《道德真经集义(危大有)》Vol. 2

At this point one has already awakened and understood. From this, one can sit peacefully and quietly observe the arising and passing of all things, while oneself does not shift along with external things.

All things arise together and bustle into activity; from this I observe the principle of their going and returning.

Wu says: “Zuo” means movement. Plants grow and animals perceive—these are all dynamic changes—yet the mind-spirit of the cultivator does not move along with them.

Lü says: All things arise together, all sprout from a harmonious and flowing original Qi, and manifest within the formless. To observe their “return” is to see them return to the deep and mysterious, and return to naturalness. The cultivator realizes the wondrous function of naturalness, just as heaven and earth treat the myriad things: the moving is zuo, the still is fu. In this way one turns the pivot, circulates and refines Yuanhe (the harmonization of original Qi), and nurtures embryonic breathing (taixi, the inward breathing like a fetus in the womb); then true Qi will return, and one returns to the root and restores the origin (returns to the original source).

He says: The Liezi speaks of “there being things that are born, and there being that which gives birth to the born,” and also says, “What is born returns to the unborn.” The sage subtly perceives the principle of zuo and fu: whatever emerges from the pivot must return again into the pivot, and so I do not become full together with the myriad things. Observing things begins with Gen (the trigram symbolizing stillness) and ends with Gen, and so I remain quiet and do not come and go with them. The so-called “return” is returning to the Dao, and thereby enduring without extinction.

The myriad things are numerous and flourishing, each returning to its root. Returning to the root is called “stillness”; stillness is called “returning to destiny” (fuming—returning to the innate nature and principle of life bestowed by heaven).

Wu says: “Yunyun” describes growth, activity, and flourishing. In spring and summer, the life Qi of plants rises from the roots to the branches and leaves—this is movement; in autumn and winter, the life Qi returns to the roots—this is stillness.

Vernacular Explanation

Master Wu says: “The teeming multitude” refers to the appearance of the myriad things as they grow and move. In the case of all plants, in spring and summer the generative Qi is transported upward from the roots to the branches and leaves; this is called “movement.” In autumn and winter the generative Qi is drawn back from above and stored downward in the roots; this is called “stillness.” Heaven uses this Qi to transform and generate the myriad things; this Qi is called Ming (life-destiny). The myriad things return to the place from which they first arose, and so it is said, “returning to Ming.”

Master Lü says: All things arise from “nature” (xing), like the roots of grass and trees. The myriad things emerge from Zhen (east, symbolizing generation), appear in Li (south, symbolizing light), rejoice in Dui (west, symbolizing gathering in), and labor in Kan (north, symbolizing concealment); finally they all return to their root. In grass and trees the branches are above and the roots below, but humans are exactly the opposite: the four limbs are below and the root is above. This “root” is the Niwan Palace (the inner mound at the crown of the head, regarded in Daoism as the dwelling place of the original Shen). The Huangting Jing (Yellow Court Scripture) says, “The brain spirit, the root of Jing, is styled Niwan.” Niwan is the dwelling place of the true spirit of the Heavenly Emperor and the place where Jing and Shen gather. If cultivators can turn their inner gaze toward this place, the myriad Shen will naturally gather, and the myriad Qi will come to pay homage; then the embryonic immortal (the inner sacred embryo accomplished through cultivation) can be realized. Therefore it is said, “The myriad things in their teeming activity each return to their root.”

Those who cultivate the Dao must begin with qiongli (exhaustively investigating the principles of things), then proceed to jinxing (fully developing one’s nature), and finally reach returning to Ming (fu ming, returning to the source). There is no one who can attain returning to Ming without having investigated principles and fully developed nature. Qiongli means understanding thoroughly and penetrating the affairs of things; jinxing means attaining the extreme of emptiness and holding fast to stillness, cultivating one’s nature to its utmost. Guangchengzi said: “See nothing, hear nothing; embrace the Shen in stillness. Be still, be pure; your Shen will guard your form, and the form will attain long life. With long life, Ming is restored.” (Do not look or listen; hold fast to the original Shen and maintain quiet clarity. Then your Shen can guard your form; the form attains long life, and long life means that Ming returns to its source.)

Master Li says: The essential point of cultivation lies in emptiness, stillness, and profound sincerity—returning to Ming and returning to the root. These are all profound and mysterious principles. If one can have an eye of wisdom here, the study and cultivation of a lifetime can be brought to complete fulfillment.

Chapter 16 of the Daodejing:

Returning to Ming is called constancy; knowing constancy is called clarity. Not knowing constancy, one acts recklessly and brings misfortune. Knowing constancy, one is all-embracing; being all-embracing, one is impartial; being impartial, one is kingly; being kingly, one is Heaven; being Heaven, one is Dao; being Dao, one endures long, and to the end of one’s days is without danger.

Vernacular: Returning to the source is called “constancy”; recognizing “constancy” is called “clarity.” If one does not recognize “constancy,” rash action will bring misfortune. One who understands “constancy” can embrace all things; embracing all things, one is impartial and selfless; being impartial, one can realize the kingly way; the kingly way accords with the way of Heaven; the way of Heaven accords with the great Dao; the great Dao endures, and one will never encounter danger throughout life.

Collected Meanings of the Authentic Scripture of the Dao (the Way) and De (Virtue/Power) (compiled by Wei Dayou) contains annotations by Lin, He, and Wu that expound Chapter Sixteen of the Daodejing.

Master Lin says: Returning to the root and returning to one’s heavenly mandate is the realm of the constant and unchanging. Only one who can know this principle of constancy deserves to be called “clear.” It is precisely because people do not understand this principle that they indulge in deluded thoughts and reckless action; these are the perils incurred by turning away from the Dao. One who understands the principle of constancy has a mind as vast as heaven and earth and can contain all things. Being able to contain, one is not partial or self-interested; this is “impartiality.” One who rules the world should follow this impartial way. Governing the world with impartiality, one accords with Heaven. Heaven is the Dao, and so it is said, “The king is Heaven; Heaven is the Dao.” “Enduring” means “constant.” If a person can attain this constant Dao, then to the end of life he accords with the Dao—what danger could there be?

Master He says: Only by knowing that the alternation and transformation of the myriad things is constant can one understand fullness and deficiency, waxing and waning, and refrain from harshly scrutinizing trivial details. Therefore it says, “The constant is able to contain”: knowing that beauty and ugliness, right and wrong can all be embraced, the mind becomes broad and impartial, and so it says, “Containing, one becomes impartial.” Supremely impartial and selfless, the impartial way is the kingly way; most vast with nothing outside it, the kingly way is the heavenly way; the heavenly way endures without cease—this is the constant Dao. The Dao passes through thousands and tens of thousands of generations without decline; where then could there be danger? This is the highest efficacy attainable through the cultivation of emptiness and stillness.

Master Wu says: “Dai” means to put oneself in danger. In terms of character form, the character dai is written with the “death” radical and has the senses of danger, imminence, and nearness; characters with that radical generally carry the meaning of death, so dai means dangerous and close to death. “Mo” is the same as “zhong,” meaning end.

Chapter Seventeen (Laozi’s original text): The highest kind of ruler is one of whom the people merely know that he exists. At the next level, the people draw close to him and praise him. At the next, the people fear him; at the next, they despise him. When a ruler’s trustworthiness is insufficient, the people cease to trust him.

Lü says: The so-called “highest” means that his transformative teaching takes Wuwei (non-action) as its foundation, his governance does not strive to accomplish anything, and he is united as one with the Dao (the Way), so that nothing can be added to him; therefore he is called “the highest.” Such a ruler, though occupying the ruler’s position, never exalts himself or prizes prominence, but lets the myriad things grow naturally and enables the people to find security in their own places, like the legendary “land of Huaxu” (an ideal Wuwei realm of high antiquity). The world does not hear the voice of his governance, yet it is naturally governed; although the people know there is a ruler, they do not feel that the ruler’s power has anything to do with them. The Zhou Poems say: “Without knowledge, without cleverness, they follow the rule of the Lord on High.” Therefore the Jing (scripture) says, “The highest: those below know only that he exists.”

In high antiquity, people tied knots in cords to keep records, lived in trees or caves, and did not know the succession of the four seasons and years; one may say they attained the best governance. When Fuxi and Shennong appeared, the people began to plow and have food, weave cloth and have clothing, and gradually tended toward benevolence, righteousness, ritual, and music; thus words of praise and blame arose along with them. Rulers bestowed grace upon the people; those who received his benevolent grace regarded him as father and mother, and those who cherished his righteous conduct praised him like the sun and moon. The more the principles of closeness and praise were made manifest, the farther people were from the pristine simplicity of high antiquity. The Nanhua Jing (that is, the Zhuangzi) says: “Shun had a ‘rank odor’ in his conduct, and the people delighted in him.” This speaks precisely of such a situation. Therefore the Jing says, “Next, they are close to him and praise him.”

In the governance of later ages, expediency and fraud appeared; benevolence and righteousness were lost, and ritual and music fell into disuse; the foolish and the wise deceived one another, and the world declined. Rulers had no choice but to guide the people with government orders and restrain them with punishments, displaying authority and laws so that the people submitted out of fear. Yet the people did not submit sincerely; instead, they developed a mind of deception. Once the mind of deception arose, thoughts of slighting the ruler followed. Therefore the Jing says, “Next, they fear him; next, they scorn him.”

Among the Five Constant Virtues—benevolence, righteousness, ritual propriety, wisdom, and trustworthiness—trustworthiness is the principal one. The Lu Yu (that is, the “Discourses of Lu” in the Guoyu) says: “If the people have no trustworthiness, they cannot stand; when trustworthiness is complete, the world is secure; when trustworthiness is lost, the world is in danger.” Ornament and plainness wax and wane in relation to each other; gain and loss accompany each other; when scheming and fraud arise, and deceit and swindling arise together, this is the insufficiency of trustworthiness. Since trustworthiness is already insufficient, the people develop a mind of distrust; this is precisely the situation called “when trustworthiness is lost, the world is in danger.”

Vernacular Explanation: “Trust” and the Transformation of the People’s Hearts in the Collected Meanings of the Authentic Scripture of Dao (the Way) and De (Virtue/Power)

Original Meaning

When trustworthiness is insufficient, the people develop a mind of distrust. This is the situation described as “the Zhou people made oaths, and the people first rebelled.” Hence it is said: when credit is insufficient, some will not believe.

Master Lin’s View

“Taishang” refers to high antiquity, while “below” refers to all under heaven. In high antiquity, the people knew only that a ruler existed; all were within the transformative teaching of the Great Dao, and they forgot one another. Later, the people began to feel closeness toward the ruler and to praise him; later still, they began to feel fear; and later still, they produced attitudes of contempt and trifling. This shows that the age was declining more and more. When the highest De declined, the way of trustworthiness became deficient, and so people under heaven began to develop distrust—just as when the Shang people established oaths and the Zhou people convened covenants, the people began to rebel and to doubt.

Master He’s View

When the sage occupies the highest position, he embraces the Great Dao and does not speak much; his grace extends to all things. Government offices seem to have nothing to do, the court seems unnoticed; there is no heavy corvée labor and no unjust punishment. No one under heaven fails to admire the ruler’s De; at that time people knew only that there was a ruler and knew nothing else, as free and at ease as fish in rivers and lakes that forget one another. This is the highest way of “Taishang.”

At the next level, when the Great Dao declined and fell into disuse, only then were benevolence and righteousness advocated. Thereupon people, in rituals and music, became close to and praised one another, like fish in water moistening each other with spit, depending on and helping one another.

At the next level, decrees became harsh, detailed, and strict, and the people were filled with unease; all under heaven began to feel fear under the coercive pressure of laws and ordinances.

Further down, as soon as laws were established, treachery arose along with them; as soon as decrees were carried out, fraud arose along with them. The people began to deceive their ruler, secretly pursue private interests, look askance at the ruler, and even trifle with him behind his back. This is like fish devouring one another; they had reached the point of mutual harm.

Zhuangzi said: “In ancient times, those who understood the Great Dao: Dao and De were already manifest; benevolence and righteousness came next; rewards and punishments were placed last.” It is precisely because he saw this.

Summary

The decline of the age is like a river rushing downward, difficult to reverse. People can no longer return to the era of “What power has the emperor to do with me?”, the age of governance by wuwei (non-action). The Kingly Way and the hegemonic way are mixed together, and people’s hearts change accordingly, giving rise to the various transformations of love, fear, respect, and contempt. All these changes stem from the insufficient trustworthiness of those in high positions, who cannot transform the people by trustworthiness, and so matters have reached this point.

Notes on Terms

“The Zhou people made oaths” refers to the Zhou dynasty’s use of covenants and oaths to bind the people, which instead made the people suspicious. “Taishang” refers to the highest age or the highest realm of De; here it means high antiquity. “When the Great Dao declined, there was benevolence and righteousness” comes from Chapter 18 of the Dao De Jing; it means that only after the Great Dao declined were moral norms such as benevolence and righteousness advocated. “What power has the emperor to do with me?” comes from an ancient ballad; it describes a world at peace, in which the people did not feel the ruler’s interference.

It is also said: If a ruler cannot win the trust of the world, then the rule of force becomes mixed with the kingly way, and people’s hearts fall into confusion as well. Thus there arise all kinds of changes—closeness, fear, respect, and contempt. These changes all originate with those in high position, showing that trustworthiness is insufficient to move the people’s hearts, and only then does it come to this. It is also said: If a ruler himself does not keep faith with others, the people will not trust him.

Mr. Li (the commentator) explains: For rulers below the Supreme—the highest kind of ruler—who cannot practice Wuwei (non-action), the people draw close to them and praise them; this is “teaching without words” (leading by example rather than relying on verbal instruction). The people fear them because of punishments and prohibitions. The people treat them with contempt because those in high position have broken faith with the people. When those in high position break faith with the people, the people no longer trust them.

“Hesitant, he values his words”: the Supreme ruler is leisurely and self-possessed, and seldom issues orders lightly. When affairs are accomplished and achievements are completed, the people all say: “We are simply so of ourselves.”

Master Li says: The sage is cautious in speech, exactly as described in the line “Hesitant, he values his words.” What he practices is “the teaching without words.” He does not rely on issuing orders; rather, he achieves governance through Wuwei (non-action). Punishments are not employed, and the people naturally submit. When achievements are accomplished and the people’s customs return to simplicity and honesty, the people’s feelings of closeness, praise, fear, and contempt toward the ruler all disappear. Everyone dwells in peace and enjoys their work, feeling simply that things are so of themselves. Thus it is said, “We are naturally so.”

Master He says: The reason the sage takes words seriously and does not speak lightly is that he does not wish to instruct the people through sensory enticements and administrative orders. He relies on “the teaching without words” and “the action of Wuwei” (action that is not deliberately contrived). When achievements are made and affairs are completed, and natural transformation is accomplished, the people sincerely praise him and rejoice without end. This is precisely the fundamental way to rescue the age from disorder and bring it lasting stability.

