggu, a Consulting Gentleman (an official title) of the late Northern Song. This indicates that the book was probably written between the late Northern Song and early Southern Song. It was not written by Gu Huan of the Southern Qi, nor was it compiled by someone of the Tang.

Volume Five of the Annotations and Commentaries on the True Classic of the Dao and Its Virtue

Composed by Gu Huan, a Recluse from Wu Commandery

Great completion seems incomplete;

Commentary: This refers to a person whose cultivation of Dao and De has reached great completion. He seems to have something lacking because he conceals his reputation and does not display his honors, like a vessel that is imperfect.

Yet its function is never exhausted.

A person who achieves great success in cultivating the Dao can forget that success, and so may appear to have something lacking. Precisely because he does not cling to achievement, his daily use of things may be abundant without exhausting them. The Zhuangzi says, “Small achievements obscure the Great Dao.” Ordinarily, those who achieve something do not seem lacking, while those who seem lacking cannot be said to have achieved anything. But the person of great achievement described here appears deficient because he clings neither to “achievement” nor to “deficiency.” Thus, he seems to lack something, yet has in fact achieved success; because he does not display his achievement, he is not confined by the appearance of deficiency.

Great fullness seems empty (“fullness” means being filled; “empty” means void).

A ruler with profound De (Virtue/Power), who has reached a state of fullness, remains humble as though empty. He does not grow proud because of his high status or extravagant because of his wealth. In this way, the use of his mind has no end. Here, “empty” means void. A person whose De is full can be complete without seeming overflowing, as though there were nothing there. Precisely because he does not cling to fullness and remains calm and empty, his activity does not run dry. Ordinarily, what is full is not empty, and what is empty cannot be full. To say here that fullness seems empty means that he clings neither to fullness nor to emptiness, and so can be empty yet full, full yet still seem empty.

Great straightness seems bent (a truly upright person seems willing to yield).

True uprightness means following the laws of the Dao and remaining steadfastly correct. The appearance of yielding comes from not competing with worldly people for supremacy, as though one could bend. A plain and upright person does not deliberately display his uprightness; this allows him to live among ordinary people while keeping his sharpness hidden.

Great straightness seems bent.

The most upright person, when practicing the Dao and its methods, holds steadfastly to what is right, yet may appear outwardly yielding and compliant, avoiding disputes with the world. The commentary says that such a person is simple and natural, does not display their uprightness, can get along with others, and adapts to things; that is why they seem to give way. From this we can see that displaying one’s uprightness at every turn is merely lesser uprightness.

The most capable person seems, by contrast, clumsy. The note says that someone of truly great talent does not show off their abilities. The commentary says that such a person brings all things to completion and transforms living beings, yet takes no credit. Their deeds remain hidden and unnoticed, and they are no different from ordinary people; that is why they seem clumsy. The Zhuangzi says, “Carve out every kind of form, yet do not think yourself skillful.” From this we can see that showing off one’s technique is merely lesser skill.

The most eloquent person seems, by contrast, inarticulate. The note says that such a person is wise and clear-minded, with no doubts in their heart, yet seems unable to speak well. The Imperial Commentary says that they do not deliberately embellish their words. The commentary says that they can analyze true emptiness and explain the mysterious principles of the Dao, but these principles cannot be fully expressed in words. They are therefore unlike worldly people who respond quickly and argue artfully, and instead seem slow of speech. The Zhuangzi speaks of a kind of debate that does not rely on words, and also says, “The greatest debate does not speak.” From this we can see that the debating of Yang Zhu and Mozi is merely lesser debate.

Restlessness can overcome cold. The note says that “overcome” means to reach the extreme. In spring and summer, Yang Qi rises; when all things flourish to their utmost, they turn toward coldness. Cold causes all things to wither and die. Therefore, people should not be hard and impatient.

Stillness can overcome heat. The note says that in autumn and winter, all things lie quiet beneath the earth; when this reaches its extreme, it turns toward warmth. Warmth is the source from which life arises. Cold causes all things to wither and die. Therefore, people should not be hard and impatient.

In autumn and winter, the myriad things lie quietly hidden beneath the earth. When this reaches its extreme, it turns into heat, and heat is the source from which life arises. Restlessness belongs to Yang, and stillness to Yin; “prevailing” means reaching the extreme. The four seasons move in a cycle: when Yin reaches its extreme, Yang begins to arise; when Yang reaches its extreme, Yin follows. As Yin rises, the myriad things wither; as Yang arises, they flourish. This uses the changes of the four seasons to show that stillness is the foundation of life’s continuance, while restlessness is the root of decline and death. It therefore urges practitioners to cast off restlessness and return to clarity and stillness.

Another interpretation is that, in moving from the root toward outward expression, restlessness prevails over cold; in returning from outward expression to the root, clarity and stillness prevail over heat. This shows that both movement and stillness must accord with their proper times. Gu Huan says that when things develop to their extreme, they turn into their opposite: movement at its extreme becomes stillness, and stillness at its extreme becomes movement. From this we can see that flourishing at its extreme gives way to decline, while decline at its extreme gives way to flourishing. All things in the world follow this pattern. Since nothing can remain unchanged forever, what is there to covet? Thus the sage clings to nothing and pursues nothing, and is not disturbed by gain or loss. The Five Great Practices—the five important kinds of cultivation—are naturally clear and still, untouched by cold or heat. This is what it means to be the upright ruler of the world.

Only through clarity and stillness can one become the Way that is right for all under Heaven.

With clarity and stillness, one can dwell in the world for a long time; by holding to the right Way, one can endure without ceasing. Being empty, tranquil, and calm in Wuwei (non-action) benefits oneself and others alike. Governing what is deviant and wrong by the right Way makes one a model for all under Heaven. This passage concludes by showing that clarity and stillness prevail over restlessness. The Jiejie commentary says that one who enters the deep mountains to cultivate, practices purity, and keeps to the Way of nature can become a Perfected Person—a person who has attained the Way.

When the world has the Way,

This refers to a ruler governing the world in accord with the Way.

Warhorses are sent back to plow the fields.

“Manure” here means to till the fields. When the world has the Way, weapons and armor are no longer used, and warhorses are retired to work the fields. In the context of self-cultivation, this means gathering in Yang essence to nourish oneself. The Imperial Commentary says that a ruler who has the Way governs the world through Wuwei and does not covet, so there is no warfare. With warhorses no longer used in battle, people can work their fields. The Explanatory Commentary says that a ruler who has the Way governs the world by ending warfare and putting military preparations away.

The sovereign brings stability to the realm by promoting education and culture, governing without reckless action. Thus, warhorses can be withdrawn and sent back to the fields to plow. Those who cultivate themselves, too, should restrain the six faculties—the senses and capacities of perception and thought: eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, and mind—so they do not gallop after external things like troops and horses. They should nourish the heart-mind with the Dao. As Mencius said, people know how to fertilize their fields, yet no one thinks to learn how to nourish their own hearts.

When the world lacks the Dao,

Note: This refers to a ruler who is without the Dao.

Warhorses appear in the countryside.

Note: Warfare continues, and the warhorses appear beyond the city and cannot return for a long time. The commentary explains: “Countryside” means the area outside the city walls. A ruler without the Dao indulges in hunting and sensual pleasures, leaving the lands in every direction unsettled. Eager to expand his territory and fond of waging war, he sends troops and warhorses into the countryside. A heedless and restless person has no Dao in the heart-mind and lets the six faculties run unchecked, like troops and horses racing through the world of sensory experience. Hence the saying that warhorses appear in the countryside. Those who practice cultivation should restrain the six faculties and keep the heart-mind from chasing after external things.

The greatest fault is to let a craving arise in the heart-mind,

Note: This refers to craving beauty and sensual pleasure. The commentary explains: “Fault” carries the sense of oppression and pressure: a person is weighed down by distress. External things are beautiful and so appeal to the craving heart; this is why they are called “desirable.” The outer world stirs the heart-mind and becomes the cause from which faults arise, so practitioners are warned not to become absorbed in external things. The preceding scripture says: “When things that incite desire are not displayed, the heart-mind is not thrown into confusion.”

The greatest trouble is not knowing when one has enough,

Note: This refers to people who cannot restrain themselves when confronted with desires for wealth and status. The commentary explains: Trouble is the result of faults growing more serious. When the heart-mind craves external things and knows no satisfaction, it harms others and damages property, and its faults grow ever worse. The resulting calamity may fall not only on the person but also ensnare the whole family.

The greatest failing is to be single-mindedly intent on gaining what one wants.

The commentary says that wanting to possess material goods and benefits, and to attain wealth and status, is greed. The Yu says that no calamity is greater than greed: greed brings grave calamity, and so it is called “blame.” The Shu says that “blame” carries the sense of investigation and punishment. The desire to possess has almost no limit, and the reproach and calamity it brings are more severe than any other. The text explains separately the degree of calamity and the weight of blame in order to fully reveal the two kinds of faults that human greed can bring.

Therefore, one who knows contentment and is content with contentment

The commentary says this means holding fast to one’s original nature and keeping to one’s roots.

will always feel satisfied.

The commentary says this is because one has no greed. The Shu says that keeping to one’s proper place, without overstepping it in pursuit of convenient gains, brings contentment, so that one is often without any sense of lack. The point here is that those who struggle for wealth and status meet with calamity, while those who are content can remain secure for a long time. The text first explains that greed brings calamity, then presents contentment as the response.

