《道德真经注疏(原题顾欢)》Vol. 4

This does not mean that ghosts and spirits lack the power to work wonders. Rather, when they bestow blessings on people, they do not harm the myriad things. In self-cultivation, what is called interference by ghosts and spirits refers to unwholesome thoughts disturbing the mind. If you cultivate yourself according to the right Way, unwholesome thoughts cannot undermine right conduct. Even if your mind wavers, as long as true knowing and awareness remain, you will not stray from right practice.

The Jiejie says: This does not mean that ghosts and spirits lack numinous power. It is because the Dao is present in a person’s body and mind that ghosts and spirits do not harm them.

Ghosts and spirits do not harm people, and sages do not harm people either.

The commentary holds that it is not that ghosts and spirits are inherently unable to harm people. Rather, when a sage is in power, governing through the Dao and subduing evil, ghosts dare not intrude upon people. Another view is that ghosts and monsters no longer appear to harm people because the sage is tranquil and practices Wuwei (non-action), no longer acting against the Dao.

From the perspective of self-cultivation, a person’s thoughts may be active, but if they are brought under control by sage wisdom, they will not disturb inner stillness. The sectional commentary explains that when people cultivate in accordance with the Dao and unite with the spirits, ghosts cannot harm them because they have committed no hidden faults within; nor will a sage punish them, because they have displayed no wrongdoing outwardly. When a person’s conduct is single-minded, heavenly spirits guard them from without and protect their bodily form within. The primordial Qi (vital energy, the root of life) blends into unity, nourishing the body together. The practitioner’s conduct accords with the Way of Heaven; the sun, moon, and stars seem to appear within the body, the spirit and breath unite, and the practitioner nourishes themself with jade essence, the refined Qi spoken of in Daoism.

Sages and ghosts and spirits do not harm one another. Their De (Virtue/Power) therefore merges, and in the end they return to one place.

Note: When neither harms the other, people can dwell peacefully in the world of Yang, and ghosts can dwell peacefully in the realm of Yin. People can preserve their nature and life, and ghosts can preserve their spirit. In this way, the blessings and virtues of both sides come together.

Commentary: “The two” refers to ghosts dwelling in Yin and people dwelling in Yang. The hidden and visible realms of Yin and Yang each find their proper place; neither harms the other, and each keeps to its proper role. People therefore extend kindness to ghosts, and ghosts repay people with kindness. They interact and draw near to one another. Those who cultivate themselves gather in their thoughts and quiet the mind in order to advance their practice. But if movement and stillness are already joined and mutually contained, what need is there to gather them in? This passage explains that without deliberately gathering the mind, it can settle of itself; without deliberately responding, one can respond naturally. It is not a matter of choosing to respond before giving a response.

A great state is like rivers, lakes, and seas: it lies low.

Note: In governing a great state, one should be like rivers and seas, which lie low and do not resist even the smallest things.

All under Heaven will come and attach themselves to it.

Note: A great state is where the scholars and people of all under Heaven come and go.

A great state is like rivers, lakes, and seas: it lies low.

Note: In governing a great state, one should be like rivers and seas, which lie low and do not resist even the smallest things.

All under Heaven will come and attach themselves to it.

Note: A great state is where the scholars and people of all under Heaven gather and come and go. The Sectional Explanation says: “Mud Ball” refers to the Mud Ball Palace in the head, which here serves as a metaphor for the great state; the “small state” is the Dantian (energy center). The mouth receives the breath from above and then directs it down into the Dantian, which is like the fields beyond the city.

Commentary: Here, “great state” means a state with ten thousand chariots. The “suburbs” lie beyond the city walls, and “go” means to proceed there. The passage means that a great state is open and modest, like rivers and seas lying below the many streams; for this reason, all the streams rush to flow into it. A great state follows the Dao and governs with humility and gentleness, so other states attach themselves to it, admire its moral way, and gather in the suburbs beyond its walls. Another version writes “suburbs” instead of “intercourse”: because a great state acts humbly, it can meet and join with small states.

When all under Heaven come together, it is like the female. The female often prevails over the male through stillness,

“Female” belongs to the yielding, receptive side: it is gentle and humble, and does not seek to take the lead. The female can yield to the male because the yielding overcomes the forceful. It remains quiet and still, without rushing ahead in pursuit.

The nations of the world come together. This phrase carries forward the preceding idea and introduces the discussion that follows. “Female” refers to yielding and quietude; “male” refers to force and restlessness. A great state can draw other states to come and associate with it because it treats them with humility, gentleness, and calm, and so prevails over the forceful and aggressive. If it is simply rigid and impatient, it cannot govern. Thus, whether cultivating oneself or governing a state, one should put gentleness and yielding first.

Make calmness and humility the way you conduct yourself.

The way of the yielding is rooted in quietude and humility.

Therefore, if a great state can treat small states with humility, it can draw them into allegiance.

“Lowering oneself” means humility; “taking in” means embracing and transforming. A wise ruler who governs a great state and skillfully employs the way of gentleness and yielding can transform those around it, drawing both near and distant lands into allegiance—even bringing tribute from places reached only after passing through many interpreters.

If a small state can treat a great state with humility, it can be welcomed and gathered in by that state.

The point here is that a state, whether large or small, will not invite trouble if it treats others humbly and embraces them. Another interpretation holds that a great state can absorb small states and make them its subjects, while a small state can draw on the power of a great one.

The Jie Jie compares large and small states to parts of the human body. The Mudball, an upper part of the head used in Daoist cultivation, is called the “great state”; the Dantian (energy center), located in the abdomen and used in internal cultivation, is called the “small state.” In cultivation, one follows the principle of “the One,” closes the breath, and swallows saliva so that it descends to the Dantian. Then, according to Neidan (internal alchemy), the saliva is transformed into blood, the blood into Jing (essence), and the Jing into Qi (vital energy). Next, fetal breathing—a breath as fine as that of a fetus—is used to guide the Qi back upward to nourish the brain, before circulating it throughout the body. The small state, knowing to remain humble and to hold fast to gentleness, gathers within the great state, honoring and aspiring toward its De (Virtue/Power).

Thus, sometimes one obtains it from below: after Jing is refined into Qi, fetal breathing guides this Qi, then draws it back to nourish the brain. It is then set in motion and guided so that Qi spreads throughout the body like clouds. In this way, Qi is obtained from above and gathers below.

A small state understands that its position is low, keeps to its proper place, and adopts a gentle, humble attitude. It gathers within the great state, honoring and admiring its bearing and moral principles.

Thus, sometimes one obtains by occupying a lower position, and sometimes one gathers by occupying a lower position.

Note: “Lower” here means that the great state humbles itself before the small state, and the small state also humbles itself before the great state. They treat one another according to moral principles and are therefore drawn together.

Commentary: “Sometimes” means that circumstances differ. The small state adopts a gentle attitude, so it gathers within the great state; the great state humbles itself, so it can win the respect of all the states. Both apply the way of humility, but “gathering” and “obtaining” are different, which is why the text uses “sometimes.”

What the great state seeks is no more than to incorporate and receive the small states; what the small state seeks is no more than to enter the great state and serve it.

Note: If the great state does not lose its humility, it can incorporate the small states, receive them, and put them to service as its subordinate states.

Commentary: The great state humbles itself with no other purpose than to accommodate and receive the small states. The small states yield with no other aim than to enter the great state, admire its Virtue, and serve it.

Both the great state and the small state can each obtain what they seek, so the great state should be especially humble.

The Imperial Commentary says: One side wishes to become a subordinate, while the other wishes to gain protection and serve. In this way, each obtains what it seeks. But the great state must always guard against complacency; therefore, the text says, “The great state should place itself below.”

Commentary: The great state wishes to receive the small states, while the small states wish to enter the great state and serve it. Both sides thus fulfill their wishes. Although states both great and small adopt a gentle attitude, the great state should still humble itself more. Things usually happen this way: the great look down on the small, rather than the small overruling the great. Therefore, the more powerful side should be the more yielding. This is the principle of restraining those in high positions and making them humble.

The Sectional Explanation says: “The two” refers to Niwan, the part of the head cultivated in practice, and the Dantian, the abdominal center used in internal alchemy. Niwan wishes Qi to rise, while the Dantian wishes Qi to descend. The two work together to form a unified whole of Shen and Qi.

The Dao is the hidden source of all things and embraces everything.

Good people treasure the Dao. Here, “good people” means those who cultivate the Dao and understand its principles. Knowing that keeping to the Dao is beneficial, they value it and dare not violate or lose it. The commentary also invokes the story of the mysterious pearl found at the Red River to describe cultivators who have realized their true nature and therefore regard the Dao as a precious treasure.

The Dao is also something on which people who do not act well can rely. Even those who usually behave badly may repent and humble themselves when calamity or danger strikes. Yet people absorbed in worldly desires, whose minds are restless and competitive, find it difficult to keep faithfully to the Dao.

Pleasant words can be used in trade: buyers and sellers each have their own aims. Buyers want to purchase quickly, and sellers want to sell quickly, so flattering words tend to be useful only in the setting of a transaction.

Noble conduct can set a person apart, but it is not enough to make someone truly honor the Dao. Here, “add” is understood to mean “distinguish” or “make exceptional.”

The commentator explains that “add” means to distinguish oneself from or surpass others. Some people believe their conduct is noble and use it to set themselves apart from ordinary people, but this does not yet count as honoring the Dao.

The imperial commentary says that some people speak sweetly to gain an advantage, while others boast of their virtue to put themselves above others. The sage teaches those who are not good through gracious and wholesome principles, and guides them through quiet, elevated conduct. This is like a merchant selling goods: people influence one another and are drawn toward good deeds.

The subcommentary says that those who are not good are shallow in disposition. Their speech often flatters and seeks advantage, and they delight in dressing up their words. Like people in the marketplace, they scheme for mutual gain. They cannot remain yielding and humble; instead, they compete to be first, elevate themselves, and place themselves above others. If their words and conduct are like this, are they not far from the Dao?

If a person has faults, what reason is there to cast them aside?

The commentator says that even those who are not good should be taught through the Dao. In the time of the Three Sovereigns, people were not cast aside, because the transformation through De (Virtue/Power) was then pure and deep.

The imperial commentary says that those who are not good can also be transformed through De. How could they be cast aside?

The subcommentary says that “why” means “for what reason.” The sage’s Dao is profound and all-pervading, and its aid to the myriad things is broad and universal. Even if living beings are not good, they should not be abandoned or neglected. They should instead be rescued and sheltered with compassion, so that no one is left behind.

Therefore, the Son of Heaven is established, and the Three Dukes are appointed.

The commentator says this is to teach those who are not good.

The subcommentary says that since all living beings are to be aided and no one left behind, worldly institutions should be established: the Son of Heaven governs affairs of state, while the Three Dukes assist in deliberations and govern the realm. They harmonize Yin-Yang and put state affairs in order in order to guide and nurture living beings. Since the creation of heaven and earth, true sovereigns who embody the Dao have appeared in the world as emperors. They have established offices and ministers as a symbol of the Three Pure Ones (Sanqing), the three highest deities revered in Daoism.

Even if someone presents a precious jade disk and then offers a chariot drawn by four horses, this is still not as good as calmly cultivating the Dao.

The commentaries explain that an “embraced jade disk” is a large, complete jade disk that can be held in one’s arms, and a “four-horse team” means a chariot drawn by four horses. In ancient times, when worthy people were summoned to serve, a precious jade disk was first offered as an invitation, and then a carriage was sent to fetch them. The point here is that even possessing an ornate carriage, fine jade, and wealth and honor is not as good as cultivating the Dao in peace and forgetting worldly things. Cultivating the Dao can bring long life, while wealth and status can readily become a source of calamity. A human life is like a cloud passing through the sky, vanishing in an instant; compared with that, worldly riches fall far short of the Dao.

A flawless reputation is called noble conduct, but taking pride in one’s conduct and regarding oneself as superior to others still does not amount to the Great Dao. Fine words may be worth more than many possessions, and noble conduct may set a person above the crowd, but the Dao’s words are plain and tasteless. The sage acts through Wuwei (non-action) and teaches the people without words. The sage does not rely on elegant phrases to please the ear, nor polish their conduct to display it before others.

