《道德真经疏义》Vol. 3

The sage is able to realize the Great Dao and attain the utmost of the Dao, participating with the myriad ages and returning to pure unity and perfection; thus he can thread through the hundred sages without exhausting them. He penetrates past and present without decline; thus he shelters heaven and earth and endures forever, never ceasing. He bends to complete the myriad things without omission, and his operation and measure are never depleted; therefore the multitude of beings, receiving his moistening nourishment, are able to flourish. The myriad things grow together without harming one another—who can bring them into peril? This may be called being free from peril to the end of one’s life.

(“Meishen bu dai” means not falling into peril to the end of one’s life.) If one falls into peril through slackness, one draws near to misfortune. The saying “When slackness overcomes reverence, the dike has already burst” means that when slackness overcomes respectful caution, it is like a dike collapsing. If one can be cautious and vigilant, one draws near to good fortune. The phrase “the first manifestation of good fortune” comes from the Xici Xia of the Zhouyi and refers to the subtle signs of the movement of things, the first omens of good and ill fortune. If one does not fall into peril, then all one’s actions accord with Heavenly Principle; one constantly meets with good fortune and will not suffer the calamities brought by reckless action. If not for someone intelligent and wise enough to know the constant principle of the Dao, who could accomplish this?

This is chapter seventeen of the Daodejing. “Tai Shang” refers to the highest kind of ruler; “those below know that he exists” means that the common people know only of his existence.

The commentary of Emperor Huizong of Song says: He governs the world by the Dao of Wuwei (non-action), dwelling together with the people of the world without revealing his sharp edges. Having no feelings of joy and delight, neither closeness nor praise comes to him; having no appearance of haggardness and sorrow, neither fear nor regret arises. He acts through non-action and constantly follows naturalness; therefore the common people know only that he exists.

The Shuyi (Subcommentary on the Meaning) begins by pointing out: All things under heaven each have their own inherent constant nature.

All things under heaven each have their inherent nature, and each nature has its constant De (Virtue/Power) and efficacy. To preserve it and keep it from being lost is to prevent human desire from becoming indulgent; to tolerate it, allowing it to follow its natural course without reckless willfulness, is to guard it from shifting along with external things. If inherent nature is not indulged and De is not moved by external things, then the common people of the world will naturally transform and incline toward goodness, and the whole age will enjoy a climate of plainness and tranquility.

The sage governs the world by Dao (the Way), constantly keeping the people free of cunning and deceit, free of greedy desires, and also making those with talent and intelligence not dare to act presumptuously on their own. In this way, even if people possess wisdom, they have nowhere to apply it. Then who would still have joyful delight, or the bitterness of toil and hardship? With no joyous delight, the human heart becomes plain and peaceful, and therefore does not pursue praise; with no bitterness of toil, the human heart becomes calm and comfortable, and therefore fear and insult do not arrive.

The people, having nothing to desire, are naturally satisfied; having nothing to contrive, their minds and spirits are settled. They are relaxed and unobstructed, peaceful and secure, each obtaining what is due to them. No one acts deliberately, yet everything runs naturally, and so they forget one another in the Dao. What Laozi means by “those below know only that he exists” refers precisely to this state. Mencius says that in an age of kingly rule the people are “broad and self-possessed” (expansive, self-content, and free from care); perhaps only such an age could be like this.

Next: “they are close to him and praise him.”

Emperor Huizong of Song (a Northern Song emperor who wrote a commentary on the Daodejing) comments: When grace is bestowed upon the people and laws and regulations are handed down to later generations, the people of the world love and support him as they do their parents, and so it is said, “they are close to him.” His honored name rises like the sun and moon, and people praise him, and so it is said, “they praise him.” This is the rule of emperors and kings, belonging to a second-order realm. Once traces of closeness and praise become evident, the Dao of Great Harmony is somewhat impaired.

Zhuangzi says: Shun had good conduct, and the people rejoiced because of it. What is sung in the “Lingtai” (Spirit Terrace) of the Greater Odes in the Book of Songs is that the people began to turn to King Wen.

This passage cites Laozi’s sequence—“the highest, [the people] do not know he exists; next, they are close to him and praise him”—and discusses the different levels of royal governance.

As for benefiting the people, there is no better method than bestowing grace. Shun won the hearts of the people through the virtue of cherishing life; by the Zhou dynasty, the court issued decrees and carried out benevolent governance. This is what is meant by “grace bestowed upon the people.” As for bringing peace and order to the world, there is no better method than establishing laws. Shun established laws and standards for the world that could be transmitted to later generations; by the Zhou dynasty, all affairs of government were fully established. This is what is meant by “laws and standards transmitted to later generations.”

Bestowing grace on the people and transmitting laws and standards to later generations—by these means nurturing the people, as one protects a newborn infant—the people of the world loved the ruler as they loved their parents. Who would not remember him, admire him, and draw near to him? Through this he carried out civilizing instruction; his reputation spread in all directions, and his fair name shone like the sun and moon and was transmitted to later generations. Who would not be glad to recommend and extol him? When emperors arose and kings achieved their work, their virtue and deeds flourished throughout the world and could not be concealed; in every case they took this as the root. This is what is meant by the rule of emperors and kings: the achievement of being close to and praised by the people was manifest.

Yet if this was so, the Dao of “Great Harmony” (Datong) suffered a certain diminution. Compared with what Laozi calls “those below know he exists”—the next level, in which the people only know that a ruler exists—there seems to be a distinction. The realm of Great Harmony is a condition in which the people are without knowledge and without desire; how could one still speak of closeness and praise?

In the past, Shun possessed excellent conduct (the original “shanxing” is an error for “yixing”), and the people admired him; consequently, a hundred thousand households moved to be near him. King Wen (founder of the Zhou) possessed numinous virtue, and the people all joyfully submitted to him; the song “Lingtai” arose, and those who came to submit were numerous. This is precisely the reason why the rule of emperors and kings could make the people close to and praise them. That being so, would a sage have the intention to seek the people’s closeness and praise? When great virtue and achievements are bestowed upon the world, closeness and praise come naturally; they are not obtained by deliberate pursuit.

The final sentence, “Next, they fear him; next, they insult him,” gives the last two grades in Laozi’s sequence of governance: the people fear the ruler, and then they insult the ruler, with the levels descending step by step.

Guide the people with government decrees and regulate them with punishments, and the people will merely fear. If rewards are used to encourage the world, those who do good will not strive harder on that account; if punishments are used to chastise the world, those who do evil will not restrain themselves on that account. Among the feudal lords there were those like Chu Zi (King Zhuang of Chu) who inquired about the size and weight of the nine tripods; among the subordinate ministers there were those like Yang Hu (steward of the Ji family in Lu during the Spring and Autumn period) who stole the precious jade and the great bow. This was the ethos of a declining and chaotic age, and so such people were held in contempt.

The sub-commentary means this: the sage held that the Dao is present in the world, and that punishments, government decrees, and rewards and penalties are all tools that assist the Dao in being carried out. Punishments and government are used to set boundaries and safeguards so that the people have something to observe; rewards and penalties are used to show likes and dislikes so that the people know what is forbidden. All of these should take the Dao as their root. If one clings only to government decrees and punishments without proceeding from the Dao, one can restrain outward behavior but cannot change the heart; therefore the people will only fear, and may even become more contemptuous. When one transforms and guides by De, government decrees naturally carry through; when one guides by government, it is no longer from De. When one orders by ritual propriety, punishments can be dispensed with; when one orders by punishment, ritual propriety cannot be spoken of. The reason the people fear is that in their hearts there are thoughts pursuing private desires. If government decrees are carried out and punishments serve as safeguards, and the laws are clear, then without rewards people encourage themselves and without punishments people fear themselves; when encouragement and discouragement both arise from fairness, the Dao is present therein, and this is no longer a forced second-best.

Emperor Huizong’s commentary says: to adhere and join without glue or lacquer, to bind without rope—this is supreme trustworthiness. The Shang swore oaths and the people began to doubt; the Zhou established covenants and the people also began to doubt—both because trust was insufficient.

“The highest, the people below know only that he exists” comes from Laozi chapter 17 and refers to the highest ruler, of whom the common people know only that he exists. “Therefore when trust is insufficient, there is distrust” means that precisely because trust is insufficient, the people do not trust those above them.

Huizong's commentary says: To attach and join without glue or lacquer, to bind and maintain without ropes or cords--this is the highest trustworthiness. When the Shang people made oaths and the common people began to doubt, and when the Zhou people convened covenants and the people also began to be suspicious, both were because trustworthiness was insufficient. In high antiquity, the people knew only that the ruler existed, and so they rested securely in themselves and did not deliberately speak of "trust." In the next age, rulers used authority and force to make the people fear them and treated them with arrogance and disrespect; thus deceit, cunning, and opportunistic calculation arose, and people no longer trusted one another.

The subcommentary says: The scriptural text's "within it there is trust" means that trustworthiness is rooted in nature and originally exists within the human heart. What Zhuangzi calls "attaching and separating without glue or lacquer, binding and restraining without cords or ropes" means that the trust of utmost sincerity arises from nature. The Book of Rites says, "Great trust does not make covenants"; true trustworthiness need not establish agreements, yet it naturally wins people's confidence and requires no external force to drive it. The Book of Rites also says, "The Shang people made oaths and the people first began to rebel; the Zhou people made covenants and the people first began to doubt." This too is because trustworthiness was insufficient, so oaths and covenants were needed to maintain it.

Broadly speaking, the trust of utmost sincerity accords with human nature, and people would not originally doubt; when trustworthiness is insufficient, the true nature is lost, and distrust arises. In the age when "the highest ruler was such that those below knew only that he existed," the people's nature was simple and close to being without knowledge, so with respect to the ruler they knew only that he existed and did not give rise to doubt. In the age when "next, they feared him and insulted him," popular customs had declined, shallow and thin ways prevailed, simple and honest customs dissipated, and clever and opportunistic changes then arose, so people no longer trusted one another. The Book of Changes says, "Without speaking, there is trust; it lies in virtue and conduct," meaning that the accord of utmost refinement and utmost silence exactly matches the human heart; this is utmost trust. If one uses cleverness and expedient shifts to confuse the world, causing people to indulge in verbal disputation without knowing shame, how can one speak of trust? This is still because trustworthiness is insufficient.

"You xi qi Gui yan": This means the ruler acts with caution and composure, values words, and does not easily open his mouth.

Huizong's commentary says: To observe speech through the Dao, if the rulers of the world can rectify themselves, how could words be emitted at will? They should be cautious and careful, not daring to be rash. Therefore speech can become the standard for the world because the ruler accords with nature and does not issue many commands, and the people are naturally transformed.

"You xi qi Gui yan": This sentence appears again, and its meaning is the same as above.

Huizong’s Commentary: When speech is viewed from the perspective of Dao (the Way), the rulers of the world can be rectified; how then can speech be uttered casually? One must be cautious and on guard, not daring to be frivolous. Thus speech can become the standard for the world; conduct and speech each arise from naturalness, and the world thereupon follows and is transformed.

Sub-commentary: A speaker has something to say, but what is said is not inherently fixed. If speech is viewed from the perspective of Dao, the speaker is as though he had never spoken; that True Lord, pure, quiet, and at ease, exists alone, and the rulers of the world are thereby rectified. Speech is like wind and waves—how can it be taken lightly? One must be cautious and not dare to be reckless; this is what is called “valuing speech.” The ancients used the “Inscription on the Golden Man” to admonish people to speak little, and used the line “a blemish on the white jade tablet” from the Book of Odes as a metaphor for how a slip of speech is difficult to undo (white jade tablet: a pure white jade tablet; blemish: a stain on jade). From this one knows the principle that speech must not be taken lightly and that one must not dare to be reckless. Therefore when the sage speaks, none among the people do not believe him, and speech can become the standard for the world. The sage fully manifests the actual truth of matters and acts in accordance with it; thus conduct and speech each arise from naturalness, and the world follows and is transformed. Why is this? Because the sage’s words accord with musical pitch and standards, all quarters believe without exception.

Scripture: When achievements are accomplished and affairs are successful, the common people all say, “We are naturally so.”

Huizong’s Commentary: The achievements of emperors and kings are the sage’s surplus affairs. To make the people find sweetness in food and drink, beauty in clothing, contentment in customs, and joy in their occupations—these surplus affairs are enough to accomplish the achievements of emperors and kings. The people merely say, “This is originally what we ourselves are like,” and do not feel that the emperor’s actions have anything to do with them (alluding to the “Song of Hitting the Earth”: “What has the emperor’s power to do with us?”). This is what is called “the governance of the highest,” namely the highest form of governance.

Sub-commentary: When emperors and kings practice Wuwei (non-action), the world is sufficient for the achievements of emperors and kings to be accomplished. The people merely say, “We are naturally so,” and do not perceive where the emperor’s power lies; this is “the governance of the highest.”

When the emperor practices wuwei (non-action), all under heaven can be brought to success. Such achievements are merely an incidental remainder that comes along of itself; hence it is said, “The emperor’s achievement is the sage’s surplus affair.” As long as achievements are completed and affairs proceed smoothly, all under heaven will be stable and at peace. The common people need not deploy cunning or cleverness: they find their food sweet, their clothing suitable, are content with local customs, and take pleasure in their own occupations—that is all. In food and drink they take moderation and their proper share as the measure, and so it tastes sweet; in clothing they follow the rules and do not seek finery, and so it seems beautiful; their customs are not disturbed, and so they are secure; their occupations suffice to nourish life, and so they are happy. These are all the sage’s surplus affairs, yet they are enough to accomplish the emperor’s achievement. Therefore the people receive his benefits without being aware of it, and only say, “This is simply how we are by nature,” not “This is the power of the emperor.” In ancient times, when Yao governed all under heaven, the people in the thoroughfares and marketplaces sang: “Everyone takes you as the standard.” What is called the highest level of governance probably refers to this era.