Without leaving the doorway, one can understand all under Heaven.

The commentary says that the sage need not leave the doorway to understand all under Heaven because one can infer others from oneself and other households from one’s own, and thereby understand the world. The Shu says that “doorway” here refers to perception: by using perception to make inferences, one can understand all under Heaven. Another interpretation holds that the “doorway” is like the opening through which people reach outward and distinguish among things. The person of the Dao has a mind that is empty and still, and does not let thoughts chase after external scenes; yet they can still understand affairs in the world. This is to illuminate the myriad worldly phenomena with one’s original mind.

Without peering out through the window, one can understand the Dao of Heaven—the patterns of nature’s unfolding.

The commentators hold that the Way of Heaven and the way of humanity are connected, and that human Jing and Qi flow into and through the Qi of Heaven and Earth. When a ruler is quiet and has few desires, the signs in the heavens become settled; when a ruler’s desires are tangled and varied, the breath of Heaven appears agitated and turbid. Good and ill fortune, benefit and harm, all have to do with people’s own actions. The imperial commentary says that a ruler can sit with folded robes and hands joined, following things as they are, and understand the Way of Heaven without having to issue commands outside the palace gate. The subcommentary explains that “window” means an opening or aperture. The Way of Heaven naturally follows what is so of itself. A practitioner sits in stillness, forgets the self, and does not peer outward; instead, by letting the true mind grow clear within, they can perceive the Way of nature. This is wisdom within illuminating reality. Doors and gates symbolize coming and going: looking outward means leaving reality behind to pursue the worldly. Closing the windows symbolizes turning one’s attention back to the source.

The farther one travels outward, the less one comes to know.

The commentators explain that someone who leaves their own home to observe another’s, or leaves themselves to observe other people, understands less the farther afield they look. The subcommentary says that a mind and spirit turned upside down cannot perceive how things truly are. Drawn along by external circumstances, the mind pursues them ever farther without satisfaction; yet what it knows remains shallow and near at hand, dim and lacking insight.

Therefore, the sage knows the world without traveling.

The commentators say that the sage need not ascend to Heaven or descend into the depths to know what is happening in the world, because they perceive it with the mind. The subcommentary explains that “without traveling” means the mind need not experience external circumstances in every place. The sage can understand the true condition of the myriad things, like a mirror hanging in a high hall: things appear in it as they come, but it clings to nothing. That is why the Zhuangzi says that the sage does not rely on subjective thoughts, but observes in accord with nature.

Without seeing with their own eyes, the sage can discern things and set their names straight.

The commentators say that the great can be inferred from the small, and the outward discerned from the inward: when those in high positions esteem the Dao, those below esteem De; when those above esteem force, those below esteem competition and strength. The subcommentary holds that “not seeing” means understanding that the myriad things are illusory, with nothing fixed and unchanging that is worth clinging to. “Names” means distinguishing and correcting the names of the myriad things. The sage does not cling to external things, yet makes the Way clear through action and teaching, allowing ostentatious display and desire to gradually fade. The imperial commentary says that not peering beyond the windows is what “not seeing” means. When people’s hearts are harmonious and the seasons are settled, one can discern that peace prevails throughout the world.

Without deliberate action, things can still be accomplished.

When those in high positions practice non-action, those below them are free from disturbance. Every household is well supplied, everyone is prosperous, and all things grow and change naturally.

“Non-action” here means gathering the spirit in quiet stillness, remaining calm and free of desire, and not acting by deliberate contrivance. “Accomplishment” means being able to guide and transform the people and to help those who study the Dao fulfill their practice. This shows that outward stillness and non-action can also give rise to effects.

Studying worldly subjects such as government, instruction, ritual, and music gradually increases what one knows and has learned. “Study” here refers to worldly learning. Fixating on distinctions and pursuits causes desires and outward embellishments to grow.

Cultivating the natural Dao, by contrast, means gradually reducing desires and outward ornamentation. One explanation says that learning is a process of increasing one’s knowledge, while cultivating the Dao means reducing deliberate effort. Increasing one’s knowledge can build a foundation for study and practice; ultimately, one must let go even of attachment to one’s efforts in practice in order to experience the Great Dao. The mind of a Dao cultivator becomes empty, quiet, and balanced; wisdom gradually brightens, and troubles and confusion recede.

After reducing desires, one must continue to reduce them, gradually releasing attachments until one reaches “non-action.”

Non-action here is calm and natural, like an infant, without deliberate contrivance. The commentary further points out that clinging to desire is one kind of fixation, but clinging to non-action is another. The first stage of reduction removes attachment to “being”; going further means letting go even of attachment to “non-being.” Only by relinquishing both sides does one reach non-action that is neither biased nor partial.

When one acts without imposing unnecessary measures, nothing remains undone.

In governing the realm, one should generally follow the principle of not disturbing the people. Commentators explain that “taking” means governing or instructing: to guide the people of the realm toward goodness, one should lead them through Wuwei (non-action) and by keeping affairs quiet. Although the sage responds and acts as circumstances require, the sage does not cling inwardly to what is being done. The body is active, while the mind remains at peace.

If one simply delights in launching projects and frequently issuing policies, making orders complicated and leaving the people without peace, one cannot govern the realm.

The sage has no fixed opinions and values following things as they are. For this reason, the sage seems to have no mind.

The sage takes the people’s wishes as their own: when the people consider something suitable and convenient, the sage goes along with it. The sage deeply understands the Great Dao, lets go of attachments and distracting concerns, and keeps the mind clear and detached. That is why the sage is said to have “no mind.” This does not mean being without awareness, but being free of selfish intentions and attachments. When something stirs a response, the sage answers in keeping with what has arisen.

Therefore, the sage makes the people’s hearts his own. According to the Jiejie, those who cultivate the Dao take Shen as their heart. Qi circulates throughout the body and flows through its many joints. The Shen in each part of the body has its own name, and together they dwell within the physical form. This is why it says, “Make the people’s hearts your own.”

I treat the good with kindness. When people act well, the sage responds to them with kindness.

I also treat the unkind with kindness. When people act badly, the sage guides them toward goodness through instruction. The Shu explains that the good are free of greed and willing to cultivate themselves through study, while the unkind are those who act with intention and cling to external things. The sage teaches both alike, enabling them all to turn toward goodness. This is the goodness of making the people’s hearts one’s own.

In this way, De is fulfilled. The sage’s teaching through De guides the people toward goodness. The Jiejie also says that cultivating oneself with single-minded devotion preserves the spirit. This brings harmony to Shen and Qi and softness to the body; harmful Qi recedes, upright Qi remains, and the bones grow strong and accord with the true Dao. Thus one can become good.

I trust those who are trustworthy. When people keep their word, the sage trusts them.

I also trust those who are untrustworthy. When people fail to keep their word, the sage guides them toward trustworthiness through instruction.

In this way, the De of trust is fulfilled.

Through the moral influence of the sages, the people gradually develop faith. The Imperial Commentary says: “Those willing to do good and who believe in the Great Dao, I guide along the good path. Those who do not yet believe, I also teach through the good path, so that they feel the sages’ De and come to have faith.”

The explanatory commentary says that “faith” here means hearing the scriptures and precepts, feeling drawn to them, and willingly accepting them; “lack of faith” means having no fondness for Daoist texts. The sages act with compassion and without self-interest, saving all beings equally. Whether people believe or not, they enable them to benefit and help faith arise among them all. Lady Ziwei said, “Faith is the key to gain and loss.” A scripture also says, “Faith is the pivot of learning the Great Dao.”

Someone asked: “The sages have no personal motives. When there is a response, they respond; when there is none, they do not. Does this mean that only those with faith receive their teaching? If believers and nonbelievers are taught alike, would that not be like responding equally to those who have a connection and those who do not?”

The reply was: “Responses may be universal or particular. Although the sages dwell in the Jade Capital of the Mysterious Metropolis, the Daoist realm of the immortals, they continually save beings throughout the Three Realms. This is a universal response, so they teach all who have faith in the good. When the Hu people gave rise to a particular response and purple Qi drifted westward, the sages bestowed the text of the Dao and De upon the Perfected Yin. This was a particular response. A particular response awaits the right conditions; a universal response is like compassion shining down in its everyday course. Thus the Dao De Jing says, ‘Always skilled at saving people, it abandons no one.’”

The section commentary says: “When people have faith in the Great Dao, the Great Dao can also resonate with them. If people do not believe in the Great Dao, it still manifests its workings through them. Thus the Great Dao is always able to find people who believe in it.”

The sage, living in the world, is always watchful and wary.

The commentary says: “The sage, living in the world, is always cautious and alert; even in wealth and honor, he does not dare to become arrogant or extravagant.” The explanatory commentary says that “chuchu” describes a mind that is alert and apprehensive. The sage has no personal motives and responds in accord with what is felt. He constantly extends compassion, protecting and helping all beings, concerned that they might sink into suffering. For this reason, he remains ever watchful and wary.

Note: The sage, while in the world, is always watchful and wary, and dares not grow arrogant or extravagant on account of wealth and rank.

Commentary: “Watchful and wary” describes a heart filled with caution and apprehension. The sage, living among the people, constantly extends compassion, protects and aids them, and worries that they may sink into suffering. For this reason, the sage remains ever vigilant.

To make their hearts unformed and simple for the sake of all under Heaven,

Note: For the sake of the people, the sage lets the heart return to an unformed simplicity, appearing dull-witted, ignorant, and unfamiliar with worldly affairs.

