《道德真经解(陈象古)》

The Dao that can be explained in words is not the unchanging, true Dao; the name that can be used to designate something is not the unchanging, true name.

“Dao that can be spoken” here means a principle that people can understand, while “name that can be given” means something people can recognize and refer to. Even when people can understand and name something, they may not have grasped the full subtlety of the Dao. Thus, the Dao people ordinarily speak of is not the same as the true Dao, and the names they ordinarily use are not the things themselves. The Dao is profound and mysterious, and originally has no name; names are many, yet cannot represent the Dao. “Dao” and “name” are both labels imposed by convention.

The nameless is the state at the beginning of Heaven and Earth; the named is the source from which the myriad things arise and are nurtured. “Nameless” and “named” are both ways of describing different aspects of the Dao.

“Mother” is a metaphor for the beginning in which all things are conceived and brought forth. At the beginning of Heaven and Earth, their state was indistinct and beyond naming. Names came later, when all things grew between Heaven and Earth and people began to refer to Heaven and Earth on that basis.

The scripture says, “Constantly without desire, one can observe the Dao’s mysteries; constantly with desire, one can observe its boundaries.”

To observe the mysteries without desire is to understand the Dao at its root and beginning. To observe its boundaries with desire is to discern where things come to an end. Desire arises from things; when things are exhausted and desire reaches its limit, all returns to Wuwei (non-action). Here, “boundary” refers to the limit: when desire reaches it, it has come to an end and can go no further. Once things are exhausted, they must return to simplicity. How is this different from the Dao’s mysteries? Thus, observing the mysteries without desire and observing the boundaries with desire are really two ways of speaking about the same thing.

“These two emerge from the same source but have different names.”

To understand the Dao’s mysteries through freedom from desire and its boundaries through desire—is this not to say that both emerge from the Dao?

“Together they are called the profound.”

“Profound” means far-reaching and subtle, something that must be grasped with the mind. The sage understands how the Dao operates from beginning to end. Ordinary people, though they live by the Dao every day, still do not understand its essential meaning. What could this be, if not far-reaching and subtle?

“Profound upon profound: the gateway to all wonders.”

This is no shallow principle. The Dao cannot be fully confined by ordinary speech or names. Its principles are so deep that they are difficult to see through, which is why it is called “profound upon profound,” the gateway to all manner of wonders. These principles do not apply in only one place: whether governing the world, a state, a family, or cultivating oneself, the wonders they reveal are the same.

Chapter Two

When everyone under Heaven recognizes beauty as beauty, ugliness appears. When everyone recognizes goodness as goodness, what is not good appears alongside it.

Those immersed in delicacies from mountains and rivers pay no attention to the taste of wild greens and coarse grains. Those accustomed to fine, soft silk do not think a sheepskin jacket or a coat of oxhide is warm. Yet they do not realize that someone cold feels warmed by coarse cloth, and someone hungry finds even chaff delicious. In the end, all that is needed is enough to eat and warm clothes to wear.

Thus, beauty seems precious through comparison, while ugliness seems hateful; good and not good likewise set each other off. These distinctions all arise from preferences and aversions in the human heart. Once the heart makes such distinctions, corresponding actions follow.

Therefore, being and nonbeing bring each other into view; difficulty and ease bring each other about; long and short define each other by comparison; high and low depend on each other; sounds answer one another; and what comes before is followed by what comes after.

When the human heart makes distinctions between beauty and ugliness, and forms preferences and aversions, people also reach different judgments about benefit and harm.

Therefore, the sage acts through Wuwei (non-action) and teaches without relying on words. He does not claim as his own what he has done, nor does he laboriously expound doctrines. The great Dao (the Way) moves of itself, and all things grow in accordance with it, like the turning of the seasons, as all things grow in step with the four seasons.

All things arise and grow, and the sage does not turn them away. He silently responds to subtle changes; without words, all things understand.

He gives life to and nourishes all things, yet does not possess them. He acts, yet does not rely on his own ability. When things are done, he takes no credit.

If he claimed achievements as his own, his aspirations would become narrow. If he relied on his own abilities, his capacity to take responsibility would be limited. If he took pride in his accomplishments, he would have little room to embrace others. The great Dao is so vast, yet the sage can act with this attitude. Is this not the subtlety of the Dao?

Precisely because the sage takes no credit, his achievements do not disappear.

He can neither claim credit nor abandon his achievements; if he cast them aside, everything would return to stillness and extinction. On what, then, could teaching take hold?

Chapter Three

When the worthy are not exalted, the people do not contend with one another.

The worthy are those praised after people have been assessed and judged. To exalt someone is to raise that person above others. If the worthy are placed above and the unworthy below, those above will easily grow arrogant and occupy high positions, while those below will be fearful and confined to low ones. Then the desire to promote oneself and scramble for advancement will be hard to stop. People will never be satisfied with wealth and rank, and will always feel they have too little when poor and lowly. As this mindset spreads, disputes will arise one after another. How could the people not contend?

If people do not treat rare and precious goods as valuable, they will not steal.

Stealing arises from a heart driven by greed.

If people are not shown things that could stir desire, their hearts will not be disturbed.

Honoring the worthy and valuing goods makes people see things worth pursuing. If people do not compete or steal, their hearts will not be thrown into disorder.

Therefore, when the sage governs the world,

he begins by teaching himself.

He makes his heart empty and still,

so that the Dao has a place to dwell and the heart is not disturbed.

He nourishes the body,

making care for the body the foundation of teaching.

He softens people’s will and spirit,

so that they often feel they still have something lacking.

He strengthens their sinews and bones,

so that their bodies have support.

He constantly keeps the people free of cunning knowledge and excessive desire.

“Without knowledge” means not relying on one’s own cleverness; “without desire” means not indulging one’s greed and attachments.

In this way, even those who pride themselves on being clever will not dare to act recklessly.

Those who pride themselves on being clever like to act through their own schemes. They also know how to seek profit by relying on the honoring of the worthy and the pursuit of rare goods. When the people have neither a mind to compete nor an intention to steal, the clever know they have no means to exercise their tricks, and so they do not dare to act recklessly.

Govern through Wuwei (non-action), and nothing will remain unguided.

The nature of the Dao is non-action, naturalness, and stillness. Why, then, speak deliberately of governing?

Chapter Four

The Dao is like an empty vessel, yet its use seems never to run dry.

“Chong” means harmony. The Dao has a harmonious Qi that fills the space between Heaven and Earth, yet does not regard itself as full. This shows that it is unfathomably deep and beyond measure.

Deep and subtle, it seems to be the source of all things.

“Yuan” means deep and mysterious; “zong” means master and foundation. The Dao does not act deliberately, yet brings forth all things through its harmonious Qi. That is why it seems to be the source of all things. This also shows that the Dao is unfathomably deep and beyond measure.

Deep and subtle, it seems to be the source of all things.

“Depth” refers to the Dao’s profound and mysterious meaning. “Source” means the root and master. The Dao creates nothing and does not deliberately intervene; all things arise through the harmonious Qi, so the Dao is called their root. All things have different dispositions, with differences in firmness and softness, slowness and speed, color and sound. The distinct qualities they receive arise naturally. From mountains and rivers down to grasses and trees, all contain harmonious Qi, and the root of its function is the same.

Blunt its sharpness,

Do not act recklessly or show off your edge.

Untangle its knots,

Act in accordance with what is right, so that disorder can be resolved.

Soften its brightness,

Do not boast of yourself or deliberately draw attention to yourself.

Mingle with its dust,

Blend into the world and do not reveal your traces.

Deep and still, it seems to exist.

The Dao is deep and remote, seeming to exist yet difficult to grasp. The formless contains what is real, and the formed also contains the formless; thus the Dao seems both present and absent.

I do not know whose child it is; it seems to precede the Lord of Heaven.

I do not know where the Dao comes from; it seems to have existed before the Lord of Heaven. Here, “child” refers to something born from a root, but the Dao cannot be explained by any fixed name, hence “I do not know whose child it is.” “Precedes the Lord of Heaven” means that the Dao begins in nonbeing and ultimately returns to nonbeing.

Chapter Five

Heaven and Earth are not benevolent; they treat the myriad things as straw dogs. The sage is not benevolent; he treats the people as straw dogs.

Heaven and Earth show no partiality, treating the myriad things as straw dogs used in sacrifice. The sage likewise shows no partiality, treating the people as straw dogs. Commentators hold that true, expansive benevolence does not take the form of deliberately bestowing favors; hence the saying, “Heaven and Earth are not benevolent” and “the sage is not benevolent.”

“Straw” means grass, and “dog” means an animal. Grass and dogs each have their own nature, yet both are things that arise through the Dao and lack self-awareness. Nature is the beginning of the Dao; feeling is its end. The beginnings and ends of the myriad things are all within the Dao, though they may not understand the way its transformations work. Thus the text offers the many things of the world as examples and uses the lowly straw dog as a comparison.

Is not the space between Heaven and Earth like a bellows?

The space between Heaven and Earth—is it not like a bellows? Though empty, a bellows can hold and drive the flow of air. Heaven and Earth are the same: they contain without intention, yet there is nothing they cannot contain.

Empty, it is not exhausted; when it moves, it produces ever more.

Though it seems empty, it does not thereby run dry. Once it is set in motion, its breath wells forth without end. This shows that it has no obstruction and its workings are inexhaustible.

Too many words soon reach their limit; better to hold to the center.

Speaking too much often leads quickly to an impasse; better to hold to inner balance. Those who understand the Dao value silence. In stillness, they observe and comprehend; their minds become clear of themselves. Thus what matters is holding to the center.

Chapter Six

The valley spirit never dies; this is called the Mysterious Female.

“Valley” is a metaphor. Here, “spirit” refers to the subtle, unfathomable workings of Yin-Yang change. A valley may seem small, yet it can serve as a metaphor for the vast emptiness of the Great Void, which can contain all things. It holds all things without claiming them as its own. Its subtlety resembles the wondrous workings of spirit, so it is called the “Valley Spirit.” “Death” means stillness and extinction. The Valley Spirit works in this way, responding to all things without end. It seems to exist, yet cannot be seen—how could it ever perish? “Mysterious Female” describes a deep, humble state that is free from complacency and pride.

The gate of the Mysterious Female

Is called the root of Heaven and Earth.

“Root” means foundation. Heaven and Earth speak neither word nor sound, yet the four seasons continue to turn and all things continue to grow. The foundation of all this is the Way of the Mysterious Female. It is supremely vast and cannot be measured.

Unbroken, it seems to endure;

Use it, and it is never exhausted.

“Unbroken” means continuous and uninterrupted. “It seems to endure” means that its wondrous workings cannot be seen, yet seem always to be present. “Use it, and it is never exhausted” means that putting it into practice requires no apparent effort: the natural Way does not insist on acting or leave traces of deliberate effort.

Chapter Seven

Heaven is long-lasting and Earth endures. The reason Heaven and Earth can last so long is that they do not live for themselves; therefore, they can endure.

Heaven and Earth can last because they do not exist for their own sake, and so they are able to endure.

“Emptiness” means being hollow and unfilled. “Put it to use through emptiness” means acting by way of emptiness and stillness. Heaven and Earth do not claim the myriad things as their own; therefore, they are vast and do not wear down, harmonious and without deficiency. Their forms remain intact, and the wondrous workings of the Dao are revealed. Thus they can endure.

Therefore, the sage puts himself last, and so comes first;

sets himself aside, and so remains.

Therefore, the sage does not put himself first, and so is able to stand before others; he does not treat himself as most important, and so is able to preserve himself. He does not monopolize affairs or insist that his own views prevail. Though he seems to lack something, inwardly he is full. By holding to the subtle root and joining with the Dao, he can come first and endure.

Is this not because he is without selfishness?

Therefore, he is able to fulfill himself.

Water’s nature is the natural expression of the Dao (the Way). It does not deliberately seek cleanliness or reject what is impure. As it flows, it first fills the low places, then continues onward. Its clarity is never obscured, and its power to nourish all things is never diminished. That is why the highest good is like water.

Water is skilled at nourishing all things, yet it does not contend with them for precedence. It dwells in places people dislike—the low places—and so it is closest to the Dao. Water’s goodness lies in its ability to moisten and nourish. It does not contend and is content to remain low; nothing can surpass it.

In choosing where to live, be like water and seek a fitting place. Let your state of mind be like deep water: calm and profound. Treat others with the kindness with which water nourishes all things. Let your words be as trustworthy as water is life-giving. Govern by following the way things naturally unfold, as water flows to benefit all things. In your work, be capable like water: unafraid when it flows into deep valleys, and undiminished when stirred by turbulence. In your actions, respond to the moment as water does: flow where the way is open, stop where it is blocked, drift with the wind, and freeze when the weather turns cold.

Precisely because water does not contend, it makes no mistakes. It embodies the highest good, leaving people little fault to find in it.

Chapter Nine

Holding something in your hands and wanting to fill it still more is not as good as knowing when to stop.

The problem lies in stubbornly holding on and trying to keep things as they are. Holding on without letting go involves deliberate action. Even when you possess something, guarding it so that it will not topple or be lost is not as good as letting go of attachment to possession and leaving no trace of deliberate guarding.

Sharpening a blade too keenly makes it hard to keep its edge for long. To sharpen it excessively is to seek gain through one’s own efforts alone; in the end, one must be worn down. How could this be a lasting way to act?

Even when halls are filled with gold and jade, no one can keep them forever. The image of a hall full of gold and jade is used to illustrate the principle just discussed.

After attaining wealth and status, pride and complacency bring misfortune upon oneself. This is precisely what results from excessive fullness and an overly prominent display of one’s edge.