Master Lü says: The teaching of high antiquity was originally governance through Wuwei and teaching without words. The sage’s words are precious because he knows that a single word may become the rule of the world. Therefore he “diminishes and again diminishes, grows silent and again grows silent,” and does not speak lightly. The statement in the Yijing, “Trust without words lies in virtue and conduct,” means the same. People today merely value words on the surface; that is nothing but empty writing. A ruler who possesses the Dao can lead the people to daily improve and turn away from wrongdoing, to dwell in peace and enjoy their work; he governs effortlessly with folded hands, the people are prosperous, and simple, honest customs are restored. After achievements are accomplished and affairs are completed, the people all say: “This is precisely our original natural Dao.”

Chapter 18

When the great Dao declined, benevolence and righteousness came to be advocated; when cleverness arose, much hypocrisy and deceit appeared.

Laozi’s meaning is that benevolence and righteousness, cleverness and cunning, are all products of the loss of the great Dao. That people advocate benevolence and righteousness and prize cleverness precisely shows that the natural Dao is no longer followed, and what often follows is hypocrisy.

Vernacular Interpretation

Master Lin says: When the Great Dao was practiced, benevolence and righteousness were already contained within it, and people did not especially make a display of them. Only when the name “benevolence and righteousness” was established did it become clear that the Dao had gradually grown thin; hence it is said, “When the Great Dao is abandoned, benevolence and righteousness appear.” This is like when the light of wisdom emerges, fraud and falseness in the world arise along with it.

Master Wu says: In the preceding chapter, “the ruler of the lowest kind, whom people merely know exists” refers to the Great Dao; “those whom people draw close to and praise” refers to benevolence and righteousness; “those whom people fear and slight” refers to wisdom (statecraft). From the Great Dao descending step by step, there are already three grades; when wisdom changes further, it becomes great hypocrisy, making four grades in all. Benevolence and righteousness appear only after the Great Dao is abandoned; the change at that time was still slow. Wisdom appears quickly, and great hypocrisy follows immediately, so the change is extremely rapid.

Master Lü says: What is called the “Great Dao” is the Dao of remote antiquity, of Wuwei. When the Great Dao flourished, benevolence and righteousness also operated within it, and the common people used it without feeling that it was some particular principle. The learning of the sage speaks first of Dao and De and then of benevolence and righteousness; the learning of the world speaks first of benevolence and righteousness and only afterward of Dao and De. They do not realize that Yin-Yang is the Dao of Heaven, hardness and softness are the Dao of Earth, and benevolence and righteousness are the Dao of Humanity. Benevolence and righteousness originally never departed from the Dao, and the Dao has never cast off benevolence and righteousness. Unfortunately, later people clung to benevolence and righteousness and made them into fixed regulations, so the plain Great Dao daily declined and the harm of obscuration arose. It would be better to cut off benevolence and righteousness, discard cleverness and cunning, return to the root and revert to the origin, and reach the realm of naturalness—then the Dao would not be abandoned. Therefore it is said, “When the Great Dao is abandoned, there is benevolence and righteousness.” Wisdom arises from the display of benevolence and righteousness; robbers arise from poverty. When benevolence and righteousness are obscured, wisdom arises; when wisdom arises, great hypocrisy appears. When wisdom is insufficient to win people over, one must supplement it with falsehood; therefore it is said, “When wisdom appears, great hypocrisy comes forth.”

Master He says: In the Zhuangzi it says that in the age of supreme De, people were upright and natural yet did not know that this was “righteousness”; they loved one another yet did not know that this was “benevolence”; they were sincere and honest yet did not know that this was “loyalty”; their words and deeds matched yet they did not know that this was “trustworthiness.” Thus their actions left no trace, and when affairs were done no rumors remained. From this we see that although names such as benevolence, righteousness, loyalty, and trustworthiness had not been established, their substance was all present. This is precisely the age of supreme De, the era when the Great Dao was practiced.

Notes

The Great Dao: refers to the Dao of remote antiquity, of naturalness and Wuwei; it is the highest realm extolled by Daoism.

Benevolence and righteousness: the core virtues of Confucianism; here the Daoists regard them as products of the decline of the Dao.

Great hypocrisy: extreme falseness and affectation.

Master Lü: refers to commentators such as Lü Huiqing and Lü Zhichang; the quotation here comes from commentarial literature in the Daoist Canon.

Chapter 18 says that only when the six relations are not harmonious—the six relations being father and son, brothers, and husband and wife—does the name of the filial child become evident; only when the state is dark and chaotic does the name of the loyal minister become evident. Both statements are metaphors.

Wu Cheng explains that if fathers and sons, brothers, and husbands and wives in a household could each keep the ritual distinctions of superior and inferior, elder and younger, then filial piety would simply be everyone’s ordinary duty, and no one would pay it special attention. Gusou, Shun’s father, was stubborn and unkind, yet Shun still fulfilled filial piety; it was precisely in the situation of family discord that the name of the filial son became evident. If ruler and minister in the state could each keep to their proper Dao, then loyalty would simply be their duty, and no one would especially praise it. Only when Shang Zhou was without the Dao and flatterers gathered did the loyalty of the three benevolent men—Weizi, Jizi, and Bigan—become evident.

Li Lin holds that this chapter continues the sequence from the previous chapter—“to love and praise them; to fear and insult them”—meaning that rather than making loyal ministers visible only when the state is in chaos, it would be better to let the people naturally transform under Wuwei (non-action) governance. Lü Huiqing, by contrast, gives examples: when Xia Jie was on the throne, Guan Longfeng, who remonstrated directly, became conspicuous; when Shang Zhou perished, Bigan, who remonstrated unto death, likewise made a name for himself.

Chapter 19 says: discard cleverness and wisdom, and the people will instead benefit a hundredfold; discard the display of benevolence and righteousness, and the people will recover their filial and compassionate nature; discard cunning and private advantage, and thieves will naturally not appear.

Wu (one of the historical commentators on the Daodejing) says: “Jue” means to cut off and not do it; “qi” means to discard and no longer use it. “Shengzhi” (sagehood and wisdom) simply means wisdom; “qiaoli” (cleverness and profit) means hypocritical opportunism.

Lü (a commentator) says: Outward bodily forms and standards, the models and images of vessels and objects, efficacy and function, and traces of deeds—all are manifestations of “sagehood.” Expedient adaptation to circumstances, planning and deliberation, calculating and scheming, and forming vertical and horizontal alliances—all are manifestations of “wisdom.” If in one’s heart one is set on being a “wise man,” how can one understand the highest wisdom? The perfected person (the sage who embodies the Great Dao) worries that the people of the world will be deluded by “sagehood and wisdom” and drift ever farther from their true nature. Therefore he emphasizes attending to the root: cutting off those “sage” qualities and discarding those “wisdom” qualities, making the people simple like ignorant children and single-minded in farming and sericulture. How could the benefit to the people be limited to a hundredfold? Hence it is said: “Cut off sagehood and discard wisdom; the people will benefit a hundredfold.”

Filial piety and parental affection are natural dispositions, arising from nature and unchangeable; benevolence and righteousness are human emotions. The benevolent person cherishes all things, and the people draw close to him; the righteous person enables all things to attain their proper place, and the people praise him. Once the mind of closeness and praise arises, the harmony of human nature and life is lost. The perfected person cuts them off before affairs have sprouted and discards them before they have taken form, causing people to return to the source and recover their original beginning; then the way of filial piety and parental affection naturally becomes complete. Hence it is said: “Cut off benevolence and discard righteousness; the people will return to filial piety and parental affection.”

Carving, polishing, engraving, and cutting; mechanical devices, locks, and keys—these are manifestations of technical skill. Pearls and jade, measuring vessels, scales and weights, contracts and tallies—these are the means by which wealth and profit are pursued. When people contend in technical skill, they disregard shame; when they pursue wealth and profit, they disregard moral duty, and theft and robbery arise from this. If people could return to the abode of human nature (“xingzhai,” the place where original nature dwells), return to pristine simplicity and recover original truth, whence could thieves and robbers arise? Hence it is said: “Cut off cleverness and discard profit; thieves and robbers will not exist.”

Lin (a commentator) says: As soon as the name “sagehood and wisdom” appears, the calamities of the world arise along with it. Rather than this, it is better to cut them off and discard them, and the world will naturally benefit. As soon as the name “benevolence and righteousness” appears, there are distinctions between filial and unfilial, affectionate and unaffectionate. Rather than this, it is better to cut them off and remove them, so that people forget one another in the Dao and all return to filial piety and parental affection without distinction. When cleverness and profit arise, thieves and robbers follow. Rather than this, it is better to cut them off and discard them; this is precisely what is meant by “Do not prize goods that are hard to obtain, so that the people will not become thieves.”

Li (a commentator) says: This expounds the profound meaning of the preceding chapter. When sagehood, wisdom, benevolence, righteousness, cleverness, and profit are all cut off and discarded and no longer used, the people follow his transforming teaching and return to simplicity.

Lin also says: Some may doubt whether Laozi’s advocacy of “cut off benevolence and discard righteousness” contradicts Confucius. In fact, this is to exalt the source of the Great Dao. Benevolence, righteousness, ritual, and music are not without use in governing a state, but they are not as good as transforming the people through the Dao, causing people to forget one another within the Great Dao. This alone is the highest level.

Laozi says: Sage wisdom, benevolence and righteousness, and cleverness and profit—these three—are not sufficient as cultural adornments for governing the world. Therefore he would have people have something to belong to: to manifest plainness and original truth (jian su), embrace uncarved simplicity and guard the unhewn original nature (bao pu), and reduce private thoughts and desires (shao si gua yu).

Master Lü (Lü Dongbin) says: To cut off sage wisdom and cast aside cunning is the first level; to cut off benevolence and cast aside righteousness is the second; to cut off clever deceit and cast aside private profit is the third. These three are stages of entering the Dao, but they have not yet touched its substance. The great Dao cannot be spoken; whatever words say is only approximate. Those who comprehend, on hearing approximate words, easily lose the true meaning. Hence one has no choice but to establish written texts and hand down teachings; and fearing that people will give rise to doubts, one uses them to explain: one should understand thoroughly without clinging to outer appearances, know without recklessly applying, remove adornment and value plainness, and have something else to follow, so that a person opens up in sudden clarity as ice and snow melt away. Thus it says, “These three, taken as adornment, are insufficient.”

What, then, does “having something to belong to” mean? To be pure and unmixed is to “manifest plainness”; to be quiet and single-minded without changing is to “embrace uncarved simplicity”; to hold to oneself and be utterly impartial, not admiring external empty beauty, is to “reduce private self-interest”; to be frugal and restrain desires, tranquil and at ease, is to “have few desires.” If one governs the state by this, one can lead the people onto the path of benevolence, longevity, peace, and happiness, and return to a world of Great Peace like the age of Fuxi—this is not difficult to achieve. If one cultivates the self by this, one’s spirit is empty, luminous, and blank, so that external things cannot contaminate it—is this not “manifesting plainness”? One’s spirit is not depleted but rests securely within Hundun, the primal undifferentiated state—is this not “embracing uncarved simplicity”? In eating and drinking, rising and resting, nothing fails to accord with impartiality—is this not “reducing private self-interest”? One lets mind and spirit dwell in Xiyi, the silent and formless realm of the Dao, and cuts off all manner of clinging—is this not “having few desires”? What is unacceptable about using these to replace sage wisdom, benevolence and righteousness, and cleverness and profit?

Master He says: It is not that sage wisdom and clever profit cannot be used in the world; rather, the names of these three are all merely adornment, not substance. If all people under heaven could rest content in the fundamental disposition of their own nature and life, then there would be no need to establish the names of these three. If people under heaven cannot rest content in the fundamental disposition of their nature and life, yet merely revere and cherish the names of these three, then their confusion is indeed extreme.

If adornment is insufficient, one must return to the realm of Dao (the Way) and De (Virtue/Power); only then is one grounded. Thus those of cunning intelligence, who consider themselves sage-like, imagine they have transcended the mundane world. They order the myriad things but do not claim it as righteousness; they bestow grace upon ten thousand generations but do not call themselves benevolent; they cover and support heaven and earth and carve out the forms of the myriad things but do not claim skill. Therefore it is said: the mind of love and profit comes from benevolence and righteousness, but few are those who discard benevolence and righteousness, while many are those who use benevolence and righteousness to seek profit.

If benevolence and righteousness lack sincerity, they become tools of the greedy, who use one person’s judgment to seek profit for all under heaven. This means that when one seeks profit under the name of benevolence and righteousness but has no sincerity as a foundation, then everything is merely packaged as “righteousness”—what relation does it have to true benevolence and righteousness? This is far from the great Dao. Yet worldly people do not comprehend this meaning; they mock “abandon sagacity and discard cleverness” as absurd and despise “abandon benevolence and discard righteousness” as extreme. Why do they not consider the original intent of the Dark Sage (Laozi)? He wanted people throughout the world to cultivate the Dao of primal wholeness—the great Dao that is undifferentiated and unbroken—to discard adornment and return to simplicity, and thus roam in the heaven of spontaneity.

Therefore it is said: “Guard the One and do not mix in a second; govern the inner and do not adorn the outer; be clear and bright and enter plainness; through Wuwei (non-action) return to uncarved simplicity; embody nature and embrace spirit.” If one can be like this, what need is there for adornment? Beginning with few private desires and little greed, one enters the state of no selfishness and no desire. Once the wind of honesty and richness has returned, the shallow air of competitive striving naturally disperses. Then ostentatious cleverness has nowhere to display itself, the mind of cunning calculation has nowhere to operate, the benevolence of deliberate universal love need not be practiced, the righteousness of judgment need not be applied, and ingenious devices and skills are of no use. The world then returns as one to the Great Compliance. This is the main intent of the sage’s teachings. Worldly people are still not capable of recognizing this—how then could they discuss it rashly?

Master Wu (the commentator) says: The people of the great Dao show plain whiteness outwardly and guard simplicity within. Plainness is undyed silk; simplicity is uncarved wood. One simply preserves the original quality of simplicity—why need adornment?

Abandon cumbersome worldly learning, and worries cease. How much difference is there between “wei” (a respectful response) and “a” (a casual response)? How much difference between “good” and “evil”? What the multitude fears, one cannot but also guard against. The pursuits of the world are vast and endless; people drown in them and cannot stop.

That plain and unadorned nature is like uncarved wood—preserving simplicity and authenticity is enough. Why add ornate embellishment?

Cutting Off Learning and Having No Worry; Danger Is Great: A Vernacular Interpretation

Mr. Li says: “Cutting off learning” means cutting off the learning of ordinary worldly people and going to learn what ordinary people do not learn; this is learning that transcends the world. Ordinary people apply themselves only to worldly affairs; the more they hear, the more they accumulate, fearing that their cultivation of the Dao is not profound enough, and so they are constantly worried. The sage, by contrast, casts aside all worldly things and devotes himself single-mindedly to savoring the Great Dao, and so has no worry.

“How far apart are they?” means the difference between the two is not far; “What is the difference?” means they are very far apart. “What people fear, one cannot but fear” means that both good and evil are worthy of awe.