Commentary: “Unformed” means free of discriminating thought. Ordinary people are often stirred by external things and rashly make distinctions between what they accept and reject. The sage, by contrast, seeks to let the heart return to an undivided simplicity, no longer clinging to distinctions. This, too, is why the sage remains vigilant and apprehensive.

The people all apply their eyes and ears,

Note: “Apply” means to make use of. The people all use their eyes and ears on the sage’s behalf, seeing and hearing for the sage.

Commentary: The version by Heshang Gong reads “apply”; other editions read “indulge.” “Indulge” carries the sense of becoming absorbed in something and attached to it. People who are confused and turned around become absorbed in worldly sights and things, give free rein to their eyes and ears, and cling to sounds and appearances. Thus they drift ever further into entanglement and sinking, while their faults accumulate. The sage pities their distress and so points out this affliction. Of the six faculties—the capacities for perception and cognition, including the eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, and mind—the text mentions only the eyes and ears because attachment to these is especially deep. The Scripture of the Ascent to the West says, “Sounds and sights through ears and eyes leave faults behind.” This means that the eyes and ears, together with sounds and sights, cause people to accrue faults. Though only one faculty is cited, the others may be inferred; the eyes and ears are singled out here simply to make the wording complete.

The sage treats them all as infants.

Note: The sage cares for the people as one would raise infants, tending to and nurturing them without asking them for repayment.

Commentary: Living beings give free rein to their eyes and ears and become absorbed in desires and passions. The sage, filled with concern, compassionately aids them, as one cherishes an unknowing infant.

Coming forth into life, entering into death.

Here, “birth” refers to sensual desire fading from within the body and mind, allowing the Hun to settle and the Po to grow calm, so that one may live. “Entering death” refers to sensual desire gathering in the chest, exhausting and confusing the spirit, and thus leading toward death. The imperial commentary says that understanding the principle allows one to transcend life and death, while delusion and attachment cause one to sink into them.

The subcommentary explains that “birth” means transcending the Three Realms—the Realm of Desire, the Realm of Form, and the Formless Realm—and escaping life and death. “Entering death,” by contrast, means sinking into the Three Evil Paths—hell, hungry ghosts, and animals—and becoming trapped in life and death. In terms of the principle of life and death, birth is the arising of something from nothing: when it becomes manifest, this is called birth. Dissolution is the return of something to nothing: when it disappears, this is called death.

“There are thirteen kinds that tend toward life, and thirteen kinds that tend toward death.”

The commentary says that these thirteen kinds are the Nine Orifices—the two eyes, two ears, two nostrils, and mouth—and the Four Gates—the hands and feet. In life, a person does not look, listen, or smell heedlessly, speak without restraint, crave flavors, move the hands and feet recklessly, act without care, or squander Jing and Qi. On the approach to death, the situation is exactly the opposite. The subcommentary says that “kinds” means categories. Everyone has the Nine Orifices and Four Gates, but sages do not become attached to them and so transcend the Three Realms. Ordinary people become attached to them and so enter the Six Paths—the six destinations of beings caught in rebirth. To sink into the Six Paths is to tend toward death; to transcend the Three Realms is to tend toward life.

“People are alive, yet thirteen kinds of behavior lead them toward death.”

The commentary says that people intend to seek life, but their actions instead lead them into these thirteen paths to death. The subcommentary says that ordinary people approach death whenever they act because they cling to these thirteen kinds of bodily and mental activity and remain fixed on what appears before them.

“Why is this so?”

The commentary says this asks why action leads people toward death. The subcommentary says the question is posed to introduce the answer that follows.

“Because they place excessive importance on preserving life.”

To drive oneself toward death is to pursue the pleasures of life single-mindedly, accumulate excessive wealth, violate reason and one’s natural disposition, and act recklessly without restraint. People who cannot comprehend the Great Dao and let go of their attachment to life and death instead cling to “life,” believing that its pleasures are truly within reach. They amass possessions, indulge themselves, and make excessive efforts to manage their lives, thereby driving themselves toward death. This statement answers the question posed earlier.

I have heard that those skilled in nourishing life…

Here, “nourishing life” means caring for and preserving life. “I have heard” introduces what follows. Those skilled in nourishing life are detached and tranquil, undisturbed by worldly affairs. How they nourish life will be explained below.

Walking on land, they do not encounter the rhinoceros or tiger. (The rhinoceros here is a mythical horned beast resembling a wild ox; the tiger is the familiar tiger.)

This means that harm from wild beasts cannot reach those skilled in nourishing life. Commentaries also explain it in terms of inner cultivation: when one is calm and composed in daily life, worries are less likely to intrude.

Entering a battlefield, they are not harmed by armor or weapons.

This means that those skilled in nourishing life do not delight in war or make killing their purpose. They therefore do not become embroiled in battle or suffer harm from weapons. In terms of inner cultivation, even while living amid the world, they are not harmed by external enticements such as sexual desire.

The rhinoceros has nowhere to thrust its horn, the tiger nowhere to sink its claws, and weapons nowhere to pierce.

Those who are skilled at preserving life are not harmed by rhinoceroses or tigers, nor injured by weapons. “Skilled at preserving life” means being adept at nurturing one’s life. The Imperial Commentary says that such people are clear and calm in mind, with no desires or cravings, so external things cannot harm them.

The Commentary compares the rhinoceros to a foolish person, the fierce tiger to “ze,” and sharp, injurious weapons to “shi,” using these images to explain that those skilled at preserving life are not harmed by external things. Another interpretation says that they have realized true emptiness: although they live in the world, they are not afflicted by the “three poisons” of greed, anger, and delusion.

Why is this so?

Because they do not place themselves in a position where death is inevitable. The Imperial Commentary explains that they follow change without partiality and do not cling to death as death, so external things cannot harm their lives. The Commentary says that ordinary people cling to the body and regard it as a place that leads to death. Those skilled at preserving life let go of attachment to the body’s form and reach the state of “having a body without clinging to it.” Thus there is no “place of death” for death to enter, and the three poisons have no way to harm them. The Sectional Explanation offers a further account in terms of cultivation: sages gather and guard their spirit, focus single-mindedly on the Dao, and nurture body and mind through methods such as circulating Qi, holding the fists firmly, and embryonic breathing. With the Dao present in the heart and true Qi abundant, they do not inhabit a condition in which punishment or killing can harm them.

The Dao gives rise to all things; De nurtures them.

De is the manifestation of the Dao: the Dao brings forth the myriad things, while De bestows primordial Qi and nourishes them. In this way, every kind of thing can grow and be sustained.

The Dao gives the myriad things their forms. De gives them the forces of Qi needed to grow, such as the changes of cold and heat, enabling them to develop. The commentaries also say this can be understood as the Dao and De refining the heart and mind, gradually making people’s conduct more sincere and mature until they achieve something.

Thus, nothing among the myriad things fails to honor the Dao and cherish De. The workings of the Dao and De affect all things, and so they are held in reverence. The myriad things are brought forth by the Dao and nourished by De, yet they often receive these gifts without realizing it. For this reason, people are urged to esteem the Dao and De.

The Dao is honored and De is cherished not because anyone has bestowed ranks or titles upon them; they have always been so naturally. The Dao does not summon the myriad things, yet they respond of their own accord, as echoes follow sounds and shadows follow forms. Honors in the human world depend on rank and titles, so they cannot last. The nobility of the Dao and De depends on no rank, and is therefore constant and natural.

Thus, the Dao brings forth the myriad things and sustains them, enabling them to grow, develop, take form, and mature, while continually nourishing and protecting them.

The Dao gives birth to all things, but does more than bring them into being: it continues to nourish them, helping them grow and mature, and sheltering them so that each may preserve its own nature and life. A ruler who governs a country and cultivates himself should act in the same way.

Here, the meaning of the preceding passage is developed anew, preparing the way for what follows. The text speaks only of the “Dao,” not of “De” (Virtue/Power), because De is no different from the Dao; the wording is simply concise. The Xisheng Jing says that Dao and De are one undivided whole, alike in their mystery. “Nourishing and fostering” means causing the goodness inherent in all things to sprout and grow. “Bringing to maturity” means enabling their virtuous practice to advance continually. “Maturing” means refining the hearts of all things through profound and wondrous methods, bringing their accomplishments in cultivating the Dao to fulfillment and their De to perfection. “Nourishing” means allowing all things to receive results corresponding to their actions; “sheltering” means protecting all things with great compassion. The first four pairs of terms describe how the Dao benefits all things through its De. The three phrases that follow explain that the Dao takes no credit for these acts and does not cling to them.

Gives birth but does not possess: The Dao brings all things into being, yet does not claim them as its own or treat them as things to use for its own benefit.

Though the Dao brings all things into being, it does not regard them as things it has produced and is therefore entitled to possess. Its attitude is like that toward straw dogs used in ritual: it does not cling to them. Thus the Dao gives birth to all things but does not possess them; though it has the merit of giving life and nourishment, it does not cling to the thought, “I am giving life and nourishment.”

Acts but does not rely on its actions: The Dao acts, but does not depend on those actions or expect anything in return.

Since the Dao helps all things grow without possessing them, what could it rely on when it guides and assists them? This phrase means that it bestows kindness without claiming credit for it.

Nurtures but does not rule: The Dao helps all things grow, but does not govern or control them, nor does it take them for its own use.