When one’s achievements are complete and one’s reputation established, one should withdraw. This is in accord with the Way of Heaven. Achievements are completed by not going against the natural patterns of things; reputation is established when all things each attain a harmonious and fitting state. To withdraw once one’s achievements are complete and one’s reputation established is to refrain from claiming the merit and fame as one’s own.

Chapter Ten

Can the body and soul be united as one and kept from separating? The Dao values holding fast to the unadorned and cultivating one’s nature. “Soul” refers to the body of embodied life; “one” refers to a state of undivided purity. Only when the body and soul accord with the pure, undivided Dao can this be called “embracing the One.” Once they separate, the Dao cannot be fulfilled, and one instead falls into duality. Here, then, the teaching is not to become separated from the Dao.

Can one regulate the breath with single-minded focus and bring body and mind to such gentleness that they are like an infant? Qi is the fundamental force of life, while gentleness is the basis for dissolving hardness. To focus on regulating Qi and softening body and mind is to guard the profound and subtle Dao. An infant has not yet developed distinctions between good and evil, or calculations of choice and rejection. The scripture therefore also teaches us to preserve an infant-like simplicity.

Can one wash the mind and clear away distracting thoughts, so that deep contemplation remains clear and flawless, without any deficiency? “Wash” is like cleansing with water; “clear away” is like sweeping off dirt. In this way, the mind’s innermost contemplation can remain whole. Being “without blemish” is essential to preserving this contemplation, so the scripture teaches us not to let flaws or distracting thoughts disturb it.

Can one care for the people and govern the state through Wuwei (non-action)? If the people feel that everything happens of itself, then Wuwei has reached its utmost. The scripture therefore teaches us not to impose our will or interfere excessively.

When the gates of Heaven open and close, can one remain yielding and humble?

The sky is clear and bright, responding to the myriad things and in harmony with the seasons. The pattern of opening and closing, of change and transformation, need not be put into words. The hidden power of De (Virtue/Power) works without end—is this not like the yielding nature of the female? Only when De is deeply concealed can it adapt to each situation without obstruction. The Suwen says, “De remains concealed and ceaseless; therefore Qi (vital energy) does not descend.”

Can one be clear and perceptive, yet remain without knowledge?

When clear and perceptive, and not obscured by external things, one can see and hear everything: observing the forms of things outwardly and discerning their principles inwardly, silently grasping their patterns without having to explain them from house to house or join in endless discussion.

Cause the myriad things to grow and nurture them, yet do not claim them as your own. Act, yet do not rely on your achievements. Guide the growth of the myriad things, yet do not rule them. This is called “Mysterious De” (profound and inconspicuous virtue).

The myriad things are born from it, each taking shape and settling into its own nature and allotted course. They are also nourished by the harmonious Qi, enabling them to follow nature through the changes of life and death. The function of nourishing the myriad things is also the function of governing all things under Heaven. Though the myriad things are born through the Dao (the Way), the Dao does not claim them as its own. The Dao acts, yet does not rely on its achievements; the myriad things grow, yet the Dao does not rule them. Mysterious De works within the heart and is not displayed outwardly.

Chapter Eleven

Thirty spokes converge at a wheel hub, but it is the empty space within the hub that gives the wheel its use.

The spokes and the hub may be compared to the Dao’s initial activity; the empty space, by giving things their use, is the Dao’s ultimate expression. The spokes and hub support one another, yet leave an empty space at the center. It is because of the spokes and hub that the wheel can carry loads, its usefulness without end. This shows that usefulness plainly comes from emptiness.

Clay is kneaded and shaped into a vessel, but it is the empty space within the vessel that gives it its use. Doors and windows are cut to make a room, but it is the empty space inside that gives the room its use.

These examples all show that the Dao does not claim credit for its achievements. As the passage above says: “The Dao is empty, yet in its use it is never exhausted.”

Thus, tangible things can meet practical needs, while what is intangible is what truly serves a purpose. Practical benefits are often limited to specific matters, but “use” can accord with the Dao (the Way). The Dao is empty, far-reaching, subtle, and hard to perceive. That is why it is said that what is intangible can serve a purpose.

Chapter Twelve

The five colors dazzle the eyes; the five tones dull the hearing; the five flavors distort the palate.

This is because greed, delusion, and excessive indulgence bring such harm.

Riding and hunting without restraint make the mind run wild.

This comes from excessive activity. The mind wanders and cannot be still, and so turmoil arises within.

Rare and precious goods make people behave irrationally.

This is because greed, delusion, and excessive indulgence bring such harm. Once desire takes hold, people neglect what is right, and their conduct is compromised.

Therefore, the sage attends to what is within and does not pursue external sensory pleasures. The sage sets aside external temptations and chooses inner calm. Attending to the “belly” means making the inner self full—that is, keeping wisdom within. Not pursuing the “eyes” means preventing things in the outside world from disturbing and depleting oneself. “That” refers to external temptations; “this” refers to inner fullness. This is the distinction between what the sage sets aside and what the sage chooses.

Chapter Thirteen

Favor and disgrace are like being startled.

When favor or humiliation comes, feelings of joy or sorrow arise within. No one is entirely untouched, so they are like being startled.

Regard great trouble as you regard your own self.

Nothing brings greater trouble than the self, because trouble arises from having a body.

What does it mean to say that favor and disgrace are like being startled? To receive favor is already to occupy a low position.

Humiliation comes from the shame one feels within. Being able to endure a low position is essential to walking the Way. Favor depends on what comes from outside; it is gained through another person’s approval. If one keeps pursuing that approval, one becomes dependent on others. That is why receiving favor, too, places one in a low position.

To be alarmed when favor comes and alarmed when it goes—that is what it means for favor and disgrace to be like being startled.

This shows that such alarm arises from within.

What does it mean to regard great trouble as you regard your own self? The reason I suffer great trouble is that I have this body. If I had no body, what trouble could I have?

The body is where all affairs gather. Once we know where trouble gathers, we should not depend on our own existence. If we do not depend on ourselves, we will not suffer because of the body. If there were no body, what trouble could there be?

The body is where all things converge. Once you understand that everything gathers here, you will not regard the body itself as something to rely on. By not depending on everything the body contains, you can take the Dao as the body’s fundamental, wondrous function.

Therefore, only those who value themselves as they value the world can be entrusted with the world; only those who cherish themselves as they cherish the world can be given charge of it.

Governing the world by relying on one’s own exalted status and power is not a sound basis for being entrusted with it. Nor is governing by relying on the affection one receives and one’s personal interests a sound basis for being given charge of it. So do not place too much weight on your own status or cherish yourself excessively, for these things cannot last. That is why the text says, “only then can the world be entrusted” and “only then can the world be given into one’s care.” The word “only” here means that if one cannot do these things, the world cannot be entrusted or given into one’s care.

Chapter Fourteen

Look at it, but it cannot be seen: this is called “Yi.” Listen for it, but it cannot be heard: this is called “Xi.” Reach for it, but it cannot be touched: this is called “Wei.”

These are names assigned to the Dao as a makeshift, for the Dao has no fixed shape and takes the form of no particular thing.

These three cannot be pursued any further, and so they merge into one.

Its form cannot be seen, its sound cannot be heard, and its substance cannot be touched. Their meaning is not divided, and their purport cannot be separated; that is why the text says, “blended together as one.”

Above, it is not bright; below, it is not dark. It extends without end and cannot be named, yet in the end it returns to nothing.

“Jiao” means bright and conspicuous; “Mei” means hidden and dim. “Above, it is not bright” means that the Dao operates in itself without displaying its achievements. “Below, it is not dark” means that the Dao acts upon all things, and its principles cannot be obscured.

This is called “the shape of the shapeless, the image of the imageless.” It is also called “Huanghu” (vague and elusive, difficult to grasp).

Huanghu has no definite name. How does it differ from Yi, Xi, and Wei?

Approach it, and you cannot see its beginning; follow it, and you cannot see its end.

It cannot be pursued to its final source, and that is why it is so.

Grasp the Dao that has existed since ancient times, and use it to govern the myriad things of the present day.

What the ancients called the “Dao” is the Dao discussed earlier. The Dao has always been one; it does not differ between ancient and modern times. Although people today act differently from the ancients, how could they simply copy what the ancients did?

To recognize the original source of things is to grasp the “guiding principles of the Dao” (the essential outline of the Dao).

Knowing that the root of all things comes from the Dao has been true since ancient times. “Guiding principles” are the patterns through which the Dao’s principles operate. To understand where things come from and to know the principles within them is to understand the mystery of the Dao.

Chapter Fifteen

In ancient times, those skilled in cultivating the Dao were subtle and profound, and penetrated the hidden and mysterious. They were unfathomable and difficult to understand.

They held fast to the Dao and embraced Oneness (devoting themselves single-mindedly to the Dao). This was beyond the understanding of ordinary people, so they seemed subtle and profound, and were not easily seen through.

Precisely because they were difficult to see through, one can only try to describe them:

To make the Dao clear and give later generations something to follow, their qualities must be described, however imperfectly; otherwise, those who came later might have no way to learn.

They were cautious and steady, like someone crossing a river in winter;

They were alert and wary, as though afraid the neighbors all around them might hear what they said and did. Since the neighbors were close by and could easily overhear them, they were careful in everything.

They were solemn and respectful, as modest as guests;

In practicing the Dao and giving to others, they held nothing back. They hoped the Dao could be put into practice, and so extended its benefits widely to all things, like ice melting over a broad expanse.

They were honest and simple, like uncarved wood. Something simple has not yet been worked and broken apart; likewise, an honest person is neither frivolous nor shallow.

They were open and spacious, like a valley. A valley is deep and can hold all things.

They were blended into one, like water that appears turbid.

Do not deliberately distinguish what can and cannot be done, and do not rush to judge what is good or evil, as when water has not yet cleared.

Who can still muddy water and wait for it to clear slowly? Who can maintain a settled state for a time, then let it change gradually?

Turbidity does not remain unchanged forever. Once the water grows still, the muddy matter settles, and clear water naturally appears. Nor can stillness remain at its utmost point: with time, it must change. When change takes place, things and their underlying principles appear one after another. These are all natural patterns.

Those who hold to this Dao do not seek completeness or self-satisfaction.

Here, “fullness” means being self-satisfied and arrogant. Once the mind becomes self-satisfied, the Dao is obscured along with it. So one must not be self-satisfied.

Because they are not self-satisfied, even if what they already possess is diminished, they will not add new faults.

The ancients who practiced the Dao did not allow faults to arise. If people today could be like the ancients, how could new faults appear? Perhaps they simply do not follow the Dao with sufficient sincerity. The key to having no faults is not to be self-satisfied.

Chapter Sixteen

Bring the mind to the utmost emptiness, and steadfastly hold to stillness.

“To bring about” means to reach; “steadfast” means deep and firm. “Utmost emptiness” is the foundation of the Dao. But if one pursues emptiness alone, one may become shallow, so it must also be held with steadfast stillness. This is the essence of understanding the Great Dao.

All things grow and change together; from this, I observe how they return to their source.

When things reach an extreme, they turn back. Their return is rooted in stillness. We can therefore observe all things beginning anew from what is subtle. Though the myriad things are many, how could they depart from the Dao I have come to understand?

The myriad things flourish in great variety, yet in the end each returns to its root.

“Profuse” describes what is numerous and diverse. The “root” is the source. When things reach their end, they all return to their source in this way.

Returning to the source is called stillness.

All things are originally still; they change only as they follow external influences.

Stillness is a return to one’s original state of life.

“Life” refers to the heavenly allotment one receives.

Returning to one’s original state of life is the constant Dao.

Each being’s heavenly allotment has its own limit. Is this not the constant Dao?

Only by understanding the constant Dao can one be truly clear.

Clearly seeing how the Dao works is the beginning of understanding how things are.

If one does not understand the constant Dao and acts recklessly, calamity will follow.

Not understanding the constant Dao means going against the patterns of things and disrupting the Dao’s subtle workings. How could this not bring calamity?

Those who understand the constant Dao can be all-embracing.

When one abides by the inherent principles of things and no longer fights or competes, what is there that cannot be embraced?

Only by being all-embracing can one be impartial.

Impartiality means neither disrupting the patterns inherent in things nor favoring one’s own ideas. That is why one can be all-embracing. To embrace all is the very expression of impartiality.

Only the impartial can become a king.

A king is held in reverence and governs the vast realm; he, too, should take the Dao as his model.

When a king takes the Dao as his model, he accords with the Way of Heaven.

Acting before Heaven’s time, Heaven does not oppose him; acting in accord with Heaven’s time, he follows its course. Only a true king can do this.

To accord with the Way of Heaven is to accord with the Dao.

Whatever accords with Heaven embodies the principles of the Dao in stillness and motion alike.

The Dao endures without cease.

The Dao’s workings are without end.

One who follows the Dao throughout life will not fall into danger.

Whether a person can do this depends on whether he can put his own Dao into practice. Thus, even when the body perishes, the Dao does not perish with it. A person’s body exists through the Dao; after death, the Dao’s workings remain inexhaustible. That is why one does not fall into danger.

Chapter Seventeen

The best rulers are those the people know are there.

This is an age of simplicity and harmony, governed through Wuwei (non-action). The people follow the natural growth of the myriad things, while the ruler does not use his cleverness to interfere with them. Each person fulfills their own nature and life, and all things come into being of themselves. Governing the realm means following this natural state and not imposing rule by force. That is why the people merely know that a ruler exists.

The next best rulers are those the people draw close to and praise.

This is an age in which feelings and desires give rise to one another. Without guidance, people’s hearts are easily thrown into confusion. The ruler hopes the people will draw close to him and serve him; he also hopes they will praise him and obey him.