Mr. He says: The “cutting off learning” spoken of here is the Great Dao itself. To be naturally wuwei (non-action), even to the point of leaving behind sensory appearances and freeing oneself from names—this is cutting off learning. Thus anxious thought naturally disappears. Since it says “no worry,” what then is there to fear? Yet although deliberation and attachment are gone, one must still be reverent, cautious, and vigilant. “Wei” and “A” differ by only a single sound; how far apart can they be? The reverence of “Wei” and the negligence of “A” are separated by only a single thought; how great can the difference be? The distinctions between good and evil, beautiful and ugly, also lie only within a single thought. Zhuangzi says: “Beautiful things can be preserved for long; once an evil thing has taken form, there is no time to correct it.” How could one fail to be cautious?

This means that within no worry there is still something to be feared. Although the sage transcends the world, he does not dare treat worldly affairs lightly. From the perspective of “cutting off learning and having no worry,” formless form can also be seen, soundless sound can also be heard, flavorless flavor can also be tasted as sweet, and the teaching without words also becomes a kind of teaching. In his eyes there is no whole ox (referring to supreme skill, having reached the state where no whole ox is seen; see Zhuangzi, “Nourishing the Lord of Life”). What then is there to worry about? From the perspective of “Wei and A, good and evil,” the eyes do not dare look about at random, the ears do not dare listen at random, the mouth does not dare speak at random, and the body does not dare move at random. Even a louse looks as large as a cartwheel—how can one not fear? Zhuangzi says: “How minute and small—what belongs to man.” This is the principle that “what people fear, one also fears.” He also says: “How vast and great—alone completing one’s Heaven.” This is the principle of “cutting off learning and having no worry.”

The Great Dao is utterly empty and utterly wuwei, yet exceedingly vast. The Great Dao begins from goodness, regardless of great or small, beginning or end. If one wishes to seek its limit, it is vast and unfindable; why should I trouble myself to seek it?

Mr. Dong says: It is vast and boundless; its borders and shores cannot be known.

Notes:

Cutting off learning: Learning that transcends the world; here it refers to the Great Dao.

Wei and A: Sounds of response; “Wei” is a respectful response, “A” a negligent response (see Laozi, chapter 20).

Zhuangzi’s “Beautiful things can be preserved for long”: From Zhuangzi, “In the Human World.”

The multitude are bustling with joy, as if enjoying the Grand Sacrifice (tailao, a lavish feast with ox, sheep, and pig all provided), and as if ascending the Spring Terrace (a high terrace for spring outings, a metaphor for the realm of splendor and pleasure). I alone am plain and tranquil, before any thought has stirred, and yet seem beyond grasping; what mental activity is there left for me to use? Mr. Dong says that this state of mind is vast and boundless, its limits unknowable.

Mr. Wu says: “Xixi” is the appearance of harmony and joy. “Bo” means quiet. “Zhao” is like the fine cracks that appear after a tortoise shell has been burned. The multitude pursue learning and rejoice only by following external things: enjoying the Grand Sacrifice, whose delicacies satisfy the mouth and belly; ascending the Spring Terrace to view the scenery, whose beauty delights the eyes. I, however, am calm and tranquil, with desires not yet sprouted, and I see no trace of them, like an infant that cannot yet smile and knows nothing at all of what external things might make it happy.

Mr. Lin says: The multitude drown in worldly flavors, enjoying the Grand Sacrifice and ascending the Spring Terrace; I alone am content with plainness and tranquility, with all kinds of thoughts unmanifested, like an infant not yet able to smile. “Zhao” means form; it means sprouting. The mind does not sprout, and so it is said to be “not yet showing signs.” An infant is a child just born and slightly grown; its mind is entirely without knowledge.

Mr. He says: The multitude are just now enjoying the Grand Sacrifice, satisfying the desires of mouth and body, and also ascending the Spring Terrace to enjoy the scenery to the full, bustling and joyful, considering themselves happy. I, however, have no thoughts manifest, like a newborn infant that has not yet reached the age of smiling; looked at face to face, one cannot see even its head—its form and traces are entirely absent.

“Chengcheng xi, as if having nowhere to return”: this line is a variant reading of “Leilei xi, as if having nowhere to return” in Chapter 20 of the Daodejing, describing the appearance of being weary, exhausted, and adrift with nothing to rely on. The original commentary contains no separate explanation of this line.

“Collected Meanings of the Dao De Zhen Jing” (compiled by Wei Dayou of the Southern Song, gathering annotations and commentaries on the Dao De Jing from successive dynasties). The passage cited here comes from Chapter 20 of the Laozi and describes the inner state of a person who has attained the Dao.

“Riding and riding, as though there were nowhere to return”: “Riding” means relying on or depending on. This sentence says that although the mind lodges in external things, it does not cling to any single place; it is like drifting while riding the wind, without support, not knowing where it will return. Master He and Master Lü use “riding the wind and treading upon emptiness” to describe this state of mind: accommodating oneself to worldly customs, mingling among people, rising and falling together with the myriad things, with mind and spirit in harmony and the bodily form set aside, becoming one with the Dao. It is also like an empty boat drifting on the water with the waves, or a leaf fluttering up and down in the wind, so that one cannot tell whether the wind is carrying me or I am riding the wind.

“The multitude all have more than enough, while I alone seem to have lost something”: Master Lin holds that ordinary people all have a mind that seeks surplus, while the cultivator of the Dao seems to have discarded such a mind, without any thought of craving more or seeking fullness. Master Lü says that people of the world follow what they themselves know and wallow in wealth and honor, believing that the more they possess, the happier they are; the perfected person is not like this. They regard fame and profit lightly, look upon carriages, horses, and ceremonial caps as tiny mustard seeds, know that body and world are all illusory, and keep the mind like empty space, with nothing to hold on to. Therefore it says, “The multitude all have more than enough, while I alone seem to have lost something.” Master Wu interprets “lost” as “loss”: the multitude rejoice in having gained much, while I have gained nothing, and in my heart I seem instead to have lost something. Master Dong interprets “lost” as “forgotten,” that is, having is like not having.

“I have the mind of a foolish person, chaotic and undifferentiated”: Here “foolish” does not mean stupid, but rather a state of simple unknowing that makes no distinctions; “chaotic and undifferentiated” describes an uncarved and undivided simplicity. The whole sentence says that my mind is like the mind of a foolish person, entirely unknowing, without giving rise to discrimination.

The vulgar are bright and clear; I alone am dim and confused. The vulgar are sharp and discerning; I alone am dull and muddled.

Vernacular interpretation:

Ordinary worldly people all appear clever and understanding; only I alone am muddled and confused. Ordinary worldly people are all shrewd and exacting; only I alone am dull and benighted.

Lü’s commentary says: worldly people apply their spirit outwardly, display their brilliance, single-mindedly pursue broad learning and much knowledge, increase their own understanding, and use their learning to boast before others, as conspicuous as carrying the sun and moon while walking. The Perfected—one who has reached the highest level of cultivating the Dao (the Way)—has wisdom that pervades the principles of all things, while the light of spiritual clarity is withdrawn into the heart, like wearing coarse cloth while carrying fine jade, with no outward embellishment. Thus it is said, “All are bright and clear; I alone am dim and confused.” Worldly people are strict and discerning, boast of their achievements, cling to narrow and urgent views, bury themselves in trifling details, and want to see clearly even the fish in the depths; they exhaust their intelligence over the tips of hairs and do not know how to stop. The Perfected, however, embodies the Heavenly Dao and models the great Dao, wanders free and untroubled, follows all things, and is broad and tolerant, with nothing it cannot contain. Outwardly dim and silent, hard to grasp; inwardly obscure and deep, beyond fathoming. Thus it is said, “All are sharp and discerning; I alone am dull and muddled.”

Lin’s commentary says: “Dim and confused, dull and muddled” is the state of Hundun, primordial chaos. Worldly people are bright and discerning, while I alone am dim and muddled—this is precisely wherein I differ from ordinary people.

Wu’s commentary says: “Bright and clear” is already understanding; “sharp and discerning” is even more discerning. “Dim and confused” is already unclear; “dull and muddled” is even more unclear. Worldly people all take having knowledge to be wisdom, while I alone take no-knowledge to be simplicity, and am content in foolishness.

Drifting—how like the sea; blowing—as if there were nowhere to stop.

Vernacular interpretation:

Adrift and floating, as if drifting upon the great sea; high and vast, as if there were no place where one could stop and rest.

Lin’s commentary says: this is like riding a boat upon the great sea, with the wind soughing, yet with no place to moor or rest. It expresses the meaning of “drifting like a boat upon the waves, with nowhere to return.” Wu’s commentary says: this describes floating as though upon the surface of the sea, with the mind unattached and at ease wherever it meets circumstances.

This passage is from Daode Zhenjing Jiyi (Collected Interpretations of the True Scripture of the Dao and De), which cites several commentators’ explanations of Chapter 20 of the Laozi.

Master Lin says: It is like a small boat drifting in the middle of the ocean, with the wind howling but no place to moor—this is the meaning of “as if carried along, with nowhere to return.” The mind has nothing to rely on and wanders unsettled. Master Wu likewise says: It is like drifting on the sea, pushed by wind and waves, not knowing where one is going or where one will stop.

Then comes the scriptural text itself. Everyone has something to rely on and something to accomplish, while “I” alone appear dull, obtuse, rustic, and uncouth, like a country person who does not understand worldly affairs. Master Wu explains that “dull” (wan) means a face numb and insensitive to pain and itch, while “rustic” (bi) refers to a country person. Ordinarily, those in bustling cities have broad experience, while those in remote and desolate places have little. The author compares himself to this in order to show that he does not pursue worldly cleverness and cunning.

Master Lin holds that “yi” means to have something to accomplish: everyone is engaged in purposeful action (youwei), while “I” am content not to seek, and therefore appear both dull and rustic. Master Dong says instead that “dull” means without knowledge, and “rustic” means belonging to the countryside; people in the world know only the usefulness of the useful, but do not understand the use of the useless.

The last two lines mean: I differ from others in that what I value is seeking nourishment from the “mother”—that is, the Dao, the source of all things. I do not pursue fame and profit outwardly, but draw vitality from the root.

Chapter Twenty-One: The appearance of great De is solely to follow the Dao.

This means: the manifestation of great De wholly follows the Dao.

Master Wu said: This line summarizes the preceding text. From “what people fear” to “I alone seem to have lost everything,” it speaks of how people in the world pursue learning and all strive to be talented and capable in many ways, while I alone am capable of nothing. From “the mind of a fool” to “I alone am stubborn and seem base,” it speaks of how people in the world pursue learning and all strive for much knowledge and understanding, while I alone know nothing. This is wherein I differ from the multitude. What I value are the great Dao and mysterious De—De that is profound and subtle. The great Dao is the root of all things, and so it is called the “feeding mother.” “Feeding mother” means wet nurse. Master Sima said that the great Dao nurses the primal harmonious Qi—the source Qi within Heaven and Earth.

Master Lin said: The reason I alone differ from others lies only in “savoring” the Dao. The Dao is the mother of all things, and “mother” means the Dao. “Feeding” means tasting, and one should value tasting the Dao.

Master Li said: The sage casts everything aside and devotes himself single-mindedly to the Dao, seeking food from the mother—that is, keeping to the feminine, remaining soft and low, and embracing the One, holding fast to the unity of the Dao. Therefore it is said, “without worry.”

Master Lü said: The Dao is the ancestral root of all things, just as fish cannot leave water; when fish lose water, they die—what then of people who lose the Dao? One should know that Shen is the child of Qi, and Qi is the mother of Shen. If there is no mother to nurse it, Shen cannot live by itself; if there is no Qi to nourish it, Shen cannot generate itself. Therefore it is said to be “empty.” When this nursing is continuous and unbroken, flowing above and below, the physical form can remain without decay, and Shen will not be depleted. Therefore it is said, “and values feeding from the mother.”

Someone asked: All equally speak of “valuing the search for food from the mother,” yet the explanations of the various masters differ. Why? The answer is: Though their words differ, the underlying principle in each case comes down to the two words “savoring the Dao.”

Collected Meanings of the Dao De Zhen Jing (a Yuan-dynasty Laozi commentary compiled by Wei Dayou, gathering earlier annotations)

Chapter 21

Master Lü said: Dao (the Way) originally has no name; only by means of De (Virtue/Power) can it be manifested. The highest De has no fixed root; it must accord with Dao in order to be completed. Dao is originally without form; when it operates and gives rise to De, De then acquires a visible shape. De never departs from Dao, and so it is said, “It follows Dao alone”—that is, it heeds only Dao.

Master Wu said: “Kong De” means abundant De; “appearance” refers to the visible form; “follows” means comes from. The ten thousand things all take De as their root; whatever has form and Qi (vital energy) and can be perceived is an outward manifestation of De. The reason De can have such manifestations is that it is produced from Dao.

Master Lin said: “Kong” means great or abundant. One who understands the great Dao heeds only Dao; therefore such a person can see the things beyond Dao and naturally possesses the bearing of abundant De. “De” means “to obtain”; what is obtained from oneself is called De. Dao cannot be seen, but De can be seen; therefore De is taken as the outward description of Dao.

Dao as a thing is only blurred and indistinct.

Master Lü said: Dao is profound, remote, and elusive, difficult to speak of, and nothing can compare to it. Calling it a “thing” is merely forcing the use of a name by which to investigate its profound principle. Since Dao is formless, where should one seek it? If one seeks Dao among concrete things, one will not find it; if one leaves things behind and seeks Dao, Dao has no boundary. Try to grasp one aspect of its blurred and indistinct nature: it seems to exist, yet it is existence within nonexistence; it seems not to exist, yet it is nonexistence within existence. To be situated in “nonexistence” is not truly empty nothingness—emptiness itself is form; to be situated in “existence” is not truly substantial being—form itself is emptiness. This principle of blurriness and indistinctness can be apprehended through imaginative contemplation; therefore it is said, “Dao as a thing is only blurred and indistinct.”

Master Wu said: It seems to exist and seems not to exist, and cannot be directly seen; therefore it is called “blurred and indistinct.”

Indistinct and blurred, within it there are images. Blurred and indistinct, within it there are things. Dark and obscure, within it there is Jing (essence). This Jing is utterly real; within it there is verifiable truth.

(Paraphrase) Within the blurred and indistinct there are “images”; within the blurred and indistinct there are “things”; within the dark and obscure there is “Jing”; this subtle Qi is extremely real, and within it is contained a verifiable truthfulness.

Master Lü, explaining the first line of this passage, said: The “images” within the blurred and indistinct are precisely the point at which Dao begins to manifest as concrete form.