The Dao nourishes all living beings, and its achievements may be compared to the work of Heaven and Earth in transforming and nurturing all things. Yet both the one who acts and those who receive its help are like illusions; there is no actual ruler at work. This means that although the Dao helps all things grow, mature, and receive nourishment, it does not use these acts to control or possess them.

This is called “mysterious De,” a profound and wondrous Virtue/Power beyond comprehension.

The Dao operates among all things, bestowing grace and De (Virtue/Power), yet it is profound and subtle, difficult to perceive.

The phrase “Mysterious De” follows from what came before. It describes a person who embodies the Dao, benefits all things without claiming credit, and whose virtue is far-reaching and hidden. “Mysterious” carries the sense of profundity; here, “De” means protection and fulfillment. “Mysterious De” is therefore an apt name for such a person.

Che says that the Dao is the utmost of Yang, which corresponds to Heaven. Heaven brings forth all things through its activity. De is the utmost of Yin, which corresponds to Earth. Earth nurtures all things by embracing them. All things receive Qi (vital energy) and come into being; their forms are nourished and grow. The Dao and De accord with each thing’s own karmic conditions and course of development, enabling it to take form. When the being in question is human, they bring forth the human form. Cai, meanwhile, says that the Dao sets the four seasons in motion for all beings, enabling all things to flourish.

All things under Heaven have an origin.

The Dao is the mother of all things under Heaven.

Yu says that this origin is a subtle, harmonious Qi. It generates all things and has the De to nourish them; for this reason, it can be called the mother of Heaven and Earth and of all things under Heaven.

The Dao is the source and nurturer of all things under Heaven. The imperial commentary says that “beginning” refers to the original Qi, subtle and harmoniously balanced. This Qi gives rise to all things and has the Virtue of nourishing them, so it may be called the mother of all things under Heaven. The subcommentary says that the mysterious Dao is the root of all things and the source of wisdom, transcending words and images. All things arise from it. The scripture emphasizes this so that those who cultivate the Dao will recognize the root and not pursue the branches. The Great Dao manifests from its source as the myriad things, then guides and nurtures living beings like a mother caring for her children; hence it is called “mother.” Cai’s commentary says that living beings, lost in the five desires—such as wealth, sex, fame, food, and sleep—do not know the root. They drift with the current, adrift through birth and death. Laozi points out that the Dao of Dao and De is the root of all living beings. “Beginning” emphasizes that it is the source of all things; “mother” emphasizes its function of giving rise to and nourishing them.

Once you know the source of all things, you also know the things that arise from it.

The commentary explains “child” as “the One.” Having recognized the Dao, one should go on to recognize the One. The imperial commentary says that all things are born by receiving nourishment from harmoniously balanced Qi. Once you recognize your own existence, you know that you are a “child” born of this Qi. The subcommentary likewise says that the root can manifest as the myriad things, just as a mother can give birth to and nurture children. Once you know that the Dao is the mother of all things, you also know that you are born of the Dao. The scripture says, “Emptiness and naturalness are the true parents.”

Once you know the things born of the Dao, you should go on to hold fast to their root: the Great Dao.

The commentary says that once you know the One, you should hold fast to the Dao and return to Wuwei (non-action). Cai’s commentary says that once you know you are born of the Dao, you should maintain clarity and stillness and practice Wuwei, returning to the Dao and becoming one with it.

In this way, using your own person will not lead you into danger. “Making use of the body” means using and directing one’s body and mind.

Knowing that one’s own being comes from the Dao (the Way), one should return to the root and safeguard the Dao that gives life to all things. Those who can return to the root, keep to the mother, abide by the Dao, and unite with the Real may see their outward forms come into being and pass away, yet their foundation remains beyond danger. The Dao is the source of all things; all things arise from the Dao and are its branches. Since the branches can be gathered back into the root, one should return to the mother from which they came. The mother gives birth to her children, so one should safeguard the mother. Keeping to the mother allows one to live long; returning to the root keeps oneself from danger. This is why the scripture offers this counsel. The Scripture of the Western Ascension (Xisheng Jing) says: “Only those who can always nourish the mother can live long.”

“Block its openings”: “Openings” refers to the eyes. Do not let the eyes wander freely.

“Close its gates”: “Gates” refers to the mouth. Do not let the mouth speak carelessly.

Close the gates of the senses, and do not let them chase after external things at will; then you will suffer less hardship throughout your life. Earlier, the word “Opening” (Dui) referred specifically to the mouth, identifying one of the six faculties. Here, “gates” refers to all six: the eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, and mind. “Closing” can mean restraining sensual desires and withdrawing from worldly life, living in the mountains or keeping one’s doors shut. It can also mean recognizing that the six sensory fields—form, sound, fragrance, taste, touch, and mental objects—are illusory and insubstantial, and understanding that the six faculties have no fixed, real self-nature. In this way, the mind is not stained by external things, and the outer world no longer becomes an object of desire. Even while seeing and hearing as usual, one can remain settled in the Dao, never departing from what is real. Thus, “closing” does not mean literally blocking the ears and eyes; it means that the mind is not moved by the external world.

There are many ways to cultivate the Dao. Some quiet the mind by avoiding the world of sensory experience; others realize the true source while engaging with it. These methods differ in depth and approach. As long as one can recognize the true nature of external things, as described above, the mind and nature will remain calm and at ease, without weariness or hardship throughout life.

If one opens the gates of the five desires and lets the six faculties chase after the six sensory fields, the mind will grow weary and the ears and eyes will become fatigued. A life of toil will follow, ending in a state beyond remedy.

Disorder has already taken shape. Foolish people open their eyes, ears, and other senses, chasing pleasures of sound and color. They sink into them for their whole lives, still craving indulgence as life draws to a close. Even the greatest sage, compassionate toward all, cannot truly save someone when faced with this.

To perceive what is subtle is called clarity. Before things have begun to show themselves, while disorder has yet to arise, one can clearly discern its first signs. This uncommon insight is “clarity.” A person who can spot the signs while a matter is still small and correct their conduct in time may also be called wise.

“Seeing” means observing and discerning; “the small” refers to what is subtle. If practitioners can contemplate subtle states, their wisdom will gradually grow brighter. That is why an earlier passage in the Dao De Jing says, “Contemplate its mystery.”

By holding to softness and weakness, strength grows day by day. One who can perceive what is subtle sees wisdom grow brighter; and by acting in accordance with the Dao and understanding the principle of softness and weakness, one’s De (Virtue/Power) and undertakings can also grow stronger over time.

At the beginning of study and practice, both meditative stillness and wisdom are present, as are practice and understanding. “Seeing the small” is a way to develop wisdom and enter meditative stillness; applying softness and weakness belongs to the unfolding of practice and understanding. Among the Buddhist Six Perfections, the first five emphasize practice, while the last is wisdom. Wisdom is associated with the principle of emptiness, while practice takes account of both emptiness and existence. The discussion here of applying softness and weakness and perceiving what is subtle explains how practice and wisdom support one another.

Use your own sight to look outward and observe the gains and losses of the present age.

Then return to inward discernment.

Turn your light inward, so that your spirit does not dissipate outward. “Light” means illumination cast toward the outside. Though you can see external things, do not become attached to what you see. Draw in your radiance and conceal your traces; let brightness return to obscurity. This is why the text says, “return to your brightness.” Later, “bright, yet not dazzling” means to possess brightness without displaying it. The Zhuangzi says, “The kind of radiance that is indistinct and does not reveal itself is what the sage seeks.”

Do not let calamity befall you.

Turn your gaze inward and nurture your spirit, so that it does not dissipate.

This is called cultivating the constant Dao.

To do these things is to cultivate the constant Dao. The Imperial Commentary says that “leave behind” can also mean “bestow.” Guard the inward, unshowy brightness, and you will not invite calamity; this is the hidden application of the true, constant Dao. The subcommentary holds that one who can see without becoming attached has perfected De, and that every entanglement has been dispelled, leaving no calamity behind. Another explanation says that “leave behind” means “bestow”—that is, not to bring disaster upon oneself. Only those whose cultivation is complete and whose entanglements have been eliminated are fit to transmit the teachings of the scriptures and spread the right path. Thus the text says that such a person carries on the constant Dao and brings the true teaching to prominence.

If I understood even a little about governing, I would act in accordance with the Great Dao.

“Jie” means “great.” Laozi was concerned that the rulers of his time did not follow the Great Dao, so he imagined saying: if I understood affairs of government, I would personally put the teaching of Wuwei into practice. Another explanation takes “jie” to mean “single-minded”: keeping one’s mind focused on the One day and night, and cultivating oneself. Wang Bi and Kumārajīva both take “jie” to mean “small”: if I understood even a little of the Way, I would act in accordance with the Great Dao.

I alone would fear taking action.

“Wei” means “alone.” What he fears is deliberately taking action, because he worries this would lead away from the Great Dao: in seeking to reward goodness, one might instead encourage hypocrisy; in seeking to honor loyalty, one might instead provoke false loyalty. The Imperial Commentary likewise explains that “jie” means “small.” Laozi is saying: if I understood a little of the Way, I would act in accordance with the Great Dao; yet I alone would fear taking action.

The Great Dao is broad, level, and easy to follow, yet the people prefer crooked paths. Here, the “Great Dao” means the fundamental principle that is upright and impartial; “paths” refers to narrow, deviant routes. People turn away from the proper way and head down crooked paths, causing the Great Dao to decline while false and misguided practices flourish.