Why did the ancients value the Dao? Not because they sought it far away each day, but because they cultivated it close at hand, within themselves, and came to understand it through steady practice in daily life.

If one lives through chaotic times and encounters an inept ruler, one may incur guilt through the reckless use of punishments. Cultivating the Dao can untie knots of resentment and avert the harms of evil. Kumārajīva and others explain this as turning one’s efforts toward the good path in order to free oneself from various kinds of bad karma.

Thus, the Dao is treasured throughout the world.

The wondrous principle of the Dao is unobstructed and can universally benefit all beings. Whether preserving oneself or governing a state, one can calmly follow nature without forcing things. For this reason, the Dao is revered by all under Heaven.

The Imperial Commentary says: Attaining the Dao depends on awakening, not deliberate pursuit. It is not like material possessions, which one can seek and obtain day after day. Hence there is no need to pursue it daily; when awakening comes, it is attained. After awakening, one is naturally no longer burdened by the consequences of wrongdoing. Why wait until one has committed an offense before seeking liberation? The Dao has this power, and so it deserves the reverence of all under Heaven.

The Explanatory Commentary says: Why did the sages of antiquity cherish the Dao? Because some need not pass through a long span of time to attain it: once they understand, they have it. Those who awaken can recognize the Great Dao here and now; those who are deluded may pass through many kalpas—immensely long periods of time—without understanding it. Even the consequences of wrongdoing accumulated through the cycle of birth and death since time without beginning can be released at once by returning to the source. The Dao has this inconceivable power, and so it is revered by all under Heaven.

Act through non-action

The Commentary says: Accomplish things by following their inherent patterns, without deliberate contrivance.

The Explanatory Commentary says: Align with the mind’s source and maintain a clear, truthful awareness. See through all acts of deliberate striving, and you can understand the non-action within them. Thus, non-action can still accomplish things, and action can accord with non-action.

The Sectional Explanation says: “Acting as one” means not seeking private gain for oneself.

Conduct affairs without making them affairs

The Commentary says: Do not make elaborate plans in advance; in this way, dispel disturbance and reduce the number of affairs.

The Explanatory Commentary says: “Affairs” here refers to external objects such as forms and sounds, as well as all manner of undertakings. Realize true emptiness—that all things lack any fixed, unchanging self-nature—and maintain clear awareness and inner stillness. Even amid affairs, the mind can remain free of attachment.

The Sectional Explanation says: “Conducting affairs as one” means not making presumptuous arrangements for others.

Savor what has no flavor

The Commentary says: Reflect deeply and look far ahead to grasp the meaning of the Dao.

The Explanatory Commentary says: “Flavor” refers to becoming stained by and attached to things. When the sense faculties and their objects are no longer clung to, forms and flavors alike return to stillness. One may savor things without being bound by them.

Great and small, many and few,

What inspires fear and wariness is the issuing of prohibitions. If you want to accomplish something great, you should begin with what is small; if you want to increase something, you should begin by reducing it. This is the principle of following nature.

Respond to resentment with De.

The imperial commentary says: “By doing good and cultivating the Dao, one can prevent calamities before they arise. In carrying out affairs, practice Wuwei (non-action); in managing matters, practice doing nothing; in savoring things, practice tastelessness. Take size and number, for example: as long as you do not exceed your proper measure, you will not incur resentment. But if you pursue external circumstances and make distinctions recklessly, going against your proper measure and damaging your nature, then things of any size can become a source of resentment. Now, by keeping to one’s proper measure and preserving harmony, one can respond to resentment with De.”

The commentary on the scripture says: “Resentment means grievance; requital means repayment. Since time without beginning, there have been offenses of every degree and karmic burdens of every amount. If you now wish to eliminate them completely and settle them, you should contemplate them with the three qualities of De described above: Wuwei, doing nothing, and tastelessness. In this way, you will realize that the three times—past, present, and future—are all empty, that all things and teachings are void and still, and that external things and the self are one. Then there is nothing worth clinging to. This is what the earlier phrase ‘Can one be free of guilt?’ means.”

Plan for difficulties while they are still easy to resolve.

The commentary says: “When planning how to handle something difficult, do so while it is still easy to manage and has not yet taken shape. ‘Plan’ means to make arrangements; ‘difficulties’ refers to the adverse consequences brought about by karmic offenses; ‘easy’ refers to their first arising. To eliminate the calamity of falling into a lower realm, one must contemplate the very first thought. Since that thought has not yet been put into action, it will not bring about karmic consequences.”

To accomplish great things, begin with what is subtle.

The commentary says: To accomplish something great, one must begin with small things; turmoil, too, often takes root in the smallest details. The Imperial Commentary says: Those who indulge their desires think that nothing is difficult to do and nothing is too great. If we now wish to plan for what is difficult and accomplish something great, we should begin with what is easy and minute, while our nature has not yet dissipated and our conduct has not yet gone beyond its proper bounds. The Explanatory Commentary says: “Minute” means small. Great calamities all arise from small things. This passage shows that to eliminate harmful consequences, one must first cut off their source.

The difficult things under Heaven must begin with what is easy; the great things under Heaven must begin with what is minute.

The commentary says: This explains the preceding point: one should plan ahead and prevent trouble before it arises.

Therefore, the sage never places himself in a position of accomplishing something great,

The commentary says: This is because the sage is humble and yields. The Explanatory Commentary says: “To do” means to arise or begin. Hardship and retribution under Heaven often arise from a thought that seems harmless; at first, it is easy for people to form an intention and create karma. Thus grave calamities must begin in small things: they gradually emerge from obscurity and eventually become great disasters. To eliminate harmful retribution, one must first restrain the initial thought.

And so the sage is able to accomplish great things.

The commentary says: Everyone under Heaven turns to him.

Those who make promises lightly often find them hard to keep.

The commentary says: This is because they speak without due care. The Sectional Commentary says: Those who promise lightly lack the steady bearing of people who exercise self-restraint and self-respect. The Explanatory Commentary says: A metaphor is introduced here. “Promise” means to agree; “few” means scarce. Those who readily agree to others’ requests often lack trustworthiness and later incur blame for breaking their word.

Those who regard things as too easy often encounter greater difficulties.

The commentary says: This is because they do not treat dangers with care. The Imperial Commentary says: Those who readily promise others will inevitably find it hard to keep their word; those who carelessly assume a task will be easy will later face many difficulties. The Explanatory Commentary says: Careless promises invite blame for untrustworthiness; likewise, careless wrongdoing inevitably brings grave calamity. Those who cultivate the Dao should be steady and cautious, and must not act rashly.

Therefore, the sage remains cautious in dealing with things.

When a sage—one who has realized the Great Dao—acts and attends to affairs, they always weigh things carefully beforehand, considering even whether to move forward or retreat, so that trouble can be prevented at its source.

In this way, they ultimately meet with no difficulty.

Sages encounter little trouble in their lives because they know deeply how to avoid harm. “Treating difficulty as something to be taken seriously” means remaining cautious even when a task seems easy, and not rushing to undertake it. This prevents difficult consequences from arising. If sages keep themselves on guard in this way, ordinary people have even less reason to indulge their desires. As a commentary on the Zhuangzi says, a sage could enter a fire without being burned, yet would never actually step into one. Staying away from the flames is not a matter of fearing the heat, but of understanding that there is no need to take the risk.

When circumstances are settled, they are easy to maintain.

Here, “settled” means calm, and “maintain” means to keep safe. A sage’s mind is quiet and free of attachment; thoughts of reaching out to external things have not yet arisen. At such a time, it is easy to cultivate the mind and preserve its stillness.

When a problem has not yet shown signs, it is easy to plan how to address it.

Here, “signs” means traces or indications, and “plan” means to make preparations. Desires and troubles are easiest to restrain before they take shape. Even if the mind has already begun to attach itself to external things, as long as the matter has not yet developed, one should gather one’s thoughts and return to stillness. It is also easy to make timely adjustments before one’s actions have brought about consequences.

When things are fragile, they are easy to break apart.

Before disorder has arisen, and while desire has yet to show itself in one’s words, actions, or expression, it is as fragile as fruit that has not yet ripened and is easily removed.

When things are small, they are easy to disperse.

When a matter is still imperceptible, just beginning to take root, it is small in scale and easy to resolve. The first stirrings of attachment in the mind are the same: the karma one has created is still slight and can therefore be readily cleared away.

Address matters before they arise.

When you want to accomplish something or begin practicing a particular discipline, you should stop the impulse as soon as it first arises. Sages cultivate themselves and keep to the constant Dao by taking precautions before they are affected by external influences. At this stage, problems are still easy to address and keep in check.

To govern the body or the state, take precautions before disorder has taken shape. “Disorder” here means that karmic forces have accumulated and formed, pulling a person along and leaving the spirit dull and confused. A thought may have arisen and attachment may just be beginning, but neither has yet taken concrete form in the external world. Timely adjustment is still easy. This shows why matters are easiest to plan for and manage before any signs of them appear.

A tree thick enough for a person to embrace grows from a tiny shoot. The commentary explains that a tree a hundred arm-spans around was once no more than a tiny sprout; this illustrates how even weighty evil karma begins with a single thought. As a tree grows, it can eventually block out the sunlight. In the same way, thoughts of attachment, growing from small beginnings, can obscure a person’s true nature. Traced back to its source, the tree arises from nothingness. From the perspective of emptiness, it has no independent, real existence either: it is formed through the coming together of the “four dusts,” the four elements that make up matter. Afflictions are like this as well. They arise from nothingness and, from the perspective of emptiness, have no independent, inherent nature.

A nine-tiered terrace is built up gradually, basketful by basketful of earth. “Tier” means a step. The image of a nine-tiered terrace beginning with a single basket of earth illustrates how grave calamity begins with a single thought of attachment. Those who study and practice should therefore be especially vigilant and take precautions early.

A journey of a thousand li begins with the first step beneath one’s feet. The commentary says that the version by Heshanggong reads “a thousand li,” while this passage says “a hundred ren,” with a ren measuring about seven feet. Climbing a mountain a hundred ren high on land also begins with the first step. Enduring the hardships symbolized by the eight gates likewise begins in a mind of attachment. All the examples above show how calamity takes shape gradually from the smallest beginnings; one must not let it continue to grow.

Forceful action leads instead to failure.

Intentional action often disrupts the natural state of things. Deliberately dwelling on moral principles may injure a heart of compassion and kindness, while craving outward beauty can deplete the spirit.

Those who insist on holding on to things will ultimately lose something. Clinging to gain may cause it to vanish in an instant; clinging to hostility may instead bring harm upon oneself. Insisting on forcing an outcome often makes it hard to attain, while knowing how to yield may sometimes allow what was lost to return. Human emotions are easily thrown into confusion: unable to let go of an obsession, people readily become stubborn. Insisting on pursuing benevolence or craving outward beauty can, in turn, injure the spirit. In short, those who insist on pursuing what they hope to gain will, by reason, inevitably lose it in the end. The nature of the Dao is empty, Wuwei (non-action), and free of attachment. Ordinary people’s thoughts, however, are often upside down: they cling to action and possession, and so readily fall into danger and ruin, stray from what is true, and lose what they seek.

Therefore, the sage follows nature and does not act willfully, and so does not bring ruin upon things. The sage does not cling to possession, and so has nothing to lose. They teach the ignorant through their conduct of De (Virtue/Power), and share their wealth with the poor. They do not claim things as their own, and so there is nothing others can take from them.

When people undertake a task, they often fail just as it is about to succeed. Here, “undertake” means simply to do something. As a task nears completion, people often covet status and a good reputation, or become excessively extravagant and overly satisfied; as a result, they ruin the task themselves. Ordinary people readily become impatient and competitive in their work, busy weighing what to accept and reject, with little long-term perspective. They often think only of the success that is nearly within reach: they begin with energy but cannot persevere to the end, and so they often fail. The ancient classic the Book of Documents also says, “There are no affairs that do not begin well, yet few people can see them through to the end.”