Chapter 18 of the Daodejing says: “When the great Dao (the Way) is abandoned, then benevolence and righteousness are spoken of.” Emperor Huizong (Zhao Ji, Song Huizong) commented: When Dao is lost, only then is there De (Virtue/Power); when De is lost, only then is there benevolence; when benevolence is lost, only then is there righteousness. Benevolence is used to establish others, righteousness is used to establish oneself; in this way one departs ever further from the great Dao. Han Yu did not investigate the original meaning of Dao and De as taught by the sages, but instead treated benevolence and righteousness as fixed names and Dao and De as empty, insubstantial labels. The reason Laozi slighted benevolence and righteousness is that the realm they can encompass is inherently narrow. What Zhuangzi calls “the benighted people” probably refers to people of this kind.

The entirety of the Great Dao (the Way) is an undifferentiated whole, hidden and unmanifest. De (Virtue/Power) differentiates from within Dao, and thus the functions of hardness and softness arise. Dao cannot be directly attained; therefore, when Dao is lost, De comes. De cannot be directly attained either; therefore, when De is lost, benevolence comes. Benevolence can be practiced, and once practiced it approaches righteousness; therefore, when benevolence is lost, righteousness comes. In this way one moves farther and farther from Dao. Tracing back to the root, Dao is a single whole, as Yangzi (an ancient scholar) said: “Joined, it is undifferentiated; separated, it scatters.”

Han Yu (a Tang dynasty man of letters) did not investigate the original intent of the sage’s discussions of Dao and De. Relying only on his shallow views, he distorted the meaning of the classics, holding that benevolence and righteousness are fixed names while Dao and De are merely empty positions. He also regarded Laozi’s slighting of benevolence and righteousness as narrow-mindedness, not realizing that the so-called seven items, beginning with benevolence and righteousness, are none other than Dao and De. If Dao and De were not abandoned, where would there be any need to resort to these? Tracing to the root, although Laozi speaks of rejecting benevolence and righteousness, benevolence and righteousness have long been operating within Dao and De. Could Laozi really have thought that benevolence and righteousness were insufficient to govern the world? His slighting of benevolence and righteousness was precisely for the sake of honoring them. This is exactly what Zhuangzi called “the blinded people” (those who are obscured). Later generations of scholars, blinded by vulgar learning and lacking lofty insight, heard of Laozi’s Daoist teaching and arrogantly disbelieved it, even regarding it with contempt as base. In the degenerate age, they will inevitably remain shallow Confucians throughout their lives—and this too was brought about by Han Yu’s words.

Appendix: “When wisdom emerges, there is great hypocrisy” comes from Chapter 18 of the Daodejing. It means: once cleverness and intellectual ingenuity are displayed, hypocrisy and deceit arise in great quantity.

Huizong’s Commentary: When the people’s wisdom and strength are exhausted, they can only be sustained by pretense.

Explication: In an age of utmost De, the people did not know what to do when at rest, nor where to go when on the move. Following their nature, they felt sufficient; resting in their allotted place, they stopped. Thoughts of profit and cunning naturally disappeared—how could the human heart still need intelligence? Once desires and deliberations sprout even slightly, external things entice them from without. If wisdom is insufficient, they fall into hardship; if strength is insufficient, slackness arises. They lose their original natural condition and are bewildered by human contrivance. This is what is meant by “when the people’s intelligence and strength are exhausted, they are sustained only by pretense.” When the sage governs the world, his aim is to restore the people to their original nature; hence he does no more than govern without cleverness and cunning. Therefore the Liezi says: The sage relies on the transforming teaching of the Dao, not on cleverness.

When the six relations are not harmonious, there is filial piety and parental compassion; when the state is dark and disordered, there are loyal ministers.

Huizong’s Commentary: This is because fame arises from what is lacking. The Zhuangzi says: A filial son does not talk about his parents; a loyal minister does not flatter his ruler—this is the highest state of a minister.

Explication: Fame is the guest of substance. Where substance exists, fame naturally follows, yet fame often arises from a lack of substance. For a gentleman to achieve fame, nothing is more important than loyalty and filial piety. In serving one’s parents, not being choosy about circumstances and peacefully complying—this is filial piety. If one merely accommodates one’s parents’ words and deeds to win their pleasure, it is not true filial piety. In serving one’s ruler, whatever the task, bearing it calmly—this is loyalty. If one merely follows the ruler’s likes and curries favor, it is not true loyalty. Only when pleasing one’s parents is not the aim and flattering one’s ruler is not the intention does the heart of loyalty and filial piety retain no reservation—this is the highest state of a minister.

Chapter Nineteen: Eliminating Sageliness and Discarding Wisdom

Eliminate sageliness and discard wisdom; the people will benefit a hundredfold. By discarding the exaltation of “sageliness” and the scheming of cleverness, the people instead gain a hundredfold benefit.

Emperor Huizong of Song comments: The nature that the Dao (the Way) endows in all things is pure and undivided, not mixed or confused. If one turns away from the Dao and gives rise to the distinction of “De (Virtue/Power),” this is called “sage wisdom.” Once sage wisdom is established, affectation, arrogance, and novelty-seeking begin to appear in the world. People use cleverness to disturb the dull, use adornment to display their own purity, praise Yao, the ancient worthy ruler, and condemn Jie, the tyrant of Xia. In this way sage wisdom brings little benefit and much harm to the world. If one can cut off sage wisdom and discard it unused, becoming one with the Dao, then everyone can rest in their own nature and heavenly mandate, and the benefit obtained is exceedingly broad.

The sub-commentary Shuyi explains: Before all things had received form, their original nature was in undifferentiated accord with the Dao; only after receiving form did nature begin to diverge from the Dao. Because it accords with the Dao, there is no differentiation: “The Dao’s endowment of nature is one and unmixed.” Only by departing from the Dao do distinctions of high and low arise: “Departing from the Dao to establish De—this is called sage wisdom.” Tracing nature back to its source, its root is refined and whole; originally there is no distinction between sage and fool. Those who depart from the Dao set up their own “De” externally, lose their true nature, indulge in false adornment, become deluded and cannot return. Thus they use dullness as a foil to display cleverness, and so the name “sage” arises.

Once sage wisdom is established, people no longer follow the spontaneity of their nature, and behaviors such as “qiao, gu, zhuo, zhi, jing” appear in the world. “Qiao” means high and strident; “gu” means probing the abstruse to its depths; “zhuo” means difficult to reach; “zhi” means fierce and rigid; “jing” means not fitting in with the group. None of these are balanced and centered behaviors. Thus some gloss over their cleverness, show off before the foolish, adorn themselves and display their purity, praise Yao and condemn Jie, yet do not understand that they should forget both wisdom and folly and become one with the Dao. Therefore sage wisdom benefits the world little and harms it much. This accords with Zhuang Zhou’s principle that “delighting in sagehood” and “delighting in wisdom” both fall into “xiang yu ju” and “xiang yu ci”—mutual entanglement and mutual injury.

Only by understanding how to cut off and discard sage wisdom and become one with the Dao can one accord with the spontaneity of nature and bring the world under the governance of Wuwei (non-action), without artificiality and following naturalness. Only after Wuwei can people rest in the true disposition of their nature and destiny. When the people return to simplicity and rest in their original nature and heavenly mandate, they can attain, together with the world, a plain and tranquil detachment. How could such benefit be measured? This is what is meant by “its benefits are broad indeed.”

Cut off benevolence and discard righteousness; the people will return to filial piety and parental compassion.

Emperor Huizong’s commentary says: Filial piety and parental compassion are human nature. If one forcibly puts on the appearance of benevolence and deliberately practices righteousness, then one uses benevolence and righteousness to alter one’s original nature. Cut off the deliberate doing of benevolence and righteousness, and the common people will return to their original nature and recover their primordial condition; they will no longer love only their own kin and be compassionate only to their own children. As for filial piety and parental compassion, what need is there to force them?

The subcommentary says: Of all good deeds, filial piety is the root; of all virtues, parental compassion is foremost. The mind of filial piety and parental compassion comes from the inborn nature that people originally possess; it is not feigned, nor is it something cast into us from outside. As for laboring to assume the appearance of benevolence so that one’s conduct no longer arises from spontaneity, and forcing oneself to practice righteousness—that is to use benevolence and righteousness to alter one’s original nature. Cut off benevolence and righteousness, and the people’s original nature can be repaired and returned to De; when one’s De reaches the same state as at the beginning, this is called “returning to one’s nature and recovering the original beginning.” If this can be so, the great Dao will prevail and all under Heaven will be held in common. People will no longer love only their own kin; rather, they will extend respect for the elderly to the elderly of others and extend love for the young to the young of others. They will love one another without regarding it as benevolence, and act uprightly without regarding it as righteousness. Filial piety and parental compassion are possessed by everyone, and people will scarcely know why they are so.

Cut off cleverness and discard profit; robbers and thieves will not exist.

Emperor Huizong’s commentary says: Those who harbor cunning and deceit in their minds no longer regard shamelessness as shame; those who hold thoughts of coveting profit pay no heed to the Dao and righteousness. These are all practices of strained contrivance and opportunistic cleverness.

The subcommentary says: Without knowing shame, one has no way to understand integrity and shame; without understanding integrity and shame, one cannot practice moral rightness. What makes humans human is that they value knowing shame in their conduct and put first, when they see profit, the question of whether it accords with moral rightness. Only by understanding this principle can one refrain from doing what should not be done and from coveting what should not be coveted, and thus embark on the path of the noble person (junzi).

Conversely, those who take cunning and opportunism as their forte have already impaired their pure and simple original nature; the great Dao does not accommodate them, and naturally they do not know shame. Those who harbor thoughts of greedy profit and harm, who outwardly rely on benevolence and righteousness while actually pursuing private gain and use the false to confuse the true—this is a manifestation of disregarding moral rightness. Since they neither know shame nor care for moral rightness, they will do what should not be done and covet what should not be coveted. There is little difference between them and those who take what does not belong to them as their own. What is meant by the saying “these are all far-fetched and strained” is precisely this.

The “three things” are regarded as merely external embellishment, insufficient to rely upon; therefore they should each be given a proper place, which means returning to the root.

The commentary by Emperor Huizong of Song (Zhao Ji, a Northern Song emperor who once annotated the Daodejing) says: The former kings governed the world by the Way of humanity, and by the Zhou dynasty ritual and musical embellishment had grown increasingly elaborate. In its later degenerate phase, the defect arose whereby embellishment overpowered substance: ornamentation was in surplus while plainness was deficient, and people throughout the world generally lost their plain, original truth and sank into the habits of private desire. Laozi lived at the end of the Zhou and wished to eliminate this defect and make people return to the source; therefore he advocated discarding benevolence and righteousness, cutting off ritual learning, and even sages and the wise were among those rejected. Did he really think that benevolence, righteousness, sageliness, and wisdom were insufficient to govern the world? The Way of the former kings is like a cycle; if one would correct the defect of embellishment, nothing is better than returning to plainness. Thus when he says “make them each have a place to belong,” he means preserving original truth, embracing simplicity (displaying plainness and embracing simplicity; from the Daodejing, chapter 19), and reducing private desires.

Coldness accumulates to a certain point before it turns into summer heat; this is not formed in a single day. Observing the changes of the seasons to test the principles of human affairs, one can see that the ancient sage kings governed the world by the way of human relations. Their institutions progressed from rudimentary simplicity toward completeness, and by the Zhou dynasty (Western Zhou, the period when the ritual and music system was most flourishing) they paid even greater attention to ornamentation. At that time every matter had its corresponding institution, every step had its safeguard; the flourishing beauty of ritual, music, and cultural forms had never been greater.

Yet when ornamentation reaches its extreme, abuses arise, and the plain substance is harmed instead. When cultural embellishment is excessive and emphasis falls on splendor, the substantial appears insufficient. People throughout the world therefore generally lost their plain and true nature, declined amid flashy hypocrisy, sank into the habits of private desire, and were obscured by petty cleverness. Should this not be remedied in accordance with these abuses? Laozi lived at the end of the Zhou dynasty and was just about to loosen the grip of these abuses and make people return to their original state; his intention was probably here. Therefore he advocated discarding benevolence, righteousness, and other artificial moral standards, so that people might return to their natural nature; cutting off the study of rites (the Confucian study of ritual and law), so that people might forget one another in the arts of the Dao (the practices for cultivating the Great Dao). Even sagacity and wisdom were among what he rejected and no longer exalted. His aim was probably to make the people of the world slight the branches and value the root, and to loosen those accumulated abuses.

Did he really think in his heart that benevolence, righteousness, sagacity, and wisdom were insufficient to govern the world? The Xia dynasty esteemed loyalty and honesty, the Shang dynasty esteemed plainness, and the Zhou dynasty esteemed ornamentation; there was inheritance and change, reduction and increase, and the governing way of the former kings was like a cycle. Yet the abuses of ornamentation cannot but be corrected by plainness, just as in the order of the four seasons summer turns into autumn. To rely on ornamentation is not as good as to rely on plainness; therefore the following text says, “Manifest plainness and embrace the uncarved, reduce selfishness and few desires” (Daodejing, ch. 19, meaning to reveal one’s true colors, embrace plainness, reduce private desires, and restrain desire), which is precisely this meaning.