The court’s palaces are built in great splendor, while the fields lie fallow. “The court is lavishly adorned” means that the palaces are imposing and magnificent: the ruler continually repairs old palaces and builds new ones, lavishing attention on decoration and luxury.

Fields lie fallow because farming has been neglected: no one plows or tends them, and the season for planting is missed. The Jie Jie explains that this can also serve as a metaphor for people who fail to cultivate their foundations, attending morning and evening only to their outward appearance. As a result, they bring illness upon themselves, and their minds become disordered and sullied. The commentary says that heavy corvée labor leaves farmers no time to work their fields, so the land is abandoned.

Granaries are utterly empty because the crops have been damaged and the state has no reserves. The Jie Jie explains that this can also serve as a metaphor for people who cannot preserve their foundations: their five organs become depleted, and their bodies grow weaker day by day. The commentary says that agricultural output has declined, the state lacks provisions, weaving equipment lies idle, and the storehouses have been exhausted.

Wearing splendid clothes means valuing outward show and delighting in empty adornment.

Wearing a sharp sword at the waist shows that those in high positions are forceful and warlike, as well as extravagant and wasteful. The Imperial Commentary says this means failing to cultivate the civil virtues and instead esteeming military preparations. The Jie Jie explains that delighting in fine clothes, wearing sharp swords, and relying on blades for protection invite malign influences to intrude.

Craving sumptuous food means having excessive desires and never knowing contentment. The commentary says that one wears splendid ceremonial robes, carries a famous sword for protection, and indulges the appetite with fine wine and meat, yet neither honors the highest De nor shows compassion for the people. Such greed has gone this far.

Having wealth in excess is called “theft and boastfulness”: the people lack the necessities of life, while the ruler accumulates wealth to satisfy himself, as though plundering the people’s possessions to adorn himself and make a display before others. If he does not learn restraint, he may ultimately lose his life and see his household ruined, with his relatives drawn into the disaster as well. The Jie Jie also says that greedily eating rich foods to nourish the outward appearance while abandoning the inner foundation causes every illness to arise together; in the end, the wealth accumulated is spent on funeral rites.

This is truly contrary to the Dao.

When rulers act in this way and ultimately meet their downfall, they are not in accord with the Dao. “Alas!” conveys sorrow and lament. The Imperial Commentary says: They think themselves clever, yet their actions bring harm; they behave like thieves and still boast about themselves. Boasting of what they have stolen is plainly not in accord with the Dao and can only draw a sigh. The Sectional Explanation says: If people do not cultivate the Dao and think only of fine clothes and rich food, they may become thieves. Such things can neither cure illness nor spare them from death, so they are not in accord with the Dao.

The Commentary says: Amassing great wealth is like the conduct of thieves. After storing up wealth, they boast and show it off, violating reason and virtue; this is why they are said to be not in accord with the Dao. Explained in terms of a cultivator’s state of mind, “the court is swept clean” means the heart has no good deeds to its credit; “the fields lie waste” means the inner life has been neglected; “the granaries are empty” means virtue is hollow; “wearing fine clothes” means delighting in ornate words; “wearing a sharp sword” means having keen greed; “being sated with food” means indulging in flavors; and “possessing surplus goods and wealth” means hoarding possessions instead of distributing them.

Those skilled at establishing the Dao have foundations that cannot be uprooted.

The Commentary says: “Establish” means to set something in place. If one takes the Dao as the basis for cultivating oneself and governing the state, one’s foundations cannot be pulled away. The Commentary says: “Overturn” means to bring down. Those who establish the heart of the Dao hold firmly to their aims; even as they reach the realm of the Dao, they remain unmoved. The commentaries of Wang and Lu say: A cart becomes a cart by being assembled from many parts, and a ruler becomes a ruler by relying on the people. Without its parts, a cart cannot be made; without the people, a ruler cannot attain eminence. Thus, to cherish a cart is to value its parts, and to treasure the root is to protect the people. The Sectional Explanation says: The true substance of the Dao is nameless and embraces unity. Cultivators of the Dao preserve it inwardly and seek nothing outward, so they do not pursue fame.

Those skilled at holding fast to the Dao do not lose it.

Those who are skilled at using the Dao to preserve their spirit can hold fast to it without loss, never straying from or losing the Dao.

“To embrace” means to preserve; “to cast off” means to lose. The previous sentence speaks of setting one’s intention; this one speaks of beginning the practice. Those who are skilled at preserving the truth in their cultivation remain steadfast and focused, and ultimately suffer no loss.

The sacrifices made by their descendants will never cease.

The Imperial Commentary says: A ruler skilled at establishing himself and governing his state through the Dao and De benefits later generations through his achievements. People will remember him as fondly as they cherish the sweet crabapple tree—how much more so will his descendants? Rulers who achieve merit receive sacrifices, and clans with De are honored. The Zhou dynasty began with Hou Ji and reached its height under Kings Wen and Wu. The Zhou people sacrificed to Hou Ji in the open countryside and to King Wen in the ancestral temple. Thus, even though divination foretold thirty generations of kings and seven hundred years of dynastic fortune, and sacrifices to later kings whose spirit tablets were removed from the ancestral temple gradually ceased, the outdoor sacrifice to Hou Ji and the temple sacrifice to King Wen continued without interruption.

Cultivate the Dao within yourself, and your De will become true and pure.

Cultivating the Dao within oneself means cherishing the original Qi and nourishing the spirit, in order to increase one’s lifespan and live longer. One who attains this De may be called a perfected person (a person who has succeeded in cultivating the Dao).

The Explanatory Commentary says: When the study and practice of the Dao described above are put into effect within oneself, what one cultivates and what one attains confirm each other, and one’s De becomes genuine and without pretense.

Cultivate the Dao within your family, and its De will overflow.

Cultivating the Dao within the family means that fathers are loving and children filial, elder brothers are affectionate and younger siblings respectful, and husbands and wives remain faithful to one another. With this De, blessings will accumulate in abundance and benefit descendants in later generations.

Cultivate the Dao within your community, and its De will spread widely and endure.

Cultivating the Dao within one’s community means respecting the elderly, caring for the young, and guiding those who are ignorant. With this De, its beneficence can extend broadly to all.

Cultivate the Dao within your state, and its De will be abundant and complete.

When cultivating the Dao in governing a state, the ruler acts with sincerity and the ministers with loyalty. Benevolence and righteousness arise naturally, as do ritual and music. Government is fair and orderly, without selfish intent. Virtue attained to this degree is truly abundant. The commentary says: “The lords of the five ranks cultivate the Dao through stillness and non-action, bringing peace to their fiefdoms so that no troubles arise within or beyond them. Are these not wise rulers whose Virtue is complete?”

When the Dao is applied to governing all under Heaven, Virtue can extend everywhere. The annotation says: “A ruler who governs all under Heaven by means of the Dao does not rely on words to teach and transform the people; they naturally turn toward him. He does not rely on commands to impose order, yet affairs are still well ordered. The people respond to the ruler as an echo answers a sound and a shadow follows a form—this is entirely real. Only Virtue of this kind can be called vast and universal.” The commentary says: “When one who holds the position of ruler follows the Dao in governing, sits upright and composed, and practices stillness and non-action, all under Heaven becomes peaceful. Thus the states come to pay court, the four directions submit, and his teachings reach everywhere; his Virtue is thereby put into practice universally.”

Therefore, one can observe oneself by looking at one’s own condition: compare the self of someone who cultivates the Dao with that of someone who does not, and see which endures and which declines.

One can observe a family by looking at a family: compare a family that cultivates the Dao with one that does not.

One can observe a village by looking at a village: compare a village that cultivates the Dao with one that does not.

One can observe a state by looking at a state: compare a state that cultivates the Dao with one that does not.

One can also observe all under Heaven by looking at all under Heaven: compare a ruler who cultivates the Dao with one who does not.

How do I know that the state of all under Heaven is like this? By relying on the principles set out above.

The commentator explains: Why did Lord Lao know that those who cultivate the Dao would prosper, while those who turn away from it would decline? By observing these signs, one can understand. The subcommentator adds: In the time of Yao and Shun, the world was at peace because they followed the Dao; in the time of Jie and Zhou, it was debauched and chaotic because the Dao was absent. Thus, one can use those who cultivate the Dao to observe those who do not, and a world governed by the Dao to assess one without it, and from this judge the gains, losses, successes, and failures of a family or a state. When Lord Lao asks, “How do I know how the world succeeds or fails?” he means that this way of assessing things is enough to serve as a guide.

“Those who contain De in abundance” means people whose inner cultivation of De has reached a profound depth.

“Are like infants” means that such people resemble babies. The commentator says that divine powers protect those who contain De, just as parents care for an infant. The subcommentator explains that the infant is used as a comparison to describe the simplicity of those who contain De; the infant’s qualities will be discussed one by one below.

“Poisonous creatures do not sting” means that venomous creatures such as bees, snakes, and scorpions do not harm them.

