《黄帝阴符经注(黄居真)》

Observing the workings of the Heavenly Dao (Way) and following its changes in one's actions is sufficient.

The Yijing (Classic of Changes) says: "By observing the marvelous patterns of Heaven's movement, one can know that the four seasons change without ever falling into disorder." It also says: "After an ending comes a new beginning; this is the way the Heavenly Dao operates." The Heavenly Dao revolves in cycles without stagnating, and the sun, moon, and stars move according to it. Heaven's movement is strong and unceasing, and from it come the changes of the four seasons and the growth of the myriad things.

One who has attained the Dao observes the cyclical movement of the Heavenly Dao and is thus able to circulate together with it; by following its patterns, one comes to pass through endings and beginnings alongside it. Waxing and waning, fullness and depletion: nothing runs counter to this pattern. Breathing in and out, bending and stretching: none of it falls into disharmony. In stillness, one accords with Yin qi; in movement, one responds to Yang qi. Having achieved this, what more is there to add? Hence it is said: "Observe the workings of the Heavenly Dao, and act in accordance with its changes, and this is sufficient."

Heaven has five thieves (referring to five factors that deplete and harm life and vitality), and those who see through them will flourish. The five thieves reside within the human heart-mind, and human action and practice are in turn connected with the Heavenly Dao.

Human beings are born from the qi (vital energy) of the Five Phases (Wuxing) of Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, and Water, and they may also die because of the qi of those same Five Phases of Metal, Wood, Earth, Water, and Fire. In the eyes of one who has attained the Dao (the Way), what is there in life to rejoice over, and what in death to loathe? That which brings me into life is also that which may harm me. One who grasps the crux of this and discerns the nature of change will understand that Metal and Wood are not forever separated, nor are Water and Fire necessarily in conflict. When the Five Phases are in harmony and blend into one, a person can stand alone and endure, remaining whole. Why, then, should one fret over life and death? To accord with this is the principle of Heaven; to go against it is to be harmed. Whether one accords or opposes depends on one's own heart-mind, but how change is carried out rests with Heaven.

The universe is held in the hand, and the transformation of all things arises from oneself.

When the door is closed, it is called yu (space); when the door is opened, it is called zhou (time). The universe is vast and boundless, yet it never leaves my grasp. I can keep it free from the calamities of overstepping bounds and disorder, so how much more so with smaller things? The many kinds of things grow in profusion and move without rest; though plants and animals are exceedingly numerous, none go beyond the reach of my whole body and its hundred parts. I can keep them from being obstructed by the seasons of Heaven, so how much more so with things that are fewer in number?

Heaven-endowed nature is the human being; the human heart-mind is the crux of change. Establish the Way of Heaven, and only then can humanity be set at peace.

Heaven and humanity have never been separate, and only one who has attained the Dao can realize this. To preserve one's Heaven-endowed nature is to be called "human"; to take hold of the mind's intentions is to take hold of the crux of change. When one's nature is fully manifested, one can stand alongside Heaven and Earth as one of the Three Powers (Heaven, Earth, and humanity); when the crux within the heart is clear, one can govern the myriad things. Become still, and return to your nature. Establish the Way of Heaven, and only then can humanity be set at peace.

Heaven, Earth, and humanity have never been separate; only those who have reached the highest realm can understand this. To fully receive one's innate nature bestowed by Heaven is what it means to be truly "human"; to know how to use the human mind is to grasp the key to the transformation of all things. When one's nature is fully realized, the Three Powers (Heaven, Earth, and humanity) each find their proper place; when the mind is clear and perceptive, one can become master of the myriad things. When one grows still and returns to the source, one becomes clear and calm, dwelling constantly in stillness; when one acts and accords with change, one circulates without end. By using human action to manifest the Dao (the Way) of Heaven, and by using the Dao of Heaven to steady human action, darkness and light secretly communicate with each other, and transformation thereby becomes manifest.