Master Lü says: The “image” within the elusive and evanescent, when it first appears, is not known whence it comes; thus it cannot be seen or heard. Neither sight nor hearing can grasp it. This is what is meant by a presence that is deep, dark, and obscure—where can any boundary be found? Call it “nonbeing,” yet it gives birth to the ten thousand things; call it “being,” yet no form can be seen. The images within Taixu (the empty realm before heaven and earth took shape) seem both present and absent; creation arises from this, and the ten thousand things begin to stir from this. The substance within Taixu seems absent yet is actually present; wind and thunder rise from it, frost and dew descend from it. Once there is the “image,” the names of the ten thousand things are established; once there is the “thing,” generation becomes possible through the supremely subtle Jing (essence). It is deep, still, and silent; it brings being forth from nonbeing, contains the root of the ten thousand transformations, hides the Jing of Taixu, and stores up the fidelity of spontaneity. Thus the ten thousand kinds arise from it, and the Three Powers—heaven, earth, and humanity—are thereby complete.

Guangchengzi says: “The Jing of the ultimate Dao is profoundly dark and obscure; the limit of the ultimate Dao is dim and silent.” In terms of the human body, the heart is the dwelling place of the elusive and evanescent, and the kidneys are the storehouse of the dark and obscure. The heart stores Shen (spirit), the kidneys store Jing; the Jing and Shen of the whole body are thus lodged within the elusive and evanescent. Therefore it is said: “Elusive and evanescent—within it there is the image; evanescent and elusive—within it there is the thing; dark and obscure—within it there is Jing.” This Jing penetrates all directions and works wondrously throughout the body. In the alchemical path it is called the “Great Medicine” (the Jing and Qi obtained through Neidan cultivation, also called the Golden Elixir); in the Zhouyi it is called Zhongfu (the name of a hexagram, symbolizing sincerity and trust). It is not moved by the ten thousand changes, nor altered by external forces; it is the wonder within wonder and the truth within truth. As soon as there is an impulse, it responds immediately; thus it can bring life in spring and kill in autumn without ever erring. When it is infused into the body, it can cause the prenatal ancestral Qi (original Qi) to soar and circulate and turn within the body, causing the Qi of cultivation to shift from Earth (yellow) to Fire (red). This is the practice of “moving in response to the time.” Therefore it is said: “Its Jing is supremely true; within it there is fidelity.”

Master He says: Formerly, someone who understood the mysterious principle, discussing this chapter, said: “The ‘thing’ is not an ordinary thing, and the Jing is not an ordinary Jing.” Through it heaven is clear and bright, earth is stable and peaceful, and humanity is spiritually wise. One who can embrace and guard the mysterious wonder and concentrate one’s Shen seeks Jing within the dark and obscure and seeks the thing within the elusive and evanescent. When body and Shen are unified and penetrating, one becomes true by according with the great Dao. The image, the thing, and the Jing are all within the elusive, evanescent, dark, and obscure; they are being generated from nonbeing. And when it says “Its Jing is supremely true, and within it there is fidelity,” this means that from nonbeing there is being, and from being there is substantial reality.

Master Wu says: What earlier Confucians called “when there is no trace in the vast and silent, the ten thousand images are already fully present”—this is precisely what this principle means.

From ancient times to the present, the name of the Dao has never disappeared; through it people observe the beginning and changes of all things. By what do I know that all things are so? It is by this Dao.

Lü’s Commentary: From high antiquity down to today, the Dao is limpid and clear, forever enduring here. It manifests its function according to the times, yet originally has no name; forced to name it, one calls it “true Jing (essence).” It runs through the ages without wavering, solemnly representing the eternal existence of original nature; it sits calmly observing heaven, earth, and the myriad things, contemplating the beginning and end and the changes of life and death. Therefore it is said: “From ancient times to the present, its name does not depart, so that one may view the beginnings of the multitude.” The changes of the myriad things flow on day and night without ever stopping; then by what do I know the qualities and endowments of the myriad things? It is also because of where the Dao reaches. The Dao is profound and obscure, as if present and as if absent; it constantly abides and does not vanish, and therefore it can respond to change and bring great order to the world.

He’s Commentary: This Dao was born before heaven and earth, yet is not considered distant; it is older than high antiquity, yet has never aged. Although it is eternally nameless, its name does not disappear: this is the “name” of the “constant name” spoken of in the first chapter, which is the “Dao” of the “constant Dao.” It sits calmly observing the natural arising of zhongfu (all beauties). “Fu” means beauty; “zhongfu” refers to all that is beautiful and good, and through this the Dao possesses the whole. Therefore it is said that it is plain and without limit, yet all beauties follow it; this is the Dao of heaven and earth and the De of the sage. “By what do I know that zhongfu is so? By this” means by relying on this Dao. “Yue” is like the “yue” in “yue the principles of the world”; both mean to pass through, to experience and train.

Lin’s Commentary: The name of the Dao exists in past and present and cannot disappear for even a single day; all kinds of good practices issue from it. “Zhongfu” means all beauties; “yue” means to pass through. All good things coming and going issue from this Dao. “By this” refers precisely to the Dao.

Wu’s Commentary: “Not departing” means long enduring; “yue” is like “passing through”; “fu” means beauty; “zhongfu” means the myriad beings. The beauty of the myriad beings all at times changes and perishes; only the “great De” produced from the Dao, from ancient times to the present, is unchanged and eternally exists. Then how can I know that the myriad things are thus impermanent in their changes and extinction? It is by means of this great De and the constant Dao that I know it.

Fascicle Heading: The Daode Zhenjing Jiyi (Collected Meanings of the True Scripture of the Dao and De) is a collection of commentaries on the Daodejing compiled by Wei Dayou, a Daoist priest of the late Southern Song to early Yuan period from Xujiang, an ancient place name in the Jiangxi region. “End of Fascicle Three” indicates that the third fascicle ends here, while “Fascicle Four” marks the beginning of the next fascicle. This fascicle begins its discussion with Chapter 22.

Jiyi Commentary: The Dao (the Way) and De (Virtue/Power) themselves are eternal and enduring, while the ten thousand things are continually arising and perishing, changing without cease. Yet the reason we can clearly perceive the impermanent, ever-changing appearance of the ten thousand things is precisely that we rely on the unchanging principle within “great De” (Kongde, the greatest De; from the Laozi, “The countenance of great De follows only the Dao”).

Chapter 22: The six opening lines of this chapter mean: what is bent is instead preserved whole; what is wronged or bent is instead straightened; what is low-lying is instead filled; what is worn out is instead renewed; what is taken in little is instead gained; and what is greedily sought in excess instead leads to confusion. These lines speak of advancing by retreating, guarding weakness through softness, and receiving the solid through emptiness; they are a concrete expression of Laozi’s thought that “reversal is the movement of the Dao.”

Master Lü says: The sage probes profound principles and extends them to what is remote; his actions invariably follow the Heavenly Principle. Wherever he accords with the Heavenly Principle, no one in the world can contend with him. The sage holds that cultivating one’s nature is not as good as making the mind clear, and preserving oneself is not as good as keeping distant from harm. Thus they can bend themselves, whether taking office or withdrawing, speaking or remaining silent, always according with the times. They do not strive to overcome external things, nor do they diminish the wholeness of the great Dao (the Way), and so they realize the virtue of “non-contention.” Therefore Laozi says: “To bend is to be preserved whole.”

Such a person is intelligent and penetrating, clearly discerning the nature of affairs, able to distinguish the principles of the myriad things. When he meets with disappointment, he does not resent it; when he is in difficulty, he does not grieve. His uprightness is straight as an arrow, his correctness taut as a bowstring, yet he often accords with the world and rises and falls with the waves. Like an inchworm before it stretches, he bends and withdraws; bent down, yet he does not claim straightness for himself. Only this can be called true great straightness. Therefore Laozi says: “To be bent is to be straightened.”

When river valleys are low, water flows and gathers there; even if they did not wish to be full, they could not help it. If one treats others with humility, all forms of De (Virtue/Power) will attach to him. Therefore Laozi says: “To be low is to be filled.”

The utmost person—one of the highest attainment in the Dao—diminishes his own De and belittles his own traces. What seems most white appears instead soiled; what is truly pure appears stained. Therefore the people of the world delight in raising him up and never grow weary of him, and his Dao renews itself daily. In the Yangzi someone asked: “Which is better, the new or the old?” The answer was: “If it is new, continue it; if it is old, augment it. Only in this way can one be said to renew one’s De daily and not be worn down by external things.” Therefore Laozi says: “To be worn is to be renewed.”

The great Dao does not prize the complicated and multifarious; broad experience and learning are not as good as keeping to simplicity. What is plain and easy is easy to put into practice; what is concise and clear is easy to follow. When one is plain, easy, concise, and clear and thereby gains something, one grasps all the principles of the world. One who nourishes life has few thoughts, few desires, and few notions; by holding fast and not losing them, one gains. Therefore Laozi says: “With few, one gains.”

It is human nature to love winning and to value abundance. But the great Dao does not delight in multiplicity; multiplicity brings clutter and disturbance. Just as too many forked roads cause one to lose the sheep, too many paths of learning cause one to lose the great Dao. In cultivating the self, if thoughts are too many, the spirit scatters; if clever devices are too many, wisdom sinks. None of these is the way of embracing the One (baoyi). Therefore Laozi says: “Much leads to confusion.”

Mr. He says: This chapter begins with “Bend, and one is whole” and ends with “whole and return,” from which we can see the Dao of natural, undifferentiated wholeness. It is like rivers and valleys that ultimately flow into the sea: their countless twists and turns do not prevent them from flowing eastward. The Dao does not originally depend on bending in order to be completed; it is complete in itself, and only borrows the manner of bending to bring the myriad things to completion. One should know that heaven and earth are inherently a great wholeness, and that all things are complete within my own person. To turn tactfully with the myriad things and rise and fall with them in the same waves is because the world does not permit one to walk straight along the Way; it is not a matter of turning against the great Dao to seek fame and reputation, as do those people of later ages who deliberately do evil and bend their wills to curry favor.

Seen in this way, the four quarters are flat, level, and orderly; the Dao is originally straight, yet externally it borrows bending to complete it. The six voids—heaven, earth, and the four directions—circulate without cease; the Dao is originally full, yet externally it borrows lowliness to complete it. This is precisely how humility receives benefit. The Dao endures without growing old and is originally ever new, yet externally it borrows the worn and old to complete it; within the dark and obscure there is naturally light. “Few, and one gains” means singleness of purpose; “many, and one is confused” means disorder and distraction. The Liezi says: “The great Dao loses sheep because there are too many forked paths; the student loses the great Dao because there are too many doctrines.”

Mr. Lin says: To be able first to bend is then to be able to be preserved whole; to be able first to be bent or wronged is then to be able to be straightened; to be able first to be low is then to be able to be filled; to be able first to be worn is then to be able to be renewed; to be able first to be few is then to be able to be many. All of this is the ability first to dwell in insufficiency and only then to have surplus; first to maintain emptiness and only then to have the Dao truly present. “Few, and one gains; many, and one is confused” is in fact only the three characters “few, then many,” expanded into two clauses.

Therefore the sage holds fast to the pure and unitary Dao, embracing the One, and becomes the model for all under heaven.

Master Lü says, “‘The One’ is the true nature of a person. In Daoist texts, ‘the One’ has several meanings, and one cannot fail to distinguish them clearly. There is ‘the One of Dao,’ which refers to Dao itself being non-dual and without differentiation, not the numerical one. There is ‘the One of Shen,’ which refers to singleness of spirit, that is, the one of the True One. There is ‘the One of Qi’ (qi means vital energy; here it refers to original qi), referring to primordial

Interpretation of the Daode Zhenjing Jiyi (The Crooked Becomes Whole and Non-Contention)

This passage of commentary expounds Laozi’s principle that “the crooked becomes whole” (qu ze quan): through modesty and withdrawal, and by not claiming merit, one may instead preserve oneself.

Master Wu (the commentator Wu Cheng and others; likewise below) first explains four improper attitudes of mind. Self-display (zixian) is showing oneself off, wanting others to see one; the “clarity” (ming) here means the manifestation of intelligence and ability. One who truly does not display himself knows how to conceal his sharp edges and thereby appears the more wise. Self-approval (zishi) is considering oneself right and regarding oneself as worthy; “manifestation” (zhang) means making oneself conspicuous. One who does not consider himself right remains calm and low-key, yet becomes increasingly distinguished. “Boasting” (fa) is vaunting one’s own achievements, with “achievements” (gong) referring to the results of affairs brought to completion. “Self-exaltation” (jin) is being conceited about one’s own strengths, with “strengths” (chang) referring to abilities that surpass others. These four “nots”—not displaying oneself, not considering oneself right, not boasting of oneself, and not exalting oneself—all explain the principle that “it is only because he does not contend” (fu wei bu zheng), that is, not competing with others for superiority.

Master Lin (the commentator Lin Xiyi and others) holds that the core of these four is “not possessing what one has,” that is, not taking what one already has as one’s own possession. Since a person does not contend with anyone under Heaven for anything, others have no means by which to contend with him.

Master Li (the commentator Li Lin and others) points out that from “not displaying oneself” to “non-contention,” all are exhortations to guard against self-satisfaction and to promote humility. Being humble and lowly naturally entails non-contention, and only through non-contention can one preserve the root.

The final passage quotes the ancient saying “the crooked becomes whole.” Laozi calls it a saying of the ancients and did not invent it out of nothing. Master Dong (the commentator Dong Sijing) holds that Laozi “transmits but does not create,” merely quoting ancient sayings in order to expound them. “The crooked becomes whole” is no empty word: if one can truly bend and yield in order to preserve wholeness, and not contend with others, one can preserve the Dao and De, and ultimately “the Dao is completely whole and fully real,” returning the Dao that one originally possesses to oneself. The Dao is originally present in the human person; what is called “returning” is simply restoring one’s original nature.

The phrase “the Dao is inherent in human beings” means that the Dao originally exists within every person; hence the word “return” is used, meaning to restore one’s original primordial state.

“Few words are natural” means that speaking sparingly and complying with naturalness alone accords with the great Dao. “Xi” means that which is not heard when listened for, referring to the great Dao’s silent stillness, formlessness, and imagelessness. A whirlwind—a sharp, sudden cyclone—cannot blow for a whole morning, and a torrential rain—a violent downpour—cannot fall for a whole day. Who causes these phenomena? Heaven and Earth. If Heaven and Earth cannot make them last, how much less can human beings?

Mr. He believes that the character xi should be punctuated separately in this sentence, and that one should not interpret “xiyan” in contrast to “duoyan” (much speech), for that would be too superficial. Those who cultivate the Dao should let the mind-spirit rest in placid simplicity, let the Qi harmonize with silent stillness, empty and without form, still and soundless; therefore the scripture begins with the single character xi. The xi in “the great sound is faint” has the same meaning; both refer to naturalness. This is the essential purport of the Daoist gate—the path of Daoist cultivation. Whirlwinds and torrential rains are violent Qi that goes against the principles of naturalness, so they cannot last and soon disperse. If Heaven and Earth cannot make such anomalous phenomena endure, how much less can human beings?

Mr. Wu says that to speak rashly and impetuously without following naturalness is like a whirlwind or sudden rain: it violates the normal condition of nature and can last only a very short time. “A whole morning” refers to the time from morning to breakfast, and “a whole day” refers to the time from dawn to dusk.