If, as a task nears completion, people remain as cautious as they were at the beginning and do not grow lax, they will not ruin it. This admonishes those who cultivate the Dao to keep their resolve firm and constant. The repeated saying, “Be as cautious at the end as at the beginning, and no task will fail,” again emphasizes that caution and perseverance can prevent failure.

Therefore, the sage desires what people do not pursue. While people seek to make themselves prominent, the sage is willing to keep their light concealed. While people delight in outward finery, the sage honors simplicity. While the crowd craves wealth and beauty, the sage pursues the Dao and De.

The sage does not prize rare possessions. They do not treat jade as a treasure and stone as something base, nor do they flaunt themselves with splendid clothes and ornaments.

The sage studies what people do not know how to study. While people learn cleverness and schemes for power, the sage learns from nature. While people learn to manage worldly affairs, the sage learns to cultivate themselves and hold fast to the reality of the Dao.

The sage brings people back from straying. What people learn often departs from the root: they place what is fundamental after what is secondary, and trade reality for outward show. The sage’s work is to guide people back to the root and to what is real. The commentary further explains that the sage sees clearly that things are illusory and impermanent, and does not cling to desirable objects. Thus, though living amid desire, the sage is not led by it. Since the sage does not cling to desire, they naturally do not regard precious jade and silk as valuable. The sage understands that there is no fixed distinction between the true and the false. That is why “learning” is also “not learning,” and “not learning” is also “learning”: the two are not treated as opposites. The Xisheng Jing says, “I learn what cannot be learned, and so I come to understand nature.” Some versions write “prepare” instead of “return.” “Prepare” means to guard against something: people cling to deliberate learning, and the sage uses this to guard them against the harm that arises from such attachment.

In this way, the sage helps all things follow their own nature and does not dare to act upon them presumptuously.

“Those in ancient times who were skilled in cultivating the Dao”—that is, those who understood how to cultivate themselves through the Dao and govern the state—did not teach the people by flaunting cleverness and cunning. Instead, they guided them to remain simple and plain, without deception or pretense, appearing almost foolish in their simplicity. Those skilled in cultivating the Dao were wise within and perceptive about how things worked, yet they did not show off their brilliance in public. They restrained their talents and kept their actions hidden.

“The people are difficult to govern because they have too many schemes and clever ideas.”

The commentator argues that people are difficult to govern because their minds are filled with distinctions and they cannot remain open and selfless; as a result, they are difficult to teach. If a ruler governs subjects through acute scrutiny, people will respond by resorting to schemes. When schemes proliferate, deception follows, and affairs become difficult to manage.

Governing a state through clever ingenuity brings disaster upon it. The commentator explains that if people devoted solely to cleverness and contrivance are put in charge of government, they will turn away from morality and recklessly wield rewards, punishments, and power, thereby harming the state.

Governing a state without clever ingenuity is its good fortune. Then the people can remain upright without disguising themselves through sly tricks; those above and below will be close to one another, and ruler and ministers will share a common purpose. The Imperial Commentary adds that if people of solid virtue are appointed and governance relies not on schemes and cleverness, the climate of deception will gradually fade and a plain, simple way will arise. When people live in harmony, the harvests will be abundant. The subcommentary emphasizes that governing worldly affairs through quick wit and acute scrutiny destroys simplicity and harmony. For those who govern to act through Wuwei (non-action) and stillness, forgetting private interests and clever schemes, and to rule with calmness and non-action, accords with supreme De (Virtue).

Understanding the difference between these two approaches allows one to take them as a guiding principle. “The two” here refers to governing a state through clever ingenuity and governing it without clever ingenuity. The commentator says that those who understand that the first brings disaster and the second brings good fortune possess supreme De; this principle applies to self-cultivation just as it does to governing a state.

Commentators such as Zhu, Yu, and Shu explain that “the two” refers to wisdom and lack of wisdom. Once one understands that clever schemes often bring harm, while refraining from cunning can bring good fortune, one has grasped the principles for cultivating oneself and governing the state. Here, “lack of wisdom” does not mean ignorance; it means not acting through cunning or deceit. Using deception and cleverness to control others causes harm, while employing people of sincere virtue benefits the state. A ruler who understands this and entrusts affairs to ministers of deep virtue has found the proper way to govern. Jie jie interprets this in terms of cultivation: cast off cleverness and preserve simplicity, so that illness recedes and original Qi (vital energy) flourishes.

To understand and follow this principle consistently is called “Mysterious De” (profound virtue in accord with the Dao). The commentators say that understanding the principles of self-cultivation and governance means being in accord with the Dao of Heaven. The Shu commentary says that always taking impartiality and freedom from cunning as one’s principles of self-cultivation is a profound and mysterious form of great virtue.

Mysterious De is profound and unfathomable, with no end to its depth. It runs counter to the usual tendencies of things: all things seek to gain more for themselves, while those who embody Mysterious De are willing to give to others. Jie jie interprets “going against things” through the practice of Neidan (internal alchemy): what is called the “One” enters the Great Clarity (a realm of pure, empty transcendence), then descends into the Crimson Palace (a Neidan term for the seat of the heart spirit) and enters one’s own body. All things eventually decline, while practitioners seek long life; hence the practice is said to go against the course of all things.

Only after reaching this state can one enter “Great Accord,” the state of being in harmony with the Great Dao.

Those who possess “mysterious De” (virtue deeply attuned to the Dao) act differently from ordinary worldly convention and can therefore attain “great accordance,” meaning harmony with the principles of Heaven.

The commentary says that “accordance” has two forms: one accords with principle, and the other conforms to worldly custom. To accord with principle is to join with the subtle source; to cling to worldly custom and drift with the current is to merge with the dust of the world. Someone asks: Earlier, the text said to go against the myriad things, but now it says to conform to worldly custom. Is this not a contradiction? The answer is that “going against” here means appearing not to go against while actually doing so; “conforming” likewise means appearing not to conform while actually being in accord. True accordance does not conflict with going against, and true opposition does not prevent accordance, so there is no contradiction.

Another asks: The scripture speaks of “great accordance.” Does accordance come in different degrees? The answer is that if “accordance” is set against “opposition,” then that kind of accordance is still limited. Great accordance means neither deliberately conforming nor deliberately resisting: what appears to resist can also be in accord, and accordance and opposition do not obstruct one another. Thus, whether entering public service or withdrawing from it, whether speaking or remaining silent, one follows only the Dao. Even while living among ordinary people and keeping one’s brilliance restrained, one remains in harmony with the principles of Heaven. One does not cling to either accordance or non-accordance. At the same moment, both can become forms of accordance. Thus there is said to be neither accordance nor non-accordance, yet one can accord and not accord, and even go beyond both. This is called “great accordance.”

The rivers and seas can become the “king” to whom all streams flow because they are good at remaining below them.

The commentary explains that the rivers and seas lie low, so many streams gather there, just as the people gather around a ruler. The subcommentary explains that “king” carries the sense of “that to which all return,” and “valleys” refers to rivers and streams. The rivers and seas become the gathering place of all streams because they lie in low places. A person who can be humble and yield, staying low and welcoming all things with an open, gentle attitude, will likewise become someone others willingly turn to.

Thus the rivers and seas can become the “king” to whom all streams flow.

Because they occupy a low place, the rivers and seas can become rulers to which all streams flow.

Therefore, when sages wish to stand above the people, they first lower their posture in speech, emulating the humility of rivers and seas. When they wish the people to place them first, their words and manner remain gentle and modest. When sages wish to lead the people, they first put themselves behind them: they consider others before themselves. The commentary explains that sages yield and take their place behind everyone else, and so earn respect and come to the fore. As the scripture says, before all people have attained the Dao, sages do not presume that they have gained anything.

Thus, when sages hold the highest position, the people do not feel oppressed. Sages govern those below them without using their honored status to bully them; the people therefore respect, love, and support them, without feeling burdened. The commentary adds that sages are quiet and unassuming, follow things as they are, and lessen their selfishness and desires. In governing the people, they keep taxes and labor demands light, sparing them heavy burdens. Another interpretation says that sages extend their kindness to all things. Grateful for their protection, the people live in a stable and orderly society.

Sages lead the people, yet the people do not feel harmed. They do not use power or splendor to overshadow the people, who draw near to them as they would to their parents; no one wishes them harm. The commentary says that sages govern the world so that the people live in peace and prosperity and all under Heaven is calm. They benefit all things widely without causing harm. Their De (Virtue and Power) is profound and far-reaching, so the people willingly choose them as leaders and are grateful for their kindness. Naturally, they do not harm them.

Therefore, people throughout the world are glad to choose sages as their leaders and do not reject them.

The sage is richly endowed with kindness and virtue, and regards the people as his own children. Therefore, people throughout the world are glad to choose him as their leader and do not grow weary of him.

Because he does not contend,

Heaven has not rejected the sage because he does not compete with others over who comes first.

Therefore, no one in the world can contend with him.

People compete over matters pursued through deliberate action; no one will compete with me over Wuwei (non-action). The people are willing to choose the sage and do not tire of him precisely because he is humble and gentle, and does not contend with the myriad things. He follows the way of peace and harmony and creates no disputes. Who, then, would contend with someone who does not contend? Therefore, no one in the world can contend with him.

Everyone in the world says that my Dao (the Way) is vast, yet it seems unlike what people commonly call “worthy and capable.”

Laozi says: Everyone in the world says that my Dao is vast, yet I deliberately seem dull, as though I were not worthy or capable. The Heshang Gong edition reads “like,” while another view holds that the character should be “laugh.” “Laugh” means that the Old Master understood the natural Dao and had perfected his cultivation and realization, so that everyone in the world honored him as a great sage. He was able to do so because he treated others with humility and gentleness, neither praising himself nor mocking others. Commentators such as Gu Huan explain that “unlike” means not conforming to worldly ways. The Old Master’s Dao and De (Virtue/Power) were indeed exalted and worthy of the title “great.” Yet he concealed his traces and blended into the world. His actions were difficult to fathom, sometimes revealed and sometimes hidden; he seemed neither clever nor foolish, and was therefore called “unlike.”

Precisely because he is great, he seems unlike a worthy and capable person.

Only when fame and virtue become too conspicuous do they bring harm upon their possessor. The sage therefore deliberately seems dull, as though he were not worthy or capable. He makes no calculated distinctions or judgments, and does not belittle others to exalt himself.

If he seemed worthy and capable, this state of affairs would have continued for a long time.

Here, “like” means worthy and good, and can also mean quick-witted and clever. If someone displays his talents, holds himself above others at every turn, and governs by scrutinizing every matter too harshly, this way of acting has been around for a long time.

In matters of fine detail, he makes distinctions without cutting things apart; he does not belittle others to exalt himself.

If he were like that, it would have been going on for a long time.

“Xiao” means resembling or being similar, and it can also mean goodness. Here it refers to clever, eloquent people, who often think highly of themselves and act with shrewdness and severity. This tendency has a long history. To argue in this way alone is merely the view of a petty person; it does not qualify one as a virtuous elder.

The commentary explains that the conduct of a sage is lofty: a sage does not boast of himself or mock others. Those who boast of themselves and ridicule others are petty people. Heshang Gong’s commentary interprets “xiao” as “goodness”: living beings fail to practice goodness because they regard themselves as superior and grow arrogant and complacent. To change this, they should be humble and yielding. The interpretations of Gu Huan and others are that a great sage has no fixed appearance or limit to his intelligence. To cling to a fixed appearance or ability is to be constrained in relation to the Dao. Such a person has only narrow, fragmented understanding and is not a great sage who is empty, still, and mysterious.

I have three treasures, which I cherish and hold fast without letting them go.

Laozi says that he has three treasures, which he constantly embraces, guards, and relies upon. The commentary says that the Lord Lao’s conduct is lofty, and that he does not boast of resembling the myriad things, because he takes refuge in these three treasures, cherishes them, and holds fast to them.

The first is called “compassion”: caring for the people as one would cherish an infant. The commentary says that compassion for living beings means relieving their suffering and bringing them comfort. This is a treasure of the Dao.

