《黄帝阴符经解义(萧真宰)》

Observe the patterns by which nature moves, and follow the way it operates; the whole principle lies within this. Between Heaven and Earth there are five destructive forces that wear down all things, and one who can see them clearly will flourish. These five forces also exist within the human heart-mind, and they operate according to the laws of Heaven and Earth. Then the heavens and the earth seem to be held in one's hand, and the transformations of the ten thousand things seem to arise from within oneself.

The nature that Heaven bestows on people is their innate disposition; the heart-mind is the pivot from which change is set in motion. Establish the principles by which Heaven and Earth operate, and human affairs can be settled. When Heaven's killing energy stirs, stars shift their positions and constellations change; when Earth's killing energy stirs, dragons and serpents rise up out of the ground; when humanity's killing energy stirs, the upheaval is as if Heaven and Earth were overturned. When Heaven, Earth, and humanity act together, the myriad transformations acquire a firm foundation, and the ten thousand things are born from it.

A person's innate disposition is their fundamental nature; the heart-mind is the pivot from which change is set in motion. Establish the principles by which Heaven and Earth operate, and human affairs can be settled. When Heaven's killing energy stirs, stars shift their positions and constellations change; when Earth's killing energy stirs, dragons and serpents rise up out of the ground; when humanity's killing energy stirs, the upheaval is as if Heaven and Earth were overturned. When Heaven, Earth, and humanity act together, the myriad transformations acquire a firm foundation.

Human dispositions differ as clever or dull, and these natural endowments can be restrained and concealed. The perverse desires that arise from the nine orifices of the body (the two eyes, two ears, two nostrils, the mouth, and the lower orifices) must be governed through the three keys (commonly understood as the eyes, ears, and mouth, the crucial sense organs), which can either set them in motion or hold them in check. Fire springs from wood, and if left uncontrolled, disaster will surely follow; treachery grows within a state, and once the moment arrives and it erupts, the state collapses. One who understands these principles and cultivates accordingly is called a sage. Heaven can give life and nurture, and it can also bring severity and death; this is the law of the Dao (the Way).

Heaven and Earth are what the myriad things rely upon for growth and transformation; the myriad things are in turn used by humanity, and humanity also makes use of them. When these three, Heaven and Earth, the myriad things, and humanity, stand in a mutually appropriate relation of use, the Three Powers of Heaven, Earth, and humanity can be at peace.

To take what one could leave alone is to harm integrity; to seize and possess what was never one's own is theft. The moment the mind stirs, distinctions arise, and on seeing something beautiful, one wants to make it one's own. When people are not content with what they have, a sense of lack gives rise to covetous longing. Where wisdom is lacking, they may resort to deception; where wealth is lacking, they may resort to theft. As for prying open a chest, groping in a sack, or breaking into a cabinet, who is there to blame or judge such acts?

The Liezi says that dividing things into the public and the private is itself a kind of theft, and that failing to divide them is theft too. Heaven, earth, and the myriad things are all interconnected, and those who insist on possessing any part of them are deluded. Among the myriad things, none fails to grow, yet the power that keeps them growing has never rested. None lacks a physical form, yet the power that shapes those forms is silent and without trace. Sound has never displayed color, color has never displayed flavor, and flavor itself has never shown itself. All of this is the working of the Dao (the Way) of Wuwei (non-action).

Yin-Yang illuminate one another, take turns concealing one another, and regulate one another. The four seasons revolve, bringing both birth and death. The Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water) take their turns in command, and they too decline and give way. What brings about the musical notes such as gong and shang, the appearance and disappearance of the myriad things, the deepening and fading of colors, and the flavors and scents of sweet, bitter, rank, and fragrant? Heaven and earth nurture the myriad things, and the myriad things in turn draw upon the Qi (vital energy) of heaven and earth. Even before a person attaches to any outer thing, heaven and earth are already nurturing humans and all things in this same shared way.

The myriad things number far more than ten thousand, and "the myriad things" is simply a term for their multitude. People are regarded as noble because, among all things, they have the greater measure of spiritual intelligence. As the seasons change, people move with them. The conditions of the myriad things are all present in me, and I am in turn driven by them. People live and are sustained by external things, and in the end they follow the transformations of those things, die, and return to them. Thus the myriad things also "take" from people; although humans differ from other beings, the myriad things still act upon them in this shared way.