The next tier of rulers are those the people fear and also slight.

This is an age in which laws and commands are established and enforced. The ruler is above, and the people below: the people fear the ruler because they fear being punished for their offenses. If the ruler loses the right way, however, he too will be slighted. Without punishments, it is difficult to govern the people in an orderly way.

When a ruler’s trustworthiness is insufficient, the people will not trust him.

Once genuine feelings and false appearances arise, people each develop likes and dislikes. Trust between them then grows inadequate, and suspicion follows.

“Especially cherish words” means that speech should be held in particular esteem. Those who speak at great length may not truly understand; those who truly understand often remain silent. Perhaps trust between people is lacking because they speak too much and keep repeating themselves.

When the work is done and the achievement complete, the people say, “We did it naturally, of our own accord.”

The achievement is complete when all things are able to grow in accordance with their own nature; the work is done when all things can properly follow the way things are. Though the people know there is a ruler, they do not feel that any deliberate action has been imposed upon them. This is the result of subtle, profound, and mysterious communication—the far-reaching, ineffable working of the Dao. Thus the people say, “We did it this way of our own accord.”

Chapter 18

Only when the great Dao is abandoned do benevolence and righteousness appear. Only when cleverness is prized does great deceit arise. Only when family relations are discordant do filial devotion and parental affection become conspicuous. Only when the state is in turmoil do loyal ministers appear.

This means that when desires contend and judgments of right and wrong become confused, such labels as benevolence, righteousness, wisdom, filial devotion, parental affection, and loyalty are singled out. They all arise when the genuine and the false become intermingled. Once this situation takes hold, people are driven to respond in these ways. Therefore, the sage preserves what is genuine and unadorned, nurtures their nature, and brings peace to people’s hearts through stillness and calm. By restoring simplicity and sincerity, the sage seeks to rescue the world from straying from the Dao.

Chapter 19

Set aside the title of sage and do not rely on cleverness and cunning, and the people will gain greatly.

Here, “cut off” and “cast aside” mean not to employ these things. The people benefit by learning where to stop and how to be content; “a hundredfold” simply means that the benefit is great.

Stop proclaiming benevolence and righteousness, and the people can recover their natural filial devotion and parental affection. Stop promoting deceit and the pursuit of profit, and thieves will not appear. These three principles alone are not enough to serve as the outward trappings of governance, so people must also be given something to which they can belong.

Simply saying “cut off sagehood and abandon wisdom; cut off benevolence and abandon righteousness; cut off craft and abandon profit” does not fully convey the meaning, and the wording alone is not enough to explain the principle. So three further points are added: “the people will benefit a hundredfold,” “the people will return to filial piety and loving care,” and “there will be no thieves or robbers.” These make clear why the first three things should be cut off and abandoned, and show that the Dao remains present.

Keep to your unadorned nature, think less, and reduce your desires.

These are the essential points of cutting off and abandoning.

Chapter Twenty

Cut off worldly learning, and there will be no worries.

In the world, people who know how to pursue things go on to satisfy their preferences and pleasures. Those who do not know how admire and imitate them. So even when people wish to stop their desires, they cannot, and their worries grow. By cutting off this kind of learning and following Wuwei (non-action), one can preserve one’s own Dao.

How far apart are a respectful “yes” and a casual “yeah”? How far apart are good and evil?

Learning makes people’s words and actions chase after one thing and then another. Cut off worldly learning, and one can be tranquil and content. In this sense, it is better to cut off worldly learning. “Yes” and “yeah,” “good” and “evil” ultimately return to oneness; deliberately forcing distinctions between them does not accord with the Dao. “Yes” and “yeah” are simply examples.

What people fear cannot be left unf feared.

What people fear is worry. Worry wears down one’s inborn nature, so one must be wary of it.

Vast and remote, as though it had no end.

“Vast” means not yet ordered or understood; “end” means a limit. While something remains unclear, one cannot fully understand its principles or reach the Great Dao. Hence this exclamation.

The people are bustling about, as if attending a grand feast or climbing a terrace in spring.

This describes people satisfying their preferences and pleasures to the full through learning about worldly affairs.

I alone am cautious and still, as though nothing has yet come to light, like an infant who has not yet learned to smile.

Be wary of worry and maintain Wuwei, as if knowledge and desire had not yet arisen. An infant has neither knowledge nor desire. When the child reaches the age of smiling, feelings and desires begin to arise, so the text uses “an infant who has not yet learned to smile” as a comparison.

Adrift and unsettled, as though I had nowhere to return.

“Chongchong” describes a weighty, steady manner. To hold fast to what is genuine and simple, to be full yet not self-satisfied—isn’t this a sign of weightiness? Such a person seems to belong nowhere, and so others cannot see through or measure him.

Everyone appears to have more than enough; I alone seem to lack something.

To have “more than enough” means to think oneself complete and full. This is the appearance produced by relying on learning. To “seem to lack something” is always to appear insufficient. This is precisely what the Dao values.

My mind is truly like that of a fool—so simple and free of distracting thoughts.

True great wisdom appears dull, while the mind within remains utterly simple. Hence the phrase “pure and simple.”

People in the world all appear clear-sighted and perceptive,

because they think they understand.

I alone appear dim and unclear,

for I keep my cleverness hidden.

People in the world all appear shrewd and exacting,

because they rely on their own abilities and do not value generosity and tolerance.

I alone appear slow and dull,

for I do not put my cleverness and schemes to use.

I seem suddenly obscure and hard to make out, quiet as though I had no fixed place to return to.

“Suddenly” here means elusive, impossible to seek out in any fixed way. Precisely because I cannot be sought out in a fixed way, I seem to have nowhere to return.

Everyone has something to rely on and a use for their abilities.

Here, “rely on” means to depend on something or put it to use. It describes people who, having completed their learning, want to put everything into practice.

I alone seem stubborn and crude. My usefulness is hidden within me, so others have difficulty seeing it. From the outside, I also seem to have no abilities, and so appear stubborn and crude.

I am different from everyone else

because I do not study what everyone else pursues,

but value nourishment sought from the “Mother.”

“Seeking food” here means filling the belly. “Mother” refers to the source from which all things first arise—that is, the Dao.

Chapter Twenty-One

The appearance of great De is wholly in accord with the Dao.

“Great De” means the highest De; “appearance” means a way of being that embraces everything. “Accord” means to follow without opposing. The vastness of great De’s embrace comes from its never departing from the Dao, something beyond the reach of those whose De is shallow.

Chapter Twenty-One

The appearance of great De is wholly in accord with the Dao.

“Great De” means the highest De; “appearance” means a way of being that embraces everything. “Accord” means to follow without opposing. The vastness of great De’s embrace comes from its never departing from the Dao; this is something those whose De is shallow cannot achieve.

The Dao, as a thing, can only be described as elusive and hard to grasp.

“Vague and indistinct” means that the Dao cannot be defined by a fixed name.

Within the vague and indistinct, there seem to be images; within the vague and indistinct, there seem to be actual things. Even in the depths of darkness, a subtle essence is contained.

This is the Dao’s most essential and subtle aspect, which only those of profound De can grasp. Images, actual things, and subtle essence may appear to have taken form, yet they still cannot be defined by fixed names.

The Dao’s subtle essence is real and not illusory; within it, too, there is evidence that can be trusted.

Because the Dao’s subtle essence is real and not false, it can inspire trust. Thus, only the Dao is worthy of being followed. This is what it means to have the deepest faith in the Dao.

From ancient times to the present, the name of the Dao has never disappeared. It is not a constant, unchanging name that can refer to it definitively. So although it has had a name from ancient times to the present, it cannot be fully explained by any fixed name. In this way, we can observe the origins of all things. How do I know what the origins of all things are like? I know through this principle.

“Observe” means to look closely and examine, as if laying objects out before you and inspecting them one by one. “Flourish” means beautiful. When all things receive the Dao, their many conditions—life and death, ease and difficulty, and the rest—each reveal a complete beauty. The one who gathers together the beauty of all things embodies the expression of profound De.

Chapter 22

What is bent can be preserved; what is crooked can be straightened; what is low can be filled; what is worn out can be renewed. Taking little brings gain; grasping at much leads to confusion. Therefore, the sage holds to the One of the Dao—the fundamental principle that is simple and undivided—and takes it as the standard for all under Heaven.

By holding to this fundamental principle, one can be preserved while occupying a bent position, be straight while occupying a crooked one, be filled while in a low place, and be renewed while worn out. Taking little brings gain, while grasping at much readily leads to confusion. The small is the beginning of the great; the dark is the foundation of the bright. This is simply how things are. Therefore, the sage holds to what is fundamental and is not made complacent by an increase in things. The sage can perceive what is coming before its signs have appeared. If the people of the world take this as their standard, they can all accord with the Dao.

Because they do not deliberately make themselves conspicuous, they are understood; because they do not insist that they are right, they become distinguished; because they do not boast, they achieve merit; because they are not self-important, they endure.

This is the principle of “embracing the One”—holding fast to the Way in its purity. The Book of Documents says, “Self-satisfaction brings harm; humility brings benefit.”

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

Cases such as being preserved through yielding and appearing upright through being bent under pressure all demonstrate the principle of noncontention. People under Heaven do not understand the art of taking and giving, so no one can contend with the one who does not contend.

Could the ancients’ saying, “By yielding, one can be preserved,” really be empty words? Indeed, one can preserve oneself and ultimately return to the Great Way.

These words are utterly true and trustworthy. Yielding does not remain yielding forever, nor does preservation remain preservation forever. To yield as circumstances require and to be preserved as circumstances require—this is the mystery of the Dao.

Chapter 23

Few words accord with nature.

When standards are put into practice and teachings made clear, someone may hear a single sentence and understand. This naturally accords with the Dao. What need is there for endless talk? Words are precious when they are few. Though the words are sparse, the principle is clear and evident—is this not what happens naturally?

A gale does not last all morning; a downpour does not last all day. Who makes them so? Heaven and Earth. If even the wind and rain brought forth by Heaven and Earth cannot last long, how much less can human efforts endure?

The gale and downpour illustrate this principle. When wind and rain suddenly grow fierce, people know they have arrived. Why must the wind blow all morning and the rain fall all day before their presence is clear? Words are used to explain a principle. If the words contain the principle, people can understand it and find it by seeking. Why say so much?

Thus, those who act in accordance with the Dao become one with the Dao; those who act in accordance with De become one with De; those who lose their way become one with their lostness.

Speak of the Dao, and those who trust in the Dao will naturally agree. Speak of De, and those who trust in De will naturally agree. Speak of being lost, and those who are lost will naturally agree. This too happens naturally.

Those who accord with the Dao are welcomed by the Dao; those who accord with De are welcomed by De; those who accord with being lost will have lostness come upon them.

The Dao accepts those who accord with it, De accepts those who accord with it, and loss of the Dao accepts those who accord with loss of the Dao. This describes a mutual correspondence without distinction.

When trust is lacking, people will not believe you. Confused words without sound reasoning fail to persuade others.

Chapter 24

Standing on tiptoe, you cannot stand steadily; taking long strides, you cannot walk far.

This is because forcing your effort makes it difficult to achieve both aims: you cannot stand firmly on tiptoe, and you cannot keep walking for long with oversized steps.

Those who show off cannot see things clearly. Those who insist they are right cannot make their reasoning clear. Those who boast of their achievements have no real accomplishments to their name. Those who think themselves superior cannot endure.

None of these ways can secure lasting success. For example, when jade is hidden in a mountain, the trees on the mountain appear lustrous; when pearls form in the depths, the banks do not become barren. Things reveal themselves naturally without trying to display themselves. By not insisting on being right, one makes the truth clear; by not boasting of achievements, one achieves merit; by not thinking oneself superior, one can endure.

In relation to the Dao, these ways are like leftover food and extra limbs. All things may despise them, so a person who has the Dao does not adopt them.

“Leftover food and extra limbs” are metaphors for conduct that cannot endure: showing off, insisting on being right, boasting of one’s achievements, and thinking oneself superior. “Things” refers broadly to all things. If all things despise such conduct, how much more would a person who has the Dao? Thus, a person who has the Dao does not act this way.

Chapter 25

There is a whole, undifferentiated presence that existed before Heaven and Earth came into being.

“Whole and undifferentiated” is a metaphor for the Great Dao. The Great Dao has no fixed form, while Heaven and Earth have form. Since Heaven and Earth arose from the Great Dao, the text says that the Dao came before them.

It is still and empty, existing on its own and never changing. It moves everywhere without ceasing and can serve as the mother of all things under Heaven.

This describes the Great Dao in its undivided state. “Mother” refers to its being the beginning of all things and its ability to give birth to and nurture them.

I do not know its original name. I give it the designation “Dao”; forced to name it, I call it “Great.”

The Great Dao has no concrete form, so no definite name can describe it. That is why the text says its name is unknown and it can only be called “Dao.” “Great” means that it encompasses and contains everything.

Being great, it is called “going forth.”

“Going forth” means moving and proceeding. The Great Dao is vast without limit, and its movement is not confined to any one place; therefore it is called “going forth.”

Going forth, it is called “far.”

The destination of the Dao cannot be defined by a fixed name, so it is said that its name is unknown and that it can only be called “Dao” as a makeshift designation. The Dao is vast and boundless, able to contain everything; therefore it is generally called “Great.”

“Great” is also called “Going Forth.” “Going forth” means moving and proceeding onward. Since the Dao is vast, its movement is not confined to any one place; therefore it is called “Going Forth.”

“Going Forth” is also called “Far-reaching.” The Dao’s movement extends to many places, and its effects must reach far across the myriad things; therefore it is called “Far-reaching.”