The second is called “frugality”: collecting taxes with the same care one would take in removing something from one’s own body. The Imperial Commentary says that compassion enables one to extend aid widely, while frugality ensures that resources remain sufficient. The commentary further explains that frugality means having few desires, knowing when one has enough, keeping to one’s proper place, and making no excessive demands of others. This is a treasure of the Jing.

The third is “not daring to put oneself ahead of the world”: remaining humble and yielding, without taking the lead in setting things in motion or striving to be above others. The commentary says one should be gentle and yielding, place others before oneself, and step back so that others may succeed. This is a treasure of the Jing.

The commentary says, “Hold fast to humility and yielding; do not be the first to take the initiative.”

The subcommentary says, “Humility, gentleness, and softness—considering others first and oneself afterward, yielding to others and showing them understanding—are treasures that those who cultivate the Dao cherish.” The Jiejie says, “The human body contains precious things such as Jing (essence), Qi (vital energy), and Shen (spirit). By keeping them hidden and nourishing them, one can sustain life.”

Because one is compassionate, one can be brave.

The commentary says, “With a compassionate and benevolent heart, one can be brave in fulfilling one’s duties of loyalty and filial piety.” The subcommentary says, “Great compassion is held within, while generosity and tolerance guide one’s dealings with others. Thus one dares to enter the Three Realms—the Desire Realm, the Form Realm, and the Formless Realm—and humble oneself to save living beings.”

Because one is frugal, one can give generously.

The commentary says, “When the Son of Heaven is frugal, the people have an ample supply of what they need in daily life.” The subcommentary says, “Understanding that all phenomena are illusory, one gathers things without becoming attached to them and lives simply and nobly; thus one’s De (Virtue/Power) becomes great.”

Not daring to place oneself before all under Heaven—

The commentary says, “Not daring to be the first among all under Heaven.”

Therefore one can become the leader who brings all things to fulfillment.

The commentary says, “‘Leader of those who become vessels’ refers to a person who has attained the Dao; I can become the leader of those who have attained the Dao.” The imperial commentary says, “The virtues of compassion and frugality, together with humility and yielding, make one’s radiance shine all the more. By yielding one’s radiance to others, one avoids their resentment and can therefore become master of the sacred vessel—the imperial throne or the authority of the state.” The subcommentary says, “Because one bravely saves living beings, while yielding to others and caring for all things, one dwells apart beyond the mundane realm in Jade Capital, the celestial city of the immortals in Daoist belief, and becomes foremost among the sages. When descending into the human world, one occupies the position of the ninth five—the sovereign’s place—and becomes the revered holder of state authority.”

Today, people abandon compassion and pursue only martial courage.

The commentary says, “They should uphold compassion, but instead they exalt martial courage.” The subcommentary says, “They abandon compassion and delight only in showing off their strength and toughness.”

They abandon frugality and pursue only extravagance.

The commentary says, “They should be frugal, but instead they spend extravagantly.” The subcommentary says, “They give up simplicity and thrift, and turn to greed for ever more wealth.”

They abandon yielding and compete only to be first.

The commentary says, “They should yield, but instead they strive to be first in everything.” The subcommentary says, “They forget the wish to remain behind others and think only of getting ahead of them.”

Acting this way leads to ruin.

The commentary says, “Conduct of this kind sets one’s actions on the road to death.” The subcommentary says, “This sums up the three forms of betrayal described above: going against these Three Treasures leads one to sink into the Three Evil Paths—hell, the realm of hungry ghosts, and the realm of animals. That is why it says, ‘death.’”

The Way of compassion brings victory when used in battle and security when used in defense.

Compassion can bring victory and make defenses more secure. Here, “compassion” is one of the Daoist Three Treasures and refers to a loving, merciful heart. Those who hold compassion in their hearts can win the people’s trust and support, bringing them together in common purpose. They can therefore prevail in battle and stand firm in defense. The commentary also explains this from the perspective of cultivation: treating the six faculties—the eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, and mind—as troops, one keeps them from being deluded by the six sensory fields—form, sound, smell, taste, touch, and mental objects. This is like defeating an enemy. By using compassion to guard inner emptiness and stillness, one makes the Dao-centered heart firm.

When Heaven is about to help someone, it protects that person with compassion. The commentator holds that Heaven bestows a loving nature on those who are good, enabling them to help themselves. Fighting and defending with compassion not only brings people into harmony with one another, but also earns the help and protection of the Dao. Thus compassion comes first among the Three Treasures and is likewise foremost among the four kinds of compassion, showing how great its significance is.

Those of ancient times who were skilled in cultivating the Dao and managing affairs did not exalt military force. They valued virtue and took clarity and stillness, Wuwei (non-action), as their guiding principles. They did not abandon compassion, nor did they flaunt their strength.

Those who are skilled at governing through Dao and De value virtue and do not exalt military force. “Scholars” here means those engaged in the affairs of governance; thus, they do not govern through force. The ancients who were skilled in cultivating the Dao were quiet and humble, yielding to the natural course of things. They would not abandon compassion in order to flaunt courage and seek combat.

Those who are skilled in warfare do not give way to anger lightly. Truly skilled at responding to conflict through the Dao, they restrain harmful thoughts within and dispel trouble before it arises, so they do not act rashly out of anger. When circumstances make it unavoidable to face an opponent, they should still respond with compassion rather than act from anger. The commentaries also say that those skilled at responding understand that the appearances before them are illusory and can stop an adversary before trouble takes root. They realize that favorable and adverse circumstances have no fixed self-nature, and so are not stirred by joy or anger.

Those who are skilled at overcoming opponents do not struggle with others. They draw people near through benevolence and influence those far away through virtue. They need not fight their opponents; the others will naturally submit. Harmony is the key to victory for an army: when harmony is possible, there is no need to struggle. The commentaries also say that remaining untouched by the disturbances of the worldly realm can itself be called “overcoming the enemy.” When there is neither joy nor anger, naturally there is nothing to contend over.

Those who are skilled at employing others always place themselves below them. Those who are skilled at appointing others and having them assist in their work treat people with humility. By remaining humble, they win people’s allegiance and can make good use of everyone’s abilities.

Thus, this virtue of not contending with others means fulfilling oneself by treating others with humility. It is also a way of governing that does not compete with anyone. In this way, one can make use of everyone’s abilities.

A person who is willing to remain beneath others can bring out their strength. Zhang says, “When you direct others with a gentle and agreeable manner, they forget their weariness.” The commentary explains: Be humble and gentle, and do not force external things into service; they will instead come to you and be available for your use. This means that those skilled at employing others understand how to remain in a lower position.

This is equivalent to drawing on the strength of one’s ministers. Zhang again says, “When you direct others with a gentle and agreeable manner, they forget their weariness.” The commentary likewise says: Be humble and gentle, and do not force external things into service; they will instead come to you and be available for your use. This statement sums up the principle of employing others skillfully and being willing to remain beneath them.

In this way, one accords with the Way of Heaven.

When one can do this, one’s De accords with the Way of Heaven.

This has been the most fundamental principle since ancient times.

The notes say that this is the most important principle since ancient times. The imperial commentary explains: Skill in overcoming others is the De of non-contention; occupying a lower position means drawing on the strength of others. By doing these things, one can accord with the Way of Heaven and become a king or emperor. This has been the most fundamental principle since ancient times. The subcommentary says: “Accord” means to match; “Heaven” refers to nature; and “utmost” refers to the root of the Dao. Those skilled in cultivating the Dao realize the principle of true emptiness and understand both favorable and adverse circumstances. They do not contend with external things, and so naturally accord with the highest principle and align themselves with the primordial root of the Dao. This concludes the discussion above.

On the use of military force, there is this saying:

The notes say that this passage sets out the principles of warfare. Laozi detested how readily people of his time resorted to military force, and so he used these words to convey the underlying principle. The subcommentary says that “military force” can also refer to using wisdom and skill to guide living beings, as well as to the Sage’s use of the six senses—eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, and mind—to engage with the world of sensory experience. “There is this saying” means that warfare has its own methods, which are set out below.

I dare not take the initiative,

“Host” means the one who acts first: I dare not be the first to send out troops.

I would rather take the guest’s position.

“Guest” means responding without initiating. In warfare, one should follow Heaven’s intent and act only afterward. The Sectional Explanation interprets this differently: the upper form of warfare is through speech, and the lower form concerns hidden matters. Reckless words can harm oneself, so one should be yielding and dare not be the first to raise an army.

I would rather take the guest’s position.

“Guest” refers to adapting to external circumstances and taking the responsive position: one responds without taking the initiative. In warfare, one should act only after aligning with the proper timing of Heaven.

“Higher weapons” refers to disputes of speech; “lower weapons” refers to secret, reckless action. Reckless speech harms oneself, so one should be modest and yielding. Rash action depletes Jing and Qi, so one should not provoke trouble but simply respond. “Host” refers to oneself; “guest” refers to the scene before one. Understand that both the subject and the external world are empty and unreal: there is no fixed self to cling to anything, and no real external thing to stain or bind it.

“I dare not advance a step; I would rather retreat a foot.”

“Advance” means trespassing into another’s domain or greedily taking their possessions; “retreat” means closing the gates and guarding the city. Taking the initiative can invite trouble and greed. Keeping to one’s place without contention allows one to sustain oneself through compassion and harmony, and so remain unharmed. Even advancing a single step may spark a dispute; however far one retreats, it still expresses humility and yielding. Hence the saying: “I dare not advance a step; I would rather retreat a foot.” Here, “advance” may also mean taking, and “retreat” means letting go. In taking or letting go, one remains unattached to either action or non-action.

This is called “acting without taking action as action.”

If the other party continues its disorder and becomes a calamity for all under Heaven, one may send troops to punish it, yet remain unattached to killing. Yielding and refraining from contention with external things means that even when one responds, it is as though one has not acted. Since one clings neither to deliberate action nor to the mind that observes and the scene it observes, one may act without turning action into an attachment.

“Rolling up one’s sleeves, though there are no sleeves to roll up.”

Rolling up one’s sleeves is a sign of anger. Those skilled in warfare do not give way to anger easily, so it is as though there are no sleeves to roll up.

“Holding a weapon, though there is no weapon to hold.”

The commentary explains: Even when one holds a weapon, one should act as though no weapon were available. Why? Because harming the people brings Heaven’s punishment; even when faced with a ruler who does not follow the right way, one cannot bear to make the people suffer death and ruin. The Imperial Commentary says that weapons are ordinarily held for killing and warfare. Now, since compassion is taken as the foundation, even when one holds a weapon, one should act as though one had none. The subcommentary says this is because one has already transcended attachment to form and cleverness, leaving no weapon to use.

The phrase “still without an enemy” is explained in the commentary as follows: Even if thoughts of singing and yearning remain in the heart, one should act as though there were nothing to rely on. The subcommentary says that the realms of external things are empty and illusory, so there is nothing to rely on.

“ No calamity is greater than taking an enemy lightly” means that the greatest calamity comes from scorning an opponent and continually encroaching on them, rashly going to war and coveting their wealth. The Sectional Explanation says that indulging oneself in dealings with external things invites ruin and calamity. The subcommentary explains that “taking lightly” means treating with contempt, while “enemy” refers to the present realm of experience. To be easily stained by worldly things brings the karmic consequences of the Three Evil Paths—the realms of hell beings, hungry ghosts, and animals—and so gives rise to great calamity.

“Taking an enemy lightly nearly costs one one’s treasure” means that scorning an opponent brings one close to losing one’s own treasure. The commentary explains “nearly” as “approaching” and “treasure” as the body: to take an enemy lightly is to come close to losing one’s life. The Sectional Explanation says that “treasure” refers to Jing and Qi; taking an enemy lightly and repeatedly fighting depletes one’s spirit. The subcommentary understands “nearly” as “completely” and “treasure” as the Three Treasures mentioned earlier—compassion, frugality, and not daring to put oneself ahead of the world. If one has courage alone and loses compassion, one comes to scorn one’s opponent; this too brings great calamity and causes all Three Treasures to be lost.

“Therefore, when opposing armies meet” is explained in the commentary as referring to two sides at war. “The one who yields will prevail” means that, in the course of battle, one side will ultimately achieve victory.