Manifesting Plainness

(Huizong’s Commentary) The Analects says, “The painting comes after the plain ground.” Su (plainness) refers to the uncolored white ground. “Manifesting plainness” means being pure and unmixed.

(Subcommentary) In painting, the white ground comes first; therefore the Analects says, “The painting comes after the plain ground.” Only when the white ground has not yet received color does its whiteness appear; first there is the plain ground, and then colors are applied. What is called “plainness” means that it is not stained by external things, but merely has not yet been colored. “Manifesting plainness” means being pure and unmixed.

The Shuyi says: In painting, one must first establish a white ground as the foundation; hence the Analects says, “Painting comes after the plain ground.” The plain ground is white before color is applied. One first sets up the white ground and then applies the colors; without the white ground, the colors would have no way to appear. This white ground is the substance of original nature. It is called “plainness” (su) simply because it is not stained by external things. When one sees the original color of plainness, one can be clear and penetrating, so that not even the slightest blemish is seen; when pure whiteness is complete within, the calculating mind no longer arises. This is “pure and unmixed.” It agrees with Zhuangzi’s statements “clear understanding enters the plain” and “the plain means that which has nothing mixed into it.”

Embracing the Uncarved Block

Huizong (referring to Zhao Ji, Emperor Huizong of Song, who wrote a commentary on the Daode Zhenjing) comments: The scripture says, “When the uncarved block is scattered, it becomes vessels.” The uncarved block has not yet been carved; by embracing its quality, one can be still, settled, and single-minded without changing. Zhuangzi says, “To be one with no desire—this is called plain and uncarved.” When plainness and uncarvedness are preserved, the people’s nature is realized.

The Shuyi says: Vessels take the uncarved block as their root; hence the scripture says, “When the uncarved block is scattered, it becomes vessels.” When the uncarved block has not been cut by axe and chisel, its original substance remains whole, and human carving has not entered it. The uncarved block is the truth of original nature. It is called “pu” because it is without ornamentation; it is simply without human fabrication. Embracing the uncarved block means being simple and honest like an uncarved log, so that the truth of one’s nature is naturally preserved; through non-action, returning to plainness, empty, still, and tranquil—this is “still, single, and unchanging,” and it agrees with what Zhuangzi means by the “uncarved” of pure simplicity that is not mutilated. Plainness and uncarvedness are precisely the constant nature of the people. Restoring the constant condition of original nature, one becomes placid and without desire, each content with what it has obtained—precisely Zhuangzi’s “To be one with no desire—this is called plain and uncarved.” Once plain and uncarved, the people’s nature is realized.

Reducing Selfishness and Lessening Desires

Huizong comments: To manage things for oneself is “selfishness,” and for cultivating and nourishing the mind-nature there is no better method than lessening desires. With less selfishness and fewer desires, one can clearly divide the boundary between inner and outer, discern where the true and the false belong; virtue (De) becomes complete, original nature is restored, and the reputation of sagely wisdom fades away.

The sub-commentary explains: If people are obscured by their own private interests, they lose the great harmony in which the myriad things form one undifferentiated whole; thus caring only for managing oneself becomes selfishness. Drawn along by profit and desire, the mind’s empty clarity and tranquility are disturbed. Therefore, in cultivating the mind and nature, there is no better method than reducing desires. Selfishness and greed both rush outward in pursuit rather than turning inward in contemplation; both are the ceaseless growth of artificial hypocrisy, not the truth of original nature. Only by reducing selfishness and having few desires can one distinguish the boundary between inner and outer, and know what is light and what is heavy; discern where truth and falsity belong, and understand root and branches. De (Virtue/Power) is not changed by external things, and so it can become complete; original nature is not disturbed by desires, and so it can be recovered. To act with a mind of Wuwei (non-action) and to dwell in the world with an attitude of non-meddling—then the reputations of “sage” and “wisdom” disappear accordingly, and only such a person is qualified to govern the world.

“Cutting Off Learning and Having No Worries,” Chapter Twenty: This is the title of Chapter Twenty of the Daodejing. It means that when deliberately sought learning is cut off, there is no longer any worry.

“Cut off learning, and there will be no worries.”: By cutting off deliberately pursued learning, the mind has no sorrow.

Huizong (referring to Zhao Ji, Emperor Huizong of Song, who personally annotated the Daodejing) comments: Learning is for exhaustively investigating the principles of things. While diligently pursuing learning and exhaustively investigating principles, reflecting on the good and evil, gain and loss of affairs, and examining order and disorder in the world, how could one not worry? Learning is for attaining the great Dao (the Way); once the Dao is seen, learning must be cut off, diminishing layer by layer until one reaches Wuwei and yet nothing is left undone. In that way one follows one’s own nature and the true dispositions of life; wherever one goes, one feels joy, and therefore has no worry.

The term li (principle) is connected with li (the measure or unit of length), and can be gauged by quantity and scale; only through attentive study can one probe its depths. The Dao (the Way) is connected with lu (road or path), and everyone can walk it; only by cutting off worldly learning can one reach its utmost.

Learning is for exhaustively investigating the principles of things, and this is the beginning of study. Therefore the Daodejing (written by Laozi and also known as the Daode zhenjing) says: "In pursuing learning, one increases daily." When people strive at learning and exhaustively investigate affairs, they weigh right and wrong in their minds and examine the order and disorder of the state so as to understand its principle; at this stage they have not yet forgotten the increase brought by thought and action—how could they be free from worry? Confucius (founder of the Confucian school in the Spring and Autumn period) took "not practicing what one has learned" as a cause of worry, and this is exactly the situation he meant.

Learning is for realizing the Dao, and this is the endpoint of study. Therefore the Daodejing says: "In pursuing the Dao, one decreases daily." Once one sees the Dao and cuts off learning, it is like forgetting one's limbs, discarding intelligence, leaving the bodily form, and removing cleverness, so that all affairs vanish. Decreasing and again decreasing, until even the state of "not yet having things" is no more. When one reaches "not yet beginning to have things," one can be in Wuwei (non-action) and yet nothing is left undone; the mind is still and unmoved, yet it resonates with all things and penetrates without obstruction, allowing the true disposition of one's nature and destiny to unfold naturally. With joy one forgets sorrow, feeling joy wherever one is, and therefore one has no sorrow. Confucius said, "Eating coarse rice and drinking plain water, joy is also therein," and this is the realm he meant. Wenzi (a disciple of Laozi) said: "If there is any unhappiness in the heart, one cannot embody the Dao." From this it is clear that one who follows "in pursuing the Dao, one decreases daily" can take joy in the Dao.

How much difference is there between "wei" and "a"? How much difference is there between good and evil?

Emperor Huizong of Song (a Northern Song emperor who patronized Daoism and wrote a commentary on the Daode zhenjing) annotated: "Wei" and "a" are alike in sound, and good and evil are one in original nature. People of small wisdom, out of selfish motives, divide them into two; the penetrating person, by contrast, takes the broad view of the whole and knows that the two are fundamentally no different. When the sage governs the world and deliberates with the great officers in the ancestral temple and at court, his solemn demeanor differs from that of ordinary people. He restrains evil conduct and promotes good conduct, fearing only that he may not do enough, because what people fear cannot but be feared; that is why he acts so.

Viewed through the eyes of Dao (the Way), the myriad things merge into a single whole, and there is no longer any distinction between sameness and difference. If one uses the differences among the myriad things to analyze Dao, then views of sameness and difference are established thereby.

From the standpoint of human feeling, there is a difference between responding with “wei” (a respectful sound of assent) and responding with “a” (a casual or slighting sound of assent). To a person one respects, one should respond with wei; to a person one treats lightly, one should respond with a. The good that one likes and the evil that one dislikes are originally different in feeling.

But from the standpoint of principle, both wei and a are merely a single sound of response; good and evil issue from the same nature—what difference is there? The person of small wisdom is self-centered and acts according to feeling. Once feeling is given free rein and selfishness arises, each person generates a fixed prejudice and makes arbitrary distinctions; this is what the Laozi calls “separating and making two.” The person of penetrating understanding contemplates the world from a broad perspective, acts according to principle, and gathers the myriad differentiated things into a single view, regarding them as equally supremely wondrous—this is what is meant by “there is originally no difference.”

The sage mysteriously joins his mind with Dao and does not see the distinctions among things, yet with respect to the good and evil of people in the world he cannot but make distinctions—only because he does not wish to make himself different from the world. Therefore, when the sage comes forth to govern the world, in the ancestral temple and at court he diligently takes clear discernment and order as his business; when speaking with lower grandees, he is gentle and composed; when speaking with higher grandees, he is upright and respectful. He complies with each person’s temperament and establishes ritual propriety accordingly; by ritual he distinguishes high and low, sameness and difference. That is why his manner of speech differs in each case.

In this way, he restrains evil and praises good, using this to make known to all under heaven what is right and wrong and to manifest the likes and dislikes of all under heaven, fearing only that it may not be done enough. What people fear, one cannot but fear; in doing so, the sage accommodates himself to worldly custom and makes himself the same as others.

Commentary by Emperor Huizong of Song: That which enables the myriad things to arise and circulate, yet does not share the sage’s anxiety, is the Dao (the fundamental order of the universe). That which rises and falls with the common people through good and bad fortune, calamity and blessing, is “affairs” (concrete human matters and actions). One who realizes the great Dao has no anxiety; one who throws himself into worldly affairs is constantly beset by fear. If people do not understand how to take what they fear as a warning, few will be able to put an end to anxiety and dread. Therefore the noble person uses a fearful mind to cultivate himself and examine his faults. The Book of Songs says: “Revere the majesty of Heaven.”

Sub-commentary: That which follows things and responds to them is the Dao. The Dao has no thought or worry; it causes the myriad things to grow yet does not share the sage’s anxiety. This is precisely what is meant by “still and unmoving” (pure, calm, and stable, with its fundamental substance unmoved). That which works covertly is “affairs.” Affairs involve thought and action, and rise and fall with the common people through good and bad fortune; this is precisely what is meant by “when stimulated, it thereby penetrates the causes of all things under Heaven” (when there is a response to stimulus, one can penetrate the reasons behind all affairs in the world). Those who embody the Dao enter inwardly into Heaven, and so are without anxiety; those who wade into affairs interact outwardly with others, and so have fear. If people do not understand how to take what they fear as a warning, few will be able to put an end to anxiety and dread. Only by trembling with reverence, exhausting one’s respect, and carefully applying oneself to prudence can one ensure that every action brings good fortune and be free from the anxiety of regret and remorse. The Book of Changes says, “The noble person cultivates himself with fear and self-examination”; the Book of Songs says, “He fears the majesty of Heaven”—both express vigilance and awe to the utmost. Fearful self-cultivation means stilling the mind and taking precautions in advance, as Bo Yi said, “Be warned and you will be without anxiety” (constant vigilance brings freedom from trouble). To revere the majesty of Heaven so as to preserve the realm—this is like Gao Zong, who was solemn and reverent, never slackening in awe. From this it is clear that the principle—that what people fear cannot but be feared—is entirely evident.

“How vast—it has no end!”: Huang means broad and distant without limit; yang means end. It means vast and boundless, without exhaustion.

Commentary by Emperor Huizong of Song: The changes and upheavals of the world are numerous and intertwined, difficult to govern, difficult to bring to final exhaustion, and without end. This is because good and evil have not yet been settled. Only the person of penetrating understanding can know that the myriad things can be unified as one.

The subcommentary says: The vastness of heaven and earth and the four directions, the multitude of the myriad things—all are bustling and chaotic, with countless threads and ramifications. Day after day they come surging before us in continuous succession, interwoven and crisscrossing, so numerous that there is no time to respond to them all. The transformations of worldly affairs are therefore tangled and complicated, difficult to govern. They are like a turning wheel, revolving in cycles, and like a saw pulled back and forth without cease, arriving in dense succession with no beginning or end in sight; thus they are difficult to exhaust, impossible to fathom, and have no limit at all. One side considers something right, and another side also considers it right; as for what is called good and evil, there is ultimately no settled conclusion. What people deem acceptable they call good, and what they deem unacceptable they call evil. Thus what they regard as “wrong” is precisely what they regard as “right,” and what they regard as “right” is not necessarily truly so. Although there is a distinction between “acceptable” and “unacceptable,” both merely arise within the sphere of this/that and right/wrong. How could they understand the wondrous and strange principle that “the Dao penetrates and makes all one” (from Zhuangzi’s “Qi Wu Lun,” meaning that from the height of the great Dao, the myriad things are originally one body)?

Only the penetrating person lets go of the clinging of the mind and turns the light back upon himself (“returning the light,” that is, turning inward to observe the mind). If one asks whether the thing called “that” really has a fixed substance—if it has no fixed substance, then nothing is not “that.” If one asks whether the thing called “this” really has a fixed substance—if it has no fixed substance, then nothing is not “this.” Since the myriad things have no distinction of “that” and “this,” one knows that all are penetrated and united as one. Beauty and ugliness, good and evil, acceptability and unacceptability—even if one wished to separate them out and do away with them, it cannot be done; why then argue and make distinctions among them?