“Far-reaching” is also called “Returning.” When things develop to their furthest point, they turn back. After exhausting the transformations of the myriad things, they return to simplicity; therefore it is called “Returning.”

Thus, the Dao is great, Heaven is great, Earth is great, and the ruler is also great. The Dao came into being before Heaven and Earth, so “the Dao is great” is mentioned first. Heaven is light and clear, occupying the upper position; Earth is substantial and heavy, occupying the lower position. Both arose as the uncarved simplicity dispersed, so “Heaven is great, Earth is great” follows. The ruler embodies the Dao’s emptiness and harmony and follows the transformations through which Heaven and Earth nourish the myriad things. His greatness is equal to theirs; therefore it is also said, “the ruler is great.”

Human beings take Earth as their model; Earth takes Heaven as its model; Heaven takes the Dao as its model; and the Dao takes what is natural as its model. Here, “natural” means the state in which things are as they are of themselves, arising spontaneously.

Chapter Twenty-Six

The substantial and weighty are the foundation of the light and frivolous; stillness is the master of agitation. “Weighty” means not acting rashly or carelessly. Once things change too easily, frivolity arises. “Stillness” means calm reserve and accord with the Dao. Once stillness is lost, agitation begins. Thus, the Dao takes Wuwei (non-action) as its foundation, in accord with weightiness and stillness; frivolity and agitation lie latent within, waiting for their moment. “Foundation” and “master” refer to the basis and governing principle on which these things arise.

Therefore, the noble person travels all day without leaving the baggage wagon, which carries provisions and belongings. This serves as a metaphor for the noble person’s never losing composure or abandoning constancy.

Even amid splendid and impressive sights, he remains calmly settled and detached. This means that he is still and content to remain in his proper place.

Why should a ruler who commands ten thousand chariots treat the realm lightly? In governing the realm, a ruler should hold fast to composure and stillness, using them to steady frivolous tendencies and restrain rash overreach. He must not indulge his desires or pursue comforts, acting recklessly until he forgets the principles of governing the realm. The scripture uses a rhetorical question to make this point.

Acting lightly leads to losing one’s ministers; agitation leads to losing one’s position as ruler.

Those skilled in action leave no trace to follow. They take what they do into their hearts and do not display it deliberately, so others find it difficult to discover the key to their actions.

Those skilled in speech make no mistakes in their words. Their teachings endure for a long time, and those who follow them are kept safe and do not incur blame. Even across a thousand miles, they can respond to one another. This is the essence of skillful speech.

Those skilled in planning do not rely on a multitude of counting tools. Gain and loss depend on how circumstances unfold; success and failure turn on the judgment in one’s heart. However many calculations one makes, how could they replace wisdom? This is the essence of skillful planning.

Those skilled at closing need no bolt to keep a door from opening. A bolt is a tool for opening and closing a door; yet without one, no one can open it. It is like keeping one’s plans silently hidden in the heart: if they are not spoken aloud, others cannot pry into them or discern their principles.

Those skilled at binding need no rope to make a bond firm and impossible to undo. The Book of Changes says, “Water flows toward low, damp places; fire burns toward dry things.” When things follow their own natures and come together naturally, this is the utmost skill in binding.

Therefore, the sage is always skilled at helping people, and so no one is abandoned; always skilled at helping all things, and so nothing is cast aside. The sage is intent on helping people, whether they are wise or foolish; intent on helping all things, whether they are beautiful or ugly. This is the essence of the sage’s goodness.

This is called “embracing illumination”: receiving and preserving clear insight. Those with clear insight see through to the principles of things. Skill in action, speech, planning, closing, and binding all comes from clear insight. Relying on tracks, embellishments in speech, elaborate calculations, bolts, and ropes is what the dim-sighted depend on. Keep clear insight in your heart, and it will not be forgotten.

Thus, those who are good can serve as teachers to those who are not good, while those who are not good can also serve as a warning and a source of learning for those who are good.

“Resource” means something taken up and used as a basis. The conduct of good people can be followed, so they are called “teachers.” The words and actions of those who are not good can serve as a mirror; good people can also learn from them, so they are called “resources.”

If we do not respect teachers or value what can serve as a mirror, we lose opportunities to learn and reflect. If we place too much importance on teachers, we can easily become self-righteous. If we seek resources indiscriminately, we may even come to regard what is not good as something admirable. None of these thoughts accords with the Great Dao.

Even when we understand this, people in the world may still see it as deeply perplexing. This is the subtle essence of the teaching. Respect teachers without becoming attached to them; learn from what serves as a mirror without becoming absorbed in it. Grasp the principle inwardly, yet do not cling outwardly to appearances. Seeing this way of acting, people may think it confused and unclear, but within it lies the subtle wonder of the Great Dao.

Chapter 28

Know the forceful and prominent side, yet hold to the gentle and humble side, and you can become the valley of the world. As the valley of the world, you will never lose constant De, and so return to the pure harmony of an infant.

People often like to show off their strength. When strength becomes excessive, it reaches fullness and brings loss. The sage knows not to crave strength, and so holds to gentleness: soft and receptive, making no contention with the myriad things. The comparison to a valley means that it can receive all things without being exhausted. Hold to this constant De without abandoning it, and you can return to simplicity, becoming once more like an infant: gentle, Wuwei, receptive, and without contention with the myriad things.

Know the side that shines brightly, yet hold to the side that is dark and hidden, and you can become the model of the world. As the model of the world, you will never stray from constant De, and so return to the boundless.

Know the side that brings honor, yet hold to the side that is humble and lowly, and you can become the valley of the world. As the valley of the world, your constant De will be full, and so you will return to the uncarved simplicity of your original nature.

Black and white have visible forms, so they are used as a metaphor for “pattern.” Honor and disgrace have no fixed substance, so they are used as a metaphor for “valley.” Standards and rules always have limits. Even when devised without error, they cannot encompass all the changes in the myriad things. To keep to black is chiefly to adapt to change and remain open; thus it returns to the Infinite, a state without boundaries. A valley is empty, yet can contain the myriad things. But if we speak only of containment, there is still concern that it may not endure, so constant De is also needed.

The Uncarved Block, a state in which nothing has been carved and the Dao has not yet dispersed, represents the time before the Dao differentiated. To speak of male and female, the text uses the infant and the Mysterious Female; to speak of white and black, it uses the Infinite; to speak of honor and disgrace, it uses the Uncarved Block. All these expressions point back to the source and original state, which has never departed from the Dao.

When the Uncarved Block disperses, it forms the various vessels. When the sage makes use of these vessels, he becomes the leader of the people.

The Uncarved Block dispersing into vessels means that things acquire specific forms and functions. Officials are those who govern these vessels and arrange their functions.

Therefore, skillful governance that brings the myriad things under its care does not forcibly divide them.

It takes stock of vessels of different sizes and appoints them according to the strengths and limitations of each. When used appropriately, things can fit together; when used excessively, they lose their nature. This is all the way of nature. Why would a sage need to impose divisions by force?

Chapter 29

To try to obtain the world and govern it by force, I believe, will ultimately fail.

The Book of Documents says, “Make understanding and wisdom manifest, and become a ruler; the ruler becomes the parent of the people.” Can this really be achieved by force?

The world is a mysterious vessel, a whole whose workings are difficult to fathom. It cannot be manipulated by human will. Forcing things only narrows its scope. Those whose understanding is shallow and whose wisdom is limited are not fit to command such a mysterious vessel, so they must not act rashly.

Forcing things leads to failure; clinging to control leads to loss.

Failure and loss both arise from acting upon things and insisting on control.

Thus, among the myriad things, some go ahead and some follow; some are gentle and slow, others hurried; some are strong, others weak; some bear up, others collapse.

Each thing follows its own nature and rests within its proper bounds. This is the result of following what is natural and refraining from control.

Therefore, the sage lets go of excess, extravagance, and extremes.

Those who use the Dao to assist a ruler in governing the world should not rely on military force to assert dominance. The harm caused by force often rebounds on those who use it: grievances lie in wait, retaliation follows, and the cycle is hard to stop. Where armies have been stationed, brambles grow thick; after a great war, famine often follows.

Those skilled at assisting a ruler use force decisively only when there is no alternative; they do not use it to assert dominance. Even when victorious, they do not boast, display their achievements, or become arrogant. Here, “decisive” means acting firmly to overcome the enemy. “When there is no alternative” means that the enemy is overbearing and without regard for the Dao, and the crisis is severe enough that force must be used to quell the turmoil. Even in victory, they do not regard themselves as powerful, but respond with gentleness.

The phrase “going beyond the ordinary measure and one’s proper part” means acting beyond what is customary and beyond one’s proper bounds. Why does this happen? Because one is fixated on acting, yet does not understand the essentials.

This gives a broad account of the meaning of the Dao. When things develop to the height of their strength, they can grow no further; hence they are called “old.” Once they decline, they can no longer give rise to new life, and so are said to be “not in accord with the Dao.” When they do not accord with the Dao, all things lose their support and move toward an end. “End” means cessation and extinction. When things can no longer change and flow freely, they eventually stagnate and perish, and decay follows. This is not the wondrous working of the Dao.

Chapter 31

Fine weapons are inauspicious objects.

“Fine” means great, and “auspicious” means fortunate. Weapons may possess great power, yet they bring misfortune. For this reason, a person who has the Dao does not treat them as everyday implements.

In ordinary life, the noble person honors the left; in warfare, the right is honored.

The left belongs to Yang, and the right to Yin. The Yin aspect is not a use that the Dao advocates.

Weapons are inauspicious objects, not things a noble person should use.

This is repeated to make clear that weapons are truly inauspicious and should not be among a noble person’s implements.

When warfare cannot be avoided, one should remain calm and restrained, without boasting or seeking to prevail.

This is what is meant by being decisive without being domineering.

Victory in battle should not be celebrated as something beautiful. To boast of victory is to take pleasure in killing people.

Warfare necessarily involves killing and injury, which are not good things. To call them good is to violate the virtue of cherishing life and to encourage harm and slaughter. This shows that weapons are not things a noble person should use.

Those who take pleasure in killing people cannot realize their aims under Heaven.

If you harm others, they will surely come to harm you in return. Things inevitably come back around, so those who take pleasure in killing cannot achieve their ambitions under Heaven.

Celebrations honor the left, while funerals and other inauspicious affairs honor the right. The deputy general occupies the left position, and the commanding general the right. This means that war should be treated according to the rites for mourning. When many people have been killed, one should grieve and weep; even victory should be marked with funeral rites.

This passage says not to celebrate an inauspicious affair as though it were auspicious. War brings disaster and should be accompanied by grief and weeping; it is not something people welcome. The text therefore stresses once more that when many have been killed, one should mourn and weep, and that even victory should be treated like a funeral.

These words mean that one should not assume good fortune can be gained from danger at hand. When sorrow strikes, tears follow; this is not something people willingly endure. The author repeats this point to make clear that military force cannot be relied upon. This is an inescapable truth.

Chapter 32

The Dao is always nameless.

“Name” cannot be fixed forever, and no fixed name can fully represent the Dao. The Dao passes freely through change and adapts to all things. It has no fixed place, so it is called “nameless.”

Though the Uncarved Block is small, no one under Heaven dares to make it a subject.

The “Uncarved Block” refers to the state of the Dao before it divides and appears as the myriad things. It has no measurable form, so it may be called small. Yet it gives life to all things and works widely, reaching everywhere; therefore, no one under Heaven dares to treat it as a subject. Here, “subject” means one who occupies a lower position and is ruled by another.

If lords and kings can hold fast to it, the myriad things will naturally come to them as guests.

If lords and kings can remain as simple and untroubled as the Uncarved Block, the myriad things will naturally submit to their influence, just as they respond to the wondrous working of the Dao.

When Heaven and Earth unite, sweet dew descends. People do not command it, yet it falls evenly.

When Heaven and Earth unite completely, sweet dew descends. The dew symbolizes the harmonious Qi of Heaven and Earth benefiting those below. It does not come at anyone’s command; when it falls naturally, it moistens all things without favoring any.

Once things begin to take shape, names arise.

When Heaven and Earth divide, names for things are established. Since the myriad things each have their beginnings and multiply and grow, names naturally arise along with them.

One must also know when to stop; knowing when to stop keeps one from danger.

When things multiply and names grow tangled, one must know when enough is enough and use this understanding to regulate them. Without knowing when to stop, things reach their limit and become obstructed, and signs of danger and ruin follow. Knowing when to stop is what keeps one from danger.

The Dao in the world is like the rivers and valleys flowing into the rivers and seas.

The Dao in the world is like the rivers and seas receiving the streams and valleys and nourishing all things, leaving nothing, however small, untouched.

Chapter 33

Knowing others is wisdom; knowing oneself is clarity. Overcoming others takes strength; overcoming oneself is true power.

To understand others is to have wisdom; to understand oneself is to be truly clear-sighted. To overcome others shows strength; only one who can restrain oneself can be called truly strong.

Wisdom and strength are expressed outwardly; clear discernment and steadfastness work within the heart. Clear discernment enables one to examine oneself without overlooking anything; steadfastness enables one to cultivate the Dao step by step.

One who knows contentment is rich:

When one understands the One and no longer covets a second share, the heart can be content. This is why such a person is called rich; abundance does not lie in possessing many things.

One who acts with strength has resolve:

Resolve resides in the heart. Firmly putting the Great Dao into practice also depends on inner will. If one has clear discernment but lacks firmness, how can one be said to have resolve?

One who does not lose their place endures:

Having found a fitting place to return to, one can rest at ease in the Dao. At ease in the Dao, one can endure.