Dongguo said: "Then is not our very body also something stolen? We receive life through the harmony of Yin-Yang and rely on it to sustain our form. How much more so with outside things: which of them is not obtained by taking? People also take clouds and rain to moisten the myriad things, while the myriad things take from clouds and rain alongside them; mountains, rivers, and lakes nourish the myriad things, and people benefit from them too. One follows the seasonal order in which the myriad things sprout, flourish, ripen, and are stored away, and relies on the changes of the six qi to examine excess, deficiency, and dominance. From those changes one then distinguishes the flavors: sweet, bitter, pungent, salty, sour, and bland. One reduces what is overabundant and replenishes what is weak, abandons what runs against the season and adopts what accords with it. Those who live by depending on the myriad things, and who also employ them to sustain themselves, are people who take from the myriad things."

Although the myriad things do not have spiritual intelligence as humans do, people ceaselessly take from them in common. Therefore taking from the myriad things has its own fitting way, and it never ceases. Only when the taking among heaven, earth, the myriad things, and humans is all appropriate can each thing receive its due portion and each matter follow its proper order; people then act according to circumstances, each in keeping with what is right. Some practices nourish the body and preserve life, while others hold to the central, upright Way and establish one's nature and life. Those who understand this and can accord with the natural course are able to grasp Yin-Yang within the One. Those who understand this and can discern change are able to distinguish the two fundamental forces of Yin and Yang. In this way a person can penetrate the Way of the Three Powers of heaven, earth, and humanity, and the mysteries of the Three Ultimates, enabling heaven, earth, and humans each to follow their own course and rest in their own place. Is this not truly understanding what "stealing" means?

As for Laojun's saying that "having wealth in excess is theft," is he not simply boasting of what runs counter to the Dao? One who craves only fleeting glory and flaunts outward adornments can hardly know that those who cultivate the Dao emphasize planting the roots deep and making the foundation firm, so that the functioning of life endures without exhaustion.

The greatest calamity between heaven and earth is nothing other than the disharmony of Yin-Yang. The Yinfu opens by speaking of the "thief," meaning that the key to nourishing one's nature and preserving one's authenticity lies in not straying from the laws of nature. It then speaks of "stealing," meaning that the principle of nourishing life and responding to change lies in each thing resting in its proper place. So who is the source of harm, and who is not? It all depends on whether one can grasp the subtle signs of the heavenly mechanism and its changes. One who can perceive the signs of change draws near to the realm of the numinous. Students in particular should reflect on this with care.

Therefore it is said: when one eats according to the seasons, the parts of the body are brought into harmony; when one grasps the key to the changes of things, the myriad things settle into peace. People know the workings of the numinous, yet they do not know that the plain, seemingly ordinary root of Wuwei (non-action) is precisely what allows that numinous power to arise. Students above all should reflect on this with care.

When those who had attained the Dao (the Way) in ancient times lived together, they took the foods the earth produced and enjoyed the pleasures the Way of Heaven brought. They did not entangle one another in human gains and losses, nor did they flaunt their differences, scheme against one another, or contend over affairs; they simply came and went at ease. This is the constant way of nurturing life. Whoever cannot do so is driven about by external things and disturbs their own nature. How much more so, given that Heaven and Earth scatter refined Qi (vital energy), that animals and plants all receive nourishment from it, and that its flavors feed the myriad things, so that nothing is left outside it.

Heaven nourishes people with five kinds of Qi (the Qi corresponding to the Five Phases, or Wuxing), which are stored in the heart and lungs and make the voice and complexion manifest. Earth nourishes people with the five flavors, which feed the five viscera, so that Qi and flavor unite and Shen (spirit) is born from them. Food and drink may be ordinary, yet they are an essential root for preserving life, and the key lies in bringing Yin-Yang into harmony. The spleen and stomach are filled by food and drink, and the Sanjiao (the "triple burner," which in Chinese medicine is the pathway for the movement of Qi throughout the body) is thereby opened and unobstructed. The nutritive Qi and defensive Qi (the Qi that circulates within the body and guards it) are thus brought into balance, and the sinews and bones become supple and upright.