If the standard of the Heavenly Dao is not established, the mind's cunning and shifting contrivances will never cease. When thoughts arise without end, will a person not fall into danger? How, then, can one find peace? Hence it is said: "To establish the standard of the Dao of Heaven is to settle the human heart."

When the season of Heaven reveals its moment of killing and punishment, dragons and serpents emerge from the marshes and ascend onto dry land. When humans set in motion their own moment of killing and punishment, the original order between Heaven and Earth is overturned.

When the workings of Heaven and humanity are set in motion together, the key to all transformations becomes fixed. Human nature includes the clever and the dull, and both can be restrained and concealed.

That things are able to change is due to the driving force of the "ji" (機, the pivotal moment or trigger). The "ji" refers to the key and opportunity of change in things. Heaven says not a word, yet it brings about the transformation of all things, which shows how great the function of the "ji" is. Since humans are able to establish the Dao of Heaven, how could they be entirely without such pivotal ingenuity? Yet the ingenuity that is deliberately sought through calculation is not the highest realm of the "ji"; the ingenuity that is free of selfish intent and follows what is natural is the highest. The "ji" is set in motion here, while the transformation appears there, and everything accords with nature.

Therefore, when Heaven sets its killing moment in motion, rivers can turn into dry land, and dry land can turn into rivers; when humans set their killing moment in motion, they can bring about consequences that neither Heaven nor Earth can bear or cover. When the workings of Heaven and humanity reach such an extreme, this is called "the joint activation of Heaven and humanity." The Three Powers are thereby settled, and the myriad transformations are thereby determined. Who, then, can escape this law of change?

However, thoughts are born from one's nature, and pivotal ingenuity arises from thoughts. Clever contrivance belongs to humanity, while dullness and simplicity are closer to Heaven. If one lets one's thoughts return to clarity and stillness, and lets one's nature return to its original truth, then even a person with formidable powers of ingenuity can restrain and conceal them.

Of the nine orifices of the human body (the two eyes, two ears, two nostrils, the mouth, and the front and rear lower orifices), the delusions they invite hinge upon three vital points: the ears, the eyes, and the mouth. Their functions can cause a person to move, and they can also cause a person to be still.

The ears are seduced by sound, the eyes by color, the nose by scent, and the mouth by flavor; together with the other bodily senses' responses to food and drink, all of these are pathogenic disturbances brought about by an imbalance of Yin-Yang (阴阳). Among the nine orifices, the most critical are the ears, eyes, and mouth, and it is sound, color, and flavor that bewilder a person most severely. The sage is able to remain unconstrained by the nine orifices and keeps command of the senses. For this reason it is said that only the sage can truly fulfill human nature. When the sage acts, deviant thoughts cannot overwhelm them; when the sage rests in stillness, deviant thoughts cannot invade. Movement and stillness both lie within the sage's own grasp, and so it is said that the sage can both act and be still.

Fire arises from within wood, and once calamity erupts, it is bound to consume the wood. In the same way, treacherous affairs grow within a state, and when the moment arrives, the state is certain to collapse. Fire can by nature burn wood, yet if it is first subdued by water, it can do nothing; only when calamity breaks out does the wood burn. Treachery can by nature bring a state to ruin, yet if it is first subdued by the right Way (Dao, 道), it cannot cause disorder; only when the moment is set in motion does the state fall. From this we can see that both the disasters caused by an imbalance of Yin-Yang and the disorder wrought by treacherous people become inevitable only when certain conditions appear.

One who understands these principles and cultivates them is called a sage.

Understanding how the Way of Heaven operates, and understanding human action as well; knowing how to nourish one's nature in stillness and how to seize the right moment in movement; knowing that change is inexhaustible, and that each of the nine kinds of deviance and delusion has its own crux. When one does so, the mind becomes clear and quiet, and the spirit (Shen) roams freely through inner realms. Focused and silent, one reaches the utmost of comprehending the Dao (the Way).