Compassion is loving-kindness and benevolence. With such a heart, soldiers will treat the enemy with caution and will not rush recklessly into battle. “Two armies confronting one another” here refers to two states taking up arms and going to war. From the perspective of cultivation, it can also mean the senses, such as the eyes and their objects, meeting the external world. If, with a compassionate heart, one quietly and openly observes the scene before one, the opposition between self and things can dissolve, and everything can return to purity. The phenomena one sees can then all become wondrous and sublime states.

My words are easy to understand and easy to put into practice.

Laozi says that his words are simple and clear, and their meaning is concise and easy to put into practice. The commentaries explain that he is referring here to the principles discussed above. What he teaches is naturally easy to understand. In cultivation, one does not cling to the thought of “doing something,” and so it is also easy to put into practice.

Yet no one in the world can understand them or put them into practice.

People in the world often dislike weakness and favor strength. Laozi says that although his words are easy to understand and put into practice, people are deluded and dull-witted: they cannot grasp the principles of emptiness, stillness, and mystery, nor can they follow his teaching.

Words have their root; affairs have their ruler.

Laozi’s words have a source and basis, just as worldly affairs have their order of precedence and governance. People’s inability to understand does not mean that Laozi lacks De; it is because their intentions run counter to the Dao. Here, “root” means foundation, and “ruler” means that which governs. The root of all kinds of speech lies in emptiness; the guiding purpose of all kinds of affairs lies in stillness and simplicity.

Some commentators explain that words take wordlessness as their root: once one has grasped the principle, one is no longer bound by language. Affairs take non-action as their ruler: once the work is accomplished, one does not claim it as one’s own. Another interpretation says that “words” refers to scriptural teachings: although their explanations are wide-ranging, their central purpose lies in the profound mystery. Worldly affairs, though many, must ultimately be governed by the ruler.

It is precisely because people are ignorant that they do not understand me.

The commentary says that people in the world lack the wisdom to grasp things fully, so they cannot understand “my” teaching, which is wordless and non-active. Its principles lie hidden in the depths, subtle and hard to see; therefore, few can truly understand them.

Few are able to understand “me.” Those who can act in accordance with my teachings in the Jing (classic) are precious.

For this reason, the sage wears coarse cloth on the outside while keeping jade within. In other words, the sage does not display himself outwardly, but holds precious De (Virtue/Power) and wisdom within.

Wearing coarse clothing keeps one’s outward appearance plain; holding jade within preserves what is precious inside. Conceal the treasure and keep virtue within the heart, rather than displaying it to others.

The Imperial Commentary says: “‘Wearing coarse cloth’ means keeping one’s outward appearance inconspicuous; ‘holding jade’ means keeping the heart bright. Thus, there are few who truly understand me.”

The Jiejie says that sages value Dao and De, not outward appearance. They live simply, preserve their original Qi within, do not covet official rank or emoluments, and cultivate their inner spirit. Practitioners take Jing for jade and Qi for gold; thus they can undergo transformation and ascend to the Purple Palace, the heavenly halls of Daoism.

Gu Huan says that “coarse cloth” means humble clothing, while “jade” is a precious treasure. Mediocre people do not truly understand Dao and De within, yet put on an outward show of wisdom—like a sheep wearing a tiger’s skin. This is a flaw in their virtue.

The commentary says that one who can grasp the sages’ words, follow their teachings, and unite understanding with practice can become a sage. “Coarse cloth” symbolizes an outward appearance like that of ordinary people; “jade” symbolizes what is precious within. To live among the common world while inwardly keeping one’s true nature is to “hold jade”; to keep the heart empty, still, and settled while remaining able to engage with external things is to “wear coarse cloth.”

To know what one does not know is wisdom.

The note says that understanding the Way and acknowledging what one does not know is the highest expression of virtue. The commentary says that sages deeply accord with the hidden, wondrous Dao; their outward conduct does not depart from their inner foundation. They are open and free of distinctions, with minds empty, still, and profound. Though they possess understanding, they do not cling to “knowing,” and so this is called “uppermost.” The Zhuangzi also says: “Who can know that you do not know? And how would I know?”

Not knowing, yet thinking that one knows, is a flaw.

The note says that failing to understand the Way while claiming to understand it is a flaw in virtue. The Jiejie says that one who does not understand the Way but knows only worldly affairs, who does not know how to consume Qi—a Daoist practice of nourishing life through regulated breathing and absorbing vital energy—but knows only the taste of food, is at fault. The commentary says that at the level of fundamental principle, one is originally without knowledge, yet can know. But when sages enter worldly affairs to relieve suffering, they also make use of knowledge; for this reason, it is called a “sickness.”

Only those who regard the people’s failing of showing off their strength and craving knowledge as a cause for concern will avoid falling into that same failing themselves.

Note: The sage has no failing of showing off his strength, seeking knowledge, or displaying cleverness, yet he worries that the people have this failing. He therefore speaks of the Dao and teaches them as an ordinary person would, intending to help those who have fallen into difficulty. Outwardly, the sage seems to share their concern, but inwardly he is not troubled by this failing. That is why the text says, “is not afflicted.”

Commentary: The sage has no fixation on knowledge, while ordinary people often become caught in the failings of making distinctions and clinging to them. Concerned by the failings of living beings, the sage teaches the Dharma and expounds the teachings as an ordinary person would, wishing to help those who are mired in confusion. Thus, although he is concerned for them, concern does not burden him; although he appears to share their troubles, he has no inner affliction. That is why the text says, “is not afflicted.”

Therefore, the sage has no such failing because he regards the people’s failings as a cause for concern. For this very reason, he is not harmed by them himself.

Note: The sage has no failing of showing off his strength or craving knowledge because he is constantly concerned that the people are caught in this failing. This comes from his compassion for them, and so he is not harmed by it himself. The sage is endowed with clear and expansive wisdom, yet places himself in a state of “not knowing,” wishing for all under Heaven to remain simple and sincere, each keeping to their original nature. Petty people do not understand the Dao’s intent. They recklessly show off their strength, seek knowledge, and display themselves, thereby exhausting their spirit inwardly and shortening their lives.

Gu Huan says: Ordinary people recklessly cling to the failing of showing off their strength and craving knowledge, viewing things through the mind that makes distinctions. Once caught in this, they find it hard to turn back—truly a cause for lament. Only the sage truly understands the subtle root and can see through and transcend verbal teachings. With loving compassion, he grieves for living beings who show off their strength and crave knowledge, because he himself has never had this failing.

Commentary: The sage can be empty, still, and serene, clinging neither to subject nor object, neither to the perceived realm nor to the knowing awareness that perceives it. With profound, clear insight, he illuminates all things, governs primordial Qi, and rides upon the clouds. Both his outward traces and inner root are empty, still, and even. How could he have any affliction?

End of Volume Seven of Commentary and Subcommentary on the True Scripture of the Dao and Its Virtue

Volume Eight of Commentary and Subcommentary on the True Scripture of the Dao and Its Virtue

Written by Gu Huan, Scholar Summoned from Wu Commandery

When the people no longer fear authority, a greater authority will descend.

Do not make the place where you live cramped and confined. Commentators explain that this can also refer to the place where the heart and spirit reside: the heart and spirit should be broad, gentle, and still, not impatient or narrow-minded. Another view is that people living in the mundane world need not cling to a small dwelling; deep mountains and broad marshlands can also nurture one’s temperament. A further interpretation is that one should clear away excessive thoughts and desires, allowing the mind to become empty, still, and lucid. The Daoist phrase “xu shi sheng bai” (“in an empty room, brightness arises”) refers to clarity naturally emerging once the mind is empty and still.

Do not despise your own life. The commentator explains further that if people do not take heed of minor calamities, a great calamity will follow. The great calamity refers to death. One should therefore cherish life, preserve Jing and Qi, and follow the earth while receiving the Dao of Heaven. The subcommentary interprets “wei” as punitive discipline, that is, the precepts set out in the scriptures. The greater punishments are those inflicted in the Three Evil Realms—hell, the realm of hungry ghosts, and the realm of animals—and in Beidu Luofeng, the underworld of Daoist legend. Ordinary people who disregard the scriptural precepts and act recklessly will incur harsh punishments, sharp as blades of wind.

Human life exists because of spirit. Spirit rests in emptiness and stillness and delights in calm. If one eats and drinks without restraint, neglects thoughts of the Dao, clings to sights and sounds, and allows misguided thoughts to fill the heart, life will be harmed and spirit dissipated.

The Jiejie says: Those who reject life and death should cherish the breath and protect Jing (essence), for Jing is the root of life. The Yu says: What is nurtured within the body is spirit. Do not desire without limit; reduce selfish cravings so that body and mind are not worn out. The Lu says: What is meant here by “what is nurtured” is spirit. When the heart is still, spirit is settled; when the heart is agitated, spirit departs.

The commentary explains: “Reject” means to cast aside, “narrow” means cramped, and “dwell” means to be settled. “What is nurtured” refers to the heart. Those who cultivate the Dao must keep the heart free of entanglements. They should not let their feelings and intentions become cramped and narrow, nor should they reject their own lives. Though the body is illusory, it is a vessel for bearing and cultivating the Dao: one must neither become attached to cherishing the body nor loathe and despise it. Attachment to the body leads to stagnation in purposeful striving and grasping; loathing the body leads to the mistaken view of emptiness. To be attached to neither, to remain unstained and settled in the middle, yet not to cling even to “the middle”—this is what it means to truly learn the Dao.

Precisely because one does not reject life, others will not reject one.

The note says: Only those who do not reject spirit, who wash away what is turbid in the heart and remain detached and free of desire, can let spirit settle within them without growing weary. The commentary explains: The realm encountered in cultivation is neither empty nor existent; the wisdom that cultivates it neither loves nor hates. Since realm and wisdom accord with each other, there is no rejection.

Therefore, the sage knows himself,

but does not display himself;

The note says: The sage does not show his virtue and excellence outwardly but keeps them within. The commentary explains: Wisdom accords with the Dao and reaches the true source, so the sage can know himself. He understands that the body is a temporary union of the four elements—earth, water, fire, and wind—and can release attachment to form through “sitting in forgetfulness” (sitting in meditation and forgetting the body and discriminating attachments). Thus he does not display himself.

The sage cherishes himself,

but does not regard himself as exalted.

The note says: The sage cherishes himself in order to preserve Jing and Qi (vital energy). The commentary explains: Wisdom accords with the Dao and reaches the true source, so the sage can know himself. He understands that the body is a temporary union of the four elements and releases attachment to form through sitting in forgetfulness; therefore, he does not display himself.

Caring for oneself means preserving one’s essence and Qi (vital energy); not regarding oneself as noble means not elevating oneself before the world. The commentary explains that caring for oneself means tending to one’s original nature and avoiding contamination by external things, while not regarding oneself as noble means being humble and yielding, putting others before oneself.

Therefore, one should abandon the pursuit of self-display and status, and choose self-knowledge and self-care. The scripture uses “abandoning” and “choosing” to remind people and offer them a lesson.

Striving to prevail and daring to act recklessly will bring death. The commentary describes this kind of “courage” as craving Yin-Yang union for fleeting pleasure, only to end in the repeated cycle of life and death. It describes this kind of “boldness” as showing contempt for the Dao and the spirits, thereby bringing life to an early end. Both lead people to their own destruction.

Only by having the courage to restrain reckless action can one preserve life. The commentary explains that “courage” means pressing forward with force, while “daring” means acting rashly and decisively. If one presses ahead without restraint and becomes attached to worldly affairs, one will head toward destruction. If one’s mind is empty, still, and free of desire, and one does not dare to crave or become absorbed in external things, one can live longer and attain longevity.

These two courses of action—acting recklessly and restraining reckless action—have different effects: one is beneficial, the other harmful. Restraining reckless action helps preserve life; craving, becoming attached, and acting rashly bring death.

What Heaven abhors is acting recklessly. Who can know why Heaven is so? The commentary says that Heaven’s intent is to abhor reckless action: restraint brings longevity, while craving and attachment lead toward destruction.