One who dies yet does not perish has longevity:

Death cannot be avoided; the body and Jing (essence) are depleted. This is the ordinary course of all living things. “Not perishing” means that a person knows and overcomes themselves, is content, firmly puts the Great Dao into practice, and does not lose their place. In this way, they leave behind an enduring presence. This is true longevity, and cannot be compared with living to a hundred years like ordinary people.

Chapter 34

The Great Dao flows everywhere, to the left and to the right.

People can spread the Great Dao, yet the Dao never leaves people. Draw upon the Dao, and it comes close at hand; act in accordance with the Dao, and one accords with the natural order without violating its patterns. Thus it is said to be everywhere, to the left and to the right.

All things depend on the Dao to grow, yet the Dao does not refuse them or claim credit for nurturing them.

When things are accomplished, the Dao does not claim the credit for itself.

The Dao cherishes and nourishes all things, yet does not rule over them. All things are born from the Dao, but the Dao does not claim to be their ruler. Its giving is therefore boundless.

One who is always without desire may be called “small.”

With a desireless heart, one can observe what is subtle and draw near to the first traces of the Dao. It is called “small” because it is simple and reserved, as if it had not yet appeared.

All things return to the Dao, yet the Dao does not rule over them. It may be called “great.”

All things return and receive the Dao’s blessings, yet the Dao does not rely on its merits. It is still and empty, yet its workings are inexhaustible; no thing can fathom it. Thus it may be called “great.”

Chapter 35

Hold to the image of the Great Dao, and all under Heaven will turn toward you. Here, “great image” refers to the Dao as a whole; “hold” means to grasp and put the Dao into practice, not to cling stubbornly to something. All under Heaven follow because the Dao does not oppose or conflict with the natural order.

Act in accordance with the natural development of things, and if you cause no harm, you can remain secure, peaceful, and unimpeded.

This explains the principle through the way things appear. Grasp the Dao (the Way), and you can follow the natural course of events toward an open and unimpeded path. This does not mean stubbornly clinging to anything. The myriad things under Heaven follow the Dao because it neither opposes nor obstructs them.

Act in accordance with the natural development of things, and if you cause no harm, you can remain secure, peaceful, and unimpeded.

Adapt to the circumstances of things and change along with them. In this way, you can attain security and ease, and avoid danger, decline, and calamity.

Music and fine food can make passersby stop in their tracks.

Music and fine food are used here as metaphors because people everywhere enjoy them. Though passersby may stop, they do not regard the place where they have paused as their final destination. Even as they linger, they know they cannot stay there forever.

When the Dao is spoken of, it seems plain and tasteless.

Once the Dao is put into words, the explanation becomes elaborate. When using language to describe the Dao, what matters most is preserving its simplicity and purity. That is why the Dao seems plain and tasteless: its flavor cannot be found in words.

Look for it, and it cannot be seen; listen for it, and it cannot be heard; put it to use, and it is never exhausted.

The Dao is not a “way” in the ordinary sense, and its name is not fixed. So even keen eyes and sharp ears have no way to exercise their abilities upon it. The Dao’s use takes root in the mind, yet its transformations act upon all things. It operates in silence and stillness—how could it ever be exhausted? That is why using the Dao never exhausts it.

Chapter Thirty-Six

To make something contract, you must first let it expand. To make something weaken, you must first let it grow strong. To discard something, you must first let it flourish. To take something away, you must first give it. This is called “subtle insight”: discerning the patterns of change in things from their earliest signs.

When expansion reaches its extreme, contraction must follow; when strength reaches its extreme, weakness must follow; when flourishing reaches its extreme, decline must follow; when giving reaches its extreme, what was given must be taken back. These are all natural patterns. The sage can see and understand these changes in advance because he clearly perceives how things develop. That is why this is called “subtle insight.” Such subtle discernment sees through what is hidden and difficult to perceive, and ordinary understanding can scarcely match it.

The soft and weak can overcome the hard and strong.

The ancients said: Lightning on a great mountain can pierce rock, and a rope stretched to its limit will break. This, too, is a natural pattern.

Fish cannot leave the deep pool. The state’s sharp instruments—its power and essential means—must not be displayed lightly to others.

This is a metaphor: fish cannot leave the deep pool, and people cannot leave the Dao (the Way); the principle is the same. The “useful tools” mentioned here are implements fashioned in accordance with the Dao. People often seek guidance only after something has happened and produced a result. But one cannot explain matters to them by pointing to signs visible on the surface.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

The Dao constantly follows its own nature. It takes no deliberate action, yet nothing is left undone. If lords and kings—the rulers who govern the world—can hold fast to the Dao, all things will transform and flourish of themselves.

All things can change of themselves, so nothing is left undone. This does not mean that the Dao itself deliberately acts. When rulers govern the world, if they can accord with the Dao, all things will each rest in their own nature and allotted place, following their own course without being forced against it.

When all things change of themselves, excessive desires and reckless impulses may arise. I then use the “nameless uncarved block”—the unadorned, simple, natural nature—to bring them to rest.

“Will” means “great.” Desire has no limit; it arises with likes and dislikes. If it is not brought to rest, it can lead to repeated swings and, in the end, disorder. The uncarved block is the fundamental source of simple sincerity and single-mindedness, free from reckless action. What those above favor is often expressed even more strongly by those below. Understanding this is the key to bringing desire to rest.

The “nameless uncarved block” is simply a state without desire.

Do not let desire disturb the mind and spirit; keep the mind calm, and the world will naturally return to what is right. This is holding fast to one’s original purity. When the mind is pure, turbidity and wickedness will not grow, nor will they disrupt the myriad things.

End of Volume One of Explanation of the True Scripture of the Dao and Its De (Daode Zhenjing Jie)

Explanation of the True Scripture of the Dao and Its De (Daode Zhenjing Jie), Volume Two

Commentary by Chen Xianggu, Vice Director of the Court of Deliberations

Chapter Thirty-Eight

The highest De does not deliberately display itself as virtuous, and so it truly has De. The lowest De clings to the pursuit of “De” at every turn, always wanting others to see its virtue, and so it has no true De.

To “not display one’s De” means not to boast of one’s merits. People therefore admire one’s De and naturally wish to follow. To “cling to one’s De” means to keep it constantly in mind and deliberately protect it. Once one fears losing it, one may resort to any means. Seeing such behavior, people may instead look down on that person. How could this be called De? The Book of Documents says, “Self-satisfaction brings loss; humility brings benefit. This is the Way of Heaven.” It also says, “If you do not boast, no one under Heaven will compete with you in ability; if you do not boast of your merits, no one under Heaven will compete with you in achievement.”

The highest De operates naturally, without deliberately acting.

It quietly moves the transformations of Heaven, Earth, and all things within the heart, embracing all things. Each thing follows its own nature and patterns, without needing to be controlled by human intervention or having De deliberately displayed. This is what it means to act without deliberate effort.

The lowest De acts with a clear purpose.

Because it clings to never losing De, it acts deliberately and thereby becomes a burden. This is because its understanding of the Dao is not deep enough and its wisdom is not clear enough.

The highest Ren acts without deliberately pursuing a goal; the highest Yi acts with clear choices and judgments.

Those who practice Ren cherish life and abhor killing. Their acts of benevolence have already benefited all things, which is why they “act.” Yet they do not boast or let others see any trace of deliberate benevolence, which is why they act “without deliberately pursuing a goal.” Yi means judging what to accept or reject according to what is appropriate. To treat people and conduct affairs according to Yi is to act, and to do so with clear judgment and purpose.

The highest Li acts; if the other person does not respond, it rolls up its sleeves and forces them to comply.

“Again” means repeatedly, time after time. Li regulates people’s conduct and makes them observe ritual propriety: what accords with Li is deemed right, and what does not is deemed wrong. This readily leads to disputes over right and wrong. When instruction through outward example has no effect, one can only impose order through force. Hence the phrase “roll up one’s sleeves and compel them again and again.” Repeatedly forcing others to observe Li is no longer natural conduct; it departs from the natural Way.

Thus, only after the Dao is lost do people speak of De; only after De is lost do they speak of Ren; only after Ren is lost do they speak of Yi; and only after Yi is lost do they speak of Li. Li means that loyalty and trust have grown thin; it is also where disorder begins.

When the Great Dao was whole, De, benevolence, righteousness, and ritual were all contained within it and formed a unity. Now that the Great Dao has been lost, different principles are discussed separately. Only after losing the Dao do people speak of De; after losing De, they speak of benevolence; after losing benevolence, they speak of righteousness; and after losing righteousness, they speak of ritual. Ritual is a sign that loyalty and trust have grown weak, and the beginning of disorder.

When the Great Dao was whole, De, benevolence, righteousness, and ritual were all fused into one. Only after losing the Dao did people begin to divide principles into categories. De then became visible as a rule to be deliberately practiced through effort, no longer a natural state. So, when De is lost, people turn to benevolence; when benevolence is lost, they turn to righteousness; and when righteousness is lost, they turn to ritual. The more distinctions there are, the thinner human bonds become and the more rules multiply. Even if people wish to return to unity, they cannot. Thus ritual is a sign that loyalty and trust have grown weak, and the beginning of disorder.

“Foreknowledge” means knowledge and judgment acquired in advance. If one can see beforehand that an undertaking will end well and act accordingly, this is like a plant flowering: the Great Dao’s radiance showing itself outwardly. If one cannot see that an undertaking will ultimately end badly and persists in it, folly will also reveal itself. That is why foreknowledge is called the beginning of folly.

Therefore, the great person—one of virtue and insight—takes their stand on what is substantial and does not dwell on what is shallow; they abide in what is real and do not pursue outward brilliance.

“Substantial” means that nothing surpasses the Great Dao. “Shallow” refers to the lower levels of De, benevolence, righteousness, and ritual. “Real” means the inner practice of the Dao of harmony and balance, a peaceful and impartial state; “brilliance” means the everyday practices displayed outwardly. Wuwei and stillness do not need to be advertised through outward effort, so one should hold to what is substantial and real.

Therefore, set those aside and choose these.

“Those” refers to the lower levels of De, benevolence, righteousness, and ritual; “these” refers to the Great Dao and highest De. In keeping with reason, what should be chosen and what should be set aside are not to be confused.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

In ancient times, the things that attained the One—the fundamental principle of the Great Dao—were these: Heaven attained the One and became clear; Earth attained the One and became stable; spirits attained the One and became efficacious; valleys attained the One and became full; the myriad things attained the One and grew; and the lords and kings attained the One and became the rightful rulers of the world. Each attained and embodied the function of the One.

Here, the “One” refers to the subtle workings of the Great Dao. “Attain” means to reach: it describes reaching the principle of the Dao’s wondrous workings.

If Heaven cannot maintain its clarity, it may split apart; if Earth cannot maintain its calm, it may quake; if the spirits cannot manifest their power, they may fade away; if the valleys cannot remain full, they may dry up; if the myriad things cannot grow, they may perish; if the lords and kings cannot maintain their exalted position, they may be overthrown.

What splits apart cannot remain whole; what quakes cannot remain stable; what fades away cannot endure; what dries up is liable to collapse; what perishes cannot continue; what is overthrown cannot remain secure. All this results from losing the Dao (the Way).

Thus, the exalted takes the lowly as its root, and the high takes the lower as its foundation. This is how things follow one another; such is the natural course of circumstances.

Therefore, if lords and kings split apart like Heaven, they cannot remain whole; if they quake like Earth, they cannot remain stable; if they fade away like the spirits, they cannot endure; if they dry up like valleys, they are liable to collapse; if they perish like the myriad things, they cannot continue; if they are overthrown like lords and kings, they cannot remain secure. All this results from losing the Dao. The exalted takes the lowly as its root, and the high takes the lower as its foundation. This is how things follow one another; such is the natural course of circumstances.

That is why lords and kings call themselves “orphan,” “widower,” and “unworthy”—humble titles used by rulers in ancient times. Is this not taking the lowly as one’s root? Indeed, this is putting the principle of lowliness and humility into practice. To call oneself orphan, widower, and unworthy is to be humble to the utmost. The Book of Changes says: “The Way of Heaven diminishes what is full and adds to what is humble; the Way of Earth transforms what is full and directs it toward what is humble; spirits harm what is full and bless what is humble; people dislike self-satisfaction and favor humility.” Through humility, one becomes distinguished; occupying a low position, one cannot be surpassed. This is the final virtue of the noble person. Is it not so? The phrase “Is it not so?” means that humility cannot be called wrong.

Therefore, no matter how many spokes come together in a wheel, they can never take the place of the hub.

The sages of antiquity observed tumbleweeds turning in the wind and first conceived the idea of making wheels. Wheels could turn, but could not carry things, so people then applied their ingenuity to meet practical needs and made a cart body to hold and transport goods. Once the goods had been delivered, they set the cart body aside. Though made of many parts, the cart body does not boast of its usefulness. This is just like lords and kings: though their achievements are great, they call themselves orphan, widower, and unworthy. They accomplish many things without claiming credit. How is this any different from the cart body not boasting of itself?

One should not wish to shine like precious jade, nor stand out like an isolated stone.

“Lülü” describes jade’s warm, lustrous beauty; “luoluo” describes stone’s plain yet pleasing form. Although jade and stone look beautiful on the outside, within they lack the ability to adapt to changing things and respond in harmony. So do not be like jade or stone, pursuing only outward appearance and form.

Chapter Forty

Returning is the movement of the Dao.

When things develop to an extreme, they turn toward the opposite. The Dao, however, does not go to extremes along with the myriad things. Hence it is said that returning is the movement of the Dao.

Weakness is the way the Dao functions.