The multitude are bustling and cheerful, as if enjoying a great tailao banquet (in antiquity, a feast with the three sacrificial animals—ox, sheep, and pig—was the most solemn), and as if ascending a high terrace in spring to gaze into the distance.

Huizong’s commentary says: All things are stretched open by yang qi and condensed by yin qi. “Bustling and cheerful” is the image of the myriad things flourishing and revealing themselves outwardly. The multitude have lost their inner tranquil nature and single-mindedly chase outward, busying themselves with external things: like craving fine flavors to nourish mouth and belly, or greedily gazing at gorgeous things to delight the mind. Those sunk in pleasure drift ever farther from the Dao.

The subcommentary says: Yin and Yang are the greatest categories within Qi. The Qi that the myriad things conceive and contain, ...

“I alone am cautious and reserved, before any sign has appeared, like an infant that has not yet smiled.”

These two lines come from chapter 20 of the Daodejing. “I alone am cautious and reserved” means that I am alone, appearing plain and detached, while inwardly calm and free of desire, as though I dare not readily reveal myself; “before any sign has appeared” means that desires and thoughts have not yet sprouted and show no trace. “Like an infant that has not yet smiled” is a metaphor: just as an infant cannot yet smile, its mind is pure and whole, without discrimination or calculating intent.

Huizong’s commentary (Song Huizong’s annotations to the Daodejing) cites the scriptural phrase “return to the infant” and Zhuangzi’s “not yet reaching infancy, whom would one begin with?” to explain that one who cultivates the Dao should settle his thoughts before they arise, treat close and distant alike, keep the mind quiet and stable, let harmonious Qi (vital energy) accumulate within, and not let its radiance show outwardly. This is why it says, “like an infant that has not yet smiled.”

When a person is first born, both body and spirit are pure, and the heart is empty and bright, without knowledge. This is precisely what Laozi means by “the constant De is not separated”—the eternal virtue is never lost. Thereafter a person can still “return to the infant” and go back to that state of pure genuineness. In childhood, feelings of closeness and affection begin to stir. Zhuangzi says that “an infant can speak at five months,” but it has not yet reached the age of distinguishing you from me; this is the situation he is describing.

Just because the infant is without knowledge, it does not know what to do when dwelling and does not know where to go when walking. Desires and thoughts have not yet sprouted, so there is nothing to long for. It regards those close and those distant alike, without discrimination or preference. When the heart-Qi is quiet and unmoving, the breath is harmonious and smooth, not agitated; the original nature is pure and thick and has not scattered or been lost. The harmonious Qi is stored within, and its radiance is not displayed outwardly. Thus it follows its nature spontaneously and does not rely on human-made adornment, so it is like an infant that has not yet learned to smile.

What is called “po” means that the mind is not dragged along by external things. When the mind is not dragged along, it is calm and without attachment, embracing the fundamental One and preserving the true nature—how is it different from an infant that has not yet smiled? Laozi established his teaching in the world because he wanted the common people to return to the state of the infant. Thus, when speaking of “concentrating the Qi and attaining suppleness,” he says, “Can one be like an infant?” and when speaking of “the thickness of containing De,” he says, “one may be compared to the newborn child.” Although the words differ, the intention of hoping that people will cultivate their nature and return to the mysterious De is the same. When De is cultivated to the point of being the same as at the beginning, the principle returns to Unity.

As for the line “Chengcheng xi, as if there were nowhere to return,” Emperor Huizong of the Song comments: The Yijing says, “At the proper time, ride the six dragons to harness Heaven.” “Chengcheng” means following the times and relying on the principles of things, without clinging to one side; therefore it appears as if there is no fixed destination.

The transformations of the myriad things are complex, chaotic, and uneven; one can only respond by following each transformation as it comes, without fixating on any one side and without calculating gain or loss. Only this can be called "chengcheng," that is, riding along in accord with the principles of things. The Yijing says, "At the proper time, ride the six dragons to govern heaven," meaning to govern the Dao of Heaven in accord with timing. The dragon moves according to the time; this says that the changes of the Qian Dao (the vigorous movement of the Dao of Heaven) consist in according with the temporal situation. To accord with the temporal situation is to walk according to the principles inherent in things themselves—where is there still need for human effort to steer them? Therefore one who understands "chengcheng" relies on the Dao and has no attachments, follows the principles of things without violating them, accords with the naturalness of the myriad things, and does not cling to one side; thus such a person appears to have no place of refuge. This is the same meaning as "the myriad things are all encompassed, and none is sufficient as a place of return."

"The multitude all have a surplus."

Emperor Huizong of Song (a Northern Song emperor who once wrote an imperial commentary on the Daodejing) explained: Someone asked what "the multitude" means, and he replied: People generate greed because of wealth and honor. Those who crave fine food and pursue profit let the mind of luxury and indulgence prevail, while the resolve for restraint and moderation becomes very weak; thus they all have a surplus. In the Dao this is called "yushi zhuixing," surplus food and superfluous conduct—that is, excess food and excess behavior.

The subcommentary says: The sage values the Dao and makes light of salary; the multitude make light of the Dao and value salary. The sage would ask: Is it for cultivating practice and seeking the Dao? The multitude would answer: Is it for increasing salary? Yang Xiong (a Western Han scholar), wishing to remedy the ills of his time, therefore imagined someone posing a question and had "the multitude" answer, "It is for wealth and honor that they live." Could the prosperity of Jin and Chu, obtained through profit, compare with preserving one's own original truth? Could the honor of Zhao Meng (a chief minister of Jin in the Spring and Autumn period), obtained through rank, compare with preserving the goodness within one's heart? It is only because the multitude see external things but not the Dao that they take life as a means for indulging desires and the pursuit of profit as a path for satisfying desires. The mind of extravagance prevails, the wind of waste increases, the resolve for frugality and restraint is weak, and few discipline themselves; thus they all have a surplus, yet they do not know that in the Dao this is called "yushi zhuixing." Where the Dao is, deep richness is taken as the root and simplicity as the standard. Unrestrained sexual desire and lewd intentions are, in food and drink, a surplus, and in conduct, a burden; this is called "daokua" (stealing empty display), and it is not in accord with the Dao.

"I alone seem to have lost everything."

This means: the person who has the Dao alone seems as if he has abandoned everything, dwells plainly and guards himself, and does not seek surplus things.

Emperor Huizong of Song (a Northern Song emperor, self-styled “Sovereign of the Teaching and Lord of the Dao”) comments: “His merit and achievements cover all under heaven, yet they seem not to have been accomplished by himself.” The Subcommentary explains: The sage benefits all under heaven with Dao (the character in the original is difficult to identify; following the sense, it is understood as “bestows”) and transforms and nurtures the myriad things, yet does not regard himself as possessing grace or righteousness; his blessings extend to ten thousand generations, yet he does not claim benevolence as his own; he covers and supports heaven and earth and carves out the forms of the myriad things, yet does not call himself skillful—from the beginning he has never taken these as his own merit. The Inner Chapters of Zhuangzi, discussing the governance of an enlightened ruler, say, “His merit covers all under heaven, yet it seems not to be his own doing,” and regard this as “roaming in Non-being.” “Non-being” is precisely the mysterious functioning of Dao. The sage responds to the myriad things of the world with the utmost empty Dao; the imperial merit he accomplishes is merely a secondary matter—how could he cling to it, regard it as his own merit, and claim it for himself? Conversely, to take merit as one’s own is, in conduct, superfluous; this is called “robbery and boasting” (stealing empty reputation and boasting of merit), and it is not in accord with Dao.

Laozi says, “I alone seem to be left out,” meaning that he alone seems forgotten by the world and does not follow the anxious striving of ordinary people.

Laozi also says, “I have the mind of a fool—pure and simple!” sighing that he has a fool’s mind, honest and uncluttered.

Emperor Huizong’s commentary quotes Confucius: “When I spoke with Hui all day, he never contradicted me, as if stupid.” (Confucius discussed Dao with Yan Hui all day; Yan Hui never disagreed and seemed stupid.) “Pure and simple” means that natural cleverness and calculating intellect are not displayed, and yet one silently accords with Dao—this is called “great wisdom.”

The Subcommentary says: The gentleman’s abundant virtue, with an appearance that seems stupid—this probably refers to Yan Hui. Observing his mind of understanding, he seems quite dull; yet his natural cleverness and calculating intellect are not displayed, and he silently accords with Dao—this is called “great wisdom.”

The noble person possesses abundant De (virtue/power), yet outwardly appears dull and simple—this probably refers to Yan Hui. Confucius once observed that Yan Hui had comprehended “Xinzhai” (heart fasting: the cultivation of eliminating distracting thoughts and single-mindedly guarding the mind) and had also entered the subtle and wondrous state of “Zuowang” (sitting in forgetfulness: forgetting bodily form and mental knowing and becoming one with the Dao (the Way)). He therefore sighed: “I talked with Yan Hui all day long, and he never once contradicted me; he seemed very foolish.” This is what is meant by “his countenance seeming foolish.”

The original truth of human nature is clear and calm, and it constantly abides within the mind. It is silent and Wuwei (non-action), not letting scheming mind show outwardly; it is empty, still, tranquil, and bland, silently in accord with the Dao. Therefore, only when the inner mind is pure and complete can one suddenly become transparent and penetrating, illuminating the single principle; such wisdom is exceedingly vast.

Xunzi said: “One who lacks deep and hidden aspirations will not have luminous wisdom; one who lacks a deeply immersed and single-minded undertaking will not have illustrious achievements.” This is exactly the principle being stated. From this we can see that Yan Hui’s pure and undefiled heart—how could it truly be foolish? It was precisely because he removed petty cleverness that great wisdom became manifest.

Laozi said: “Worldly people are all bright and clear; I alone am dim and obscure. Worldly people are all shrewd and calculating; I alone am muddled and confused.”

Emperor Huizong of Song commented: To follow the world and take superficial clarity as discernment makes discernment very narrow; to take petty discrimination as wisdom makes wisdom fall into strained cleverness. If one can discard external things and distance oneself from worldly disturbances, standing proudly independent of worldly habits, then although one seems dim, one is in fact inwardly guarded; although one seems slow, one is in fact sharp. How could worldly people glimpse his depths?

This passage first discusses the highest realm of illumination and wisdom. To conceal one’s radiance and not let it show is the highest illumination; to accord with nature and not contrive deliberately is true wisdom. Worldly people have shallow understanding and drift with the current as they cultivate their original nature. They take outward cleverness for understanding, but such understanding is narrow and does not amount to “the utmost illumination”; they take petty, meticulous analysis for wisdom, but such wisdom is stiff and contrived and does not amount to “true wisdom.”

Those who embody the Dao—meaning those whose cultivation has reached union with the Dao—are different. Their realm is subtle and profound, mysteriously penetrating, unfathomably deep. They transcend external things without being entangled by them, stand apart from worldly people without being seduced by them, and stand out independently amid conventional customs. They seem as if present yet absent, as if they have lost something, yet in truth they truly exist, just as Laozi says, “Deep and still, it seems perhaps to exist.” They appear dull, but because they do not reveal their edge, they later appear all the sharper; the phrases quoted in the original—“obscure as if blunt, yet sharp” and “the more blunt, the sharper afterward”—express precisely this meaning. Their traces are obliterated without a mark, their workings are hidden and unmanifest, profound and darkly mysterious—how could worldly people glimpse them? Mencius says: “What the noble person does, ordinary people do not understand to begin with.”

“Calm and tranquil, as if it were the sea.” Emperor Huizong of Song, who wrote a commentary on the Daodejing, comments: The Dao is deep and serene; its original nature is stable—this is the integral whole of the Dao. The subcommentary further explains: The Dao is deep, still, clear, and quiet; inwardly it remains secure, outwardly it is not shaken. “Calm and tranquil, as if it were the sea” is precisely the state of the Dao as a whole. Although the substance of the Dao cannot be seen, it can be apprehended through the sea: seawater does not shift or change with the passage of long time, nor advance or retreat, increase or decrease according to the amount of water. What the ancients called the “great body” is probably just this.

“Blowing swiftly, as if it had nowhere to rest.” Huizong comments: The Dao moves and changes without cease and does not cling to one place—this is the function of the Dao.

The sub-commentary says: When Dao operates, the more it moves, the more it manifests, and its power of operation is never exhausted. It changes and moves without cease, does not remain fixed on any single thing, and does not stagnate in things. That state of “Liao xi” (the sound of wind, high, vast, and empty), which seems to have no limit, is precisely the wondrous function of Dao. Although the operation of Dao cannot be seen, it may be perceived in the wind that shakes down grasses and trees: the wind stirs the myriad things, yet one cannot see the process by which it drives them; it howls through the ten thousand apertures, yet one cannot measure the effect of its brushing. This wondrous function of utmost emptiness and formlessness is in fact similar to the wind.

“The multitude all have what they can use; I alone am dull and rustic.”

Emperor Huizong of Song (emperor of the Northern Song) comments: The cassia tree can be eaten, and so it is cut down; the lacquer tree can be used, and so it is tapped. People of the world know only the use of the useful, but do not know the use of the useless. “The multitude all have their uses” speaks of the use of the useful; “I alone am dull and rustic” speaks of the use of the useless. The Traditions say: When the mind does not take De (Virtue/Power) and righteousness as its standard, this is “dull.” In ancient times the capital was called “fine,” and the countryside was called “rustic.” The “dull” do not display cleverness; the “rustic” do not reveal splendor. The spirit-man therefore places himself in “uselessness”—being unfit for use, and thereby preserved.