Who can fully know Heaven’s will? For this reason, people dare not go against the Dao of Heaven. The commentary says: The natural order rewards good and punishes evil, bringing blessings for good deeds and misfortune for evil ones. Yet if we ask how retribution is arranged, no one knows who governs it.

Even the sages consider this difficult to achieve. The note says: The sages are clear and accomplished in Virtue, yet still find it hard to act with fearless courage. How much less should those who lack the sages’ Virtue dare to act recklessly? The Jiejie says: The Dao of Heaven often abhors those who flaunt their strength and courage, and favors those who are humble, yielding, and weak. All living beings cherish life and vital energy, so who can truly know Heaven’s will?

The Dao of Heaven does not contend with the myriad things, yet always prevails. The note says: Heaven does not contend with people over honor or low status, yet people naturally revere the Dao of Heaven. The Jiejie says: The Dao of Heaven values harmony and compliance. The commentary says: Those who follow nature, do not compete with the myriad things, and humbly yield to a low position will ultimately meet with a good outcome.

The Dao of Heaven does not speak, yet responds skillfully. The note says: Heaven issues no commands, yet the myriad things move of their own accord when the time is right. The Imperial Commentary says: Why would Heaven need to speak? Good deeds receive blessings and evil deeds bring misfortune, without fail; this is why we say the Dao of Heaven responds skillfully. The commentary says: Retribution in the form of fortune and misfortune follows like a shadow follows a body or an echo answers a sound. It needs no words to convey it: good and evil will each receive their due response.

The Dao of Heaven does not summon, yet the myriad things come of their own accord. The note says: Heaven does not call to the myriad things, yet they all turn their backs to Yin and face Yang. The Imperial Commentary says: The Dao of Heaven does not gather the myriad things and make them obey, yet they cannot resist it and come to respond of their own accord. The commentary says: Retribution for good and evil follows each person’s actions. It needs no summons; it comes naturally.

The Dao of Heaven seems unhurried, yet plans with skill. The note says that “tanran” means spacious: although the Dao of Heaven is vast, it can arrange human affairs well; those who do good or evil each receive the corresponding retribution. The commentary says: “Planning” means reckoning. The Dao of Heaven’s workings are hidden and hard to see, yet without speaking, it can reckon people’s merits and faults with perfect accuracy.

The net of the Dao of Heaven is vast and boundless. Though it seems loosely woven, nothing can slip through it.

The Dao of Heaven is like a vast net. Though its meshes are wide, it sees people’s good and evil deeds and lets nothing slip through. The “Heavenly Net” here refers to the laws by which nature operates: every deed, great or small, good or evil, receives its due consequence without fail. The Dao of Heaven makes no sound, yet good and evil each meet their response. Silent and still, it gives the fitting result when the time comes.

The people often do not fear death.

When those who govern a country impose harsh punishments and make life unbearable, the people cease to fear death. Those who cultivate themselves may become consumed by cravings and desires, covet wealth, and even damage their spirit or lose their lives in the process, without knowing to be on their guard.

If this is so, how can death be used to frighten them?

If a ruler refuses to ease punishments and does not teach people to restrain their desires, yet hopes to make them fear death through punishment, how can that work? People cling to the desires of the moment and give no thought to life or death. Even sternly stated precepts may not make them afraid. Hence the lament, “How can this be?”—an expression of deep sorrow. If people care only to satisfy their desires, hear of what is good but do not put it into practice, and know their mistakes but refuse to correct them, how can they make any progress?

If you want the people to fear death,

first stop harming and constraining them, and teach them to let go of their pursuit of profit and desire.

If someone still acts against the natural order, and I can seize and execute that person, who would dare to act this way?

If people are taught through the Dao, yet refuse to obey and instead become cunning and deceitful, then they are seized and put to death according to the laws of the ruler. Who, then, would still dare to break the law? Laozi laments that the rulers of his time did not first use moral teaching to guide the people, but instead turned to punishment. The imperial commentary says: If people could all accept the teaching of stillness and purity, cease indulging in desire, and remain mindful of death, then even if a few individuals acted deceitfully and wickedly, if I had the authority to seize and kill them, who would dare to rush out and kill? This is why the text goes on to say:

There is always an Executioner who does the killing.

“Executioner” refers to a power in Heaven that watches over people’s transgressions and administers punishment. The Way of Heaven is like a loosely woven net that lets nothing escape: the wicked ultimately cannot evade retribution. The imperial commentary holds that Heaven’s net watches over those who act deceitfully and wickedly. If people truly understand how things work, who would commit crimes again?

The Jie jie explains “Executioner” as a spirit who keeps records of people’s words and deeds. On a person’s left side is the “Recorder of Yin,” and on the right, the “Executioner.” If someone secretly commits evil, the Recorder of Yin reports it to Heaven and examines that person’s hun and po souls. If someone speaks evil words, the Executioner reports it to the Director of Destiny, the spirit who governs the registers of life. The Director records the offense, and once the accumulated crimes reach a certain measure, punishment follows. The commentary adds that punishments in the underworld have their own officials, including the Three Officials and Nine Offices, the One Hundred and Twenty Bureaus, and underworld institutions such as the Northern Capital of Luofeng and the Palace of Quanqu. Every kind of suffering, too, has an official in charge of it.

To take the place of the Executioner and kill is called “taking the great carpenter’s place and chopping wood.”

The Way of Heaven observes clearly and follows fixed patterns. It is like spring bringing forth the growth of all things, summer bringing them to full abundance, autumn bringing them to maturity, and winter storing them away. It is also like the handle of the Big Dipper turning with the seasons and ordering the cycle of the year. If a ruler wants to take the place of the Way of Heaven and kill, it is like a clumsy person trying to take the place of a skilled carpenter and chop wood: he will labor in vain and prove unequal to the task.

The Way of Heaven is luminous, and its constant standards govern all things. It is like spring, which makes all things grow; summer, which makes them flourish; autumn, which ripens their fruits; and winter, which gathers all things in. It is also like the handle of the Northern Dipper, which turns with the seasons and follows the order of the year. If a ruler wishes to kill in place of the Way of Heaven, he is like a clumsy man trying to cut wood in place of a master carpenter: he will only waste his effort and fail to do the work well. The Sectional Commentary says: The Way of Heaven rewards the good and punishes the wicked, governing people’s body and mind just as a carpenter makes objects: what is good is brought to completion, while what is evil is ruined.

If someone cuts wood in place of a master carpenter, how could he avoid injuring his own hand?

When a ruler imposes punishments, he is like a clumsy man cutting wood in place of a carpenter. Unable to grasp the proper measures of the square and compass, he instead injures his own hand. If he kills in place of the Way of Heaven, he will lose the guiding principles of order; once these are lost, calamity will fall upon him in turn. The Imperial Commentary says: A ruler administers punishments and takes charge of killing in place of the Way of Heaven. In doing so, he not only harms the people but also damages his own harmony with Heaven. The Subcommentary says: Living beings each create their own karma and each undergo the corresponding consequences. Punishment and suffering are under the authority of the unseen divine offices that govern life, death, reward, and retribution. Ignorant people presume to decide matters on their own and forcibly kill others in place of these unseen offices. They are like inept craftsmen who swing an axe at wood. A clumsy man cannot do a carpenter’s work: he fails to make an object and may injure himself as well. It is the same when someone forcibly takes charge of killing in place of the Way of Heaven: he not only exceeds his authority but brings calamity upon himself. The Sectional Commentary says: People differ in their ability to govern themselves, just as craftsmen differ in their skill at making objects. The dexterous can shape an object successfully; the clumsy may even injure themselves.

The people go hungry because the rulers levy excessive taxes.

People go hungry because rulers levy excessive taxes and lavish too much on their own consumption.

The commentary explains that “hunger” can also refer to a lack of virtue within. “The ruler above” means the mind, since the mind governs the five viscera and directs all kinds of action. “Taxation” means accumulation; “food” means flavors. Those who cultivate the Dao cannot hold to virtue because their minds are constantly drawn by external things and crave delicious food. The Sectional Explanation offers a further interpretation from the perspective of health cultivation: “hunger” means a deficiency of Qi, which arises from craving rich flavors. Eating too much leads to stagnation and disorders, leaving the body in need of constant care and treatment.

That is why people go hungry, and why virtue is lacking within them.

The people are difficult to govern because their rulers are always intent on taking action and have too many desires.

The commentary says that people’s actions become chaotic and difficult to set in order because the mind is greedy for action. When the mind is calm and practices Wuwei (non-action), people’s actions are easy to govern. This shows that all circumstances are connected to the mind. The Sectional Explanation compares “the people” to the body’s many channels: the pulses cannot be brought into harmony when the mouth cannot maintain a plain diet. The lips grow dry and fluids are depleted, causing the Qi in the channels to lose its essence.

That is why the people are difficult to govern, and why desires and artificiality are hard to subdue.

People take death lightly because they pursue a life of excessive abundance…

People readily go toward death because they strive too hard to survive and preserve their health, valuing gain too highly and thereby putting themselves in danger. Practitioners, too, fail to live out their natural span and readily enter the realm of death because they have lost the principle of following nature. They have not understood that all things, including the self, are like illusions, and that life and death have no fixed distinction. They cling to life, pursue external things through the senses, and overindulge the body, thereby endangering themselves. Jie Jie explains that people fail to cherish life because they overprotect the body and indulge their appetites, losing the proper way of following life and ultimately bringing about their own death.

That is why people readily go toward death.

Only those who do not make the pursuit of survival their sole aim are wiser than those who devote themselves to valuing life. This refers to people who pay no heed to rank or stipend and do not let possessions and profit occupy their thoughts. Even the Son of Heaven cannot treat them as subjects, nor can the feudal lords treat them as friends; they are more worthy than those who single-mindedly prize life. The commentary explains that those who understand the mysteries do not seek to destroy the body and return to emptiness, nor do they sit motionless, forgetting the body. Rather, though alive, they do not cling to the appearance of “life.” They reject the tumult of pursuing glory and profit, and so do not make survival their concern; in this way, they are better at preserving life. Jie Jie says that those who truly value the Dao do not cling to life before life has appeared, nor to form before the body has taken shape. They keep their thoughts on Wuwei (non-action) and abandon deliberate contrivance. This is how they truly cherish and settle life.

When people are alive, their bodies are soft.

When people are alive, Qi (vital energy) and harmony fill the body, and the spirit remains; that is why the body is soft.

After people die, their bodies become stiff.

After people die, Qi and harmony disperse, and the spirit departs; that is why the body becomes stiff.

When plants and trees grow, they too are tender and supple.

That is because life remains within them.

After plants and trees die, they wither and become dry and brittle.

Once “harmonizing Qi” has departed, life disappears as well. While people are alive, every part of the body is soft; after death, flesh and bones become rigid. Plants are the same: as they grow, they are soft and tender; after they wither and die, their branches become dry and hard. Thus, softness in life comes from harmonizing Qi still being present, while hardness after death comes from its departure. The comparison between people and plants illustrates the respective strengths and weaknesses of softness and firmness.

Hardness and strength belong to the realm of death; softness, weakness, and yielding belong to the realm of life.

The two examples above show that hardness and strength tend toward death, while softness, weakness, and yielding tend toward life. “Companions” means those of the same kind. Acting with force and aggression goes against the principle of harmony and puts one among the dead; acting with softness and yielding accords with harmonizing Qi and puts one among the living. This is a metaphor used to explain the principle.

Therefore, an army that flaunts its strength and seeks war will find it difficult to prevail.

Even a powerful army will cause harm and accumulate resentment if it launches wars recklessly and takes pleasure in killing. Many who are weak can unite and bring down the strong. Another interpretation takes “arms” to mean a person’s words: forceful speech can lead one into difficulty, while showing off one’s strength in secret can also invite harm. People are soft and yielding in life because their harmonizing Qi is intact; they become rigid in death because that Qi has dissipated. By keeping to softness and weakness, one can preserve life and prolong one’s years; by acting with force and domination, one damages the body and loses life.

A tree that is hard and rigid is easily broken.