When cultivation reaches its deepest point, one will no longer be entangled with those who flatter and speak with cunning. When refinement reaches its deepest point, one will no longer clash with external things. The mind is tranquil and unattached, one handles affairs with ease and simplicity, and one need only hold fast to singleness of focus. Such a person is a sage. One who attains this state cannot be shaken by the transformations of creation, nor confined by the bounds of Heaven and Earth. As for governing a state, pacifying the people, strengthening an army, and winning battles, these are mere trifles to such a person.

Heaven causes the myriad things to grow, and it also causes them to perish. This is the principle of the Dao.

When Yang qi (Qi) spreads, the myriad things cannot help but grow; when Yin qi turns stern and severe, the myriad things cannot help but perish. The myriad things grow of themselves and perish of themselves, so who, in the end, makes them so? The operating principle of the Dao is simply thus. If one cannot grasp this, then Heaven's being Heaven appears limited. Yet does Heaven act with intent? All of this is the myriad things each receiving the consequences of their own nature. Therefore it is said: this is the principle of the Dao.

Heaven and Earth are what the myriad things draw upon to sustain themselves; the myriad things are what humans draw upon to sustain themselves; and humans, in turn, take from the myriad things. When the relations of taking among Heaven and Earth, the myriad things, and humanity are each fitting and proper, the Three Powers (Heaven, Earth, and Humanity) are able to remain at peace.

Therefore it is said: when eating and drinking accord with the seasons, the parts of the body are harmonized; when action seizes the right moment, the myriad transformations are settled.

Heaven and Earth are the greatest of all forms. Heaven supplies humans and the myriad things with qi (the breath that life requires to move), allowing them to begin; Earth supplies them with physical form and substance, allowing them to grow. Neither humans nor the myriad things can escape the compass of what Heaven covers and Earth bears.

Translator's note: The latter part of the original text contains repeated sentences, and the ending appears to have a textual misjoining at the phrase "骸理。动其机,万化安" ("...the body's order. Move its pivot, and the myriad transformations are settled"). The translation above therefore follows the meaning that can be made out.

Heaven and Earth are the greatest of all existing forms. Heaven, through qi (vital energy, the force that transforms and gives birth to the myriad things), brings about the beginning of all things, while Earth, through its physical form, nourishes their growth. Humans and all other beings cannot exist apart from what Heaven covers and Earth bears. Because they depend on one another, they can fulfill one another; if any is lacking, all suffer together, and none can exist alone.

What is called "stealing" (dao) means drawing upon what Heaven, Earth, and the myriad things possess. If Heaven and Earth did not draw upon the myriad things, they could not complete the Way (Dao) of transformation. If the myriad things did not rely on human effort, they could not reach flourishing and abundance. If humans did not draw upon the myriad things, they could not be sustained and nurtured. Thus Heaven and Earth, the myriad things, and humans are better described not as contending with one another, but as each fulfilling its own function through mutual taking.

Heaven and Earth are vast, but without the myriad things to serve as the beginning and end of their transformations, the movement of Heaven and Earth might come close to stagnation. The myriad things are numerous, but without humans to help govern and cultivate them, they might fall into hardship. Humans, though endowed with spiritual intelligence, would die young without the nourishment and sustenance of the myriad things. Therefore, the mutual taking among Heaven, Earth, the myriad things, and humans is precisely how each is suited to the others and brings the others to completion. The phrase "when the three thefts are all fitting" means that the relationships among Heaven, Earth, and humans are in harmony, and through this the Three Powers (sancai, the three fundamental forces that constitute the cosmos) are established.

People know the effect of the numinous, yet they do not know that it is numinous precisely because it does not always appear in an obvious, visible way.