Laozi’s way of conducting oneself in the world takes “uselessness” as the highest usefulness. The cassia tree’s fruit can be eaten, so the tree is felled; the lacquer tree can yield lacquer, so it is tapped. These are harms brought about by being “useful,” and they belong to “the use of the useful.” People of the world all know how to display their intelligence and boast of their abilities, taking this to be usefulness, but they do not understand “fragmenting one’s De (Virtue/Power)”—that is, forgetting and letting go of one’s virtue and talents. This alone is “the use of the useless.”

The multitude each have something on which they rely and something they do; this is “the use of the useful,” and because they are useful they are burdened. Only “I” seem foolish and rustic: because I do not reveal cleverness, I am called “dull”; because I do not seek adornment, I am called “rustic.” (The “dull” here is the “dull” of “dull and stubborn”; the “rustic” here is the “rustic” of “capital and outlying districts.”) The spiritual man regards such a person as “not becoming timber,” yet precisely because he does not become timber he is not felled; he is, rather, truly great timber. From this one can see that the function of the useless is true usefulness.

In “In the Human World,” Zhuangzi first tells of the shrine tree at Quyuan and the great tree at Shangqiu, and concludes with the cassia being felled because it can be eaten and the lacquer tree being tapped because it can be used, thereby showing that the use of the useless and the use of the useful are completely different. Therefore, one who travels through the human world, even if he shares auspicious and inauspicious fortune, calamity and blessing with others, cannot fail to understand this principle.

“I alone differ from others, and I value seeking food from the mother”: I alone differ from the multitude, and my value lies in seeking nourishment from the “mother”—that is, the Dao (the Way). Emperor Huizong of the Song dynasty commented: An infant clings to its mother as a foal or calf does, seeking only its mother’s milk with single-minded devotion; this is exactly what it means to seek only from the Dao. The Dao gives birth to and nurtures the myriad things; it accumulates, increases, and transforms them; all things depend on it, and it has a mother’s affection. Seeking only from the Dao, one will not, like ordinary people, be deluded by the world and lose one’s original nature.

The subcommentary says: The Dao operates within the myriad things; it is good at giving and bringing all things to completion, covering and nurturing them, encompassing all without exception, and so it can serve as the mother of the world. Among all things that possess the breath of life and bodily form, how could any be separated from the Dao? Yang Xiong says in the “Asking about the Dao” chapter that an infant loves colts and calves and follows them; this illustrates that all things rely solely on the Dao to seek their own nature, and that this arises from spontaneity, not from anyone driving them. The Heavenly Dao generates the myriad things from emptiness and stillness: it lets all things grow and fulfill their natures; it stores and nourishes them so that they receive full sustenance; it helps them develop so that they become full. All things rely on the Dao and are not lacking—how is this different from an infant nestling in its mother’s embrace? All things are born from the Dao, and so the Dao is the mother and things are the children. The scripture says, “The named is the mother of all things,” and again, “The world has a beginning, which is taken as the mother of the world”; from this it is clear that the Dao carries the meaning of mother.

People in the world not only fail to attain this “mother” but also fail to guard it; they abandon the real and pursue the illusory, and so the Dao becomes ever more distant. Therefore the ancients had the saying “raising a pole to seek it in the sea” (meaning to take a bamboo pole and search in the sea, a metaphor for a completely wrong direction and futile effort). As for those who seek only the Dao, they are probably different from those in the world who have lost their original nature.

The manifestation of great De (Virtue/Power) follows only the Dao.

“Kong” means great, and “rong” refers to the outward appearance that is manifested. The manifestation of great De simply follows the Dao.

Emperor Huizong of the Song explains in his commentary: The alternation of one Yin and one Yang is called the Dao; the generation and completion of the myriad things is called De. The Dao originally has no name—how could it be described by form or appearance? Therefore one can only borrow the function of De to reveal the marvel of the Dao. De has concrete form; when it is identical with the Dao, each thing attains its proper place, and in this way the Dao is made manifest. Cultivating one’s original nature and returning to De, causing De to recover to the same condition as at the beginning—therefore it says, “It follows only the Dao.”

The sub-commentary says: What establishes the Dao of Heaven is Yin and Yang. The alternating operation of one Yin and one Yang is the Dao. The Dao gives birth to and nurtures the myriad things but does not claim them as its own; this is called “mysterious De” (profound and subtle virtue). The myriad things thereby grow and develop—this is De. The Dao is hidden, subtle, and nameless, without visible form, so it cannot be reached by words or description; De, however, has a definite form, and all living beings possess it, so it is what humans and the myriad things obtain in common. Yet De is at once contained within the Dao: the Dao is the root by which De becomes manifest and subtle, so the nameless Dao can make its De wondrous; the Dao disperses and becomes De, and De is used to illuminate the Dao’s hidden depth, so De with form can cause the Dao to appear. Cultivating one’s nature and returning to De, returning to the starting point of “the One,” De becomes identical with the original beginning; returning to the nameless realm of “Taichu” (the Great Beginning, the most primordial state before the cosmos divided), De then merges indistinguishably with the Dao as one—this is the reason for “only the Dao is followed.”

As for this thing called the Dao, it is elusive and indistinct.

Emperor Huizong’s commentary says: The substance of the Dao is utterly empty and void, while its function is “wondrous existence” (miaoyou); it transforms and generates the myriad things, and of the myriad things none is not the Dao. “Huang” means that it has images that can be vaguely seen; “hu” means that it has patterns that can be traced. What is called “existence” appears close to “nonexistence”; hence the phrase “As a thing, the Dao…”

The sub-commentary says: The Dao has substance and function. When speaking of the Dao’s substance, its meaning is the same as that of “elusive and indistinct” above: the Dao’s images can be vaguely seen, and its patterns can be traced; it appears to exist, but in reality it is close to nonexistence.

The subcommentary says: Dao has two aspects, “substance” (ti) and “function” (yong). Considered in terms of its substance, before any concrete thing has yet emerged, it is called “ultimate nonbeing” (zhi wu). Considered in terms of its function, it accords with the myriad things and changes inexhaustibly, and this is called “wondrous being” (miao you). Ultimate nonbeing, when it manifests, is wondrous being; the concrete existence of wondrous being is “thing.” Wondrous being comes forth from ultimate nonbeing; therefore, among the myriad things there is not one that is not an embodiment of Dao.

As a “thing,” Dao is huanghu—as if present and as if absent, difficult to grasp—and yet it can be seen. “Huang” has no fixed form and can be apprehended only by the mind; therefore it has an observable “image” (xiang). “Hu” is the beginning of “number” (shu), from which the various numbers grow; therefore it has a calculable “number.” Huang and hu are as if present and as if absent: if one says they exist, one is led to suspect that they are nonexistent. The subtle signs of Dao are probably like this.

The original text of the Daodejing says: “Within the huanghu, there are images; within the huanghu, there are things.”

Emperor Huizong’s commentary says: What can be seen is called an “image”; what has bodily form is called a “thing.” Within huanghu, both images and things are already present, just as the great void transforms into thunder and wind, and the great earth transforms into water and fire, thereby completing transformation and setting ghosts and spirits in motion—this is the subtlety of Dao.

The subcommentary continues: Images arise only after the myriad things have been generated. An image is the manifestation of an omen of good or ill fortune; therefore what becomes visible is called an image. The four seasons of spring, summer, autumn, and winter diffuse Jing and Qi and transform them into the myriad things; the myriad things are constrained by bodily form; therefore what has form is called a thing. Both images and things emerge from within huanghu, like wind sweeping a thousand mountains or thunder shaking the sky, transforming within the great void; water by nature flows downward and moistens, fire by nature flames upward and burns, transforming upon the great earth. This is “completing transformation”: insects pass in and out among grasses and trees, and both life and death depend on it for their completion. This is “setting ghosts and spirits in motion”: from the formed to the formless, from the intentional to the unintentional, none fails to depend on it for its operation. The subtlety of Dao can be seen precisely here.

The original text of the Daodejing says: “Deep and dark! Within it there is Jing.”

Emperor Huizong’s commentary says: “Yao” is darkness at its utmost; “ming” is the storehouse of light. Within yao and ming is the source of extreme Yin; the Qi of Tianyi—the primordial Qi, the beginning of the myriad things—here manifests its signs, and from this the subtle substance is born.

The subcommentary says: What is deeply hidden within a cave and difficult to see is called “yao”; thus yao is obscurity taken to its utmost. When the sun withdraws its light and the sky grows dark, this is called “ming”; thus ming is the place where light is stored away. Beyond the fullest brightness lies the source of ultimate Yang; then within yao and ming lies the source of ultimate Yin. The position of ultimate Yin corresponds to the north. Tianyi (Heavenly One—the beginning of water in the north and the first of the generative numbers) generates water in the north; in the human body it becomes “Jing (essence).” Therefore within yao and ming there is Jing.

Emperor Huizong’s commentary says: Jing is the highest of heavenly De (Virtue/Power). It is upright and not false, so it is said to be “very true”; it is single and unchanging, so it is said to “have trustworthiness.” It is consistent from beginning to end and never interrupted, so its name never disappears.

The subcommentary explains further: Jing is generated by the One; Heaven becomes clear because it obtains the One, and so Jing is the utmost of heavenly De. In the Qian hexagram of the Yi [Book of Changes], seven virtues of Qian are discussed, among which is “pure and refined—this is Jing”; from this one can see that Jing belongs to heavenly De. Jing can fully preserve one’s nature without adulteration—this is “upright and not false”; is it not supremely true? Jing arises in dependence on the One; before it has taken form, there is already differentiation—this is “one and unchanging”; is it not “having trustworthiness”? If so, the beginning and end of the ten thousand things are all like this; and the Jing and Qi (vital energy) of the One penetrate through them, never interrupted—this is why its name does not disappear.

The last two lines say: By this principle one observes the original beginning of the ten thousand things. How do I know that the ten thousand things are all like this? By this principle.

Subcommentary and Exposition on the True Scripture of the Dao (the Way) and De (Virtue/Power)

(The True Scripture of the Dao and De is the Daodejing, attributed to Laozi.)

Emperor Huizong of Song (Zhao Ji, who wrote a commentary on the Daodejing) comments: The transformations of the myriad things flow on without cease, while the most refined and subtle truth (referring to the Dao) endures eternally and never disappears. The sage values refinement and subtlety, and therefore can observe the transformations of the myriad things and understand their causes. He has no deliberate thought, yet his mind is inwardly still; he has no deliberate action, yet he does not move rashly. But once there is a response, he can penetrate the causes of all affairs under Heaven. Thereupon thought arises from this, and the traces of achievement also become manifest. If he were not the most refined and subtle person under Heaven, who could accomplish this?

The subcommentary says: The wondrous transforms into the foul, and the foul transforms into the wondrous; therefore the transformations of the myriad things flow without cease. The pure and unified subtle Qi (vital energy) accords with the natural order of the Heavenly Dao; therefore “the truth of ultimate refinement” can endure and never vanish. Because the sage values refinement and subtlety, he can grasp the principle whose name endures from antiquity to the present. As for the increase and decrease, waxing and waning, and ending and beginning again of things, the sage can comprehend their great meaning and analyze the principles of the myriad things. Thus he can observe the transformations of the myriad things without deliberately inquiring into why they are so, and naturally understands them. By this the sage cleanses his heart-mind, and so is constantly without thought and still; concealed in the deep and secret (a phrase from the Zhouyi, the Book of Changes), he is constantly in Wuwei (non-action) and does not move rashly. When there is a response, he penetrates the principles of all affairs under Heaven. Those of old who were “without thought” could not but think; those of old who were “without action” could not but act. Thought arises from no-thought, and action arises from Wuwei; thus the traces of lofty achievements and abundant enterprises become visible. If he were not the most refined and subtle person under Heaven, who could accomplish this? This section first discusses the virtue of ultimate refinement and concludes by discussing the ability to know why the myriad things are as they are; it is precisely showing that the two have a causal connection.

Daodejing, Chapter 22: “To Bend Is to Be Whole”

The meaning of “To bend is to be whole” is: by yielding and withdrawing, one instead preserves oneself.

Emperor Huizong of Song comments: Being able to bend and stretch with external things and to rise and fall together with the myriad things, one can therefore preserve body and life without injury. Zhuangzi says: One who is outwardly bent and compliant is of the same kind as the people of the world.

To Bend Is to Be Preserved Whole

The subcommentary says: Softening one’s light without display, sharing the dust without marking oneself as different, merging indistinguishably with the ten thousand things, and following external things in winding and stretching—this seems to be bending and compromise, yet it can preserve oneself. First comply with external things and place oneself behind; then oneself can survive. Regard fame and profit outside the body lightly, and the body can be preserved. If one can bend in this way, body and life will not be damaged. Zhuangzi takes “winding along with things (following external things and stretching and bending with ease), sharing their waves and currents” as the constant method of nourishing life, and also says, “the outwardly bent are companions of others,” meaning that only by outward bending does one not violate human feelings. Is this not “to bend is to be preserved whole”?

To Be Bent Is to Be Straight

Emperor Huizong (Zhao Ji of the Song, who once commented on the Daode Zhenjing) notes: Being neglected and left at ease without resentment, trapped in hardship without self-pity—thus the inner mind remains upright and does not lose its correctness. The Yijing says: “The inchworm (a crawling insect that first bends its body and then extends it) bends in order to stretch forth.”