Eating must also accord with the four seasons: in spring take more sour flavors, in summer more bitter, in autumn more pungent, and in winter more salty. This is nurturing in step with the season. In spring, when Wood Qi is strong, sweet, fragrant, and rich foods can be used to support the spleen; in summer, when Fire Qi is strong, warm, drying, and rich foods can support the lungs; in autumn, when Metal Qi holds sway, rank-smelling, rich foods can support the liver; in winter, when Water Qi holds sway, strong-smelling, rich foods can support the heart. This is nurturing by drawing on the side that the dominant Phase cannot overcome. Among the Five Phases there are relations of generation, in which they help one another like child and mother, and relations of overcoming, in which they complement and restrain one another like husband and wife. Nurturing must neither go too far nor fall short.

Every part of the body should follow the natural order. One nourishes Yang Qi through food and drink, and lets rest and activity accord with the seasons. One strengthens the root of life while restraining expenditure, guarding the source. One draws in fresh Qi and expels the stale in order to refine the viscera, focuses on nurturing Jing (essence) in order to settle Shen, and follows the natural course of flourishing and decline. In this way one preserves the harmonious Qi of life and joins the great harmony of Heaven and Earth, neither far nor near, neither leaning to one side nor the other. The inner numinous mechanism turns of itself, its transformations reaching everywhere yet leaving no trace. The common people fix their attention on what the eyes and ears perceive, but the sage regards the people as innocent, simple children. Then who could fail to find peace in their own nature and life? Hence it is said: set the key of transformation in motion, and the myriad things each find their rest.

People know the workings of the numinous, yet they do not know that the root which seems to show nothing numinous is the very source of it. The changes of Yin-Yang are impossible to fathom, and this is called Shen; what is called Shen is the word used to describe the subtlety of the transformation of all things. The sage employs transformation so that the people each find what suits them, neither disturbing their dwellings nor causing them to loathe their way of life. This is the numinous power that people can see.

But as for acting with rectitude without harming others, being bright without being dazzling, giving to others and finding oneself all the more fully supplied, sharing with others and finding oneself all the richer, and making the people find their food sweet, their clothes well fitting, their customs comfortable, and their occupations joyful, how would anyone take this to be numinous? This is precisely the principle of "the numinous being realized without showing itself as numinous."

I once examined the final chapters of the Analects and the Mencius, both of which discuss the achievements of sages such as Yao, Shun, Yu, and Tang. When these principles are applied to government, the people can be brought to live in peace and simplicity. The Yellow Emperor was the foremost of the Five Emperors, so wise and numinous that his ministers could hardly match him. He wrote books and set out his teachings, clarifying the meaning of Dao and De (Virtue/Power) and the source of nature and principle, and returned scattered and tangled things to the simple customs of remote antiquity. If the principles in his book were applied to government, they would answer to ten thousand matters and assist the work of transformation, making the people sincere and plain, so that they would even feel the emperor's merit had nothing to do with them. Is this not the effect that this book brings about?

I respectfully read the preface to the imperially composed Shengji Jing (Sage Relief Classic). Its fascicles begin with discerning the truth and end with examining medicines, and its chapters begin with the harmonizing of Yin-Yang and end with proper application. All this reflects an exhaustive study of the numinous and a thorough understanding of change. It accords with the purport of the Yellow Emperor's book and agrees with Laozi's words, "The Dao of Heaven benefits and does not harm; the Dao of the sage acts and does not contend." In the end they are one single principle.

From this we can see that the "mechanism of thieves and robbers" mentioned in the book (a figurative term for the moments at which Yin-Yang transformations restrain and convert into one another) is only a tool to aid understanding. One who reads the books of the sages well knows to forget the fish trap once the fish is caught, and to forget the snare once the hare is taken. The footprint comes from the foot, yet the shoe print is not the foot itself.

The sun and moon each follow their own regular course, and things great and small each have their fixed measure. From this arise the sage's accomplishments in governing the myriad things, and from this too the sage's spirit-like (Shen, 神) subtlety and discernment become manifest.

The Zhuangzi says that Heaven and Earth have their constant patterns, the sun and moon have their own brightness, plants and trees have their own growth, and birds and beasts gather in their own flocks and herds. Between father and son there is affection, between ruler and minister there is righteousness, husband and wife each have their proper bounds, and elders and juniors have their order. In all that the sage does, there is nothing that fails to take account of the right moment, and in arranging and managing affairs, there is nothing that does not rest on fixed standards and measures. The sages probed the wonder of Heaven and Earth and fulfilled the principles by which the myriad things are accomplished. Drawing on the principles of hexagrams of the Yijing (Yi Jing, 易经) such as Lü (Treading), Bi (Adornment, 贵), Yu (Enthusiasm), and Feng (Abundance), they distinguished high from low, managed affairs of government, composed music to make virtue manifest, and decided cases and applied punishments. In every instance they followed the timing and patterns of things.