Mr. Li says that whirlwinds and sudden rains are metaphors for reckless action and impetuous advancement, which cannot endure.

Mr. Lü says that here Taishang (Laozi) warns people that when joy, anger, sorrow, and pleasure arise without proper measure, their words and conduct will lose their normality.

Main Meaning of the Scripture

Therefore, those who single-mindedly pursue the Dao become one with the Dao; those who single-mindedly pursue De become one with De; those who are beset by loss become one with loss. Those who become one with the Dao, the Dao also accepts them; those who become one with De, De also accepts them; those who become one with loss, loss likewise accepts them.

Annotations and Interpretation

Wu Cheng says that “devoting oneself to the Dao” means making the Dao one’s own undertaking. Here “the person of Dao” refers to one who has the Dao, “the person of De” to one who has De, and “the person of loss” to a mediocre and lowly person. In what people do, faults are unavoidable. “Sameness” is close to “equalization” in Zhuangzi’s “Qiwulun”: it means merging into one with the other, without mutual criticism and without distinguishing self from other. Precisely because one follows nature and speaks little, one treats upper, middle, and lower people with equal regard, without disputes over right and wrong. The person of Dao, the person of De, and I are one, and there is no need for many words. As for the person of loss, others regard him as lost, but he himself considers himself right; this too has its natural “rightness.” Since this is so, one should not follow others’ standards to negate him. Zhuangzi says, “Not speaking, then there is equalization.” Equalization and speech cannot both be attained, and therefore there must be “no words.” This is also the meaning of Laozi’s “speaking little and being natural” and “mysterious sameness.”

Li Lin says that those who follow the Dao are harmonious with Dao and De and blend with things; they naturally resonate with external things, and external things naturally respond to them. “The person of Dao is the same as Dao” means a unified contemplation of all as one body; “the person of De is the same as De” means not giving rise to a second, dualistic mind; “the person of loss is the same as loss” means there is no discrimination.

Lü Huiqing says that the perfected person is the same as Dao, the same as De, and the same as loss. He is not intimate with external things, does not think of himself as having Dao, having De, or having loss, and transcends beyond forms and implements; therefore he has no anxiety about gain and loss.

The final sentence is a further explanation of the realm of “the person of Dao and De”: not calculating gain and loss, and transcending beyond tangible forms and implements.

Those who are the same as the Dao—the Dao also accepts them; those who are the same as De—De also accepts them; those who are the same as loss—loss also accepts them. (“Dao,” “De,” and “loss” here refer respectively to three types of people: those who attain the Dao, those who possess De, and those who lose the Dao and lose De.)

Master Wu says: Those who possess Dao and De are the same as me; they verify one another and mutually integrate—what barrier could there be between them? Those who have lost the Dao are also the same as me; perhaps they may borrow the other’s distinctive insight to realize the principle of fairness that I affirm. All three types can gain something through sameness. But only one who truly has the Dao can do this. If one’s own Dao is still insufficient, then in dealing with people and things one inevitably fails to treat them according to their true circumstances; right and wrong become sharply distinguished, and distinctions are imposed by force—how could one attain such a profound and undifferentiated “mysterious sameness” (xuantong, referring to blending indistinguishably with all things without making distinctions between self and other)?

Master Li says: I am the same as myself, and the Dao is also the same as me; I am the same as De, and De also draws near to me; I am the same as loss, and loss is also the same as me. If I am doubtful about external things, external things will also be doubtful about me.

One who stands on tiptoe does not stand firm; one who strides too far does not travel far. (This is a metaphor: deliberately forcing things and acting beyond one’s capacity makes it difficult to endure for long.)

Commentary by Mr. Li: This chapter summarizes the meaning of the preceding three chapters. One who stands on tiptoe is unsteady; one who takes great strides does not go far. It is like a violent wind or a sudden rainstorm: it comes fiercely and goes quickly, and cannot last.

Commentary by Mr. Wu: This chapter again uses the principles of standing and walking to illustrate the preceding chapter. People should stand and walk in accordance with nature. If beyond nature they seek extra benefit—for example, rising on tiptoe and stretching up to become taller, or opening the legs in great strides to cover more distance—they can do so only briefly and cannot make it last. In the end they can neither stand firm nor walk.

Commentary by Mr. Ming: Standing on tiptoe looks like standing, but in fact one has not truly stood firm; striding looks like walking, but in fact one has not truly moved forward. What is valuable in a person is to stand steadily and walk uprightly, and this depends on the Dao (the Way). If one dislikes that standing is not high enough and so stands on tiptoe, or dislikes that walking is not fast enough and so takes great strides, neither is acceptable. This is like those who are anxious to advance: they stand on tiptoe to gaze at fame and position that do not belong to them, wishing to obtain glory and favor—like stretching the neck and standing on tiptoe, how could they stand long? Their own ability is inferior, yet they wish to surpass others; thus they take great strides forward and cling to external things, their minds anxious to reach their goal quickly—how could they truly go far? In this way they violate their original nature and force themselves to do what they cannot do. As for those who rely on the Dao to stand independently beyond the ten thousand things, detached and unshaken—how can they be mentioned in the same breath as such people?

Commentary by Mr. He: Qi means raising the heels; this departs from the stable condition of standing, showing that the person’s heart of expectation is too heavy, and one cannot discuss true standing with him. Kua means taking great strides; it makes walking hurried, showing that the person’s heart of advancement is too heavy, and he is not sufficient to discuss true walking with.

Scripture: One who displays himself is instead not clear; one who considers himself right is instead not distinguished; one who boasts of himself has no merit; one who glories in himself cannot last. For the Dao, such conduct is like leftover food and superfluous tumors, and is disgusting. Therefore one who has the Dao does not do this.

Annotations on the Collected Meanings of the Daode Zhenjing (Chapter 24)

Master Li (a commentator surnamed Li) says: Seeing self-righteously, regarding oneself as correct, boasting of oneself, and claiming credit for oneself all arise from the workings of a selfish mind. Once selfishness is established, it harms public rightness; how could it endure? Therefore those who possess the Dao do not act this way. Leftover food, superfluous conduct, scraps of food, and growing excrescences are all things that people detest.

Master Lü (a commentator surnamed Lü) says: The Dao-mind of the Perfected Person is empty and luminous, vast like the Great Void; such a one casts a sidelong glance at the myriad things and wanders in the world, viewing life and death as a single thread and “can” and “cannot” as one continuous whole. Looking back at those who display themselves, boast of themselves, and proclaim themselves, they are like discarded leftovers and superfluous conduct—what Heaven diminishes, Earth alters, and people detest. How much less would the Perfected Person, who exhausts principle and fully grasps nature, having reached the utmost in cultivating the Dao, give them any thought? Therefore throughout life one should not draw near to them.

Master Lin (a commentator surnamed Lin) says: Self-display, self-glorification, self-righteousness, self-credit, and self-importance all mean possessing something of one’s own yet being unable to dissolve the private self.

Master Wu (a commentator surnamed Wu) says: Those who display themselves ultimately do not see things clearly; those who regard themselves as correct ultimately do not become illumined; those who claim credit ultimately have no merit; those who are self-important ultimately have no strength. This is like one who stands on tiptoe being unable to stand firm, or one who strides too far being unable to walk.

“Food that cannot be finished is called ‘surplus’; flesh that grows attached to the body is called ‘excrescence.’” Another explanation: “conduct” (xing) should be read as “form” (xing); in ancient texts the graphs were interchangeable.

Master Sima (a commentator surnamed Sima) says: Discarded leftovers make people detest them; attached excrescent flesh disfigures the body.

Chapter 25　“There is a thing, formed in chaos, born before Heaven and Earth.”

This says that there is something complete and naturally formed in a chaotic unity, whose existence precedes Heaven and Earth.

Vernacular Explanation of the Annotations to the Collected Meanings of the True Scripture of the Dao and De (Wei Dayou)

Master Lü says: Taiyi is the state in which Qi (vital energy) has not yet manifested; Taichu is the stage when Qi first begins to arise; Taishi is the stage when form first begins to appear; Taisu is the stage when substance first begins to take shape. When Qi, form, and substance are all present, yet have not yet begun to separate from one another, it is called “Hunlun” (the undifferentiated whole, unified and without distinction of self and other). It is neither clear nor turbid; it is limpid and tranquil, everlasting. It is neither high nor low, and the myriad branches have not yet been differentiated. Heaven and Earth arise from it, and the myriad things are transformed by it. The perfected person (zhiren), one who has attained the highest level of cultivation, realizes it, and therefore can “return to the root and restore destiny,” returning to the original state of his nature. Within the indistinct and mysterious, the myriad things, despite their endless differences, harmonize and merge with one another; it exhausts the true essence of things and investigates their original face. It exists before Heaven and Earth cover and support the world; within primordial chaos it forms a unity of its own—this is the root of the Dao. In human beings, it manifests as the “nature of wondrous awakening” (a subtle nature capable of awakening), continuing through myriad kalpas without interruption. Therefore it is said: “There is something undifferentiated and complete, born before Heaven and Earth.”

Master Lin says: “There is something undifferentiated and complete” refers precisely to the Dao. From Wuji (Non-Ultimate) arises Taiji (Supreme Ultimate); the Dao’s coming forth is long before the formation of Heaven and Earth. This means that Heaven and Earth are produced by the Dao.

Master Wu says: In “there is something undifferentiated and complete,” “something” refers to the Dao, while “undifferentiated and complete” means that the Dao is undivided and wholly intact. “Born before Heaven and Earth” is like what Chapter One calls “the beginning of Heaven and Earth,” and what Chapter Four calls “it appears to precede the Lord.”

Scriptural passage: Silent and empty! It stands alone and does not change; it circulates everywhere without peril; it can be the mother of the world.

Master Lü says: How silent—it has no sound; how empty—it has no form. This empty, vast, and distant realm is precisely the state indicated by “it appears to precede the Lord.”

(Note: In the original text, the line “Silent and empty… mother of the world” appears twice in the scriptural passage; it is interpreted here as it stands, without separate additions or deletions.)

Lü’s Commentary: Dao is still and soundless, empty and boundless, without form, profoundly dark and remote, with no such thing as past or present. It stands alone, with nothing that can match it, and it never changes; therefore nothing can be compared to it. For this very reason, it can roam through the farthest reaches of the eight directions (bahong, meaning the outermost limits of the eight directions), respond to the myriad affairs without being exhausted, and move and transform without ever going astray. The myriad things flourish and decline, but Dao is inexhaustible and endless. The myriad things cannot see how it operates, yet it operates of itself; they cannot see when it stops, yet it stops of itself. After operating it stops, and after stopping it operates again, like a ring that has no beginning. All things, great and small, turn toward Dao and take refuge in it: attaining Dao, they are complete; departing from Dao, they suffer harm. Dao gives birth to and nourishes the myriad things, and brings them to completion; all things depend upon it.

Lin’s Commentary: Dao is still and empty, and cannot be seen. It stands alone without changing, endures forever without alteration, and operates within the myriad things without ever ceasing. Therefore it is said that it “can be the mother of the world”; it is the root from which all things in the world arise. Ji means quiet and soundless; liao means vast and formless. This speaks of Dao as soundless and formless, standing apart from the myriad things, with nothing that can be set against it, and never changing; therefore it is said to be “unchanging.” It operates within the myriad things, reaching everywhere, and is never exhausted; therefore it is said to be “without peril.” It transforms, gives birth to, and nurtures the myriad things; therefore it is said to “be the mother of the world.”

The Scripture: I do not know its true name; I reluctantly give it the courtesy name Dao, and reluctantly call it Great. “Great” means moving without cease (shi, passing on); moving without cease, it goes far (yuan, far); going far, it returns to the original place (fan, returning).

Master Lin (the Song scholar Lin Xiyi) says: I do not know its name, and so I cannot name it. Since it cannot be given a fixed name, it is called “Dao.” A “style name” (zi) is an appellation used in place of a name. To say “Dao” is still insufficient to describe it fully, so one is forced to call it “great.” “Great” is still insufficient, so it is called “passing on.” “Passing on” means going forth, meaning that it cannot be pursued. “Passing on” is still insufficient, so one is forced to call it “far-reaching.” “Far-reaching” means that it cannot be approached or closely attached to. “Far-reaching” is still insufficient, so one is forced to call it “returning.” “Returning” means returning to the root.

Master Li says: “Great” has no limit; “passing on” has no boundary; “far-reaching” has no edge; “returning” is gathering in and coming back. Master He says: “Returning” means returning to no-thing, that is, returning to emptiness. Master Chai says: “Returning” means function returning to substance.

Therefore it is said, Dao is great, Heaven is great, Earth is great, and the king is also great. Within the universe there are four greats, and the king is one of them.

Master Wu says: Here “king” refers to the sage who holds a position. From ancient times to the present, only Dao is the greatest, and nothing can be placed alongside it. Why, then, does this passage list Heaven, Earth, the sage, and Dao together and call them the “four greats”? Because Heaven attains this Dao and becomes Heaven, Earth attains this Dao and becomes Earth, and the sage attains this Dao and becomes a sage. Their ability to be great is due to this Dao.

Master Li says: People only know that there are four greats in the universe, but they do not know that this one thing, their own selves, is even greater.

Master Lü says: The zhiren (perfected person, one who has cultivated the Dao to a high level) applies this passage to the body and understands it in terms of the self. “Dao” is empty, nonbeing, and numinous; “Heaven” refers to the Niwan Palace (niwan gong) at the top of the head (an internal alchemy term, namely the spirit palace); “Earth” refers to the Huangting (Yellow Court) in the middle of the body (an internal alchemy term, referring to the place of spleen-earth); “king” refers to the authentic mind-nature and the original spirit (yuanshen). The original spirit is the mind: it does not leave the square inch of the heart, yet it can enter the space between Heaven and Earth and penetrate the four directions, so it may also be called great.

People model themselves on Earth, Earth models itself on Heaven, Heaven models itself on Dao (the Way), and Dao models itself on the self-so.

Lü says: The ruler should be deep and sparing in speech, quiet and composed, and embrace all things like the soft De (Virtue/Power) of yin, without partiality—this is modeling himself on Earth. Earth keeps to its proper place and does not move arbitrarily; it is firm and strong and abides in centrality and uprightness, moving in step with yang qi (yang vital energy)—this is modeling itself on Heaven. Heaven is high and far-reaching, bright, perfectly impartial, and governs the myriad things without favoritism—this is modeling itself on Earth. Earth keeps to a single body and does not waver; it is firm, strong, centered, and upright, and follows yang qi—this is modeling itself on Heaven. Heaven is high, bright, and perfectly impartial; it manifests true signs and the De of the sage, responds to the myriad transformations, and has De alone as its support, becoming one with Dao—this is modeling itself on Dao. As for Dao, it lets all things each fulfill their own nature; it is wuwei (non-action) and self-so, preserves and does not lose, and unites with Shen (spirit). The body of Dao is perfectly fused and transparent, unobstructed in coming and going—this is what is called the self-so. Who says this cannot be so? Therefore it is said: People model themselves on Earth, Earth models itself on Heaven, Heaven models itself on Dao, and Dao models itself on the self-so.