The subcommentary says: When neglected and left at ease, one should resent it but does not; when trapped in hardship, one should feel pitiable but does not regard it as suffering. This seems to be bending and being wronged, but not taking deliberate exposure of others as straightness is how true straightness is preserved. If attacking others is taken as uprightness, it instead harms the Way and rightness. This kind of bending and being wronged is precisely what is called “straightening what is correct.” The inchworm first bends its body before it can stretch forward; bending is precisely for seeking extension. Is this not “to be bent is to be straight”?

The Lowly Are Filled

Huizong’s commentary says: Not hoarding, therefore having surplus.

The subcommentary says: Hiding a mountain in a marsh or a boat in a valley, in a blink it is lost; storing grain in granaries or holding water in vessels, it is also easily exhausted. Only when one can circulate without accumulating and stagnating will use be more than sufficient. Zhuangzi’s statement “there is no storing, and therefore there is surplus” is exactly this principle. From the pattern of all things, low-lying hollows become full; the principle is obvious.

The Worn-Out Is Renewed

Huizong’s commentary says: If winter’s closing and storing is not firm, spring’s growth will not be luxuriant.

Brief explanation: Only when winter’s closing and storing is firm can vitality burst forth in the coming spring. This illustrates the principle: only after some gathering, storing, and restraint can there be renewal and growth afterward.

Surplus and the Old and the New: The Daode zhenjing shuyi in the Daozang says that when Zhuangzi speaks of “no storing,” he means not hoarding and not keeping things privately, so that goods circulate and only then is there surplus. This principle can be seen in the ordinary order of things: low-lying places are certain to be filled with water. That what is old becomes new follows the same principle. Emperor Huizong of Song (Zhao Ji) comments that if winter’s closing and storing is not firm, spring’s growth will not be abundant. The subcommentary further says that only by returning to the root can the myriad things flourish in abundance; only with the austere killing of autumn and winter can plants bloom and prosper in spring. Only when winter’s gathering and storing is firm is spring’s growth certain to flourish. From the movement of the four seasons one can understand: when things grow old, they renew.

Less Is Gain, More Is Confusion: Huizong’s commentary says that the essential purport of the great Dao is concise and to the point and does not require prolixity. The more one sees and hears, the better it is to gather what one has obtained and return it to the One. If one takes branches and minor streams as the guiding principle, one will never comprehend it to the end of life; this is what is called “great confusion.” The subcommentary continues: Dao is originally only one, and so its essential purport is not complicated. Those of broad hearing should guard it with simplicity; those of broad seeing should guard it with singleness. Only when one’s seeing and hearing are broad and yet one can return to simplicity can one truly gain something of the Dao. Those who argue and dispute cling to branches; the more words they have, the more their reasoning is exhausted, and they cannot avoid being entangled by trivial matters. The “greatly confused” who never awaken throughout life are probably people of this sort. Zhuangzi also says, “The Dao does not delight in clutter”; the meaning is the same.

Embracing the One as the Model: The scripture says the sage “embraces the One and becomes the model for the world.” “One” refers to the integrity and undivided focus of the great Dao. Huizong’s commentary says that the function of Dao is pure and undivided, and so its wondrous power in generating and nourishing the myriad things cannot be measured. Only the world’s most refined Dao can become the world’s most spiritual Dao. The sage holds fast to this “One” and does not waver in his own purity and refinement; therefore his words can become standards for the world, and his actions can become laws for the world.

First Passage: On Utmost Sincerity and Transforming Nurture

Only the most sincere person under Heaven can fully realize the natures of all things. Being able to fully realize the natures of all things, he can assist Heaven and Earth in transforming and nurturing all things and form a triad with Heaven and Earth. The Dao (the Way) that he embodies is pure and undivided; this is “sincerity.” He gives life to and nourishes all things, and their transformations cannot be fathomed; this is what is meant by “assisting the transforming and nurturing of Heaven and Earth.”

Only single-mindedness can preserve Jing (essence) and Qi (vital energy); only when Jing and Qi are pure can Shen (spirit) be concentrated. What, then, does “the One” mean? It is the first incipient stirring of sincerity (cheng ji). With single-mindedness, Jing and Qi flow freely, and Shen is stable and naturally complete. Only when Jing and Qi are present does Shen follow.

Only the purest person under Heaven can attain the most profound and mysterious spiritual realm under Heaven. This is simply embracing and guarding “the One”; the cultivation of the sage is entirely contained in this. Single-minded and unchanging, guarding it without loss, Jing and Qi are preserved within and do not waver. In this way, Shen can penetrate in all directions and connect above and below, transforming and nurturing all things, yet it cannot be described by concrete forms.

When he has no choice but to speak, his words become written text, and all under Heaven follow them together; when he has no choice but to act, his actions become De (Virtue/Power), and all under Heaven take them as their model. As the Book of Rites says, “When he speaks, his words serve as the Dao for the world; when he acts, his actions serve as the norm for the world.” This probably refers to one who can serve as a model for all under Heaven.

Second Passage: On “Not Displaying Oneself” and “Not Affirming Oneself”

This is a passage from Chapter 22 of the Daodejing. “He does not display himself; therefore he is clear”: not relying on his own prejudiced views, he can see clearly. The commentary by Emperor Huizong of Song (Zhao Ji, the Daoist Sovereign Emperor) says: If one is not obscured by personal views, there is nothing that one does not illumine; therefore one is clear.

The Shuyi (subcommentary) further explains: Opening the eyes wide and listening to all four directions, with no obstruction to sight and hearing, one can illumine the infinite and understand the actual conditions of human feelings. Only when not obscured by personal views can one illumine all things and thereby attain clarity.

“He does not affirm himself; therefore he is distinguished”: not obstinately insisting on being right, he becomes manifest. Emperor Huizong’s commentary says: Not clinging obstinately to what one considers right, but following only the true principle, one’s achievements become great and one’s reputation illustrious; all under Heaven trust and submit, therefore one is distinguished.

This passage is an explanation of the Daodejing’s statement “He does not boast of himself, and therefore has merit; he does not display himself, and therefore endures; it is precisely because he does not contend that no one in the world can contend with him.” It discusses the principle of humility and yielding, of not claiming credit and not praising oneself.

“Consult the multitude and set aside oneself to follow others” means that when handling matters one should broadly listen to the opinions of others, put down one’s own preconceptions, and comply with correct propositions. Only by not stubbornly clinging to one’s own views can good words be taken to heart. Only in this way can one establish illustrious achievements and bring peace to the many states. If one merely insists on one’s own opinion and refuses to adopt others’ suggestions, one’s achievements and reputation cannot become manifest, and the people of the world will not be sincerely convinced.

“He does not boast of himself, and therefore has merit” means that by not glorifying oneself, one’s achievements can instead be preserved. The Shangshu (Book of Documents, an ancient historical text and one of the Confucian classics) says: “If you merely do not boast, no one in the world can contend with you for merit.” The scripture says, “Those who boast of themselves have no merit.” The Shangshu also says: “To claim good conduct for oneself is instead to lose the name of goodness.” If one can refrain from boasting of one’s achievements, others will not contend with one, and the achievements will not be lost. This is the meaning of Shun’s warning to Yu: “It is only because you do not boast that no one in the world contends with you for merit.”

“He does not display himself, and therefore endures” means that by not flaunting one’s abilities, one’s position and achievements can instead last long. The Shangshu says: “If you merely do not display yourself, no one in the world can contend with you for ability.” The scripture says, “Those who display themselves cannot endure.” The Shangshu also says: “To flaunt one’s ability is to lose one’s merit.” If one does not flaunt one’s ability, others will not contend with one, and the common people will instead acclaim one as capable.

“It is precisely because he does not contend that no one in the world can contend with him.” The commentary of Emperor Huizong of Song (a Northern Song emperor, a devout Daoist who once annotated the Daodejing) says: The people of the world all vie to be first, but he is content to place himself behind; he is willing to bear the world’s disgrace (gou). A person like this constantly dwells in a state of non-contention—who then can contend with him?

The subcommentary says: People of the world esteem strength and do not value De; with their whole hearts they wish to surpass others, and so everyone contends to stand in front. The sage, however, does not dare to place himself ahead of the world but puts himself behind, and thus willingly remains in the rear. By willingly remaining in the rear, one can understand the principle of “knowing the white and keeping to the black; knowing honor and keeping to disgrace”: one understands brightness yet willingly guards obscurity; one understands honor yet willingly guards humiliation. To regard honor and disgrace as equal and not weary one’s mind in pursuit of a good name for oneself—this is called “bearing the world’s dirt and disgrace.” One who can do this manifests externally softness, weakness, humility, and lowliness, while inwardly takes emptiness and harmlessness toward the myriad things as substance. Dwelling in the place of non-contention, he accumulates countless small “failures to win” and thereby achieves the greatest “winning.” Dwelling long in the place of non-contention, who among the myriad things can contend with him?

Could the ancient saying “Bending leads to wholeness” be an empty word? Only one who can preserve himself whole can return to the Dao—the fundamental principle of all things.

Emperor Huizong’s commentary says—Emperor Huizong of the Song, Zhao Ji, also wrote a commentary on the Daodejing: The sage’s movements are like water: he interacts with the myriad things without damaging his own integrity; his responses are like the inkline: he follows the pattern of things without losing his uprightness. Knowing that the low-lying can be filled, he has no entanglement with loftiness and self-satisfaction; knowing that the worn-out can be renewed, he leaves no trace of boasting. Acting naturally in accordance with original nature as if unaware of what he is doing—this is the utmost of “bending and accommodating in order to seek wholeness.” Therefore he can preserve his original truth and return to the source; he can preserve his body and also live out his natural lifespan, without feeling that life has already been exhausted. This is what is called “a person of complete De.” Could “Bending leads to wholeness” be an empty word?

Water changes according to the shape of the vessel, and among the myriad things none can contend with it. The sage’s actions and dealings with things are also like water; therefore he can accord with all things and preserve his own integrity and vitality. This is what is meant by “acting like water in contact with external things without diminishing one’s own integrity.”

A rope is twisted together from many fine threads, yet its grain is originally straight. The sage’s response to things is likewise: he can follow the bends of things while the upright nature remains within. This is what is meant by “responding like a rope, complying with the pattern of things without losing one’s uprightness.”

One who understands the principle that “the low-lying place can instead be filled” (Laozi says, “The lowly are filled,” and “Great fullness seems empty”—the fullest appears empty) will keep to humility; where then could the burden of arrogance and self-satisfaction remain? One who understands the principle that “worn and old things can instead be renewed” will withdraw his radiance and blend with the dust, never glorifying himself; where then could traces of display remain?

These are not forced practices undertaken because one knows the advantages of bending, being wronged, being low, or being worn; rather, they are spontaneous actions following one’s nature, without inquiring into the reasons. One simply empties the mind and responds to things, not contending with external things, and thereby rectifies one’s own bent places. Therefore, by preserving one’s true nature and returning to original authenticity, one can preserve the body without the worry of danger or uncertainty; one can live out one’s natural lifespan without the calamity of premature death; one can abide with Heaven and Earth, enduring without end. Such a person may be called a “person of complete De (Virtue/Power)”—a person whose virtue is fully realized. This is no empty saying.

Chapter Twenty-Three: “Xi Yan Ziran” (“Rare Words Are Natural”)

“Xi yan ziran.” Here “xi” refers to a state of standing transcendently independent above the myriad things, not setting oneself in opposition to them; it is what the Liezi calls “transcendent independence” (detached and independent, free from restraint). Removing the mind of cunning and old habitual tendencies, complying with Heavenly Principle, and not pursuing or scheming outwardly—this is why it is called “natural.”

The Daode Zhenjing Shuyi first cites the Daojing, “When listened to, it is not heard; this is called Xi,” and then cites the Dejing, “The Great Sound is faintly audible,” in order to explain the word Xi. Xi is not complete silence; it is a state of seeming presence and seeming absence, one that hearing cannot grasp, a condition that stands alone above the myriad things and does not stand in opposition to them. Liezi (a Daoist figure of the Warring States period, to whom the book Liezi is traditionally attributed) says, “That which does not arise seems solitary,” meaning that only an existence that does not change with birth and extinction comes close to being independent and without counterpart. Thus Xi can be understood as approximating “solitary.”

Therefore, the cultivator of the Dao must remove cleverness and artifice, abandon worldly schemes and preconceptions, harmonize his De (Virtue/Power) with the Heavenly Dao, follow the principle of Ziran (naturalness), stand firmly and dwell in his place, and not pursue or seek anything outward. This state cannot be achieved by external force, and so it is called Ziran, that is, being so of itself and not relying on external force.

It then cites the Daodejing: “A whirlwind does not last all morning; a sudden rainstorm does not last all day.” Who causes this? The answer is Heaven and Earth. Since Heaven and Earth cannot long sustain violent wind and rain, how much less can humans?

Emperor Huizong of the Song comments: Heaven and Earth transform and generate the myriad things. They use wind to scatter them, allowing each form to transform and nurture itself; they use rain to moisten them, allowing the myriad things to grow by themselves. Therefore Heaven and Earth do not add extra vitality or force completion, and the myriad things can each complete themselves between Heaven and Earth; thus they can endure. But with violent winds and sudden rains, Yin-Yang (the two mutually opposed Qi in Heaven and Earth, such as cold and heat, dryness and dampness) become disharmonious and disordered, and the myriad things are harmed by them; therefore they cannot last long.