“Ferocious beasts do not seize them; birds of prey do not strike them” means that wild beasts do not pounce on them, and raptors do not swoop down to claw them. The commentator explains that infants do not harm other things, so other things do not harm them. In an age of peace, people, whether high or low in status, all have benevolent hearts; even animals with spines or poison do no harm. The Imperial Commentary says that those who have attained the state of the perfected are wondrous and unfathomable. Since they have no intention of harming any living thing, they do not find themselves exposed to harm from poisonous creatures; this is precisely a sign of abundant De. The subcommentator, in turn, takes these lines as a metaphor: infants do not deliberately provoke other things, so they are not harmed by poisonous creatures, ferocious beasts, or birds of prey. Those who contain De are attuned to subtle mysteries and likewise suffer no harm from these three kinds of creatures.

“Their bones are weak and their sinews soft, yet their grasp is firm” means that an infant’s bones are frail and its muscles soft, while its hands still clench tightly.

The infant’s muscles and bones are soft and weak, yet its hand can grip things tightly. This is because its attention is single and undistracted.

Commentary: The infant’s muscles and bones are soft and weak, yet it holds things firmly. This serves as a metaphor for a person who embodies De (Virtue/Power): their nature is gentle yet steadfast. They respond to external things with humility and without contention. Even when blending into the common world, they keep their inner clarity; though surrounded by impurity, they remain unstained. The line about “gripping firmly” describes stillness and clarity in the realm of intention.

The infant does not yet know the union of male and female, yet its genitals become erect. This is a sign that its vital essence and Qi are full to the utmost.

Comment: The infant does not understand the union of male and female, yet its genitals become erect because its vital essence and Qi are abundant.

Commentary: The Zilin says that “xia” refers to a young child’s genitals. A newborn does not yet know the way of sexual union between female and male, yet its genitals naturally become erect. This is a sign that its vital essence and Qi are brimming. How much more, then, can a person who embodies De and follows the Dao maintain a simple, even-tempered nature, quiet and free of action, detached and inwardly empty? Even while living among worldly people and encountering sights and sounds, they can realize true emptiness without becoming attached to the forms of sexual union. This is because their spirit and vital essence are refined to the utmost. The line “not yet knowing the union of female and male, yet the organ rises” describes stillness and clarity in the body.

The infant cries all day, yet its voice does not grow hoarse. This is a sign that harmonious Qi is full to the utmost.

An infant cries from morning until night without any change in its voice because it is full of warm and balanced Qi. Its sinews and bones are weak, yet it can clench its fists tightly. It does not yet understand the union of Yin and Yang, but the source of harmony within it has already begun to stir. This is because its Jing and Qi are utterly pure. Though it cries all day, its voice does not grow hoarse, because its nature is pure and harmonious. This is what it means for an infant to contain dark, mysterious Qi.

The commentary explains that when an infant makes a sound, it does not do so deliberately, so its harmonious Qi is not dispersed. How much more so for one who truly understands profound principles and holds De within: such a person can speak as though saying nothing, and can distinguish things in detail without departing from the state beyond words. This passage concerns purity in speech. The earlier point—that an infant can cry all day without growing hoarse—also rests on its making sounds without intention, so its harmonious Qi is not dispersed.

To understand harmony and softness is to know the constant Dao.

When a person understands that harmonious Qi and softness benefit them, they have come to know the constant Dao. The commentary says that keeping to harmony and softness like an infant is putting “knowing the constant” into practice. The explanatory note says that only by understanding the purity and harmony contained in this wordless speech can one grasp the Dao that is truly constant.

To know the constant Dao is to be enlightened.

When a person understands how the constant Dao operates, they can gradually come to understand what is deep and mysterious. The explanatory note says that knowing the Dao that is truly constant allows wisdom to shine clearly. The commentary interprets “growth in life brings increasing ill fortune” this way: “growth” means increase; if one pursues nothing but self-aggrandizement, the desires of life will swell day by day. The explanatory note adds that the word means “to increase.” Those who are deluded do not understand that life has no fixed nature. They greedily seek worldly gain and continually indulge themselves, so their afflictions and obstacles grow day by day.

When the mind makes Qi serve its will, Qi grows increasingly forceful.

Keep the mind focused, calm, and gentle, and Shen and Qi will be full within; the body, too, will become soft and supple. By contrast, if one acts recklessly and without restraint, the harmony within the body will dissipate, and the body will grow more rigid day by day. The Imperial Commentary says: The mind distinguishes right from wrong, but Qi makes no such distinctions. If the mind is allowed to command Qi, one becomes increasingly bent on asserting one’s strength. The Explanation says: The mind is Shen, and Qi is the body. People often see things backward. They are easily confused by whatever they encounter, unaware that all things are empty and the body itself is illusory. Thus they exhaust Shen and burden the body, rushing about and laboring, with the result that the habit of forceful self-assertion grows stronger day by day, and the karma of birth and death grows ever deeper.

When things reach the height of their strength, they turn toward decline and old age. Once they have withered and decayed, they can no longer accord with the Dao. The Explanation says: Whatever flourishes will eventually decline; whatever is strong will eventually grow old. Pursuing ways to prolong life and forcing one’s strength only further demonstrates that worldly affairs are impermanent. Since they are impermanent, they are not the true Dao.

Whatever does not accord with the Dao should be stopped early. The Annotation says that what cannot accord with the Dao will come to an early end; here, “early” refers to death. The Imperial Commentary says that things grow old once they reach the height of their strength, and so warns people not to rely on their strength or assert themselves. Such conduct does not accord with the Dao and should be stopped early. “Stop” means to cease. The Explanation likewise holds that since this conduct does not accord with the true Dao, it should cease, and one should no longer act recklessly.

The wise value putting the Way into practice through personal experience, rather than giving weight to words. The explanatory commentary says that those who understand the principles know that subtle truths cannot be conveyed through language, and so they do not speak much. The Zhuangzi says, “The Way cannot be questioned; even if questioned, it has no answer. ‘Wuweiwei’ means just this.” The section commentary takes this to mean that the “One Dao” cannot be put into words.

Those who talk without stopping do not truly understand. The annotation says that once words have been spoken, they are hard to take back, and speaking too much can easily invite trouble. The explanatory commentary says that those who cling to names and words and try to pursue the principles through language fail to understand that the principles transcend words and images; they therefore do not truly know. The Zhuangzi says that when one person asks about the Dao and another answers, the one who answers does not understand the Dao. The section commentary takes this to mean that those who speak about it do not understand the “One Dao.”

Block the openings of the senses and close the gates of desire. The annotation says this is done to cut off desire at its source. The imperial commentary says that those who have realized the Dao do not crave external things or cling to words, which is why it says to “block the openings of the senses”; when there is no craving, the gates of desire close of their own accord. The explanatory commentary interprets this as stopping speech and restraining the desires of the six senses. The section commentary says it means sealing the nine apertures and guarding Jing-Qi, the vital essence and energy emphasized in Daoist cultivation. Here, “nine apertures” refers to the body’s sensory openings, while “Jing-Qi” is the vital essence and energy that cultivation seeks to preserve.

Blunt the sharpness. The annotation says that when people are eager to assert themselves and take action, they should remember that the Dao values Wuwei (non-action) and so restrain that impulse. The explanatory commentary says this means putting an end to craving and competition.

Untangle conflicts. The annotation says that when resentment knots up in the heart and lingers without relief, one should remember the Dao’s detachment and use it to dispel the resentment. The explanatory commentary says this means removing distress and anger.

Soften the radiance. The annotation says that even when one has unusual insight, one should keep it understated and inward, rather than showing it off in a way that dazzles and confuses others. The explanatory commentary says this is a way to live among ordinary people who remain simple and unpolished.

Become one with the dust of the world.

This is called “Mysterious Unity”: being in accord with the mysterious Dao. The commentator says that “mysterious” refers to Heaven; when a person can do what was described earlier, they are in accord with the Way of Heaven. The subcommentary explains that one first settles body and mind, then restrains one’s radiance and conceals one’s traces. When De is complete, one naturally accords with the principle of the mysterious. Pei explains that “radiance” means wisdom, while “dust” means simple, unadorned ignorance. Ordinary people often display their cleverness to impress others, while indulging their ignorance and bringing calamity upon themselves. The sage, by contrast, restrains wisdom without showing it off and rests at ease among ordinary people.

Thus, others cannot deliberately draw close to him, nor deliberately distance themselves from him. He does not take honor as a source of joy, nor grieve over solitude. His mind is still and free of desire, so he makes no enemies. The subcommentary says that he accords with profound principles, clinging neither to external things nor to the workings of the mind. Having forgotten the distinction between self and things, he regards closeness and distance as equal.

Others cannot profit from him, nor harm him. He does not covet wealth and status or seek delicacies. He does not compete for gain with the greedy, or struggle for dominance with the violent. The imperial commentary says that he has no desires for others to contend over, so they cannot tempt him with gain or harm him. The subcommentary draws on the meaning of the Zhuangzi: he neither actively pursues profit nor deliberately avoids misfortune.

Others cannot make him exalted or abase him, either. He does not rule a realm in turmoil, nor serve a benighted and unrighteous ruler. Because he follows nature and embodies the Great Dao, he is not constrained by ranks of honor and lowliness.

He does not become arrogant when fortune favors him, nor does he submit when things go badly and he suffers setbacks. His heart is clear and pure, free of flaws and dust, so others cannot look down on him.

Wealth and status often rise and fall with changes in honor and disgrace. The sage is not shaken by slander or praise, and is neither frightened by favor nor alarmed by disgrace. He therefore does not measure his inner life by wealth or poverty, high rank or low.