In its operation, the Dao does not contend with the myriad things. It knows how to remain yielding and not to force its strength. Hence it is said that weakness is the way the Dao functions.

The myriad things under Heaven arise from “being,” and “being” arises from “nonbeing.”

What has come into being is “being”; what has not yet come into being is “nonbeing.” Benefit and harm depend on each other, while existence and extinction follow one another. Only the principles of returning and weakness accord with “nonbeing.”

Chapter Forty-One

People of the highest capacity, when they hear of the Dao, diligently put it into practice.

This shows firm conviction and deep understanding.

People of middling capacity, when they hear of the Dao, sometimes believe and sometimes doubt.

This shows that their conviction is not firm enough and their understanding not yet deep.

People of the lowest capacity, when they hear of the Dao, laugh aloud. If it were not laughed at, it would hardly deserve to be called the Dao.

That people neither believe nor understand it is simply how things are.

Ancient sayings about the Dao include the following, each with a basis:

The bright Dao seems dim; advancing along the Dao seems like retreating. The level Dao seems rough; the highest De seems low. What is pure white seems stained; abundant De seems deficient. Strong, firm De seems slack; what is genuine and unadorned seems changeable. The greatest square has no corners; the greatest vessel is completed last. The grandest sound is heard only faintly; the greatest image has no fixed form. The Dao is hidden and does not show itself, and it has no fixed name.

In outward appearance and signs, the Dao seems close at hand, yet inwardly it is subtle and far-reaching, beyond easy perception. It can discern subtle signs and preserve what is subtle; for this reason, the Dao cannot be fully measured.

The Dao alone is skilled at giving the myriad things what they need to rely on and helping them fulfill themselves. To give them what they need is to let them find support and act without exhaustion; to help them fulfill themselves is to let them preserve their mystery without being damaged.

Chapter Forty-Two

The Dao gives rise to “one.” Here, “one” means the original, undivided state of the myriad things, like an uncarved block of jade.

“One” gives rise to “two.” Here, “two” means the form of Heaven.

“Two” gives rise to “three.” Here, “three” means the shape of Earth.

“Three” gives rise to the myriad things.

After Heaven and Earth were separated, the myriad things began to come into being. Desires and passions multiplied, and people could no longer hold fast to the Dao (the Way) as their foundation.

All things carry Yin on their backs and embrace Yang. The two vital energies of Yin and Yang stir against and harmonize with each other, thereby forming harmony. This is the original, undifferentiated state of simplicity.

“One” gives birth to “two”—

this is the substance of Heaven.

“Two” gives birth to “three”—

this is the form of Earth.

“Three” gives birth to the myriad things.

After Heaven and Earth were separated, the myriad things began to come into being. Desires and passions multiplied, and people could no longer hold fast to the Dao (the Way) as their foundation.

All things carry Yin on their backs and embrace Yang. The two vital energies of Yin and Yang stir against and harmonize with each other, thereby maintaining harmony among the myriad things.

The titles people dislike are “orphan,” “widower,” and “unworthy”—a humble title used by rulers. Yet lords and princes use these titles for themselves.

They do so because they have reached a state of humility and harmonious balance.

Thus, things may sometimes benefit from being diminished, while at other times they are harmed by being increased.

The workings of the Dao cannot be measured. Diminution and increase, fullness and emptiness, continually transform into one another.

The teachings passed down by others, I too teach in accordance with principle.

This means that teaching has a beginning and a source: people are taught to take harmony between Yin and Yang as their guiding principle. “What is fitting” means what is appropriate; here, “I” refers to where the Dao’s workings extend.

The workings of the Dao cannot be measured. Diminution and increase, fullness and emptiness, continually transform into one another.

The teachings passed down by others, I too teach in accordance with principle.

This means that teaching has a beginning and a source: people are taught to take harmony between Yin and Yang as their guiding principle. “What is fitting” means what is appropriate; here, “I” refers to the Dao. In applying these teachings, people should also follow the circumstances of things and teach in ways suited to each.

Those who act forcefully and rely on brute strength cannot meet a natural end.

Acting forcefully and relying on brute strength means no longer following what is natural, and going against the subtle workings of harmony between Yin and Yang. “Cannot meet their death” means they cannot preserve the life’s original pattern.

I will take these principles as the foundation of teaching.

Anything called “parent” signifies the beginning from which something comes into being. “Take this as the parent of teaching” means to make it the source from which teaching arises.

Chapter Forty-Three

The softest thing in the world can pass through what is hardest in the world.

The nature of the Dao is empty and subtle; it may be called soft and weak. It does not contend with the myriad things. When its use is needed, it manifests its function; when it draws back, it returns to concealment. In this sense, it may be called firm and powerful.

What has no form or substance can enter where there is no space between things,

“No-thingness” is the Dao’s wondrous activity. There is nowhere it cannot reach, and nothing that can obstruct it. The Dao’s nature is empty and subtle. Could it not be called gentle? It does not contend with anything; when it needs to act, it moves, and when it needs to withdraw, it conceals itself. Could it not be called strong?

The formless, imageless Dao can enter places with no gaps. “No-thingness” refers to the Dao’s wondrous activity; “no gap” means there is nowhere it cannot reach or be obstructed. The Dao’s movements bring endless change and preserve subtle principles.

Thus I know that Wuwei (non-action) is beneficial. Yet only those who have penetrated the Great Dao can experience the benefits of Wuwei; ordinary people find them hard to understand. Few in the world can teach without words and bring benefit through Wuwei.

The Analects says, “Heaven does not speak, yet the four seasons continue to move and all things continue to grow.” Few are able to do this.

Chapter 44

Which is dearer: reputation or life? Which matters more: life or wealth? Which brings greater distress: gain or loss?

Reputation is the Dao’s outward splendor; wealth is an illusory thing the Dao does not seek. Greed becomes a burden, while life is fundamental. Only with life can one observe, learn, and practice the Dao. Therefore, reputation is less dear than life, and wealth matters less than life; clinging to gain is less fitting than accepting loss.

Those who cherish something excessively will inevitably pay a great price for it. Those who accumulate too much often suffer heavy losses in the end. Fear of losing someone one loves will surely drain one’s spirit. Those who worry about losing their stored wealth often feel they have too little, and so regret having given too much and fear suffering great loss.

Those who know contentment will not be disgraced; those who know when to stop will not be endangered, and can therefore endure. Knowing contentment prevents excessive attachment; knowing when to stop prevents overaccumulation. In this way, by following the Great Dao and conforming to its teachings, one can endure naturally, without deliberately seeking longevity.

Chapter 45

The most perfect thing seems to have flaws, yet its function never wears out. The most abundant thing seems empty, yet its function is never exhausted.

“Seems flawed” and “seems empty” describe not being self-satisfied or boastful. In this way, one’s function will neither wear out nor be exhausted.

The most upright appearance seems somewhat crooked; the most skillful technique seems clumsy; the most eloquent person seems inarticulate.

The principle of bending and remaining whole is like the human body: when it bends, it becomes supple. When something is clumsy, it does not appear artful; when speech is halting, it does not appear eloquent. Straightness has its time to shine, skill has its time to be useful, and eloquence has its time to be needed. The sage knows the mysteries of the Great Dao and understands how to hold back its effects until the right moment. That is how the sage can act this way.

Movement can ward off the cold, while stillness can ease the heat. This is an inevitable principle.

Stillness is the standard for all under Heaven. Stillness is how the sage holds back the effects of action and waits for the right moment. That is how the sage can act this way.

Movement can ward off the cold, while stillness can ease the heat. This is an inevitable principle.

Stillness is the standard for all under Heaven. Stillness is the result of Wuwei (non-action). When the sage practices Wuwei, the people naturally return to what is right. Thus stillness can become the standard for all under Heaven.

Chapter 46

When the Dao prevails in the world, warhorses are retired and put to work plowing fields and fertilizing them. When the world is without the Dao, warhorses breed in the countryside.

In times when the Dao prevails, stillness guides governance, and people harbor no thoughts of conflict, so warhorses can be retired. With no wars in the land, people cherish life. They can use horse manure to fertilize and improve the soil, grow their own food, and fill their stores. In times when the world is without the Dao, people’s desires surge all at once, leaving them convinced that they must fight. At worst, they wage war, each trying to outdo the others. Warhorses therefore continue breeding in the countryside, because conflict never ceases.

No fault is greater than coveting fame and gain; no calamity is greater than not knowing when one has enough; no failing is greater than being single-minded in wanting more.

To covet is to treat reputation as precious and dear; to lack contentment is to regard more possessions as always better; to be single-minded in wanting more is to become fixated on possessing things.

Therefore, those who know contentment are always content.

Those who know contentment do not hope for a second thing when they have one, and even with little, they do not crave more. Though the world around them changes in countless ways, their minds remain clear and understanding. Even if they have only one thing, or a few, if they still regard these as burdens, how much more so when they have too little? Therefore, those who know contentment can always be content.

Chapter 47

Without leaving the doorway, one can understand all under Heaven; without peering out through the window, one can know the Dao of Heaven—the patterns by which Heaven and Earth operate.

The sage has attained the One—the fundamental principle that connects all things—and takes it as the standard for all under Heaven. Thus, without relying on doorways or windows, the sage understands and knows all the more deeply.

The farther one goes, the less one knows.

What the eyes and ears can encounter is limited; therefore, one’s knowledge grows ever less.

Thus the sage can know without traveling in person, discern the true nature of things without seeing them with his own eyes, and accomplish things without doing them himself.

One who understands the Great Dao can know whether things are moving or at rest, discern whether their names accord with reality, and see the scale of what they accomplish. Therefore, he can know without traveling in person, identify names without seeing with his own eyes, and bring things to completion without doing them himself.

Chapter Forty-Eight

In the pursuit of learning, something is added each day; in cultivating the Dao, something is diminished each day.

Learning advances gradually, accumulating little by little until much has been gained; hence, something is added each day. Once the Dao is cultivated to completion, one draws in its activity and conceals its radiance; hence, something is diminished each day.

Diminish continually until one reaches Wuwei (non-action). Act in accordance with nature, and nothing remains unaccomplished.

When emptiness and stillness reach their utmost, they can contain everything; hence, something is gained and added. Once the Dao is cultivated to completion, one draws in its activity and conceals its radiance; hence, something is diminished each day.

Diminish continually until one reaches Wuwei. Act in accordance with nature, and nothing remains unaccomplished.

Empty and still, unseen and unheard, one need not fear loss. To diminish until reaching Wuwei is the subtlety of the Great Dao. Though it is Wuwei, nothing is left undone. It is like diminishing continually until, in the end, nothing is truly lost.

Chapter Forty-Nine

The sage has no fixed opinions; he takes the people’s hearts as his own.

The sage governs according to circumstances and teaches in response to each situation. Thus, his heart is not fixed.

I treat the good with goodness, and I treat the not-good with goodness. This is goodness brought forth by De. I trust those who are trustworthy, and I trust those who are not trustworthy. This is trust brought forth by De.

The sage’s words and actions are impartial, without favor or aversion. Because goodness and trust arise from De, he treats everyone without distinction, and the people of the world all regard him as good and trustworthy.

The sage lives among the people of the world and practices De and trust.

The sage’s words and actions are impartial, without favor or aversion. Because goodness and trust arise from De, he treats everyone without distinction, and the people of the world all regard him as good and trustworthy.

The sage remains cautious and watchful among the people of the world, so that their hearts return to simplicity.

“Die die” describes a state of worry and vigilance. The Book of Changes says, “Diligent and tireless throughout the day, and still vigilant at night; even in danger, there is no misfortune.” The sage takes the people’s hearts as his own and does not consider his own thoughts superior. To “make his heart simple” means that outwardly the sage is like the people, while inwardly he differs from them.

The people focus entirely on their ears and eyes. They heed instruction, believe and obey, and hold it in reverence to the utmost degree. Every day they live in accordance with the Dao, yet they do not understand its principle. They attend only to what their ears and eyes encounter, unaware that within the heart there is also a deep and still aspect.

The sage regards the people as children and guides them as one would guide a child.

This means that the people heed instruction and are content with being governed, but do not yet have enough capacity to direct themselves. Like children who naturally depend on milk, they are not difficult to guide.

Chapter Fifty

All things move from life toward death, and return from death to life. This is the natural order.

Of those belonging to the category of life, one in ten is among them; of those belonging to the category of death, one in ten is among them as well.

This means that although the categories differ, the principles involved are no different.

In the course of living, people’s actions nevertheless lead three in ten toward danger and death.

This refers to people who, beyond the two categories of life and death mentioned above, bring themselves into danger through their own actions.

Why does this happen? Because they cling too fiercely to the pursuit of life.

The nature of all things is originally unbound by life and death. If one regards death only as death and clings to life as life, one will follow life into death, then return from death to life. This is excessive attachment to life, and is therefore called “thickening life”—overvaluing and pursuing life too intensely.

I have heard that those skilled at preserving life can walk on land without encountering rhinoceros or tiger, and enter an army without being wounded by weapons. The rhinoceros cannot gore them with its horn, the tiger cannot claw them, and weapons have no chance to pierce them.

This means that when the heart understands and continually holds to the principle of being neither born nor dying, circumstances in the outside world cannot harm one. Thus neither rhinoceros, tiger, nor weapon can injure such a person.

Why is this so? Because they do not dwell in a place of death.

Because they do not cling to life, they do not enter a situation that leads to death. This is a mysterious principle, which only those who understand it can grasp.

Chapter Fifty-One

The Dao gives birth to and nourishes all things.

Here, “Dao” refers to the Great Dao. All things are born from the Dao.

De (Virtue/Power) accumulates and nurtures all things.