Heaven bestows and spreads yang harmony, Earth generates and nurtures the myriad things, and all kinds of living beings breed and grow together. Yet what most agitates the myriad things is none other than the fierce wind, and what most moistens them is none other than rain. Thus, when wind stirs the myriad things and causes their forms to change, allowing them to generate and transform naturally, the myriad things can unfold and reach freely; when rain moistens the myriad things and lets them nourish themselves, the myriad things can flourish and grow strong. This is to follow nature, not to intentionally add to their growth; not to “pull up seedlings to help them grow” is also not to force them to completion. Therefore, as the myriad things generate and transform, take different forms and appearances, and all follow natural change—this is the principle by which they can endure. If the fierce wind turns into a shifting whirlwind, or torrential rain gathers into a sudden violent storm, then it is no longer the harmony of Yin-Yang (the two mutually harmonizing atmospheric forces of heaven and earth), but perverse harm. If people intentionally augment the myriad things and forcibly promote them, contrary to nature, the myriad things instead suffer harm—how could this endure?

Therefore, those who devote themselves to Dao (the Way, the fundamental pattern by which all things operate) become connected with Dao; those who devote themselves to De (Virtue/Power, the innate nature and function obtained from Dao and perfected in oneself) become connected with De; those who devote themselves to loss (the condition of deviating from Dao and De) become connected with loss. Those who are connected with Dao, Dao also accepts; those who are connected with De, De also accepts; those who are connected with loss, loss also accepts.

Emperor Huizong of Song (Zhao Ji) comments: If one can be without affairs, transcend all sounds and colors, awaken alone through one’s original nature, become one with Dao, and not contend with external things, how could there still be De to name or loss to entangle one? It is only because people do not understand the natural principle of self-transformation and self-nurturing that they instead regard Dao as difficult to know and difficult to practice, as if it were as unreachable as climbing to heaven; only then do they seek Dao with an exhausted mind and a toil-worn body. Some cling obstinately to one side, others confine themselves to one corner; and so Dao becomes fragmented, and the world splits along with it. As for the saying “Those who are with Dao are one with Dao; those who are with De are one with De; those who are with loss are one with loss,” if people cannot naturally obtain what they obtain, then what they obtain may precisely be loss.

One who can stand detached and independent above the ten thousand things and does not chase outward is what Laozi calls "Xi" (the rare and inaudible). Such a person does not rely on cleverness or cunning, but can silently realize the Dao amid soundlessness; alone, he hears the realm of "Harmony" (he), and so mystically merges with the Dao, and the ten thousand things cannot match him. When the Dao reaches this stage, there is neither decrease nor increase; how could one still name it, and how could there still be the burden of gain and loss? The muddled person cannot, like the morning sun shining forth, awaken completely and see the "Solitary" (du, the self-existent and independent reality), and therefore does not understand the principle that the ten thousand things each transform on their own and are naturally so.

The Dao is originally easy to know, yet no one in the world can know it, and so they regard it as hard to know; the Dao is originally easy to practice, yet no one in the world can do it, and so they regard it as hard to practice. Some seek the Dao in high and distant places, feeling that it is as unreachable as climbing to heaven, but they do not understand "the lower one goes, the more it is so" (mei xia yu kuang: the further downward and the more ordinary the place, the more the Dao manifests; from Zhuangzi's "Knowledge Travels North"), and they are unwilling to be confined to the high and distant. Thus, even if the mind is attached to something and ponders bitterly, or one has some skill and wears out body and form in engaging with the Dao, what can be attained?

Cultivating in this way is only one side with respect to the Dao and only one bend with respect to the ten thousand things; the complete face of the Dao is thereby split apart. People are born with a nature that transforms on its own and does not lose its nature because of external things. If one can engage with the Dao, that is what I call a person "independent above the ten thousand things," who then returns to compliance with the Dao. Even if in terms of Dao and De one merely descends from "Dao" to levels such as "De" and has some attainment, this is not true self-attainment; ultimately one still arrives at the same end as losing the Dao.

"Xin bu zu, you bu xin" (When trust is insufficient, there will be distrust): when belief is not firm enough, there will be people who do not believe.

Emperor Huizong of Song's commentary says: If there is trust, there is no delusion; without delusion, one can distinguish true from false. If one takes the Dao as true and things as false, that is insufficient trust, and so there will be disbelief. People such as Huishi and Han Fei originated from the Dao yet strayed far from it precisely because their faith was insufficient.

The subcommentary says: The scripture states, “I treat good people well, and I also treat not-good people well; this is the goodness of De (Virtue/Power). I treat people with trustworthiness, and I also treat untrustworthy people with trustworthiness; this is the trustworthiness of De.” Although the forms of the myriad things are all different, their essence is real. Only when one can treat the untrustworthy as one treats the trustworthy is there true trustworthiness. Only by understanding that Dao (the Way; the fundamental pattern of the universe and all things) does not go against the myriad things, by not taking Dao as the only true knowledge, and at the same time understanding that the myriad things are nothing other than manifestations of Dao, so as not to regard the myriad things as illusory, can one treat others with trustworthiness wherever one goes.

People whose trustworthiness is insufficient have given rise to deluded views, believing that Dao is real and the myriad things are illusory. They do not understand that the myriad things are originally one whole (the Great Whole); they themselves give rise to a discriminating mind, and therefore they have a mind of distrust toward others.

Hui Shi (a Warring States member of the School of Names, skilled in debate) and Han Fei (a Warring States Legalist who advocated the doctrine of xingming, that is, assessing subordinates by whether names correspond to realities) were like this. They could not use the real to encompass the illusory, confused the real with the illusory, and so drifted ever farther from Dao. Broadly speaking, this was all because their trustworthiness was insufficient.

Chapter 24

One who tiptoes does not stand; one who strides does not walk.

A person on tiptoe cannot stand steady; a person taking great strides cannot go far.

Emperor Huizong (Zhao Ji of the Song) comments: To stand on tiptoe in hopes of being steady, or to take great strides in hopes of going far, goes against the constant norm of things’ nature; yet to hope thereby for the body to be stable and comfortable is very difficult to achieve. If one follows De as one’s guide, then all who have feet can reach their destination.

Those who stand on tiptoe have bodies that are not upright and cannot stand firm; those who take great strides do not walk swiftly and cannot go far. If people wish to stand and move forward by lifting their feet and striding, they have not settled into tranquility and plainness or followed their own nature. To go against the constant pattern of one’s nature while wishing the body to be at ease is very difficult. Only one who knows how to follow his nature, to attain something naturally, and to take De (Virtue/Power) as his guide, without embellishment or contrivance and without opposing nature—only such a person, even if he has feet, can reach the place he wishes to go. Those with severed feet, such as Shushan Wuzhi and Wang Tai (figures in the Zhuangzi), because their De is sufficient, can reach anywhere.

Those who display themselves are not clear-sighted; those who consider themselves right are not distinguished; those who boast of themselves have no merit; those who are self-important cannot endure. Seen from the perspective of Dao (the Way), such conduct is like leftover food and superfluous action, and people detest it.

Emperor Huizong of Song (Zhao Ji) comments: “When one displays oneself, one’s wisdom is insufficient to encompass the myriad things, and so one is not clear-sighted; when one considers oneself right, one cannot be the same as the multitude, and so one is not distinguished. To possess good conduct but advertise oneself is to lose the substance of good conduct, and so one has no merit; to boast of one’s ability is to lose one’s accomplishment, and so one cannot endure. Where Dao is present, it takes profundity as its root and simplicity as its governing principle. To pursue extravagance and indulge one’s mind—how could that be Dao? Therefore, with respect to food it is surplus; with respect to conduct it is a burden.”

This passage first explains the harm of attachment to the self. If people cling only to their own views, they cannot see clearly when matters arise; their wisdom is insufficient to comprehend the myriad things, and therefore they are not enlightened. If people obstinately insist on their own notions of right and wrong, they cannot take in the words of others; their benevolence is insufficient to connect with the multitude, and therefore they are not manifest.

Thus, one who does not boast of himself—the world does not contend with him for merit. If one considers himself good, that goodness will instead be lost; what merit is there to speak of? One who does not pride himself—the world does not contend with him for ability. If one boasts of his ability, his achievements will instead be lost; what strength is there to speak of?

Only the sage is united with the Dao (the Way), takes profundity as his root, and withdraws to hide in obscure and subtle places; thus he attains the clarity of “not self-displaying.” He takes simplicity and restraint as his guiding principle and does not cling to expectations or lavish expenditure; thus he attains the manifest prominence of “not self-affirming.” He removes the attitude of arrogance and self-indulgence, so he has no arrogant expression and never boasts of himself. He removes extravagance, so he has no heart of licentious indulgence and never prides himself. This is precisely why the sage becomes ever more sage and enlightened. If one does not know to practice in this way, how can one be called one who has attained the Dao?

In terms of food and drink, eating too much is “surplus”; in terms of conduct, superfluous movements are “redundant.” These all belong to what is outside the “contract”—that is, external desires—and not to what is within the “contract”—that is, inner nature.

“All things may detest it; therefore one who possesses the Dao does not dwell there”: all things perhaps detest fullness, and so the Dao-possessor does not abide in a state of fullness.

Emperor Huizong of Song (a Northern Song emperor who also annotated the Daodejing) comments: To indulge one’s nature is to become full. This is what Heaven diminishes, Earth alters, and people detest; therefore the Dao-possessor does not place himself in it.

The subcommentary further explains: The Dao of Heaven diminishes fullness and increases humility; the Dao of Earth transforms fullness and flows toward humility; the Dao of Humanity detests fullness and delights in humility. If one takes one’s stand in an attitude of arrogance and aspirations of indulgence, this is to indulge one’s nature and make oneself full; naturally one will suffer Heaven’s diminution, Earth’s alteration, and people’s detestation. The sage is not like this; he constantly takes softness, weakness, and humility as his model. Those who do not understand that fullness inevitably invites trouble and who indulge their nature in pursuit of self-fullness are precisely in the condition that the Dao-possessor does not wish to dwell in.

Chapter Twenty-Five: There Is a Thing Formed in Chaos

There is something formed in an undifferentiated wholeness, existing even earlier than Heaven and Earth. It is silent and empty, does not move with external things, and does not come into contact with the myriad things; it stands alone and remains unchanged from beginning to end.

Huizong’s Commentary (Song Huizong’s commentary on the Daodejing) says: When Qi, form, and substance are all present but have not yet separated, this is called hundun (undifferentiated chaos). Within hundun, its constitution lacks nothing; this is what the Yijing calls Taiji (the Supreme Ultimate). Heaven and Earth also depend on it to come into being, and so it is said to be “born before Heaven and Earth.” However, the “birth” spoken of here merely means that generation has occurred; it is not the wondrous state of non-generation. That is why it is called a “thing.”

The Shuyi (Tang–Song Daoist commentary) explains further: Taichu, the Great Beginning, is the beginning of Qi; Taisu, the Great Simplicity, is the beginning of substance. Before the three have differentiated, this is called hundun. At the first moment of hundun, the Great Uncarved (the uncarved essence) has not yet dispersed; this is the Taiji of the Yijing. Precisely because it accords with hundun, its formation is complete and lacks nothing. Taiji gives rise to the two modes (Heaven and Earth, Yin and Yang), and Heaven and Earth depend on the harmonious Qi of Taiji to be born. In the state of non-generation, the one Qi is undifferentiated, profound and unfathomable; when it enters the state of generation, the light and clear Qi rises to become Heaven, the heavy and turbid Qi sinks to become Earth, and the myriad phenomena become manifest. How then could generation be considered the wondrous state of non-generation? To call it a “thing” is, in fact, its original nature.

Silent and empty. Huizong’s Commentary says: “Silent and empty” means that it is not involved in action and does not interact with external things; it is merely clear and quiet.

The Shuyi says: “Silent and unmoving”—“ji” indicates that it has never been involved in movement. The great emptiness, broad and vast—“liao” indicates that it has never interacted with the myriad things. Not involving movement and not interacting with things, it has no sound and no smell; it is only clear and settled.

It stands alone and does not change. Huizong’s Commentary says: To hold to it with a greatly settled mind and not change along with the myriad things—this speaks of the very substance of the Dao.

The Subcommentary says: Dao takes itself as its root; since ancient times it has existed eternally. The ten thousand things cannot overturn it, and myriad transformations cannot move it. This is what is meant by “Great Stability maintains it” (holding all things through unchanging stability). If it is so, then while the ten thousand things change without end, Dao remains always natural and constant—is this not the very body of Dao?

“It moves in cycles and does not peril.”

Huizong’s Commentary (Emperor Huizong of Song’s annotation to the Daodejing) says: Dao is applied to the coming and going, the emerging and entering, of the ten thousand things, inexhaustibly—this speaks of Dao’s function.

The Subcommentary says: When the ten thousand things appear, Dao appears together with them; when the ten thousand things vanish, Dao hides together with them. The common people all use it, and it is nowhere absent—this is what is called “benefiting their going out and coming in.” Dao can go and return without ever being exhausted—is this not Dao’s function?

“It can be the mother of the world.”

Huizong’s Commentary says: The ten thousand things rely on it and thereby grow.

The Subcommentary says: A living thing cannot give birth to itself; only that “non-living” Dao can cause the ten thousand things to live and regenerate without end. The growth of the ten thousand things must depend on Dao. The scripture says: “The ten thousand things rely on it for life, and it does not refuse them.” It also says: “The world has a beginning, which is taken as the mother of the world.”