His virtue has reached such a level that the Son of Heaven cannot make him bow as a subject, and the feudal lords cannot make him yield. He adapts to changes in worldly affairs, finds a secure place, and avoids calamity, earning the respect of all under Heaven. His mind is open and unobstructed; his words and reasoning flow freely. Disputes are resolved, and he can live in harmony with all things. He does not cling to distinctions between those who are close and distant, or between the noble and the lowly. Having let go of such distinctions, he also takes lightly gains and losses, advantages and harms. Slander and praise cannot sway his thoughts, and rank does not weigh on his heart. The common people therefore admire and support him, and everyone is glad to recommend him; thus, all under Heaven respect him.

In governing a state, one should follow the right way and established principles. Here, “the right” also refers to the customary means of governance, such as social duties, ritual norms, and laws. When the sage governs worldly affairs, he applies expedient measures according to the circumstances: he guides the use of military force with reason and governs the state with wisdom. This is the time to end military action and strengthen civil rule.

Use unconventional strategies to command the army.

Governing the state through stratagems and deception, and waging war, are measures adopted when the times call for military action. “Stratagem” refers to schemes based on secrecy and surprise. Armies often rely on tactical plans in battle, but this is a method suited to circumstances, in which civil governance and military force are used in turn. The Jiejie explains this from the perspective of self-cultivation: one should cultivate oneself by keeping the mind upright and avoid harming oneself through military affairs. Here, “state” may also refer to the human body.

Only by governing all under Heaven through Wuwei (non-action) and non-interference can one become its ruler. “Wuwei” does not mean neglecting everything; it means refraining from forceful intervention through decrees, moral instruction, stratagems, or military action. Civil governance and military force should both be applied in response to the times and circumstances. Clinging to either one only aggravates the problems. It is better to remain calm and practice Wuwei, neither exalting military force nor deliberately pursuing civil governance, and let all things change naturally. In this way, teaching all things brings few calamities; governing the people allows them to live in peace and contentment.

How do I know that all under Heaven should be governed in this way? We can see it from the circumstances described below.

The more prohibitions and taboos there are under Heaven, the poorer the people become.

The commentary says that “the world” refers to the ruler, and “taboos” refers to precautions and prohibitions. When government orders multiply, wrongdoing takes root; when prohibitions become too numerous, the people resort to deceit and trickery, misleading one another, and the state falls into poverty. The Jiejie explains this as the ruler’s pursuit of action and excessive interference. The Shu adds that harsh punishments ensnare many people in crime, leaving the people unable to work in peace and making them poorer still. Applied to self-cultivation, this means that one fails to follow one’s nature and remain true, instead becoming fixated on all kinds of taboos. A heart lacking De (Virtue/Power) will also fall into poverty. This passage explains the matter from the perspective of governing the state.

The more power and means the people possess, the more disordered the state becomes.

The commentary says that “sharp instruments” refers to power. When the people have too much power, they are confused by all manner of circumstances, and closeness between those above and those below is lost; the state therefore falls into disorder. Another interpretation takes “sharp instruments” to mean political schemes: if the ruler relies single-mindedly on such schemes and cannot return to simplicity, those below will respond with deceit, and the state will become ever more disordered.

The more people prize cleverness, the more rare and unusual things appear.

The commentary says that “people” refers to the ruler and the regional lords. When those above prize cleverness, they build splendid official residences and embellish their clothing. Those below imitate them, inlaying and carving gold and jade and adorning things with colorful embroidery, so that ingenious and unusual objects grow ever more numerous. The Shu, in turn, interprets “cleverness” as scheming and “unusual things” as weapons of war: when those above favor military force, those below follow suit, competing to display novel stratagems and weapons for field battles and sieges in pursuit of military merit. Applied to self-cultivation, this can also refer to using cleverness excessively and clinging to immediate distinctions and choices, thereby deepening the biases within the heart. This interpretation emphasizes the harm caused by warfare.

The denser and stricter the laws and decrees, the more thieves and bandits there are.

“Precious and beautiful things” are objects worth treasuring and cherishing. When such things multiply and are put on display, the people neglect farming, suffer hunger and cold, and thieves become more numerous.

The Imperial Commentary says that when a ruler loses the Dao of Wuwei (non-action), laws and decrees grow ever more numerous. Some people exploit loopholes to commit offenses, and the result is more thieves. The Rong Commentary says that precious things invite people to fight over them: when valuable gold and jade abound, thieves arise. It also points out that laws intended to stop theft may instead produce more thieves, just as rites intended to bring order may instead foster disorder. The Chen Commentary regards this as a natural principle: too many prohibitions deprive people of a balanced sense of what to accept and reject; too many powerful weapons may put authority in the hands of those below; excessive reliance on cunning devices unsettles people’s minds; and ever more detailed laws breed abuses of opportunism that are difficult to eliminate.

Therefore, the sage says, “When I practice Wuwei, the people will transform naturally.”

This is the meaning of the lines that follow. The sage says, “I cultivate the Dao and follow Heaven, without altering things or interfering at will; then the people will change and flourish naturally.” The Jie Jie explains that when the natural Dao is upheld, primordial Qi—the fundamental energy that sustains the workings of Heaven, Earth, and all things—will circulate. The subcommentary says that when the ruler is clear, empty, calm, and governs through Wuwei, the people will naturally abandon wrongdoing and turn toward goodness. Here, Lao Jun uses the sage’s words to teach through humility and restraint. The Zhuangzi says that most of its contents are parables.

“When I do not burden the people, they will grow prosperous naturally.”

The commentary says that when the ruler does not burden the people with labor service and conscription, they can focus on their own livelihoods and will naturally become prosperous. From the perspective of cultivation, the Jie Jie explains this to mean that when a person is free from disturbance, the body, primordial Qi, spirit, and blood vessels can all become full and strong. The subcommentary says that when there is Wuwei within and no interference in external affairs, people in every trade can live and work in peace, and all under Heaven can share in tranquility. With light labor service and low taxes, how could the people fail to prosper?

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

The sage says, “I cherish stillness and speak and teach little; the people then become loyal, honest, and upright of their own accord.” The Jiejie explains: When a person keeps an empty mind and gives rise to no improper thoughts, Qi can remain within the body. The Shu explains: Those in high positions cherish stillness and do not disturb the people. The people absorb this simple, generous influence and naturally return to the right way.

“I have no selfish desires, and the people naturally become simple.” The commentary says: I am constantly without desire, cast off showy ornamentation, and dress plainly; the people then follow me and return to simplicity. The Jiejie explains: When a person is free of sensual desire and holds fast to singleness of purpose, Jing and Qi grow pure and abundant, without weakening or being depleted. The Shu explains: When the ruler curbs desire and self-interest, remains still and honest, and lives simply, the people become content with their lot and return to simplicity. The lines beginning “The sage” explain what it means to “take the world through non-interference”: governing the world by refraining from reckless action.

“When government orders are lenient, the people become simple and generous.” The commentary says: The orders are broad in scope, conveyed with composure and restraint, and seem not especially strict. The Shu says that “muddled” means generous and unhurried, while “simple” means unadorned. When the ruler refrains from reckless action and issues lenient orders, the people are influenced in turn and, for the most part, become simple and kindhearted, living in closeness and harmony with one another.

“When government orders are harsh, the people fall into distress.” The commentary says: The orders are urgent and pressing, driving people relentlessly and subjecting them to repeated questioning and constant scrutiny. Under such pressure, the people cannot live in peace; over time, they decline and grow estranged. The Shu says that “sharp scrutiny” means strictness and urgency, while “depletion” means decline and decay. When the ruler favors reckless action and issues oppressive, hurried orders, the people suffer from them and gradually wither. In governing oneself, too, one should remain empty and still, broad-minded and simple, rather than letting one’s thoughts become urgent and constricted.

“Fortune is where misfortune finds its support.”

Misfortune often arises from good fortune. After encountering calamity, if people reflect on their faults, reproach themselves, cultivate good deeds, and follow the Dao, good fortune will come and calamity will fade.

Calamity also lies hidden within good fortune. If people become arrogant and unrestrained after gaining good fortune, it will depart and calamity will arrive. Here, “relying” means arising through mutual dependence, and “hidden” means lying in wait. A calm and generous manner brings good fortune, while harsh scrutiny of trivial details easily invites calamity. These matters all turn on a single thought in the human heart: good fortune is hidden within calamity, and calamity lies dormant within good fortune. The distance between them is slight.

Who can know where the changes of calamity and good fortune will end? They transform into one another, and no one can say when this will cease.

There are no fixed, unchanging principles in the world. The commentary says that “without” means “not”: if a ruler cannot set himself right, he cannot govern the state. The subcommentary further explains that signs of good fortune and calamity arise from good and evil; the causes formed by people’s actions are not fixed, so the consequences they experience also change. Thus sentient beings endlessly cycle through the “Three Paths of Suffering” (hell, hungry ghosts, and animals) and the “Six Paths” (the six destinations of rebirth), undergoing boundless change with no known end. Those who understand the principles make helping all things their purpose, embody the true Dao, and grasp the mysterious. They no longer create causes that bring good fortune or calamity, and so they do not undergo their consequences. The Zhuangzi says, “Calamity does not come, and good fortune does not come. When there is neither calamity nor good fortune, where could human-made disasters arise?” Sentient beings continue cycling without end precisely because they do not hold to the true Dao.