Here, “De” refers to the highest De. It is able to embrace all things, so all things return to the nurturing of De.

All things take shape in their own way.

Born between Heaven and Earth, all things each form a distinct shape.

Their surroundings and conditions enable them to mature.

All things develop through the process of growth and nourishment, gathering according to their endowment and kind to take shape.

Therefore, there is nothing that does not honor the Dao and cherish De.

All things are born from the Dao and nurtured by De, so they naturally honor the Dao and cherish De.

The Dao is honored, and De gathers all things.

Therefore, among all things, none fails to honor the Dao and cherish De.

All things are born from the Dao and depend on De for their nourishment. Thus, honoring the Dao and valuing De are constant principles of nature.

The Dao is honored and De is cherished not because anyone bestowed noble rank upon them, but simply because this is how things naturally are.

The things people prize in the world are usually no more than official rank and emoluments. The Dao and De have no physical form, and people cannot confer rank upon them. Their exalted standing therefore does not depend on human reward or recognition, but arises naturally.

The Dao makes all things grow and nurtures them, helping them develop and mature. It also nourishes and protects them.

These are all constant principles of nature at work.

The Dao gives life to and nurtures all things, yet does not possess them. It brings them to completion, yet does not claim their accomplishments as its own. It helps them grow, yet does not rule over them.

This shows that the Dao has reached the utmost in not claiming its own achievements.

This is called “Mysterious De”—profound and difficult to fathom.

Chapter Fifty-Two

All things under Heaven have a beginning, and this beginning may be regarded as their mother.

This beginning is the Dao. The Dao gives rise to Qi; the Qi divides into the two Qi of Yin and Yang. Yin and Yang combine to give rise to a third force, which then transforms and brings forth all things. That is why the Dao is called the mother of all things.

When you know the source of all things, you can understand the things that arise from it. After understanding them, return to the source and hold fast to it; then throughout your life you will not fall into danger.

All things take the Dao as their root and are born from it: this is knowing their mother. When you see the many things that have come into being, you can understand what “children” refers to. The things of the world all reach their end, but the Dao that people follow has no end, so you should return to and keep to the source. How, then, could you face peril in your lifetime?

Block the entrances through which sensory desires arise and close the gate through which desires act outwardly; then your life will not be wearisome.

“Block its openings” means not allowing desires to arise in the heart. “Close its gate” means not allowing misguided thoughts to be put into action. Here, “action” means toil. In this way, you can avoid weariness and preserve the Dao’s simplicity and equanimity.

If you open the entrances to sensory desire and busy yourself with all kinds of affairs, your life will be beyond saving.

When one indulges the senses and displays one’s sharpness, the Dao cannot remain whole. When one is busy managing affairs, one’s actions have no end. If there is no way to remedy this, one has fallen into adversity and can no longer recover a state of peace and strength. This is called “beyond saving.”

To perceive what is subtle is called clarity. Ordinary people often dismiss what is small and pay attention to what appears large. A tree that towers into the clouds grows from a tender seedling; a journey of a thousand miles begins with the first step beneath one’s feet. This is what it means to value what is subtle. To perceive things in advance and understand them early—how could that not be clarity?

To hold fast to softness is called strength. Straightening a bent piece of wood takes only a few days; melting metal takes only a few months. This shows that softness can overcome hardness.

Use outward brightness, then return to inward wisdom. Brightness shines outward; clarity turns inward to observe oneself. To use brightness is to recognize the branches and leaves of things; to return to inward clarity is to find their roots again.

Chapter Fifty-Three

If I suddenly possessed great wisdom and walked upon the Great Way…

“Jie” means “great.” One who truly has great wisdom can understand the essentials and mysteries of the Dao, and so can walk upon the Great Way.

The one thing I fear is acting arbitrarily. Arbitrary action disrupts one’s judgment of gain and loss, causes one to lose sight of good and evil, and imposes this way of acting upon all things.

The Great Way is broad and level. This presents the essentials of the Dao and points to ways of acting that run counter to it.

Yet the people greatly delight in taking shortcuts. They do not follow what is natural and are always in a hurry to achieve results, so they eagerly pursue clever shortcuts.

The halls of the court are kept clean and orderly, to remove filth and make them appear well kept.

The fields are full of crops. Here, “overgrown” refers to abundant crops, not to wasteland.

The storehouses are full. Those above and below all have enough to eat, and no one is extorting or hoarding. This does not mean that the storehouses are empty.

They wear fine clothes, carry sharp swords, enjoy lavish meals, and possess abundant wealth. Rich food and ample wealth show that there is no fear of famine or want.

This is called displaying the fruits of robbery; it is not a way that accords with the Dao.

By single-mindedly pursuing so-called shortcuts, people may accumulate a great deal of wealth, yet they can no longer follow nature or be content with what they have. They therefore remain anxious about scarcity.

This is called “boasting like a thief”: showing off like a bandit, which is not in accord with the Dao.

Many people single-mindedly pursue shortcuts, eventually accumulating great wealth but losing the ability to follow nature. When people depart from the Dao to the utmost, they are like thieves boasting to one another. They are not worthy of esteem, so this is said to be contrary to the Dao.

Chapter Fifty-Four

One who is good at establishing a foundation will not see it shaken.

This is because they treat the beginning with care.

One who is good at holding fast will not lose what they hold midway.

This is because they preserve what has already been accomplished.

Then descendants for generations will continue to make offerings without interruption.

This is the ultimate result of a foundation that does not waver and a holding fast that does not falter.

When the Dao is cultivated in oneself, one’s De is genuine and free of falsehood. When it is cultivated in a family, De overflows. When it is cultivated in a village, De endures. When it is cultivated in a state, De grows more abundant. When it is cultivated throughout the world, De is put into practice everywhere.

Here, “De” means conduct that accords with the Dao. “Genuine” means free of falsehood. When a person makes their own De genuine and complete, they can bring its abundance to their family. When the family has more than enough, its De can extend to the village. When De is practiced in the village over time, it can enrich the state. When the state is enriched, De can be practiced throughout the world. This is clear evidence of being good at establishing a foundation that does not waver.

So, observe yourself to understand yourself; observe one family to understand a family; observe one village to understand a village; observe one state to understand a state; and observe the world to understand the world.

By seeing how to cultivate oneself, one can understand how to cultivate oneself; by seeing how to govern a family, one can understand how to govern one’s own family; by seeing how to govern a village, one can understand how to govern one’s own village; by seeing how to govern a state, one can understand how to govern one’s own state; and by seeing how to govern the world, one can understand how to govern the world. In this way, one can understand the principles by which a foundation remains steady and what is held fast does not falter.

How do I know the state of the world is like this? By this method.

That is, this method is used to observe the way of governing oneself, one’s family, one’s village, one’s state, and the world.

Chapter Fifty-Five

One whose De is deeply rooted is like a newborn infant.

One of great De (Virtue/Power) is like a newborn child. “Newborn child” refers to the infant’s soft and yielding state.

Poisonous insects do not sting it; fierce beasts do not pounce on or bite it; birds of prey do not claw it.

This is because it has no fear in its heart and does no harm to other things. It is utterly sincere and pure, and other things seem able to sense this, so they do not come to harm it.

An infant’s bones are weak and its sinews and muscles soft, yet its hands can grip tightly. It does not yet know sexual union, but it can become naturally erect. This shows that its Jing and Qi (essence and vital energy) are abundant to the utmost. It cries all day without making its voice hoarse. This shows that its harmonious Qi is abundant to the utmost.

An infant clenches its fist not because it wants to grasp anything, but because the hand closes naturally. Its erection, too, is not caused by an external stimulus but arises on its own. That it can cry all day without becoming hoarse shows that its foundation is secure. Is this not a sign that Jing and Qi, and harmonious Qi, are abundant to the utmost?

To understand harmonious Qi is to understand constancy.

One who understands this state of abundant harmonious Qi can practice it for a long time without straying from it.

To understand the constant Way is to be clear-sighted.

Once one understands the meaning of the constant Way, restoring one’s innate clarity is not difficult.

To nourish life without cease is to be auspicious.

By holding to the constant Way and remaining clear-sighted, one allows life to grow ever fuller and stronger, and so avoids calamity, always following the constant Way without straying from it.

To understand the constant Way is to be clear-sighted.

Once one understands the meaning of the constant Way, restoring one’s innate clarity is not difficult.

To nourish life without cease is to be auspicious.

By holding to the constant Way and remaining clear-sighted, one allows life to grow ever fuller and stronger, and so avoids calamity.

When the mind directs Qi, this is called strength.

To rely on nothing external, to guard within the Way that endures, and to bring Qi into accord with the Way: this is true strength.

When things reach the height of their strength, they begin to decline. This is called being out of accord with the Dao. What is out of accord with the Dao comes to an early end.

Once things have taken bodily form, decline will eventually come. To fail to understand how to follow change is to be out of accord with the Dao. “End” means stopping. When something reaches decline and stops, how could there be room for subtle, mysterious understanding?

Chapter 56

Those who know do not speak much.

They quietly set the subtle inner workings in motion, allowing the myriad things to change along with them and spreading the principles of the Dao throughout every household. All things have their end, so the point is not to say a great deal.

Those who speak much do not truly know.

Words enter through the ears and leave through the mouth. The distance between mouth and ear is only a few inches; how can that be enough to claim one understands the mysteries of a body seven feet tall?

Words enter through the ears and leave through the mouth. The distance between mouth and ear is only a few inches—how could words truly perfect a body seven feet tall? Thus, speech is not the key to attaining true knowledge.

Block the outlets of sensory desire, and let inner wisdom remain concealed. Close the gates of the heart to keep outside delusions from entering. Draw in your sharpness and know when to advance or retreat. Set disorder in order, adapting yourself to things without falling into confusion. Temper your brightness without deliberately displaying it. Live among the dust of the world without making a show of being different. This is called “Mysterious Unity” (xuantong): being in accord with the profound Dao.

“Mysterious” means subtle and deep; “unity” means equality and sameness. One who has reached Mysterious Unity cannot be drawn close or pushed away, used or harmed, honored or slighted. Closeness and distance, benefit and harm, rank and lowliness are the standards people value and use to distinguish things. The Great Dao transcends these distinctions. Its name is not a fixed name of the kind used in the world; its form cannot be seen, and its sound cannot be heard. How much less can it be measured by closeness or distance, benefit or harm, rank or lowliness?

Therefore, the Great Dao is honored by all under Heaven. “Honored” here means that the Great Dao is held in esteem, and nothing under Heaven surpasses it.

Chapter 57

Govern the state by the right way, direct warfare through unconventional methods, and govern all under Heaven through Wuwei (non-action) and doing nothing.

“Right” means to make things straight; “unconventional” means not bound by ordinary rules. In governing a state, one should act rightly, as a measuring ruler must be set straight and not bent. In warfare, one seeks victory through surprise—for example, feinting east while attacking west—and must not act only according to convention. Use both the right and the unconventional without making a show of deliberate action: this is like governing all under Heaven through Wuwei and doing nothing. When there are too many affairs of state, it is easy to favor some people. Favoritism makes others unwilling to come and join you. If even these people will not come, how much less will the rest of the world?

How do I know this will happen? I know it from this principle: the subtle art lies in taking Wuwei and doing nothing as essential.

The more prohibitions there are under Heaven, the poorer the people become. The more sharp weapons people possess, the more disorder there is in the state. The more skills people acquire, the more strange and unusual goods flourish. The stricter and more burdensome the laws, the more thieves there are.

This too is the way things naturally work. The more prohibitions there are, the harder it is for people to keep their use and relinquishment in balance. The more sharp tools there are, the more easily power falls into the hands of those who serve the ruler. The more elaborate the techniques, the more they encourage thoughts that disturb people’s minds. The denser the laws and decrees, the harder it is to eliminate the habit of exploiting loopholes.

Thus the sage says, “When I practice Wuwei (non-action), the people transform of themselves. When I do not meddle in affairs, the people naturally become prosperous.” This is because people are already content within themselves.

“When I cherish stillness, the people naturally become upright.” When people do not grasp after things through reckless desire, they return to having few wants.

“When I have no greed, the people naturally become simple and genuine.” When cravings do not arise, preserving one’s original nature and holding fast to simplicity mark the beginning of returning to the Dao (the Way). This is why it is called “the uncarved block.”

Chapter 58

When government is generous and reserved, the people are simple and sincere. “Muffled” means that it seems not to interfere skillfully; “honest and plain” means that the people seem not to be overly clever. The Dao is rooted in Wuwei, so this way of governing is held in high regard.

When government is harsh and exacting, the people suffer losses. “Observant and exacting” means investigating everything and allowing no leniency; “lacking and diminished” means that the people are then unable to preserve themselves or live whole lives. This comes from losing the Dao’s subtle workings.

Misfortune! Good fortune depends upon it. Good fortune! Misfortune lies hidden within it. Who can know where their transformations will end?

When joy reaches its extreme, it turns to sorrow; when hardship reaches its extreme, it turns to ease. Such changes do not come about in a single day. Though this principle is plain, people do not investigate it deeply. Instead, they forcefully try to avoid misfortune and pursue good fortune. This is because they do not understand the limits of change.

Could it be that the myriad things have no right way?

This means that nothing among the myriad things is outside the right way.

The right way repeatedly transforms, and may come to seem strange; what is good may also turn into something harmful. Here, “returning” means recurring transformation. If people lose their way and do not return to the right way, it is like casting aside a precious tortoise shell and inviting disaster. Would they merely become strange or harmful?

The people have been losing their way for a very long time.

If one gives free rein to excess without knowing when to stop, trouble will follow.