Wu says: The reason people are great is that they obtain this Dao and thereby communicate with Earth; therefore it says they model themselves on Earth. The reason Earth is great is that it obtains this Dao and thereby communicates with Heaven; therefore it says it models itself on Heaven. The reason Heaven is great is that it communicates with Dao; therefore it says it models itself on Dao. The reason Dao is great is that it is self-so; therefore it says it models itself on the self-so. This is not to say that outside Dao there is another “self-so.” What is called the self-so is the state of non-being and namelessness.

Lin says: The meaning of this passage is simply that the ultimate point of Dao lies in the self-so. Expounded in this way, it may be called a novel insight.

He says: The “person” in “people model themselves on Earth” refers to the ruler.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Heaviness is the root of lightness; stillness is the master of restlessness. Therefore the noble person travels all day without leaving the baggage wagon.

Note: Zizhong refers to the grain, equipment, and carts carried along during a march. Here the “baggage wagon” is used as a metaphor for the firm foundation of steadiness and holding fast; it means that although the noble person goes out and travels about, he never departs from the root.

Vernacular Interpretation of the Chapter “Heaviness Is the Root of Lightness; Stillness Is the Master of Restlessness” in the “Wei Dayou” Fascicle of Collected Interpretations of the Dao De Zhen Jing

Master Wu said: “‘Root’ is like ‘foundation’; ‘restlessness’ means restless movement. ‘Master’ is like ‘ruler,’ meaning that lightness and frivolity must take heaviness and solidity as their root, and restlessness must take quietness as its leader. When a gentleman travels, he rides the ordinary carriage for auspicious ceremonies and the war chariot for military operations; these are all light carriages. Behind the light carriage there must also follow a baggage wagon, loaded with the things needed for sleeping, lodging, clothing, food, and drink; this is called the heavy carriage. Even when riding in the light carriage, the whole day he does not leave the heavy carriage, and does not dare to drive the light carriage swiftly forward alone without regard for the baggage behind him. This means that lightness and frivolity depend on heaviness and solidity.”

Master Lü said: “‘Heaviness’ is what can bear things; ‘lightness’ is what is borne by things. The commander must control frivolity and must not lose heaviness; the quiet person can drive things, while the restless person is driven by things. The commander must restrain restlessness and must not lose quietness. Only quietness has the power to subdue frivolity; only quietness has the method for grasping restlessness. Therefore, the ruler who governs the state should take sincere magnanimity, steadiness, and quietness as the foundation; then the people will be secure and peaceful, without the anxiety of disorder. It is like a person traveling all day who never dares to leave the baggage wagon containing clothing and food, because if he abandons far behind the place where clothing and food are, he will suffer distress on the road. How, then, in cultivating the self, establishing life, and practicing the Great Dao, could one forget quietness and heaviness for even a moment?”

The Perfected person’s dealings with the world and with himself are also like this: he values heaviness and quietness and carefully guards against frivolity and restlessness. Heaviness is like the head, frivolity like the four limbs; quietness is like Shen (spirit), restlessness like the emotions and desires. If one takes this virtue of quietness and heaviness and removes the feelings of frivolity and restlessness, then the Holy Embryo (shengtai, the spiritual embryo formed through Daoist cultivation) will be secure, and all day one will be like riding in a stable carriage. Although the Great Dao is level, one would not dare rashly change the manner of proceeding.

Master Lin said: “‘Root’ means that lightness and frivolity are produced from heaviness and solidity; ‘master’ means that restlessness takes quietness as its ruler.”

Interpretation of the latter half of the original text, “Though there are glorious sights, one dwells at ease and detached”: Although one is in the midst of prosperity and has scenery to view, when dwelling peacefully in ordinary life one should still be detached from things and unmoved by them.

Master Wu says: “Yan” means leisure and ease; “chu” means to dwell and keep to. Even when situated in an environment of glory, wealth, and honor, where one may roam and view, one can still stand aloof from things and not let anything entangle one’s mind. This means that in movement, stillness should be the master.

Master Lin says: What he sees in his heart is the finest thing in the world, and so it is called the “glorious spectacle.” But he dwells at ease within it, and therefore can stand beyond lightness and heaviness, rashness and stillness. “Yan” means ease; “chu” means dwelling, just as earlier scholars spoke of acting securely and abiding broadly.

Master He says: Even if there is a spectacle of lofty glory and splendor, he remains aloof in pure leisure and easy dwelling; the myriad things cannot disturb his mind. Then what difficulty would there be in governing the world? What the Liezi calls “the highest seeing does not know what it looks at” is simply stillness and heaviness carried to their utmost.

The scripture says: Why does the ruler who possesses ten thousand chariots treat the world lightly? Lightness causes him to lose his ministers; rashness causes him to lose his throne. (Ten thousand chariots refers to the ruler of a great state who possesses ten thousand chariots.)

Master Wu says: The situation of a state lies in using heaviness to control lightness. Military strategy values using stillness to control movement. In people’s cultivation of the body and governance of the mind, all should likewise take “heaviness” as the root and “stillness” as the guiding principle.

Master Lin says: If the ruler of ten thousand chariots does not understand his own “heaviness,” he cannot stand beyond things; he will inevitably err through lightness and rashness. Losing his ministers, he cannot cause the world to submit; losing his throne, he loses the state he presides over. “Treating his person lightly in relation to the world” means regarding the world as heavy and his own person as light. Not to make light of one’s own person is to understand the Dao (the Way); to understand the Dao is to understand naturalness.

Master Lü says: From the perspective of the cultivator himself, the mind is the ruler and Qi (vital energy, the qi of life) is the minister. If the mind is light and frivolous, it will disturb and deplete Qi; if the mind is rash and restless, Qi will scatter and further unsettle the spirit. Inwardly cultivating the body and outwardly directing the myriad things, one must in every case take stillness and heaviness as the root. This is precisely where the distinction between nature and principle lies, and so it is said: “Lightness loses the minister; rashness loses the ruler.”

This passage is the exposition in the Collected Meanings of the True Scripture of the Dao (the Way) and De (Virtue/Power) (Daode Zhenjing Jiyi)—a commentary on the Daodejing compiled by the Daoist priest Wei Dayou during the Song-Yuan transition—on the preceding chapter’s line “Lightness loses the root; agitation loses the master.”

Good walking leaves no ruts; good speech has no blameable fault. Those skilled at calculation do not rely on elaborate counting, yet they do not deplete Jing (essence) and Qi (vital energy). When the mind is agitated, the primordial Qi disperses, and the Shen (spirit) is thrown into turmoil along with it. Inwardly cultivating body and mind and outwardly governing the myriad things, the key lies in preserving the quiescent, settled, and weighty original substance; this is precisely the respective boundary of nature and principle. Therefore it is said: frivolity loses the root; agitation loses the master.

Chapter 27

Those skilled at walking leave no ruts or traces; those skilled at speaking do not say things that invite criticism; those skilled at calculating do not use counting rods; those skilled at closing need no door bolts, yet make it impossible for others to open; those skilled at binding need no ropes, yet make it impossible for others to untie.

This chapter speaks of the realm of according with naturalness and governing through Wuwei (non-action). Truly supreme action does not rely on external tools and constraints, yet is naturally complete, secure, and unbroken.

This annotation on the “Wei Dayou” chapter in the Collected Meanings of the Dao De Zhen Jing (the views of Master Wu and Master Lü)

Master Wu says: “Good” (shan) means being skilled in a particular matter. “Ruts” (zhe) are the tracks pressed out by wheels; “footprints” (ji) are the marks of feet; “flaw” (xia) is a blemish in jade; “fault” (zhe) is error and blame; “counting” (ji) is reckoning the amount; “counting rods” (chouce) were bamboo calculating tools used by the ancients; “door bolt” (guanjian) is the wooden bar that blocks a door (the horizontal one is called guan, the vertical one jian); “cord and binding” (shengyue) are ropes (braided cord is sheng, that used for binding is yue).

One who walks must leave wheel ruts and footprints on the ground; one who speaks must leave openings for criticism; one who counts must use counting rods; one who closes a door must use a bolt; one who ties a knot must use cord. These are all ordinary people’s ways. But from the perspective of one who has the Dao (the Way), how could these be considered “good”?

One truly skilled at walking treats not walking as walking, and so leaves no traces. One truly skilled at speaking treats not speaking as speaking, and so has no fault to be picked at. One truly skilled at counting counts without counting, and so has no need of counting rods. One truly skilled at closing a door closes without relying on a bolt, and so, though there is no bolt, the door naturally cannot be opened. One truly skilled at tying a knot ties without relying on cord, and so, though there is no cord, the knot naturally cannot be untied.

The five examples here are analogies intended to lead into the following principle: the sage is “skilled at saving people and skilled at saving things.”

Master Lü says: Shen (spirit) has no fixed location; the Dao has no fixed form. It arrives without walking and is swift without haste. The perfected person (Zhiren) observes the heavenly Dao, grasps the movements of Heaven, acts through Wuwei (non-action), and does what need not be deliberately done. Even without going out of his door, his De (Virtue/Power) can spread abroad, like wind blowing over the myriad things—where, then, are there wheel ruts and footprints to be found?

Moreover, those who are not skilled in speech are often burdened by words; this plainly shows that they have not yet forgotten words. A flaw in jade is a defect of the jade itself; a fault in speech is a calamity of speaking. But how could such people understand the principle of why speech is speech?

In these notes, Masters Wu and Lü refer to two commentators on this scripture; the Zhiren is the person of the highest cultivation in Daoist thought; and Wuwei does not mean doing nothing at all, but following nature without arbitrary fabrication.

The Perfected Person (zhiren, one who has reached the highest realm of Daoist cultivation) issues words from a De (Virtue/Power) renewed day by day and offers teachings to the world; every action accords with nature—how could there be any flaw or fault to stain him? Hence it is said, “One who travels well leaves no ruts or tracks; one who speaks well has no flaws or faults.”

The Dao (the Way) cannot be sought through measurement and counting. To calculate and know things today by means of counting rods—the small sticks used for calculation in antiquity—how could that be the subtlety that comes from one’s own embodied realization? Only the one skilled in planning is not like this: he holds fast to the One (that is, the whole of the Dao), is clear, still, and practices wuwei (non-action), and can govern the myriad things, applying himself freely in all directions without falling into numerical calculation, causing the large and small, the many and few, each to rest in its proper measure and not damaging the essential nature of things. Where then would he need the aid of counting rods? Hence it is said, “One who calculates well does not use counting rods.”

One who is skilled at closing and concealing has the six directions and four quarters all pervaded and unobstructed. Even if Heaven and Earth secretly shift and ghosts and spirits manifest their numinous responses, they cannot find his gate or path and have no way to enter. This is because his form and Shen (spirit) are intact, and Jing (essence) and Qi (vital energy) return; he blocks the senses and shuts the gates, so that no external condition can intrude. Even without a door bar, it can never be opened. Hence it is said, “One who closes well cannot be opened even without a door bar.”

Alas, when things adhere firmly, when water congeals into ice, when affairs are joined in harmony, even without ropes binding them they are hard to undo. The Perfected Person is plain and simple, harmonious and empty-still; his Shen is gathered and his Qi settled; secure, clear, and quiet, he cannot be encroached upon even by the power of Heaven and Earth. Hence it is said, “One who joins well cannot be undone even without ropes to bind him.”

Mr. Li says: If words and actions are cautious, one leaves no traces and invites no fault; if the mind is not given over to calculation, there is no way to calculate it; if the mind can be closed and concealed, there is no way to open it; if the mind can be congealed and consolidated, there is no way to undo it.

Mr. Lin says: The five foregoing images are all metaphors, and their meaning lies simply in this: when one takes naturalness as the Dao, there is nowhere to apply force and nowhere to exert effort in advancing.

Therefore the sage is always skilled at saving people, and so there are no discarded people; he is always skilled at saving things, and so there are no discarded things. This is called “inheriting clarity”—the illuminating wisdom obtained by according with nature.

Mr. Wu says: In saving people and saving things, the sage takes “not saving” as saving, just as in the metaphors above he takes not acting with deliberate contrivance as skill. Whenever there is something saved, there must be something abandoned. Even if what is saved be thousands upon thousands of people and things, yet beyond these thousands upon thousands…

Collected Meanings of the Daode Zhenjing · The Wei Dayou Chapter (Annotations by Mr. Wu, Mr. He, Mr. Lü, and Mr. Dong): A Vernacular Interpretation

Mr. Wu says: When the sage saves people and saves things, it is “saving by not saving,” the same sense as the analogy above: taking “not deliberately doing a certain thing” as good. What is ordinarily called “saving” inevitably involves leaving something out: even if one saves hundreds or thousands of people and hundreds or thousands of things, the remaining people and things are abandoned and receive no help. The sage is skilled at relief, but not in this way. He regards all things with equal care and does not deliberately “save” any of them, and therefore nothing is left out. One cannot see him saving this and abandoning that, so no person is abandoned and left without help, and no thing is abandoned and left without help.

Mr. He says: The Dao (the Way) exists between Heaven and Earth and extends universally through all things. Everyone wishes to be transformed and nurtured by it; every thing wishes to be completed by it. Yet the Dao does not reveal traces, because it works through resonance and response, and thus appears mysterious and wondrous. The Guan Yinzi says: All things, vast and flourishing, dwell within the great transformation; their nature is unified. One who understands this unified nature makes no distinction of “other people” and no distinction of “self”; therefore both people and things can realize their own nature, and none is abandoned. This is the sage’s Dao of Wuwei (non-action), called “ximing” (inheriting clarity). The nature of numinous clarity is endowed in everyone; it is only that some have not fully manifested it. The sage tactfully and indirectly guides people in the world, causing them to return to the heaven of numinous clarity and to be settled in a condition that is neither corrupted nor destroyed. To be able to inherit and carry forward this is good; hence it is called “ximing.” (“Xi” means to inherit or continue; “numinous clarity” refers to the originally clear radiance within mind-nature.)

Mr. Lü says: The Perfected Person withdraws seeing and hearing and turns the light back to illuminate the mind within. When the mind is like an empty room, light naturally arises; when the mental state is settled, the light naturally shines forth. Like the brightness of a lamp, it is transmitted generation after generation without being cut off; therefore it is called “ximing.”

Mr. Dong says: Saving people from danger only saves their physical form, and moreover may not reach everyone universally—how could this deserve to be called good? Those people cling to youwei (deliberate action) and lose their original nature in darkness and obstruction. But I have an all-embracing heart and use the wisdom of prior awakening to enlighten and transform them, causing their innate heavenly light to manifest of itself, like bright lamps passed one after another without end. And as for the light here, the more it is given to others, the more one is filled; what limit, then, could this light have?

Thus the good person is the teacher of the not-good person; the not-good person is the resource of the good person.

(Popular interpretation): Therefore, good people are teachers of not-good people; not-good people are the mirror and assistance of good people.