Here, “arms” is also interpreted as a person’s “three karmic activities and six faculties”: the three activities of body, speech, and mind, and the six faculties of sight, hearing, smell, taste, touch, and thought. Indulging every desire and forcing one’s way against external circumstances goes against the principle of softness and harmony.

When a tree grows large and strong, its branches and leaves grow all over it. “Weapons” here refers to the three forms of action—of body, speech, and mind—and the six sense faculties: eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, and mind. If people indulge the desires of their six senses, force their way against the things around them, and pursue more without satisfaction, they will bring serious calamity upon themselves. That is why it is said they cannot endure. It is like a great tree whose many branches weigh it down, or like a tall beam and pillar bearing the weight of rafters and tiles.

The strong and powerful are below; the soft and weak are above.

When all things arise and their functions are fulfilled, the great tree is below and the small things are above. This is the natural expression of the Way of Heaven: it restrains what is flourishing and supports what is weak. The Jiejie says: “Those who speak gently and modestly will be embraced by the people; those with strong bodies will instead labor for them.” The commentary explains: “Hard, strong trees are below, while their soft, weak branches are above. Thus the strong dwell in the Nine Depths, deep underground, while the soft dwell above in the Three Pure Ones’ realm, the pure heavens spoken of in Daoism.”

Is not the movement of the Way of Heaven like drawing a bow?

The Way of Heaven is deep and difficult to fathom, so things are used as metaphors to explain it. The imperial commentary says: “The Way of Heaven is mysterious and far-reaching. Without a metaphor, it is hard to explain, so the drawing of a bow is used to make its workings clear.”

What is high is pressed down; what is low is raised up. What has excess is diminished; what is lacking is replenished.

This refers to the way a bowstring is adjusted when a bow is drawn. Only with such adjustment can the bow be used. The Way of Heaven presses down what is high and raises up what is low. Its workings are mysterious and far-reaching, and are difficult to understand without a metaphor, so the drawing of a bow is used to explain them.

What is high is pressed down; what is low is raised up. What has excess is diminished; what is lacking is replenished.

This refers to adjusting the bowstring as a bow is drawn; only then can the bow be used. The Way of Heaven presses down what is high and raises up what is low, diminishing what is strong and increasing what is weak. This is the Way of Heaven. The commentary explains: “The low is raised and the high pressed down, bringing them into proper balance so that the bow can shoot an arrow. Those who are arrogant and presume they have more than enough will inevitably suffer loss and ruin; those who accept their lack and act with composure will receive blessings and goodness. Such is the Way of Heaven, like drawing a bow.”

The Way of Heaven diminishes what has excess and replenishes what is lacking.

The Way of Heaven diminishes what is excessive and increases what is humble, showing that it always takes balance and harmony as its highest aim. The commentary explains: “To bestow blessings on the good and bring calamity upon the wicked is a natural principle.” Here the text returns to the preceding passage and restates the same idea.

The ways of the human world, however, are not like this.

Human affairs often run counter to the way of Heaven: worldly people harm the poor and weak to support the rich, honored, and powerful; they take from those who have too little to flatter those who have more than enough.

Who can offer their surplus to provide for those in need throughout the world? Only someone who follows the Dao can do so. Here, “surplus” refers not only to material goods but also to De and ability. One who follows the Dao can extend benefits to all living beings. The word “offer” also carries a sense of humility.

Thus, the sage bestows the benefits of De without relying on them to expect a return. When a task is accomplished, the sage does not claim credit. The sage does not seek to display their virtue and ability, but conceals their accomplishments, seeking neither honor nor fame on their account. The commentary explains that this is because the sage reveres the way of Heaven and does not wish to increase further what is already abundant.

Those who have no greedy desires do not want others to know their abilities. Even when they have achieved merit, they do not claim it as their own or cling to fame and recognition, for they understand that the Way of Heaven warns against excess and diminishes what is full.

The Imperial Commentary says: The sage yields merit and does not take it for himself, perhaps because he does not wish the world to see his abilities. The Explanatory Commentary says: Sages who embody the Great Dao are always skilled at helping all things. They give both material wealth and the benefits of De, yet do not pride themselves on their exertions. Even when they accomplish great deeds, they do not claim the credit. They act this way to remain humble and yielding, pass the credit to others, and conceal their brilliance and their traces, unwilling to display their abilities.

Nothing in the world is softer and weaker than water.

The Commentary says: Water is yielding and formless. Put it in a round vessel, and it becomes round; put it in a square vessel, and it becomes square. Block it, and it stops; clear a path for it, and it flows. Zhang’s Commentary says: The myriad things in the world are all different, but nothing is softer and weaker than water. Water is used here as a metaphor for the Dao’s modesty, gentleness, breadth, and openness. It follows the nature of all things and enables them to grow, just as water nourishes them.

Yet nothing can surpass water in overcoming what is hard and strong.

The Commentary says: Water can wear down mountains, erode iron, and corrode copper. Nothing can surpass water in achieving such effects. The Explanatory Commentary says: Nothing among the myriad things is softer and weaker than water, while gold and stone are the hardest things in the world. Yet although water is soft and weak, its effects are limitless, and nothing can match its power to overcome what is hard. This is the same principle as “the unformed overcoming the formed”: meeting action with non-action, and the soft and weak prevailing over the hard and strong. The Sectional Commentary says: “Water” refers to something within the body. The Explanatory Commentary adds that water means the saliva in the mouth. Rinsing the mouth and swallowing the saliva can dispel harmful influences and carry nourishment to the marrow. Its effects are like those of yeast fermenting grain or medicine taking effect; nothing can match them.

Therefore, nothing can take its place.

The Commentary says: To overcome what is hard and strong, nothing is more suitable than water. The Imperial Commentary says: When hardness attacks strength, both sides are harmed; when softness subdues strength, the strong side is harmed while the soft side remains whole. Thus nothing can surpass water in overcoming what is hard and strong. The Explanatory Commentary says: Water’s ability to overcome hardness is an unchanging principle through the ages; likewise, using non-action to overcome action is a rule that endures for all time.

Thus, the soft can overcome the hard, and the weak can overcome the strong.

The commentary says that water can extinguish fire, and the soft power of Yin can dissolve the force of Yang. The tongue is soft and the teeth are hard: teeth often fall out first, while the tongue can remain for a long time.

No one in the world understands this principle.

The commentary says that people do not know that the soft and weak can endure, while the hard and strong are easily broken.

Nor can anyone put it into practice.

The commentary says that people are ashamed to be humble and yielding, and prefer to show their strength and compete for victory. The Jie Jie says that people use their own Jing and Qi every day without necessarily understanding the principle behind them. The subcommentary says that water can wear down metal and stone, and that the soft and weak overcome the hard and strong. This is a principle anyone can understand, yet no one can truly act in accordance with it.

Therefore, the sage says:

What follows explains this principle.

One who can bear the humiliation of a state is fit to be called its lord—the one who oversees its sacrifices and protects the state.

The commentary says that if a ruler can bear the filth and humiliation of the state, like rivers and seas that refuse no small stream, the ruler can preserve the state for a long time and become its lord. The Imperial Commentary adds that taking on the people’s guilt is bearing the state’s filth, while calling oneself “orphan,” “widower,” or “unworthy”—humble titles used by rulers—is bearing the state’s ill fortune. With this De, the state has someone to rely on, and the people of the world will gather around it.

The subcommentary says that “state” means a realm, and “filth” means humiliation. A person who embodies the Dao lives in the world with humility, yielding and softness. Able to accommodate what goes against them, they willingly endure humiliation without contending with others. Thus they can serve as ruler of a state and govern its people. The Jie Jie interprets this in terms of cultivating body and mind: within the human body, the Hun on the left is the “Earth Altar” (She), and the Po on the right is the “Grain Altar” (Ji). Ruling the unified Qi is like being a ruler.

One who can bear the ill fortune of the world is fit to be called its king.

Only those who can take blame upon themselves and bear on behalf of the people the misfortunes that bode ill can be rulers of the world. Here, “state” may also be taken as a reference to the human body: Qi enters and leaves the spleen, transforming food waste into fluids. The old is expelled and the new is generated to nourish the spirits of the five viscera; for this reason, the spleen holds a leading place among the organs.

“Boding ill” means what is not good. The sage is clear-minded and can discern good from evil. When faced with what is not good, the sage often reproaches himself and takes the blame. Only such a person can be ruler of the world. Tradition tells that Tang of Shang once blamed himself, saying that if he had done wrong, he would bear the misfortunes suffered by the people. This is the kind of thing meant here. Earlier, the text said that the altars of soil and grain could be entrusted to the feudal lords; here, it says that the world should belong to the Son of Heaven.

Upright words seem contrary.

Words that accord with what is right can sound abnormal, and people often fail to understand them. Ordinary people prize cleanliness, beauty, and honor. The Dao, however, takes filth upon itself and regards a low position as exalted, so it seems to run counter to worldly ways.

The phrase “seem contrary” means that although something appears contrary, it has not in fact strayed from the right path. Though it seems to go against custom, in the end it still accords with the Great Dao. This is what was meant earlier when profound De seemed to run counter to all things, yet ultimately achieved the greatest accord.

Harmonize a great grievance,

In ancient times, the law prescribed death for murder and punishment for injury, using penalties to quell enmity. The imperial commentary says: Nothing disturbs the mind and spirit and creates enmity within oneself more than sensual desire. “Harmony” means bringing things into accord. Here, it says that a ruler wishes to use instruction to bring the people into harmony, so they will have no sensual desires; hence the phrase “bringing great enmity into harmony.”

Yet this is bound to leave some resentment unresolved.

The commentary says: Relying solely on punishment goes against human nature and ultimately leaves resentment behind, sometimes extending even to innocent people. The imperial commentary holds that establishing instruction to guide people inevitably leaves traces. Those traces give rise to problems, which in turn invite resentment; hence the phrase “there will surely be residual resentment.”

The subcommentary says: “Enmity” here also refers to opposition and distinction. In the world, there are paired ideas such as “being and nonbeing” and “beauty and ugliness.” Even if a practitioner abandons both being and nonbeing and takes the Middle Way, they are still attached to “the mysterious” and have not truly grasped its principle. Though they have escaped some oppositions, they have not yet reached a state utterly free of opposites. Though they regard themselves as “alone,” they have not yet attained true independence from all conditions, and so some opposition remains.

How, then, can this be considered fully in accord with the good Way?

The commentary says: If even one person cries out in sorrow, that shows a loss of the intention of the Dao of Heaven. How, then, can one claim to have harmonized resentment through understanding the mysterious principle? The imperial commentary likewise says that as long as residual resentment remains, the result cannot be called good. The subcommentary says that even if one has eliminated distinctions between the two extremes, remaining attached to the middle position still cannot be called perfect goodness.

The Jie Jie says that the point here concerns “response”: When one person gives rise to a good thought, good people respond; when someone practices the Dao, the Dao responds to them. People today, however, delight in giving rise to evil thoughts. Evil thoughts summon evil spirits, and the spirits answer the call. When someone advocates evil conduct, evildoers follow in response. How can this be called good?

Therefore, the sage holds the left-hand tally, an ancient token used to verify a claim. In ancient times, when there were no documents or laws, people made tallies by carving them and matching the halves to verify their authenticity. The sage holds the tally as proof but does not use it to demand payment from others.

The note says: It is merely a matter of drawing up a contract as proof of trust; one does not use it to demand anything else from others.

The Imperial Commentary says: The “left tally” refers to the mind. The mind belongs to Yang and accords with the things before us, so it is called the “left tally.” The sage knows that establishing instruction leaves traces, and that traces may invite resentment. Therefore, the sage keeps this mind and makes it clear, then uses it to instruct others. In this way, there are no selfish desires, no need to trouble people with punishments or interrogations, and things naturally accord with Wuwei (non-action).