“I do not know its name; I style it ‘Dao’; I am forced to name it…”

Huizong’s Commentary says: Only after the ten thousand things are generated do they have forms; only after having forms do they grow; only after growth do they have number and pattern. Names arise from actual entities, and entities have their measures. A “style” is merely an appellation for something that has grown. Dao originally has no name; therefore, the greatest among “styles” is a designation relative to “small,” and so one may forcibly name it. Where Dao is subtle, it is minute and hidden; where Dao is central and upright, it is vast and manifest.

The Zuo Commentary says: things have form only after they are generated; only after there is form is there growth; only after growth is there number. The myriad things are all born from water; water’s moistening causes the myriad things to grow, and this is “growth” (zi). That which can gather and can disperse is “number” (shu). Zi is the precursor of number, not yet condensed into a concrete form; number is the state in which zi has already been completed and is delimited by bodily substance. Once a thing has taken shape, its number is fixed; more and less can be seen, and names arise accordingly. Names come from substantive entities, and entities have their numbers. Giving a child a courtesy name is to let his name change as he grows, and so the meaning of “courtesy name” (zi) is “growth.”

“Nameless” is the beginning of Heaven and Earth. The Dao transforms and generates Heaven and Earth, and therefore the Dao is constantly nameless. The subtlety of the Dao is fine to the smallest and embraces the greatest, and so “great” is a designation relative to “small.” When we say the Dao is nameless, it is because the Dao’s wondrous point lies in its hidden subtlety and smallness; when we say the Dao can be called “great,” it is because the Dao’s central correctness is manifest and great. When the Dao withdraws into an extremely hidden state, it appears small and is distinguished from the myriad things—this is “the Dao’s wondrousness is small and hidden.” When the Dao manifests amid the greatest transformations, it appears great and intermingles with the myriad things—this is “the Dao’s centrality is great and manifest.”

The Great Is Called Passing On

Song Huizong’s commentary: The Dao operates and does not remain, and so it is called “passing on.”

Explication: The Analects says, “It passes on like this, never ceasing day or night.” From this we can see that “passing” means not remaining. The Dao operates without staying, and so it is called “passing on.” Although the Dao is not outside form and number, it operates without accumulating, and so it is said, “The Great is called passing on.”

Passing On Is Called Far-Reaching

Song Huizong’s commentary: The Dao responds to the myriad things without exhausting itself, and so it is called “far-reaching.”

The scripture says, “Mysterious De is deep and far.” Here “far” means that the function of the Dao is endless and inexhaustible, responding to the myriad things without ever being depleted; therefore it is called far. Although the movement of the Dao never departs from the transformations of coming and going, it has never had any boundary; therefore its movement is called “far.”

Laozi then says, “Far means returning”—that is, when far reaches its utmost, it returns.

Emperor Huizong of Song (Zhao Ji) comments: Returning to the root is called “stillness”; being still and returning to the Mandate of Heaven is therefore called “return.” Only the substance of the Dao can be called “great”; it universally covers and contains all without distinction. This is precisely what the Yijing (Classic of Changes) means by “speaking of the far, it cannot be exhausted.” The movement of the myriad things returns to stillness, and their action returns to cessation; they cycle back and forth within the Dao without departing from their original nature. This is precisely what the Yijing means by “speaking of the near, it is still and correct.”

The sub-commentator further explains: What is called “return” is the movement of the Dao returning to stillness. The Dao manifests amid the most intense transformations, and therefore it is great and interacts with the myriad things; the Dao is hidden in the most subtle and obscure, and therefore it is small and is distinguished from the myriad things. Precisely because it interacts with the myriad things, it can be called great: it covers and supports the myriad things, regards them all with equal benevolence, and contains them without partiality. Precisely because it is distinguished from the myriad things, it can be called small: the moving are stilled, the active are brought to rest, and they cycle back and forth within the Dao without departing from their nature. When it interacts with things, this is what the Yijing calls “far, then it is unobstructed”; when it is distinguished from things, this is what the Yijing calls “near, then it is still and correct.” The Dao takes departure from the root as far; when it departs, it operates without stopping and responds without exhaustion—this is the case of “far, then it is unobstructed.” The Dao takes returning to the root as near; when it returns, it returns to the root and is still; in stillness it returns to the Mandate—this is the case of “near, then it is still and correct.”

Therefore the scripture says, “Dao is great, Heaven is great, Earth is great, and the king is also great.”

Emperor Huizong comments: The Dao covers and supports Heaven and Earth. There is nothing Heaven does not cover, and nothing Earth does not support. The emperor stands in the midst of Heaven and Earth and is established alongside them as one of the Three Powers, and therefore he too is called great.

The Subcommentary says: The Dao stands before Taiji (the Supreme Ultimate, the source before heaven and earth divided), yet it does not thereby appear high and remote; it is situated beneath the six extremes (above, below, and the four quarters—the whole of space), yet it does not thereby appear deep and profound. This is precisely the meaning of Liezi’s statement, “Beyond heaven and earth, is there not a still greater heaven and earth?” The Dao stands alongside heaven and earth and forms a triad with them, and so it too may be called great.

The Subcommentary further says: The Dao can cover and bear up heaven and earth. The light and clear portion rises to become heaven; its extent is boundless and inexhaustible, and the stars and the myriad things all lie beneath its covering. The heavy and turbid portion sinks to become earth; it is broad and deep, and Mount Hua, Mount Yue, the rivers, and the great seas are all borne by it. When the ruler embodies this Dao and dwells in the midst of heaven and earth, he threads through the three—heaven, earth, and humanity—which are called the “Three Talents” (Sancai; heaven, earth, and humanity); the three communicate with one another and mutually perform their functions. When their respective positions are distinguished, they are called the “Three Ultimates” (the heavenly ultimate, earthly ultimate, and human ultimate), each having a fixed station. Thus the ruler can be compared with heaven and earth and can participate with them in his own person. This is why there are the “four greats” within the “domain.” Even so, the Dao is fundamentally not great, yet it is ranked as great, and it has still not departed from the trace of form; when the four are differentiated from Taiyi (the Great One, the undifferentiated beginning of chaos), they still do not escape the category of number. Although it is said to have form, it is not constrained by form; although it is said to have number, it is not restricted by number. Is this not likely the reason for its greatness?

Laozi says, “Within the domain there are four greats, and the king is one of them.” (“Within the domain” means within the cosmos; the “four greats” are Dao, heaven, earth, and the king.)

Emperor Huizong of the Song comments: From the Dao are born things that possess direction and bodily form, and so it is called “within the domain.” In stillness he is a sage; in movement he is a king. Being able to thread through the Three Talents and accord with number—this is likely the reason for his greatness.

(Another version of the commentary reads:) From the Dao are born things that possess direction and bodily form, and so it is called “within the domain.” In stillness he is a sage; in movement he is a king. Being able to thread through the Three Talents and penetrate the human way, he thereby attains the highest realm. Therefore he is of one body with the Dao and of one achievement with heaven and earth, and is equally called great.

Before the Dao descended into the myriad things, it was united with the undifferentiated primordial Qi, without distinction; this is why the preceding text uses "undifferentiated and complete" to describe the Dao. Once the Dao disperses and transforms to give birth to the myriad things, it becomes constrained within concrete forms and can be seen by people; this is why it speaks here of "within the domain," referring to the scope between heaven and earth.

One who has not yet departed from the wondrous source is in a state of stillness and attains sagehood. When he complies with the times, rises up, and becomes a ruler, this is the movement arising from stillness, becoming a king. Only by going from stillness to movement, from sagehood to kingship, can one penetrate the three powers of heaven, earth, and humanity and fulfill all the principles of being human.

In undertaking enterprises and establishing achievements, the highest accomplishment is that of the king. Reaching this level, one becomes identical with heaven. This is because the king can fulfill the human way; being able to fulfill the human way, one becomes consistent with the heavenly Dao. The Daodejing says: "The king is then heaven." Since the kingly way is thus supremely high, it is no wonder it says the king occupies one of the three great positions between heaven and earth. Therefore, the Dao is hidden and nameless, yet it alone associates with the king; the king, being of one body with the Dao, heaven and earth each abide in their places, the sage completes his capacities, and together they share the same achievement as heaven and earth. Thus the Dao, heaven and earth, and the sage emerge from one root and penetrate as a single body. Fulfilling the human way, one becomes identical with heaven; realizing the heavenly Dao, one becomes identical with the Dao—one should not regard them as having any difference.

Man models himself on earth, earth models itself on heaven, heaven models itself on the Dao, and the Dao models itself on nature.

Emperor Huizong of Song (Zhao Ji) comments: The "man" here refers to the emperor. Heaven does not produce the myriad things, yet the myriad things transform and are nurtured naturally; earth does not cultivate the myriad things, yet the myriad things grow naturally; the emperor does not act, yet the world succeeds naturally. What they model themselves on is simply the naturalness of the Dao. The Dao models itself on nature because it complies with the myriad things. Nature is not the entirety of the Dao; it is merely the aspect of the Dao that manifests to respond to the myriad things. Therefore it is said to be a lower level, an object of modeling.

The preceding passage says, “Dao is great, Heaven is great, Earth is great, and the king is also great”; here it says, “Humans model themselves on Earth.” From this we can know that “humans” refers to the ruler. The reason Heaven is clear and bright is that it practices wuwei (non-action), allowing the myriad things to arise of themselves; thus it does not deliberately produce, yet the myriad things are naturally transformed and nourished—this is Heaven’s wondrousness. The reason Earth is tranquil is that it practices wuwei, entrusting all forms to the myriad things to grow of themselves; thus it does not deliberately nurture, yet the myriad things naturally reproduce—this is Earth’s abundance. The ruler should likewise govern through wuwei and oversee all under Heaven; ministers and subjects should take action and work for all under Heaven. When the ruler employs all under Heaven through wuwei, all under Heaven naturally succeeds—this is the greatness of emperors and kings. Heaven, Earth, and the king are thus all because they model themselves on the spontaneous nature of Dao (the fundamental principle of the universe). Humans do not fail to model themselves on Heaven, yet it says “model themselves on Earth”; Earth does not fail to model itself on Dao, yet it says “model themselves on Heaven”—this is because in speaking of Dao there must be an order of succession. Ultimately, all is rooted in naturalness, and so at the end it says, “Dao models itself on naturalness.”

If we discuss it in terms of things with form, naturalness is above Dao; if we discuss it in terms of things without form, naturalness is below Dao. Where there is “self,” there is “other”; where there is “thus,” there is “cessation.” Therefore naturalness is not the entirety of Dao. Yet the reason Dao models itself on naturalness is that when Dao manifests and responds to the myriad things, its modeling is a downward movement. Zhuangzi says, “That which corresponds incidentally and accords with the myriad things—this is Dao.” This is probably what is meant.

“Heaviness is the root of lightness; stillness is the master of restlessness”: steadiness is the root of frivolity, and quietude is the master of agitation. Therefore the gentleman travels all day without leaving the baggage wagon carrying his supplies (here a metaphor for the root and support).

Zhao Ji, Emperor Huizong of Song, comments: If one is steady, one will not be seized by shaking or agitation and can guard the root; therefore steadiness is the root of frivolity. If one is quiet, one will not act recklessly and can control the situation; therefore quietude is the master of agitation. One who can maintain himself with composure and quietude will seldom make mistakes. The gentleman travels all day without leaving the baggage train; therefore even when walking on dangerous and difficult roads, he suffers no calamity.

Interpretation

This passage is a commentary on Chapter 26 of the Daodejing, “The heavy is the root of the light; stillness is the master of restlessness.” It mainly explains that Dao cultivators should take heaviness, solidity, clarity, and stillness as their foundation, and must not be frivolous or restless.

Dao cultivators should be like a convoy carrying heavy baggage: they take heaviness as the root. Because the convoy carries heavy loads, it actually advances steadily and will not lose its direction through levity. Lightness and briskness can of course move quickly, but one must have baggage to supply one’s own needs; even when traveling a dangerous road, one will not meet disaster because of exhaustion along the way. Therefore “heaviness” is the root of “lightness”; when cultivators take heaviness and solidity as their root, they will not be dragged about by external things.

The same principle applies to stillness. Clarity and stillness allow one to keep oneself; the clutter and disturbance of the outside world cannot make the mind shift. When the mind has a master, it will not be shaken or carried off by external things. Not being shaken or carried off, one will not be impatient and rush ahead; only then can one respond to all kinds of changes. Thus “stillness” is the master of “restlessness”; if one can guard clarity and stillness, one will not be deluded by external things.

The commentary also cites Zhuangzi: “Those superfluous in brightness confuse the five colors and overindulge in ornamentation,” saying that ornate scenery dazzles the eyes; this is why “glorious spectacles” belong to external things. It further quotes Mencius: “The four limbs are disposed to ease and comfort,” saying that bodily ease is the root of enjoyment, and therefore “dwelling at ease” (leisurely repose) belongs to oneself. After King Wen of Zhou ascended the high terrace, his body and mind were settled; only then could he experience joy in the Spirit Terrace (Lingtai). Only when the body is settled can external things be enjoyed. Therefore, even when splendid towers and lookouts are present, one must first maintain detachment in leisurely repose and not be moved by external things.

The final sentence, “How can the lord of ten thousand chariots treat the world lightly with his own person?” is a rhetorical question from the original Daodejing. It means: How can one who is the ruler of a great state with ten thousand war chariots govern the world with a frivolous and restless body? This warns rulers to take heaviness and stillness as the foundation; otherwise they will lose their root.