The workings of the numinous are marvelous by nature; if one could describe its shape and explain clearly how it operates, it would seem no longer so profound. Perhaps it is precisely this elusiveness, this resistance to description, that reveals its extreme subtlety. The Book of Changes (Yijing) says: "The numinous (shen) is what explains how the myriad things come to display subtle and wondrous transformations." This speaks of the numinous effect that people can know. It also says: "Without hurrying, it is swift; without traveling, it arrives." This speaks of how people do not understand that the effect which is not displayed outwardly is precisely what allows the numinous to be realized.

The sun and moon move according to their own patterns, and things great and small each have their fixed measures. From this the achievements of the sages arise, and from this the workings of the spirit-powers become manifest.

The sun moves swiftly, circling the heavens once in a day; the moon moves slowly, circling them once in a month. Fast and slow each have their natural measure, which cannot be exceeded. That the myriad things differ from one another is simply the normal state of affairs. The Kun and the Peng (the legendary giant fish and giant bird) are immense in form, while the jiaoliao (the tiny wren) is slight, yet each rests content in its own nature and allotted fate. Things are large or small, and each has its own natural limit, which cannot be changed. One who understands the patterns by which nature moves, and who regards the limits of large and small as one, can grasp how the sage-kings achieved their works through stillness and restraint, and can also comprehend the workings of the numinous and luminous.

This "stealing of the mechanism" (dao ji, accomplishing things by drawing on the opportunities offered by natural change) is neither seen nor understood by people of the world.

When the superior person grasps it, they are able to safeguard themselves; when the petty person grasps it, they come to hold their own life and nature lightly.

Heaven and Earth draw upon the myriad things to accomplish the mystery of transformation; the myriad things draw upon human beings to accomplish the work of propagation and growth; human beings draw upon the myriad things to accomplish the nourishment of themselves. All of these are the workings of nature. These workings of nature are carried out by a numinous power, but who is it that governs and arranges them, and who gathers and holds them together? Perhaps there is within them a jikuo (a pivot that drives things into motion) that prevents transformation from ever halting of its own accord. People of the world use these principles every day without knowing it, so how could they perceive the subtlety within? The mechanism that the superior person grasps accords with the numinous workings of nature, and by quietly following the mystery of Yin-Yang (阴阳), they are able to preserve themselves. The mechanism that the petty person grasps runs contrary to nature; in acting, they constantly toy with clever contrivances and shifting devices, and as a result they end up treating their own life and nature with neglect. When the principle of "stealing the mechanism" is understood, the common people will be at peace and the state will be prosperous.

The blind excel at hearing; the deaf excel at seeing.

When the mind is single-minded and undivided, it can merge with the numinous principle. Though the blind cannot see, their hearing may thereby become keener, so that they catch many sounds; why must one rely on the eyes? Though the deaf cannot hear, their sight may thereby become keener, so that they perceive many sights; why must one rely on the ears? The ear can make a person hear clearly, and can also make a person unable to hear…

Note on the source text: the final line of the original, "耳能聪人，亦能使人聋者善视," appears to be corrupted or incomplete in meaning; the above follows the existing wording as literally as possible.

When the mind is focused and undivided, the spirit (Shen) can merge into one with the thing it attends to. A blind person cannot see, yet may hear more. Why must one rely on the eyes? A deaf person cannot hear, yet may see more. Why must one rely on the ears? The ears can make hearing clear, but they can also close it off; the eyes can make seeing plain, but they can also leave a person looking without perceiving. The sage observes and listens without being bound to ear and eye, and so their hearing and understanding grow all the more broad. Ordinary people always depend on ears and eyes to observe and listen. Even though they have both, how are they different from the deaf and the blind? Is this not because the place where the spirit dwells is, in the end, not within the ears and eyes?

If one cuts off the private gain that springs from a single source, the effectiveness of one's governance will increase tenfold. If one practices this three times between day and night, the effectiveness will increase ten thousandfold.

Matters of food and drink inevitably give rise to disputes, which is why the Book of Changes (Zhouyi) follows the hexagram "Waiting" (Xu) with the hexagram "Conflict" (Song). Disputes often arise from clashes among people, which is why the hexagram "Conflict" is followed by the hexagram "The Army" (Shi), which concerns the use of troops. War arises from disputes, and disputes arise from food and drink. Food and drink are a small matter, yet war can truly begin from them. How much more so with struggles over greater profits?