Mr. Wu (Wu Cheng) explains: “Good people” refers to those who do something well; “teacher” is the one whom people respect and emulate; “resource” is like giving goods to another so that the other may rely on them and accomplish something. It is precisely because there are not-good people that this person’s good name is brought to completion; hence it is called a “resource.”

Mr. He holds: not-good people take good people as teachers and receive their instruction; good people use not-good people to carry out teaching and transformation. The Dao’s ceaseless generation arises precisely from this; this is called “ximing” (inheriting the way of light).

Mr. Lin says: If there were no not-good people in the world, who could know the goodness of good people? Therefore not-good people are precisely the “resource” of good people; “resource” means that good people thereby manifest their distinctness.

Mr. Lü holds: one who can be a teacher can also receive help from others; this is the principle of mutual completion.

Mr. Ni quotes Confucius: “When three people walk together, there must be one among them who can be my teacher. I choose what is good in them and follow it; when I see what is not good, I examine myself and correct it.” Even Confucius took not-good people as a mirror—how much more so a worthy person? “Resource” means help: by taking others’ not-goodness as a mirror, one comes to know how to correct one’s faults and turn toward goodness; this is what is called “resource.”

Not prizing one’s teacher, not cherishing one’s resource—though wise, one is greatly deluded; this is called the essential wonder.

(Popular interpretation): Do not regard one’s teacher as especially precious, and do not harbor partial affection because one has relied on others; even with broad wisdom, one should preserve a state of undifferentiated non-attachment—this is the subtle and wondrous essential Way.

Chapter 28

To know the male and the strong, yet keep to the female and the soft, and to be willing to become the ravine of the world. Being willing to become the ravine of the world, one’s constant De (Virtue/Power) will not be lost, and one returns to the pure state of an infant.

Lü the commentator says: Although at first a person must rely on a teacher to point out the direction, once one suddenly awakens to the ultimate truth, one forgets both self and things; one no longer prizes the teacher, nor cherishes those who help one. Liezi took Lao Shangshi (the man under whom Liezi studied) as his teacher and Bo Gaozi as his friend, but later said: “I do not know that the Master is my teacher, nor that that man is my friend.” This means that inner and outer have both dissolved. Therefore it is said, “Do not prize one’s teacher; do not cherish one’s resources” (zi refers to the people and circumstances on which one relies in seeking the Dao (the Way)). Only thus can one see the original nature of one’s nature, awaken to the heavenly innocence of Heaven, and enter deeply into the great Dao. Even a wise person may lose the ford in it; even clever schemes have nowhere to be applied; even perfect words cannot explain it. This may be called the true subtle and essential wonder; therefore it is said, “Though wise, one is greatly bewildered; this is called the essential wonder.”

Li the commentator says: Both teacher and resources must be forgotten; discard cleverness and be like a fool all day long.

Master Lü says: The male is hard and strong and fond of movement; the female is yielding and quiet. The sage understands his own honor and glory, but if he merely asserts strength and strives to win, disaster will arise. It is better to keep to softness and weakness, to be humble and yielding, and to be willing to place himself below others; then the De (Virtue/Power) of all under heaven will return to him, just as water flows toward low places. He becomes the valley-stream of all under heaven (the state of humbly emptying the heart and being great enough to contain all things), and De like trickling streams flows in all directions—what can it not contain? He can also hold fast to constant De, gentle and pure, unmixed, like an infant who does not yet understand things; this is called “complete De.” The same applies to self-cultivation. In terms of Yin-Yang, the male is the yang within yin and corresponds in the human body to Jing (essence); the female is the yin within yang and corresponds to Shen (spirit). To understand the principle of the male and nourish one’s Jing, to guard the principle of the female and preserve one’s Shen—when the Shen is numinous and luminous, the ten thousand things will come; when the mind is empty, harmonious Qi (vital energy) will return. This is like water flowing into a valley-stream: it can receive the turbidity of the ten thousand things and remain as pure and innocent as a newborn child.

Master Wu says: The male refers to hardness and strength; the female refers to softness and weakness; the infant refers to a state free of worldly knowledge and artificial contrivance.

Master Lin says: The word “know” carries the sense of “acting yet not acting recklessly.” To know the male and guard the female is to seek no contest or victory. “Constant De” is the “constant Dao (the Way),” meaning never departing from it and never allowing interruption. The infant is a state without deliberate mind or knowledge.

Master Li says: To understand the principle of hardness and strength yet peacefully keep to softness and weakness is for the sake of not being self-important or arrogant.

Master He says: Laozi says, “When the Heavenly Gate opens and closes, can you be female?”—meaning that I would rather remain quiet and in a lowly position, using softness and weakness to overcome hardness and strength.

Master Ni says: The text first says “know the male” and only afterward says “guard the female,” because with regard to the male’s hardness and strength, one is not ignorant of it; rather, one is able to guard the female’s softness and weakness—this is what makes it valuable. If one did not understand the principle of the male at all and merely kept to the female, then even the foolish and weak people of the world could all be said to understand the Dao. Would that be acceptable? Therefore one must first know the principle of hardness and strength, and yet be able not to use it; only then is one a person who has the Dao. The infant is a metaphor for the initial state of the Dao.

Scripture: To know the principle of brightness yet willingly keep to the posture of darkness—this enables one to become the standard for all under Heaven. Becoming the standard for all under Heaven, one's constant De (Virtue/Power) will not err, and one returns to that inexhaustible source in which nothing can be constrained (Wu Ji, the Boundless, referring to the body of the Dao that transcends form and limits).

Master Lü: White is a metaphor for the manifestation of the Dao; black is a metaphor for the Dao's return to the root and concealment. The sage knows that his own mind is clear and pure, utterly without flaw, possessing wisdom yet not readily putting it to use; thus he can gather in profound and distant mystery. Possessing true wisdom yet appearing dull, he maintains concealment, possessing brightness yet not displaying it. Cultivating himself in this way and dealing with others in this way, he can serve as a model for all under Heaven. He holds to uprightness without reckless action, is impartial without selfish intent, and in movement and stillness maintains constancy, never erring in the slightest. With respect to the human body, white corresponds to the place where the metal of the lungs resides, and black corresponds to the storehouse where the water of the kidneys is hidden (this is the Neidan, internal alchemy, formulation). Understanding that metal and water generate and complete each other is the foundation of life; therefore one should refine the Golden Liquid (Neidan) and guard the original Jing (essence), turning and revolving it, to accomplish the body of true metal, which can serve as the basis for people of the world to cultivate the Dao. Furthermore, the De of true constancy is a state of solitary self-awakening and non-action; once understood, all is settled at once, without the slightest deviation, and Shen (spirit) and the Dao are in mutual accord, inexhaustible and endless.

Heshang Gong: White is a metaphor for being clear and manifest; black is a metaphor for being silent and obscure. Though a person may know himself to be clear and manifest, he should still retreat and keep to silence and obscurity, as though ignorant and seeing nothing—thus he can become the model for all under Heaven, and his De will endure constantly.

Master Lin: "Not err" means without deviation. "Wu Ji" means nothingness.

Master He: Do not walk the path of Great White (excessive display), and only then can you preserve yourself long; I would rather take profound and remote depth as my De, letting brightness appear as though it were darkness.

Master Wu: White refers to brightness, black to obscurity; Wu Ji refers to that which is inexhaustible.

Master Li: Knowing the white and keeping the black means simply not exposing oneself.

Interpretation of the Scripture:

To know what honor is, yet willingly guard a position of lowliness and disgrace, and willingly become the valley of the world. Only by willingly being the valley of the world can constant De (Virtue/Power—the virtue that remains consistent throughout and does not change with external circumstances) become sufficent, and the person then returns again to uncarved simplicity (the original, authentic state before any carving or refinement).

Various Commentators:

Master Lü holds: The arrival of honor and disgrace cannot be known in advance; their coming and going is merely accidental and has no true connection with oneself. The sage understands that he occupies a noble position and draws others’ attention, yet still rests content in a low place, keeps to a humble and disgraceful position, and, like a valley, accommodates filth, with a heart as empty and receptive as a valley. Since the valley is empty, there is nothing it does not contain; there is no distinction between self and other. Inner De is then sufficient, original nature is pure, unified, and constant, and so one returns to uncarved simplicity.

Master Li holds: To know honor and guard disgrace is not to regard oneself as noble; to guard the feminine (the soft and yielding) and guard the black (the dark and obscure) is not to display one’s own clear discernment.

Master He, citing Laozi’s words “Great whiteness seems sullied; abundant De seems insufficient,” holds that one would rather endure filth and inauspiciousness, and that in decrease one instead gains. “The infant,” “the Limitless,” and “uncarved simplicity” are all the Dao (the Way) of primordial chaos returning to the root.

Master Lin holds: “Then it becomes sufficient” means that De is complete to the utmost; “uncarved simplicity” is the Great Simplicity, the beginning of Heaven and Earth.

Master Wu holds: Honor means nobility; disgrace means baseness; uncarved simplicity means timber that has not yet been carved into a vessel. This chapter aims at preserving constant De, returning to the root and restoring the beginning, and returning to the Dao of the Great Beginning (the initial stage of the formation of Heaven and Earth). Constant De is the De of emptiness and receptivity that is not full; therefore one would rather guard the black and not seek the white, rather guard the feminine and not seek the masculine, rather dwell in disgrace and not seek honor. Although one knows honor is precious, one is still willing to place oneself in a low position. Having preserved the De of emptiness and receptivity, one can return to the Dao of the Great Beginning. What Zhuangzi calls “when De reaches its utmost, it is the same as the beginning,” as well as “the Limitless,” “the infant,” and “uncarved simplicity,” are all metaphors for the Dao of the Great Beginning.

Lin's Commentary: Only after the plain, uncarved wood has been split apart do vessels come into being. That which is above form is called Dao (the Way); that which is below form is called a vessel. The sage uses the above-form Dao to govern below-form vessels, and the myriad things between Heaven and Earth then each keep to their proper role. The sage comprehends the Three Powers—Heaven, Earth, and Humanity—and governs the myriad things. Even though all things each have the duty of covering and supporting, they all obey the sage's command; therefore the sage is the head of the myriad things between Heaven and Earth. What Zhuangzi calls "officiating over Heaven and Earth" is merely one kind of assignment of duty within the transformations of creation. "Cutting" means separation. Governing the myriad things by Dao is called the "Great Regulation." Governed in this way, Dao and vessels are not separated; this is precisely the principle of Wuwei (non-action) acting and natural spontaneity.

He's Commentary: "Uncarved wood" is the starting point of the Great Dao's Wuwei; "vessel" is the name for things in purposeful activity. The sage cannot keep the uncarved wood from ever transforming into vessels, but can make good use of them to master Heaven and Earth and command the myriad things. Even in large-scale regulation, he can be square and upright without cutting apart, and nurture without harming—this is the power of the Great Dao.

Wu's Commentary: Whatever is cut and regulated must be split apart as a whole with a knife. But the "Great Regulation" takes non-regulation as regulation, and therefore does not cut apart. The great dispersal is in fact no dispersal; the great function is in fact no function—just as "the Great Regulation does not cut."

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Those who wish to seize the world and act recklessly upon it—I see that they ultimately cannot succeed. The world is a sacred vessel and cannot be forced by human power. Those who act recklessly will ruin it; those who grasp at it will lose it.

He's Commentary: The scripture speaks of three things that should be guarded against in governing the world; its intent is to eradicate the abuses of rebellious ministers and traitorous sons throughout countless generations.

The scripture speaks of “the cautions of the world,” of which there are three. Their purpose is to warn later generations of usurpers and rebels. They covet power and profit, overstep their proper station, vainly wish to seize what is not theirs, outwardly do not measure their own strength, inwardly do not understand their own Heavenly Mandate, and in the end bring destruction upon themselves. This is precisely to point out the disasters and prohibitions involved. Therefore it says, “take the world by no-activity”: one must not give rise to even the slightest thought of doing something or deliberately seeking something. The world is a great sacred vessel (shenqi, referring to state power), not something that human force can covet. For example, King Wen of Zhou possessed two-thirds of the world, yet never had the thought of taking the world; Yao dwelt beneath the yellow canopy—the imperial carriage covering, by which the throne is meant—not from his own original intention; Shun and Yu possessed the world but did not take it as their own, nor did they ever have a mind to cling to and possess it. The sage does not act (wuwei), and so does not fail; does not cling, and so does not lose. All things are like this: treat them with a mind of no-mind. Moreover, the world is so vast, a throne bestowed by the spirits—how could it be forcibly sought through cunning and strength?

Master Lü says: The sage possesses the world, but does not seize it; governs the world, but does not deliberately act. The reason is that they have never had a mind to do anything, and so they can accord with the constant principle of the Heavenly Dao, assist the natural nature of all things, and all things naturally return to them; they merely accept only when they cannot do otherwise. If one has a mind to seize and to act, then one employs cleverness, exalts force, violates Heavenly principle, and loses the natural Dao. The sacred vessel is the highest treasure-throne, governed by the spirits of Heaven and Earth, ordering all things and commanding the multitude of beings; it is fundamentally not something that human force can forcibly accomplish. If one governs the world merely for one’s own private benefit, one will be constrained by external things, cling to possession, and once moved, not know how to stop, falling into anxiety and trouble. In this way one not only loses the highest principle but also loses one’s original truth—what leisure would there be left to govern the world? Within the human mind, all the wondrous subtleties of the world are gathered; what is most valuable is simply following nature. Once there is deliberate action, reckless action is unavoidable: using the human mind to extinguish the natural, using a cramped mind to extinguish the Heavenly Mandate, and the Dao becomes ever more unattainable. Consider the human form: it models the images of Heaven and Earth, secretly accords with the principles of Yin-Yang, and is originally a sacred vessel. Huangdi traveled north of the Red Water, climbed Mount Kunlun and looked south, and lost the Mysterious Pearl—a metaphor for the great Dao; when the seven openings of Hundun—a metaphor for pristine natural wholeness—were bored open, Hundun died. This shows that the Dao cannot be forced. Those who forcibly act wish to succeed but instead fail; those who cling and possess wish to gain but instead lose. If one can be without action, one will not fail; if one does not cling, one will not lose. In this way, as far as the Dao is concerned, one has reached the utmost.

Master Li says: With wuwei there is no affair; with deliberate action there is affair. Those who cling lose; those who act recklessly fail—this is the caution against deliberate action.

Master Lin says: How could this sacred vessel, the world, be obtained by human force? When the practice of Dao is abundant and De is supreme, the world naturally returns. If one gives rise to the thought of seizing the world and forces oneself to do good in order to gain something, in the end it will not be obtainable. The general meaning is that nothing in the world should be sought with a deliberate mind. Those who act recklessly inevitably fail; those who cling inevitably lose. These are all burdens brought about by deliberate mind.

All things sometimes move forward and sometimes follow behind; sometimes they exhale warm breath and become warm, sometimes they blow cool breath and become cold; sometimes they are strong, sometimes weak; sometimes they bear up and accomplish things, sometimes they overturn and destroy them. Therefore the sage removes excessive conduct, eliminates extravagance, and discards arrogance and complacency.