What is upright can turn into deceit. The commentary says that “strange” means deceitful: if a ruler is not upright, even subordinates who were originally upright will be influenced by those above them and become deceitful. The subcommentary says that even someone who deliberately cultivates the true Dao has not yet reached a state in accord with it if they remain attached to the label “upright,” treating the Dao as something they can grasp. Such a person still carries an element of falseness.

Goodness, too, can turn into something uncanny. The commentary says that even a good person may instead become an omen of the uncanny. The subcommentary explains that even when people do good, if they remain attached to the label and language of “goodness,” their accord with it is only outward and still belongs to falseness.

Even those who do good can bring disaster upon themselves. The commentary explains: even a good person may attract strange misfortunes if they cling to the reputation and language of goodness while going against what is right. Thus the Zhuangzi says that the pursuit of fame can itself become a calamity. Gu Huan holds that even the wish to do good becomes a source of trouble when what one seeks is a reputation for goodness. The Jie jie says that some people gain blessings through cultivating the Dao but cannot hold fast to a single-minded heart. They then become proud and complacent, and deviant thoughts arise once again.

The people have lost the right way for a long time.

The Imperial Commentary says that rulers have been confused and have lost the right way for a very long time. The Jie jie says that people cannot hold fast to the single-minded Dao: misled by what is deviant and false, they lose their blessings and bring misfortune upon themselves. This has been going on for a long time; it did not begin today. The commentary says that ordinary people act strangely because they have long been deluded by ignorance. This delusion seems to have existed since beginningless time; it did not arise only in this life. The Xisheng Jing also says, “This loss of the way has been going on for a long time.”

Therefore, the sage is upright and does not harm others.

The commentary says that the sage takes upright conduct as a model in order to guide the people, not to impose judgments or harm others. The Jie jie says that “square” refers to the single-minded, upright Dao. One should hold firmly to it and practice it over time, no longer allowing deviant thoughts to harm oneself. The commentary says that the sage understands the Great Dao and acts uprightly, setting a standard for all beings. At the same time, the sage guides each person according to their circumstances, lets things unfold naturally, and never forces or divides the people in order to make them submit. This passage uses the sage’s conduct to admonish ordinary people to cultivate the Great Dao.

Pure and upright, yet causing no harm,

The sage keeps the breath pure and clear, using it to transform the people without harming them. People today are different: they often make themselves upright, then use that standard to harm others.

The commentary says: Realize that all things and external circumstances are empty of substance, like a dream or illusion, and you will not covet or seize them. Nor will you need to make a point of distancing yourself from worldly life. You can peacefully and quietly avoid being disturbed by the filth of the world. In this way, you cling neither to purity nor to impurity. You do not make a show of being incorruptible, yet remain naturally so; you give no thought to impurity, yet are not affected by it. The Zhuangzi says, “One who is utterly pure does not tremble,” and also, “The incorruptible and lofty do not seek the world’s approval.” The Jie Jie says that “harmony” refers to a breath that is clear and balanced, and to not letting impurity hinder the practice of the Way.

Be upright without showing an edge.

“Unrestrained” means to assert or display oneself. Even when the sage yields and complies with others, the sage does not assert himself. The commentary says that a person’s nature is upright and refined, without crookedness, yet can adapt to external things rather than insist on acting according to personal wishes. This is why the earlier passage says, “Great straightness seems bent.” The Jie Jie takes this to mean that cultivating “the One” is peaceful and well-rounded: one responds flexibly to circumstances instead of measuring uprightness by fixed rules.

Be bright without dazzling.

Though sages possess an exceptional, penetrating wisdom, they always appear deep and reserved. They do not display their brilliance, lest they disturb others. Sages are skilled at guiding and transforming people: they do not force others to become upright, degrade them as impure to make themselves seem pure, assert themselves deliberately to appear righteous, or use dazzling radiance to outshine others. They simply cultivate themselves, and all under Heaven is transformed naturally.

“Stretch forth” means to assert oneself. The “light” spoken of here refers to the flow of divine Qi, nourishing body and mind; it need not shine outward like a lamp or candle. Though the sage’s wisdom can illuminate hidden places, the sage gathers in its radiance and conceals its traces, neither displaying insight nor clinging to it. Thus the Zhuangzi says that sages rein in and regulate the kind of brilliance that bewilders people.

In governing the people,

The commentary explains that this means a ruler governing the people.

In serving the Dao of Heaven,

The commentary explains that “serve” means to follow and put into practice: that is, to act in accordance with the Dao of Heaven and adapt to the changing seasons.

Nothing is better than thrift and care.

The commentary explains that “care” means cherishing. In governing a state, one should cherish the people’s resources and avoid extravagance; in cultivating oneself, one should cherish Jing and Qi, rather than indulge in dissipating them. The exposition explains that “Heaven” refers to nature, “model” to its guiding principle, and “nothing is better than” means “there is no better way than.” In other words, to accord with the Dao of Heaven above and transform the people below, the best course is to follow the principle of Wuwei (non-action).

Precisely because one can cherish and conserve, one can return to the Dao early.

“Early” means to obtain something ahead of time, or to attain it in advance; “serve” means to acquire. If one is frugal and cherishes the people’s resources, the people can live in peace. If one cherishes Jing and Qi, one can attain the Dao of Heaven—the natural Way—in advance. The imperial commentary holds that the people are gathered through material resources: when a ruler is frugal and cherishes the people’s resources, people from all quarters will bring provisions and come to join him, serving him at an early stage. Here, “serve” also means to attend upon someone. The subcommentary reflects that this Wuwei (non-action) can benefit both oneself and others: applied to self-cultivation, it can subdue demonic obstacles and trials; applied to governing the state, it can bring distant regions into submission.

“Attaining in advance” is called accumulating De (Virtue/Power) deeply. To attain the Dao of Heaven in advance is to accumulate De deeply within oneself. The subcommentary explains that “weighty” means deep, while “accumulate” means to amass. To subdue demonic obstacles within and bring distant lands into submission without, one must continually accumulate meritorious deeds and deepen one’s De. The imperial commentary holds that when sages accumulate De, people across the seas will come to join them and rely on their support; nothing will be beyond their power to subdue. “Overcome” means to be able. The Sectional Explanation says that treacherous and perverse matters can be made to lie hidden and disappear by holding fast to “the weighty One”—single-mindedly abiding by the Dao—and gathering Jing and Qi.

When De has been accumulated deeply, there is nothing one cannot overcome or accomplish. “Overcome” means to conquer, and also to obtain or bring about. If one accumulates De within oneself, there will be no difficulty one cannot overcome. The subcommentary says that by continually accumulating meritorious deeds and deepening one’s De, one benefits oneself and helps others; both within and without, things can be brought under control, and nothing cannot be overcome. The Sectional Explanation holds that single-mindedly abiding by the Dao and gathering primordial Qi can dispel evil and cure illness, so there is nothing one cannot overcome.

When there is nothing one cannot overcome, no one can know the full extent of De’s depth. The commentary says that since one can overcome all things, no one can know the limits of one’s De. The subcommentary says that one who understands the principle of accord with the Dao and whose meritorious deeds reach far and deep is difficult to fathom. The Sectional Explanation holds that cultivation can remove malign Qi from within the body and cure illness; its effects seem inexhaustible, and thus life can endure.

When De is deep and unfathomable, one can govern the state.

When you recognize that your De (Virtue) is inexhaustible, you can possess a state, govern its people, and bring them well-being. The commentary explains that everything the sage accords with the Dao is fully accessible to him, so his De is profound and boundless. He governs the people through the state and becomes the sovereign who guides the world through the example of kings and lords.

The foundation for governing a state can make it endure.

Here, “state” also refers to the human body, and “mother” refers to the Dao. If a person can preserve the Dao within the body, keeping Jing and Qi from being depleted and the Five Spirits—the person’s mental activities—from being disturbed, they can endure. The commentary adds that an emperor, as head of the state, should care for the people as a loving mother cares for her children. Though his De is lofty, he does not claim credit after accomplishing his work. Instead, he maintains stillness, practices Wuwei (non-action), and remains inwardly unassuming; thus he can endure.

This is called having deep roots and a firm base.

A person should take Qi as the root and Jing as the base. A tree with shallow roots is easily pulled up, while fruit falls when its stem is weak. This means storing Qi deep within and firmly preserving Jing and Qi so they do not dissipate.

This is the way to long life and enduring vision.

The commentary explains that “root” is the source, while “stem” is its outward trace: the root produces the stem, just as the source gives rise to visible deeds. A shallow root leads to toppling; a weak stem leads to withering. Deep roots bring long life, and a firm base brings enduring vision. Here, “vision” means perceiving and observing. These words explain that the sage who governs the state accords with the Dao both at the level of his foundation and in its outward expression, and can therefore endure.

Governing a large state is like cooking a small fish.

When the world is governed by the Dao (the Way), ghosts and spirits dare not manifest their powers and cause trouble.

This does not mean that ghosts and spirits have no spiritual nature. Rather, under the influence of moral instruction, peace prevails throughout the world, and malevolent forces dare not create disturbances or harm people. If those who cultivate themselves can hold fast to the Dao and attain “oneness” (union with the Dao), their minds and spirits will be settled, and ghosts and spirits will be unable to disturb them.

Ghosts and spirits do have a spiritual nature; it is simply that evil influences cannot enter the domain of the righteous Dao, and so cannot harm those who follow the natural course. Here, “spirit” refers to the manifestation of supernatural phenomena and the production of miraculous effects.