The Subcommentary says: A tally is a token of trust and a means of matching things; the left belongs to Yang. Here, the sage who has realized the Dao has a state of being and wisdom that secretly accord with it. Their mutual correspondence and communion transcend the distinctions in these four lines and depart from various mistaken views, allowing them to endure. To “hold the left tally” is to appear to keep hold of something while actually clinging to nothing. It is like an emperor holding the left tally to oversee all affairs of state. The sage, by contrast, subtly merges with the Dao at the “center of the ring”—the unbiased center—and is thus able to govern the people. “Making no demands” means that although the sage governs the people, he does not claim credit for it. He regards the people as straw dogs—figures made of straw for ritual use, discarded afterward—and so does not demand that they repay his kindness.

The Sectional Explanation says: The left tally is Yang virtue. The sage does not incur deep resentment from others; he simply cultivates his own virtue and does not cling inwardly to gain or loss. The sage can govern the people without claiming credit, and therefore does not demand that others repay his kindness.

Thus, one with De (Virtue/Power) oversees tallies;

The note says: A ruler with De merely keeps and verifies contracts and trust.

One without De oversees the tracing of offenses.

The note says: A ruler without De breaks faith and devotes himself to investigating the people’s faults.

The Subcommentary says: To oversee is to take charge; tracing refers to outward signs. Those who subtly merge with the Dao and do not cling are not bound by outward words and deeds. A ruler without De, by contrast, is like someone attached to a fishing creel or a hunting trap, unable to let go of outward traces. Since those traces have not been dispelled, the ruler is said to “oversee the tracing of offenses.”

The Sectional Explanation says: This means that when people follow the Way of virtue, the Director of Destinies—the spirit who governs the length of human life—grants them years of life. When people do evil, their years are reduced and their names erased from the register of life. That is the principle being expressed.

Heaven’s Dao favors no one; it is always with the good.

The Dao of Heaven has no favorites; it only helps those who are good. According to the Jiejie, when people act with Dao and De, the Controller of Destinies (Siming), the deity who governs people’s lifespans and registers of destiny, grants them years of life. When people do evil, the Controller of Destinies removes years from their registers of destiny. This is what it means for the Dao of Heaven to help the good.

The Dao of Heaven has no favorites; it constantly helps those who are good.

In the fundamental truth of the Dao of Heaven, how could there be any distinction between those close and those distant? Those who are perfectly good naturally accord with the Dao of Heaven, like someone holding the left half of a contract—the token used in ancient times as proof of an agreement—without demanding payment from anyone.

A small state with few people.

Even when governing a large state, the sage treats it as a small state, taking simplicity and frugality as guiding principles and seeking no luxury. Even when the people are numerous, the sage treats them as a limited workforce, not daring to summon them at will or impose labor service on them.

Let the people be organized into units such as the shi and bai, ancient local administrative divisions of ten and one hundred people, so that rich and poor, high and low, do not encroach upon one another.

The people’s farming tools are not put to use.

Here, “tools” refers to farming implements. “Not put to use” means that the people are not called up for service and their farming seasons are not disrupted.

Let the people be organized into units such as the shi and bai, ancient local administrative divisions of ten and one hundred people, so that rich and poor, high and low, do not encroach upon one another.

The people’s farming tools are not put to use.

If a ruler can promote what benefits the people and remove what harms them, allowing each person to find their proper place, the people will cherish life and value their survival. When decrees are few and do not burden or disturb them, they can settle into their occupations and will not readily move far away. From the perspective of spiritual cultivation, this means thinking little, having few desires, being content and keeping to one’s proper place, and passing one’s life in tranquility.

Even if there are boats and carts, there is no need to ride in them. This means remaining quiet and practicing Wuwei (non-action), without pursuing splendor or taking pleasure in excursions. The commentaries also use boats and carts as metaphors for teachings: a boat can cross water, symbolizing how teachings guide living beings across the sea of birth and death; a cart can travel over land, symbolizing how teachings transform ordinary people into sages. Once one has grasped the principle, one can set the teachings aside and no longer cling to them.

Even if there are armor and weapons, they are not displayed.

There is no resentment in the heart, and one is no longer immersed in the flow of craving and attachment. A cart can still turn its wheels even when it stands on dry land; this is like how teaching can transform ordinary people into sages. Once the principle is understood, words can be forgotten. One can therefore set aside the teachings and stop clinging to the teachings themselves.

Though there are armor and weapons, there is nowhere they need to be displayed.

The commentary says: One no longer resents the myriad things under heaven. The subcommentary explains: Though armor and weapons may seem to be present within body and mind, one is already seated at ease in a state of self-forgetting. Since the outer world is empty and still, what is there to declare or display? This sentence looks back to explain the earlier phrase, “Though there are many implements, they are not used.”

Lead the people back to a way of life in which they keep records by tying knots.

The commentary says: Set aside ornamentation and return to simplicity, trusting one another without deceit. The Imperial Commentary says: Boats and carts make travel convenient; armor and weapons are used for warfare. When people have no desires, they will not ride in boats or carts, nor display weapons. Returning to simplicity is like the age of the Three Sovereigns in antiquity, when records were kept by tying knots. The Sectional Explanation says: This means that when people’s Dao-Qi flows naturally, it becomes active within body and mind, like the trustworthiness symbolized by tied knots. The subcommentary explains: Since people have emptied their hearts and embodied the Dao, setting aside teachings and forgetting the tools used to catch fish—that is, understanding the principle without clinging to verbal instruction—they use “tying knots” to represent a return to the root. This sentence also echoes the earlier phrase, “Though there are boats and carts, there is nothing to carry in them.”

Find their own food delicious,

The commentary says: Be content with plain vegetables and simple fare, rather than satisfying one’s appetite by exploiting the people. The subcommentary explains: This is to savor the Great Dao.

Find their own clothes fine,

The commentary says: Take plain clothing as beautiful, and do not esteem bright, luxurious colors. The subcommentary explains: This is to let Virtue nourish oneself. The Sectional Explanation says: This means finding the Dao-Qi within oneself delicious, and feeling well dressed by the Dao.

Be at ease in their own homes,

The commentary says: Be content with a thatched hut and do not covet an elaborately decorated house. The subcommentary explains: One is at ease wherever one may be; even while moving about, the heart remains still.

Take pleasure in their own customs,

The commentary says: Take pleasure in simple customs and do not change them lightly. The subcommentary explains: Live harmoniously among others without showing off; though the heart is still, one can respond to the world through action. The Sectional Explanation says: This means that the body is settled, the spirit is joyful, one is content and self-sufficient, and one sings at ease.

Neighboring states can see one another, and the sounds of their chickens and dogs can be heard across their borders.

The “Commentary” says, “‘Near one another’ means that they are close.” The “Subcommentary” compares the rooster announcing dawn and the dog keeping watch at night to various forms of verbal teaching. Such teaching can remind those who have long been asleep, awakening them to the dawn of wisdom. It enables people to experience the One Mind at close range; hence, they can hear one another.

The people grow old and die without visiting one another.

The “Commentary” says this is because they have no desires. The “Sectional Explanation” further compares neighboring states to a person’s two ears. The ears face one another, each keeping to its own place; the Shen and Qi each remain where they belong and do not interfere with one another. Thus, people can remain perceptive into old age. The “Subcommentary” explains that those who experience truth and accord with their nature recognize the Dao in everyday life. They no longer cling to coming from life and death, nor have any realm of the Dao to which they might go. Since the realms of life and death and of the Dao are united as one, there is no coming or going, and no distinction between visiting one another.

True words are not ornate.

The “Commentary” says that true words are words grounded in reality; “not ornate” means that they are plain and unembellished. The “Imperial Commentary” explains that true words are the teachings of sages. They do not pander to worldly tastes, so they do not sound ornate.

Ornate words are not true.

The “Commentary” says that ornate words are rich in phrasing and pleasing to the ear. They are “not true” because they often contain much embellishment, falsehood, and empty talk. The “Imperial Commentary” says that ornate words belong to worldly teachings: because they are sweet and pleasing to the ear and cater to worldly tastes, they are not true. The “Subcommentary” explains that what is true is grounded in reality, while what is ornate is flashy and superficial. People of superior De, whose virtue is profound and who accord with the Dao, are in harmony with truth and speak plainly, without exaggeration. Flashy language prevails in the world but departs from fundamental principles, so it cannot be trusted. As the Zhuangzi says, a dog is not a good dog simply because it barks beautifully, and a person is not a worthy person simply because their words are pleasing. The “Sectional Explanation” says that the words of those who follow the Dao do not necessarily conform to what the world favors; words that pander to worldly tastes do not necessarily accord with reason.

Those who truly understand the principles do not prize breadth of knowledge.

Those who understand the Great Dao devote themselves to holding fast to the One—that is, the pure unity of the Dao or its fundamental principle—and therefore do not pursue extensive learning and knowledge.

Those with extensive learning and knowledge, by contrast, fail to understand the foundation of the Great Dao. “Not knowing” here means losing sight of what is true and essential. Commentators say that those who truly understand can grasp the Great Dao, while those who seek only to learn and hear more may become absorbed in social teachings and written words, forgetting their own origin. The Jing of the Western Ascension (Xisheng Jing) says that people know the existence of Heaven, Earth, and the myriad things, yet do not know what they themselves arise from; this is a profound ignorance. It also says that understanding how to hold fast to the One allows all things to be comprehended. The Zhuangzi likewise says that excessive ornamentation harms substance, and broad knowledge burdens the mind and spirit.

Those skilled in cultivating the Dao do not rely on clever speech and debate, nor do they deliberately embellish their words.

Those who excel at debate often do not truly accord with the Dao. Commentators say that clever speech and contentious argument invite misfortune, like jade in a mountain: digging it out destroys the mountain’s form. Or like a pearl in water: stirring up the spring harms its clear flow. Those who grasp the Great Dao do not cling to distinctions and disputes. The Confucians and Mohists each insist on one side and argue over right and wrong precisely because they have not truly grasped the Great Dao.

The sage does not accumulate wealth or cling to teachings expressed in words. Commentators say that the sage accumulates De but not wealth: De is used to guide the ignorant, while wealth is used to aid the poor. Another interpretation is that the sage understands the purpose of words and teachings without being bound by them; once a teaching has been understood, the sage can also let go of attachment to it.

The sage helps others and thereby becomes more complete; gives things to others and thereby becomes more abundant.

Commentary: When one gives possessions to others, the blessings one receives are greater still, like the light of the sun and moon, which never runs out.

Explanation: Here, “already” means “exhausted,” and “to act” means to put teachings into practice. Whatever virtue one possesses should be taught to others wholeheartedly, without reserve or hesitation. In this way, one’s virtue grows ever more profound; hence the phrase “the more one has.” This is giving virtue to others. Whatever possessions one has should likewise be given away as fully as possible. The reward one receives is greater still; hence the phrase “the more one gives.” This is giving through material offerings.

The workings of Heaven’s Dao benefit all things without harming them.

Commentary: Heaven brings forth and nurtures all things, cherishing and cultivating them so they may grow, without taking their lives.

Explanation: The natural Dao gives rise to all things and brings them immense benefit. What harm could it cause?

The sage acts, yet does not contend for credit.

Commentary: The sage models himself on Heaven’s Dao and claims no credit for his own actions. Things are thereby transformed and brought to completion, yet he does not contend with the world for fame. The benefits he brings to all things are thus immense. What harm could there be?

Commentary: The sage models himself on Heaven’s Dao, accomplishing teachings and undertakings without contending with the world for fame. In this way, he preserves the sage’s achievements.

Explanation: The sage possesses profound De (Virtue/Power) and models himself on the great Dao’s emptiness, stillness, and openness. He teaches, bringing living beings to transformation, while remaining humble and self-contained. Once his work is done, he does not claim credit, but attributes the achievement to all things. Hence the phrase “does not contend.”

Zhang says: “Though there are boats and carts, no one rides in them” means that in a Wuwei (non-action) age, there are no roads through the mountains and no boats or bridges across the waters. People have no need to travel back and forth in the first place, so what use would they have for boats and carts? He also says: “Though there are armor and weapons, there is nowhere to display them.” This means the same thing.

Gu says: Armies are originally used to punish rebels, and force to quell disorder. When the ruler follows the Dao, the people naturally value virtue and accept its teachings. Why, then, display weapons?

End of Volume Eight of the Commentary and Subcommentary on the True Classic of the Dao and Its De.