Commentator He says: When one thing is damaged there, it becomes full here; when there is accomplishment here, there is deficiency there. Decrease and fullness, accomplishment and deficiency, come and go and connect with one another. The Liezi, a pre-Qin Daoist classic, says, “The mantis stalks the cicada, unaware that the oriole is behind it”—this expresses the same principle. Thus when a thing moves forward, there must be something following it; when one exhales and makes warm, there must be something that blows and makes cold; when one is strong and wins, there must be something weak that is subdued by it; when one bears up and accomplishes, there must be a cart that is ruined because of it. They depend on and keep to one another like a shadow following a person; things also sustain and constrain one another. Moreover, the world is far greater than a single thing—how could one deal with it with intentionality, purposeful action, and attachment?

“Excess” means going to the extreme of excess. The Dao (the Way) takes softness and weakness as its outward expression and emptiness and stillness as its substance; it does not do excessive things. Therefore, removing “excess” means removing ostentation and waste. The Dao takes the root as refined and external things as coarse; extravagance means lack of humility. Therefore, removing “extravagance” means removing arrogance and unrestraint. The Dao takes profundity as its foundation and simplicity as its guiding principle; it does not regard the world as something about which one may be arrogant and complacent. Therefore one must remove “complacency.” All three arise from a lavish mind of purposeful action. Remove them, and the sage’s mind becomes empty and still, not shaken by the affairs of the world.

Commentator Li says: Strong and weak, bearing and ruining, rely on and transform into one another, like shadow following form; where there is success, there is failure. Therefore the sage removes the excess of greedy desire, extravagance, and arrogant complacency, and thereby deeply warns later generations.

Commentator Su says: Things may move ahead or follow behind, may breathe warm or blow cold, may be strong and gain or weak and lose, may bear up and complete or overturn and destroy—all are natural to things and are unavoidable patterns within circumstances.

Commentator Wu says: This passage continues the preceding sentence, “Those who grasp it lose it.” How can one who guards the way of the world and possesses the world guarantee that the world will always be his and never be lost? Gain and loss, preservation and destruction, alternate with one another, just as moving and following, exhaling and blowing, strength and weakness, bearing and overturning—these eight mutually opposed phenomena depend on one another. The sage knows that the tendency of affairs is necessarily so, and therefore has a method for dealing with it. Whenever anything becomes too prosperous, it must decline; only by not letting it become over-prosperous can one avoid decline. To be able to avoid over-prosperity, excess, extravagance, and arrogant complacency—this is the way to retain the world even at the height of prosperity.

One who assists a ruler with the Dao does not rely on military force to assert strength in the world. The result of exhausting troops and reckless militarism often turns back to harm oneself.

Master Lü says: Those who possess the Dao and assist a ruler all take De (Virtue/Power)—character and conduct—as the root. The three armies and five weapons (a general term for various armies and armaments) are merely the branch ends of De. If a ruler employs ministers according to ritual propriety, and ministers serve the ruler with loyalty, and the ruler governs by Wuwei (non-action)—not acting with deliberate contrivance but following nature—the common people will naturally be transformed, social customs will be harmonious and joyful, and people may not even feel the ruler’s existence, just as the Song of Striking the Earth says, “What have the emperor’s powers to do with us?” If armor and weapons must still be mobilized, one has already turned away from the Dao. Weapons are inauspicious things; war is a dangerous affair; they are not instruments that the noble person should use, and may be used only when there is no alternative. Even if one wins a battle, victory may turn to defeat; even if one gains advantage, disaster will follow. How can one use strength to bully the weak, or violence to oppress the good? A cornered wild beast will turn and attack; when things reach an extreme, they turn into their opposite—this is an inevitable principle.

Master Ni says: The scriptural text does not say “the ruler,” but says “one who assists the ruler with the Dao.” This probably means that even if the ruler has thoughts of using arms, if the great ministers do not cooperate, he may not actually be able to launch a war.

Master Lin says: To assist a ruler yet make strengthening the military one’s responsibility is to fail to understand the Dao. Weapons are inauspicious instruments: if I use them to harm others, others will use them to harm me; hence it is said, “Such matters readily return.”

Master Wang says: One who assists a ruler with the Dao does not even use military force to assert strength in the world—how much less should the ruler himself, who personally practices the great Dao?

Where armies have been stationed, thorns and brambles grow thick; after great armies have fought, years of famine and hunger inevitably follow.

Vernacular Explanation:

Places through which armies march have been battlegrounds since ancient times. Few can remain settled there; fields lie barren, houses collapse, and thorns grow thick—is this not something to be warned against? Once a great army passes through, above it violates the heavenly seasons, and below it drains the people’s strength. The harmonious Qi above no longer resonates, while the baleful Qi of slaughter runs rampant across the earth, and the common people and the myriad things all suffer harm. The Six Qi lose their harmony; rain and sunshine come out of season; plagues and disasters arise in their wake. Once war begins, the crops fail, inevitably bringing famine—this is the natural order of things.

Su Zhe says: Where war arises, the people’s farming is neglected and the fields are left uncultivated. After troops are used, the Qi of slaughter fills the air, and the five grains are damaged.

The Zhenghe-era commentary says: Below, it drains the people’s strength, and so thorns grow thick; above, it violates the heavenly seasons, and so famine occurs.

Mr. Lin says: Where troops are stationed, farmers cannot cultivate, and so thorns grow. After troops are used, the harmonious Qi between heaven and earth is damaged, and the beginnings of famine are certain to appear.

Text of This Passage:

Therefore, one skilled in the use of arms stops once the objective is achieved and does not dare to use it to flaunt strength. Having achieved the objective, they do not boast; having achieved it, they do not display it; having achieved it, they are not arrogant; having achieved it, they act only because they have no choice; having achieved it, they do not force their strength.

Master Lü says: The means by which one wins victory in war and prohibits violence and disorder cannot be abandoned either. They are like water and fire: used well, they bring benefit; used badly, they become disaster. For one skilled in the use of arms, the crucial point lies in resolute decision, not in using it to flaunt strength. If moral transformation cannot move the other side, and governmental orders cannot reach them, then one may raise troops only when there is no alternative, acting only when driven to the utmost limit. Acting in this way is never disadvantageous; it is not relying on strength to attack and seize. This is the way of “winning well,” and the principle is already quite clear.

Be resolute without boasting of one’s ability, for self-boasting cannot endure. Be resolute without advertising one’s own merits, for self-advertising has no efficacy. Be resolute without being arrogant about one’s power and position, for self-arrogance makes one appear insufficient. Troops are sent forth on punitive expeditions only when it is a matter of rescue; resolute decision is not used to flaunt strength.

Master He says: The good lies in skillful use, not in the use of troops itself. What is called “resoluteness” probably means clearly seeing the principle of the good and applying a firm and decisive mind. “Resoluteness” should properly be subordinate to “doing good”; one must not apply resolute decision to military affairs. This is the distinction indicated in the Tradition when it speaks of “contending in mind” and “striving with force”; hence it says, “Be resolute but dare not thereby seize strength,” and again, “Be resolute but do not use force.” Not boasting of ability, not claiming merit for oneself, not putting on arrogant airs of power, and responding to battle only when unavoidable—all these issue from a good mind and are then resolutely put into practice; this is not contending with the mind. As for the business of strengthening troops, one resolutely removes it; this is not contending with force.

Master Dong says: The use of troops has its own Way; what does not accord with the Way is not to be adopted. Yet the five materials endowed by Heaven—metal, wood, water, fire, and earth—also cannot be eliminated. Like water and fire, the key lies in using them well. If one uses them only to stop violence and disorder and to relieve danger and hardship, then even resoluteness must put “principle” first. Whenever principle and righteousness reside in oneself, what one guards will not submit. The Chunqiu Zhuan says, “To kill the enemy is resoluteness”; this means that killing the enemy is for the sake of making the enemy no longer encroach. How would one dare to flaunt strength in the world? Resoluteness wins through principle; strength wins through force. Only through resoluteness is there a faintly present posture of certain victory; from the beginning, it is not a reliance on martial force or a fondness for war. Therefore one remains vigilant when facing affairs, succeeds only through good planning, responds to battle only when unavoidable—and does not flaunt strength, that is all.

Scripture (final sentence of Chapter 30)

When a thing becomes strong to the extreme, it moves toward decline; this is called “not in accord with the Dao.” What is not in accord with the Dao should be stopped early.

Master Lin’s explanation

A domineering person cannot remain domineering forever; a self-conceited person cannot remain self-conceited forever. After the myriad things grow to full strength, decline inevitably follows. Those who do not understand this principle but wish to seize the world by force are all not in accord with the Dao. Since one knows that this is not in accord with the Dao, one should quickly abandon it; hence it says “early stop.” “Stop” means to cease and do it no more.

Master Su’s explanation

After the myriad things become strong and full, they age; there is no exception. Only one who has attained the Dao appears deficient even when accomplished, appears empty even when full; he has never been strong and full, and so he has never aged, still less died. If one uses military force to be strong in the world, even if strong to the extreme, how can one avoid aging?

Master He’s explanation

Why does the sage appear to yield and withdraw, as if timid about striving to win, unwilling to contend for supremacy in the world? Because he sees that when the sun reaches noon it declines westward, and when the moon is full it wanes; after things become strong and full, decline arrives. Is this the constant way of the Dao? If one knows this is not the constant Dao, one should return early to the Dao and early remove practices not in accord with the Dao. There is more than one cause of a state’s destruction, but those who delight in using arms will surely perish. In using the Dao to assist a ruler in governing the state, how can one fail to take delight in using arms as a warning, and seek only results through arms, stopping when sufficient?

Master Dong’s explanation

When things are strong to the extreme they age; when military force is strong to the extreme it fails. Therefore, relying on military strength, one cannot preserve the fine reputation of being good at winning; things being too strong and full is precisely the cause that hastens aging. These are all not in accord with the Dao, and one should early understand how to stop when sufficient.

Chapter 31

Those who are fond of using arms are inauspicious instruments (the ancients regarded weapons as instruments of ill omen). All things detest them; therefore, the one who has the Dao does not wish to approach them.

Master Lin’s explanation

“Jia” means to be fond of; “jia bing” means to be fond of using arms, to take delight in using arms. This is an inauspicious person. Using an inauspicious person to do inauspicious things, therefore it is called an “inauspicious instrument.” This is what people in the world detest; hence the one who has the Dao does not wish to dwell in it.

Mr. Lin says: The term "praising weapons" means delighting in the use of arms and regarding military action as a good thing. Such a person is himself inauspicious; to act with an inauspicious mind—this is why weapons are called inauspicious instruments. Everyone in the world detests them, and so one who follows the Dao does not engage in such things.

Mr. Li says: Laozi did not rely on military force to make the world strong, and so after discussing the way of governing the state he next said that weapons are inauspicious instruments. The sage was warning rulers of later ages: they should govern the world through Wuwei, purity, and stillness, and then states and families will naturally be stable. Even if armor and weapons exist, they will have no use, and there will be no calamity of contention.

Mr. Lu says: Weapons are not the tools by which a prosperous age governs the state. One may still use arms to punish the violent and oppressive, but since arms are used only when unavoidable, how can one avoid resorting to much strategy and scheming? Those who delight in weapons and treat armor and helmets as ornaments for play are applying weapons to unwholesome ends. This is what is meant by "taking fierce weapons as beautiful and wishing thereby to seize the world." Such conduct is detested not only by people but feared by all things as well.

The Xu Zizhi Tongjian records that Emperor Taizong of Song said to his close ministers: When I read the Laozi and come to the lines "Praising weapons—these are inauspicious instruments. The sage uses them only when unavoidable," I recite them repeatedly each time, taking them as a warning and a caution.

The scripture continues: The gentleman ordinarily honors the left, but in military affairs he honors the right. Weapons are inauspicious things, not instruments the gentleman should use. When forced to use them, he should regard tranquility and detachment as paramount. Even if he wins a victory, he should not boast of it. To boast of victory is to delight in killing people. One who delights in killing people cannot achieve his aims in the world.

Master Lin says: The noble person ordinarily honors the left, but in the use of military force he honors the right. This shows that the ancients also regarded the use of military force as an inauspicious matter, not something the noble person delights in doing; only when there is no alternative would he employ it. Even when he has no alternative but to use force, he still takes calm detachment as paramount. Calm detachment means that the heart has no preferences and treats things with indifference, which exactly accords with the meaning of “having no alternative.” Even if he wins a battle, he does not rejoice because of it. The phrase “not beautiful” means that warfare is originally not a good thing. If one takes victory as a cause for joy, then one takes pleasure in killing people—how then could one achieve one’s will in the world? Mencius says, “One who is not fond of killing people can unify the world,” and this expresses the same idea.

Master Lü says: The Dao of Heaven and Earth is such that the left is Yang and the right is Yin. Yang governs De (Virtue/Power), governs life, and governs softness and weakness, and therefore in ordinary times the left is honored. Yin governs punishment, governs killing, and governs hardness and strength, and therefore in warfare the right is honored.

Master Wu says: “Calm” means not being joyful; “detachment” means not being intense. “To take this as paramount” means not being fond of using military force. “To win without regarding it as beautiful” means that even if one wins, one is not willing to take it as a beautiful thing. If one takes victory in battle as a beautiful thing, then one takes pleasure in killing people, and thus it is impossible to achieve one’s will in the world. This summarizes the whole chapter at its end and serves as a warning.

The final passage is the original text of the Laozi: Auspicious affairs honor the left; inauspicious affairs honor the right. The subordinate general is placed on the left, the supreme general on the right—this means that they are treated according to the rites of mourning. When many people are killed, one should weep for them with a sorrowful heart; after a victory, one should likewise treat it according to mourning rites. (The ancients regarded the right as the inauspicious position; in mourning rites the honored person occupies the right, and therefore military affairs use the right position to symbolize inauspicious matters.)

Master Lin says: The post of subordinate general originally ranks below that of supreme general. Now the supreme general occupies the right and the subordinate general the left; this is because the ancients regarded the use of arms as an inauspicious matter, and so arranged ranks according to mourning rites. The ancients took the left as yang and the right as yin; since mourning rites honor yin, they placed the supreme general on the right. Even if one wins a battle by luck, one should still treat it according to the rites of mourning, and it is fitting to weep and grieve for those who have died. The point of this chapter is to say that when people conduct themselves in the world, if they single-mindedly seek victory, they are treating an inauspicious matter as an auspicious one.

Master He says: To treat victory as though one had not won, and to conduct oneself according to mourning rites, is benevolence taken to its utmost. When the Qin army was defeated and returned from Xiao Mountain—a mountainous area in what is now western Henan, a strategic point in ancient times—the lord of Qin, Duke Mu, wearing plain garments, went out to the outskirts to receive them and wept facing the defeated army. To act thus after a defeat is entirely proper; yet one has never heard of grieving instead after a victory. Unless one deeply comprehends the principle that Heaven and Earth delight in giving life and nurturing, and universally love the people and all things, it would be very difficult to do this.