The sage does not regard launching a war as the gravest matter, but regards the craving for profit as graver still. If one can cut off the desire for gain at its single source, so that none of the many petty cravings take root, then savings will naturally grow more abundant. How could the people not be at peace? How could the state not be prosperous? If one governs military and political affairs by this principle, their effectiveness can grow tenfold, a hundredfold, a thousandfold, which is why the text says "tenfold." Of this principle, knowing it does not necessarily mean being able to practice it, and practicing it does not necessarily mean being able to maintain it. If one can carry it out firmly and hold to it steadfastly, practicing it three times between day and night without slackening, the result will be ten thousand times stronger than the use of arms. Why then exhaust the people and drain the state's treasury to seize the profits of others and take them as one's own? In this way, one can naturally grow strong without war and win victory without battle.

The mind arises because of external things, and it also perishes because of external things; the key lies in where the eyes look.

The sage sees the Dao (the Way) and is not obscured by external things. Therefore, their mind neither arises because of external things nor perishes because of them. Ordinary people see only external things and do not see the Dao, so their minds arise and perish along with those things. The key lies in where the eyes look.

The sage can perceive the Dao (the Way, the fundamental law by which all things operate) and is not deluded by particular things, so the sage's mind clings neither to life nor to death. Ordinary people see only what lies before their eyes and cannot see the Dao; their thoughts arise along with external things and perish along with them.

The sage seems able to hold Heaven and Earth in the palm of the hand, and to set the transformations of all things in motion within a single inch of the heart. This depends on the use of Shen (spirit) and the movement of the mind. Thus, though external things arrive in endless succession, the sage's mind remains as still as water; once the inner pivot is set in motion, it is never led astray by outside things. Ordinary people are different: when they see something desirable, their spirit falls into disorder, and the skill they can bring to bear is shallow.

Heaven appears to bestow no favors, yet from this very fact arises the greatest kindness. When thunder suddenly sounds and fierce winds blow, there is nothing among the myriad things that is not stirred by them into movement.

The four seasons shift of themselves, and Yin-Yang (yin and yang) transform of themselves. Heaven accords with what is natural and acts with no deliberate intent, yet there is nothing it cannot accomplish. The growth, decline, and passing away of all things occur according to their own conditions; when has Heaven ever deliberately bestowed a favor? Precisely because Heaven shows no partiality in its favors, the myriad things are not bound by its kindness. This is the truly profound benevolence. Even so, the myriad things cannot grow out of nothing by themselves; they must have something to rely on. Thunder shakes them and wind stirs them, and the myriad things rise up together.

The utmost joy springs from one's own nature; only the utmost stillness can be free of craving.

Is there in the world a joy that is supreme? The principles of all things are complete within oneself, and when one reflects inwardly and finds oneself sincere and free of falsehood, this is the greatest joy. Joy, therefore, lies within the scope of one's own nature and need not be sought outside. People of the world rush about and compete, conceiving covetous desires for whatever they see, and delighting whenever something pleasurable befalls them. The joy of the Perfected Person (one whose cultivation has reached a profound level) is different, which is why it is called the natural delight of one's own nature.

Auspiciousness, misfortune, regret, and humiliation all arise from human action and attachment. To act is inevitably to be burdened; how, then, could one be free of craving? The Perfected Person rests peacefully in the deep and mysterious realm, regards nothing as something that must be possessed or used, and yet there is nothing that does not function in its natural course, so there is nothing to be stingy about. What is meant by "the greatest integrity does not appear as self-denial" is that the highest purity does not show itself as deliberate self-restraint or a reluctance to give anything up; without attaining the utmost stillness, how could one achieve this?

Heaven appears to have its favorites, yet in its application it is supremely impartial.