Therefore, the sage is upright without harming others, incorruptible without being harsh, honest without being reckless, and luminous without showing off.

The sage’s inner life is full and in harmony with the Dao (the Way). The sage does not rely on elaborate outward ornament to conceal the truth.

Chapter 59

In governing the people and serving Heaven, nothing is better than thrift and restraint.

Here, “sparing” means cherishing and storing up. The sage gathers inward the strength of the heart and mind, devoting it to cultivating the Dao; lesser people place great value on material wealth.

Only by knowing how to gather inward can one respond to the Great Dao early.

Because one who can gather inward and cultivate oneself may be called a person of the highest De (Virtue/Power), people hasten to submit, fearing they will fall behind others.

To respond to the Great Dao early is called accumulating De without cease.

By not flaunting one’s abilities, De instead grows ever deeper. This is why one must accumulate De continually.

When De has grown deep, there is nothing that cannot be overcome. When nothing is beyond one’s power to overcome, no one can discern one’s limits. When no one can discern one’s limits, one can govern the state.

When the heart is balanced and open, nothing is naturally lacking; therefore, nothing cannot be overcome. Nothing that can be overcome is left out, and the depth extends beyond sight, so no one knows its limits. Apply this principle to governing the people, and it accords with cultivating the Dao. All things will then submit, and the state can be governed.

Those who grasp the root of governing a state can make it endure.

“Mother” means the root, the source from which life begins. Thrift, restraint, and the accumulation of De are the root that guides the governance of a state. There has never been a case in which a state following this principle failed to endure.

This is called seeking the root and strengthening the foundation—the way to live long and remain in the world for a long time.

“Root and stem” is a metaphor for a foundation that cannot be separated from what grows from it. The longevity spoken of here does not mean the aim of extinction and non-action.

Chapter 60

Governing a large state is like cooking a small fish.

Cooking has its proper method, and the principles for governing a large or small state are no different. When one understands how things work and grasps the right moment, governing affairs becomes easy.

When the world is governed through the Dao, spirits and ghosts lose their power to manifest and cause trouble.

The people each settle into their proper place, their roles are preserved, and policies are carried out in detail without disturbing them. No calamity or blessing occurs contrary to reason. This is what it means for spirits and ghosts not to manifest and cause trouble.

It is not that spirits and ghosts lack spiritual power; rather, their power does not harm the people.

When the world is governed by the Dao, ghosts and spirits do not display their supernatural powers.

The people each keep to their proper place. Their appointed roles remain, but their practical workings stay hidden, and calamity or good fortune does not arise recklessly. This is what it means for ghosts and spirits not to “show their power.”

It does not mean that ghosts and spirits lack supernatural power. Rather, their power does not harm the people, because the people leave no openings through which they can be harmed.

Nor do ghosts and spirits alone refrain from harming the people; the sage does so as well. The people live in accordance with the Dao’s teaching, so their speech needs no deliberate selection and their actions require no calculated choice. This is because the sage governs the world by following the Dao. Ghosts and spirits depend on the human realm in order to manifest. When the sage governs by the Dao and people are content to follow the right way, the supernatural power of ghosts and spirits has no need to be exerted.

People and ghosts and spirits do not harm one another, so the De (Virtue/Power) of both returns to the Dao. The principle of sympathetic response can operate even between wood and stone, let alone between ghosts and spirits. They guard their subtle numinous nature with supernatural power, while I preserve myself through De; together, we preserve the Great Dao. This is called mutual communication and accord.

Chapter 61

A great state is like the lower reaches of a river: it is where all under Heaven converges and gathers.

“Lower reaches” means receiving all things with gentleness and not displaying strength. Like a mighty current pressing onward without opposing anything, it does not come to an end. “Convergence” means that others form ties with it and turn to it.

The way all under Heaven converges and gathers can be compared to the female; the female symbolizes gentleness.

The female often prevails through stillness. This is the key to mastering gentleness.

The male, too, should remain still and take the lower position. When it stays still and takes the lower position, all under Heaven will converge and gather around it.

Thus, when a great state humbly places itself below a small state, it can win the small state’s allegiance; when a small state humbly places itself below a great state, it can gain the great state’s acceptance. Both prevail through stillness and humility. Here, if a small state cannot govern well, a great state may take over its governance; if a great state cannot govern well, a small state may take over its governance. What matters is not size, but honoring the Dao—not favoring one side or seizing the other’s territory.

Thus, in some cases humility is used to win another’s allegiance; in others, humility itself brings another’s allegiance. Both follow the same principle in the end: aligning with the natural Dao, which always depends on humility.

A great state wants only to make room for and nurture small states; a small state wants only to come under the protection of and serve a great state.

Each thing has its own way of embracing all things and nurturing the people. When entering a group to attend to affairs, one should observe proper etiquette; when working with others, one should place oneself in a humble position.

Great and small each have a fitting place. Thus those of high rank and powerful states should especially take the lower position.

A great state relies on its strength and often finds it hard to treat others humbly. The text says specifically that a great state should take the lower position to show that this is precisely what the powerful find most difficult to do.

Chapter 62

The Dao is the hidden root of all things.

“Hidden” means profound. The Dao is profound and difficult to fathom: it has no name by which it can be called and leaves no trace by which it can be sought. It is not something shallow or immediately apparent.

The Dao is the treasure of the good,

just as a treasure is something people keep safe, and so it serves here as a metaphor.

and the means by which those who are not good preserve themselves.

By gaining the Dao, one can live; by losing it, one may fall into ruin. People therefore rely on the Dao to find security.

Beautiful words can win people’s trust,

because many who hear them are willing to accept them.

Honorable conduct can serve as an example for everyone to follow.

Such conduct is held in esteem, and so does not provoke rejection.

For those who are not good, what reason is there to cast them aside?

If others are cast aside, the Dao cannot be put into practice; if the Dao cannot be put into practice, moral instruction cannot flourish. Therefore, no one should be cast aside.

For this reason, the Son of Heaven is established and the Three Dukes are appointed,

which means that the world is governed through moral instruction, bringing its greatest benefits to fruition. The “Three Dukes” were senior officials who assisted the Son of Heaven in ancient times.

Even if someone presents a matched set of jade disks on a chariot drawn by four horses, this is not as good as sitting calmly and offering the Dao.

A matched set of jade disks and a four-horse chariot are precious gifts, but their purpose ends once they have been given; the gifts themselves cannot adapt to changing circumstances. The Three Dukes, by sitting calmly and discussing the Dao, can help bring forth the boundless work by which Heaven and Earth nurture all things. They can also govern the people through the Dao, allowing everyone to benefit. Jade disks and a four-horse chariot therefore cannot compare with the Dao.

The ancients valued the Dao because it could be obtained without waiting. Can even those who have committed offenses rely on the Dao to escape blame? For this very reason, the Dao is the most precious thing under Heaven.

When things are done in accordance with their nature, they turn out just right, so there is no need to pursue them deliberately day after day. What accords with the way things are is free of fault. The Dao is like this by nature, and so everyone under Heaven honors it.

Chapter 63

Act with Wuwei, without deliberate contrivance. Handle affairs as though there were nothing to interfere with, without meddling needlessly. Savor the flavor of the flavorless, without clinging to what the senses taste.

Act with Wuwei, and your work will meet no obstruction. Handle affairs as though there were nothing to interfere with, and they will not become entangled with one another. Savor the flavorless, and the taste will not go astray. Those who understand the essential point can express it in a single sentence. Those who do not understand it let their thoughts scatter endlessly.

Whether great or small, many or few, everything ultimately contains different circumstances. To repay resentment with De is to meet hatred with gentleness and stillness, harboring no ill will. This is the subtle working of the Dao.

To deal with what is difficult, begin where it is easy. To accomplish what is great, begin with what is small. The difficult tasks under Heaven must begin where things are easy; the great undertakings under Heaven must begin with what is small. Thus the sage never claims to be accomplishing great things, and is therefore able to accomplish them.

What is easy is the foundation of what is difficult; what is small is the root of what is vast. Difficulty and ease transform into one another, while great and small follow one another, like a cycle without end. The sage understands this and trusts its pattern, so holds fast to what is small and remains in a lowly place.

Promises made lightly are often hard to keep; treating things as too easy often brings greater difficulty. This too is the way of nature. Earlier, the text said to plan for difficult things by starting with what is easy, and that difficult tasks begin with what is easy. This reminds us not to assume that things will be easy. Here it goes further, explaining that things develop gradually.

So the sage treats everything with care and gravity, and in the end encounters no difficulties. To understand how to meet difficulties, one must remain cautious from beginning to end. Then difficulties cannot obstruct the subtle working of the Dao. What seems easy may gradually become difficult; this shows that action unfolds through a process of development.

Chapter 64

When things are stable, they are easy to hold; when a problem has not yet shown signs of emerging, it is easy to plan for it.

Address matters before danger arises and calamity becomes visible. Fragile things are easily broken, and tiny things easily scattered; disorder, too, should be brought under control before it begins. Thus, deal with matters before they take shape and quell disorder before it appears. This requires little effort yet brings great results.

A tree large enough for a person to embrace grows from a tiny sprout; a nine-tiered tower is built from basketfuls of earth; a journey of a thousand miles begins with the first step beneath one’s feet. This shows how things and calamities alike develop gradually, from the subtle to the conspicuous.

Forcing things into action often spoils them; clinging to them stubbornly can lead to loss. Therefore, the sage does not act recklessly and so does not ruin things; does not hold on stubbornly and so does not lose them.

People often fail just as they are about to succeed. The foolish hope only that things will be completed, while the wise can see signs of calamity before it becomes apparent. Build a mountain nine ren high, and even one basketful of earth left undone means the work is incomplete. Ordinary people have limited foresight, so success and failure often turn out this way. If one remains equally careful from beginning to end, things will not be spoiled. Preserve what is already full and carefully maintain what is already accomplished; then it can last, and is less likely to fail.

Therefore, the sage takes having no desires as a desire and does not prize rare goods. Rare goods are most likely to stir greed; taking having no desires as a desire means reducing desire to a minimum.

The sage learns what ordinary people do not learn. The Dao and De are boundless; there is nothing to learn by deliberate effort. The sage turns away from the errors everyone else makes and does not join in them. The sage merely assists the myriad things in following their own nature, without claiming their accomplishments as his own. He does not dare to act recklessly, precisely so that this way of assisting may be made clear.

Chapter Sixty-Five

Those in ancient times who were skilled at following the Dao did not seek to make the people clever and astute, but to keep them simple and unspoiled.

“Foolishness” means that people do not pursue complicated knowledge; “brightness” means having abundant knowledge and cleverness. When people compete with one another in cleverness, they turn away from De and violate the Dao. Therefore, those skilled at following the Dao should not encourage this tendency.

The people are difficult to govern because they have too much cleverness and cunning.

The people are already difficult to govern, yet the ruler still thinks himself wise and tries to make them ignorant.

To be ignorant means to know little; to be wise means to have an abundance of knowledge and schemes. When people compete with one another in cleverness, they depart from De and go against the Dao. This is not what one who is skilled in following the Dao should do.

The people are difficult to govern because they have too much cleverness and cunning.

Since the people are already difficult to govern, if the ruler acts through his own cleverness and uses what is called “wisdom” to instruct them, he will only encourage disorder.

Thus, governing a state through cleverness brings calamity to the state; governing it without cleverness brings it good fortune.

The misuse of cleverness makes things lose their natural state, which is why it is compared to calamity. But there is a proper way to govern things: respond flexibly in accord with circumstances. What harm could there be in that?

To understand these two ways of governing is to grasp the guiding principle.

One must not depart from this principle. It has held from ancient times to the present, so the principle is used here as a comparison.

To understand this principle at all times is called “Mysterious De,” profound and subtle Virtue. Mysterious De is vast and deep, and runs counter to the tendencies of worldly affairs. Only by attaining it can one reach the greatest accord.

Although it is called a principle, it has no definite form that can be seen; that is why it is described as vast and deep. People pursue gain, and all kinds of cunning, deceit, and pretense arise as a result. The Dao, by contrast, follows what is natural, and so runs counter to worldly ways. To turn things back from the course that has led them away from the Dao is true accord. Nothing will fail to proceed smoothly; this is why it is called “great accord.”

Chapter 66

The reason rivers and seas can become the meeting place of countless streams and valleys is that they are skilled at remaining low. Thus they can receive all the waters.

This is a metaphor. The rivers and seas lie in low places; they are vast and can contain much. The many waterways flow into them, and so they come to stand above all the valleys.

Therefore, if the sage wishes to be above the people, he must speak humbly; if he wishes to lead them, he must place himself behind them in action.

When rulers call themselves “orphan,” “solitary,” or “unworthy”—all humble forms of self-reference—they lower themselves through their words. The sage eats simply, yet ensures that the rites for honoring spirits are properly performed; dresses plainly, yet ensures that ceremonial robes and crowns are made with dignity; and lives in a modest residence, yet works diligently to maintain irrigation channels and waterways. In this way, he takes on the labor himself.

Thus, though the sage occupies a high position, the people do not feel oppressed; though he leads them, they do not feel hindered.

The Great Dao and De lie in a realm so profound and subtle that they cannot be measured by weight or lightness, nor can they be harmed. Though he holds a high position, he has no thought of exalting himself or making himself seem greater than he is. Though he walks ahead of everyone else, he can also make room for those who come later. In this way, he keeps far from grave calamities.

So the people of the world are glad to elevate him and do not reject him. Because he does not contend with others, no one in the world can contend with him.

The people are glad to elevate him and do not reject him precisely because he does not consider himself superior and does not harm others. If even questions of weight and calamity cannot touch him, how much less so…