Supreme creation does not carve and polish the myriad things, yet it gives each of them the conditions it needs to grow. Clouds move and rain falls, thunder rolls and wind sweeps by. Are these arranged on purpose? That the myriad things are able to grow is called De (德, Virtue/Power). Hence the saying: "Heaven and Earth are impartial and without selfishness, yet they allow each of the myriad things to fulfill itself." This is the De of Heaven and Earth.

Creatures that fly and creatures that walk, those that move and those that rest, all come to completion by following their own nature. Each of the myriad things believes that Heaven has favored it in particular, granting it these abilities. But would Heaven carve every single thing one by one? This is called "utmost impartiality," the most thorough form of fairness and freedom from selfishness.

The key to subduing birds and beasts lies in Qi (炁, vital energy, meaning the force by which all things move and change).

Water and fire can overcome one another without either vanishing entirely, and this is probably the working of Qi. When the myriad things are stirred by Qi, events arise of their own accord, with no need for deliberate arrangement. If victory were decided only by bodily size, then wherever the difference was great, the large would always prevail and the small would always be weak. Yet the black tortoise can swallow a python, and the flying squirrel can break the limbs of a gibbon. Do they rely on bodily form? No, it is Qi that subdues them.

Life is the root of death, and death is the root of life.

One who is born here may well die there, and one who dies there may well be reborn here. The Perfected Person (至人, one who has realized the Dao) goes beyond the boundary between being and non-being and escapes the confines of movement and stillness. Then what is there to delight in about life, and what is there to loathe about death? What could still bind such a person?

The "root" is like the root of a tree. Spring and summer come first, and the myriad things begin to grow; autumn and winter follow, and they begin to wither. But if one looks from the root of the tree, there is no distinction between giving life and taking it. Humans, fallen into the world of form and bound by various fixed fates, are likewise like trees rooted in the earth.

Kindness is born from harm, and harm is born from kindness.

Heaven and Earth have no partial benevolence; they regard the myriad things as straw dogs, discarded after being used in sacrifice. The sage, too, is impartial. Seen from the root, there is no distinction between giving life and taking it. Humans, fallen into the world of form and bound by various fixed fates, are likewise like trees rooted in the earth.

Kindness is born from harm, and harm is born from kindness.

Heaven and Earth have no partial benevolence; they treat the myriad things as straw dogs (chugou: grass effigies used in sacrifices and discarded once the rite is over). The sage likewise has no partial benevolence, and treats the common people as straw dogs. To truly reach the highest benevolence is, paradoxically, to show it by not bestowing or withholding according to personal likes and dislikes. Only Heaven and Earth and the sage are like this, so how could they be busy seizing the power of reward and punishment out of private motives? Yet before Heaven and Earth were separated, and before the sage had appeared, how could one speak of benevolence or its absence? What is called benevolence or non-benevolence is merely a way of speaking that arises from the standpoint of the myriad things.

The foolish believe that the patterns and order displayed by Heaven and Earth are what constitute sagacity. I hold instead that wisdom should be discerned from the patterns and order manifested in circumstance (the momentum of the times) and in the myriad things.

Ordinary people are dim and ignorant, and originally possess no true insight; they are governed by the transformations of Yin-Yang and drawn along by the workings of nature. They see only phenomena that appear plainly, and call them the changes of Heaven and Earth; they see clear and orderly patterns, and call them the laws of Heaven and Earth. Being benighted and unclear, they do not know what to rely on in their actions, and so they take the patterns and order of Heaven and Earth to be sagacity.

The Perfected Person (zhiren: one whose cultivation has reached a profound level) is different. The course of circumstance is inexhaustible, so I accord with it and do not oppose it; the myriad things grow without cease, so I follow them and place no obstruction in their way. When the myriad things interact with one another, they form patterns; when they interweave with one another, they form order. Hence it is said: "I discern wisdom from the patterns and order of circumstance and the myriad things."