The light of the sun shines over the day, and the light of the moon shines over the night. The sun advances and recedes along the paths of the stars, while the moon waxes and wanes in accord with the changes of the sun. The year is the cycle formed by gathering together days, months, and seasons. The "Great Plan" (Hongfan) chapter of the Book of Documents says: "The king examines the year, the high ministers examine the month, and the many officials examine the day."

"Number" here refers to quantity and order: one, two, three, four, and so on. Calendars are established on the basis of number; the calendar distinguishes the hours; from the hours one identifies the configurations of the stars; from the stars one infers the sequence of days; from the days one infers the months; and from the months one infers the years. Once years, months, days, and hours follow stable rules, the daily life of the people can be settled. This is what is meant by saying that the sun and moon each follow their own regular course and that things great and small each have their fixed measure.

Why is this so? Once the order of time is fixed, the affairs of the world cannot be discarded at will; once names and roles are fixed, people cannot overstep their bounds. Yao and Shun unified the musical pitches, weights, and measures, harmonized the seasons and months, and corrected the sequence of days, so that the world was well governed, and they relied precisely on these principles. Without a sage of lofty attainment, able to transform the myriad things, to regulate Heaven and Earth, and to employ the Dao (the Way, 道) of Yin-Yang (阴阳) in alternation, how could such a state be reached? Hence the Yijing says: "To bring the Dao to the level of spirit-like subtlety and clear discernment lies in the person."

"The mechanism that operates in the dark cannot be seen or known by anyone under heaven. The superior person grasps it and can remain steady in hardship; the petty person grasps it and holds life cheap."

The "stealing of the mechanism" (dao ji) refers to the subtle, hidden changes between heaven and earth that are hard to perceive. To understand the minds of all people, one must investigate the principles of things thoroughly. To share virtue (De) with all people, one must fully understand and realize human nature. Investigating principles lets one see fortune and misfortune, auspicious and ill omens, in their faintest first signs, so that one can avoid calamity and move toward good fortune. Understanding nature lets one grasp good and evil, liking and disliking, and so act in accord with benevolence and righteousness. It is like a crossbow already drawn: once the arrow is loosed, it strikes its target.

No one can say where this true mechanism comes from. It precedes the forms of heaven, earth, and the myriad things, which is why no one under heaven can see or know it. Before things had differentiated, the root of all things lay hidden within the mechanism. If one then lets go of clinging to life and returns to what is genuine, meets things without being led astray by deviant thoughts, and does not let contrivance arise, the heart stays balanced and open and does not lose its nature.

Later, the Five Phases (Wuxing) overcome and harm one another, and the four seasons alternate and shift. Metal and Earth join while Water and Fire clash. Thunder and lightning rage, and the roar shakes the four directions, so that the heavenly truth is revealed. Change may also produce the calamity of the "Yang Nine," when heaven and earth are closed off and impassable. This is the misfortune of the "Hundred and Six." Fortune and misfortune collide, and every kind of disaster appears. In such a situation, those who walk the level, upright road remain correct and fortunate even in obscurity, and those who retreat from the world meet no obstacle wherever they go. But if one ventures recklessly through dangerous ground, the cart will surely overturn. If one wades northeast, stiff and rigid as a corpse, one loses one's companions, though regret may thereby be dispelled.

Why, then, can people not see these changes? And how could merely raising one's gaze reveal what the eye cannot see? Human life is like an illusion, a brief lodging between heaven and earth, and the body is only a temporary gathering of Qi. If one can concentrate on nourishing the spirit (Shen) and condense one's true nature, one can dwell with heaven and earth in the "Great Void" (the vast, formless realm). If one can penetrate emptiness and recognize the original source, one can dwell with the Great Void in stillness and non-action (Wuwei).

Why can people not understand these principles? Because they find it hard to see things clearly, and they are easily ruled by things. Bound by desire, they are like people willingly walking into a tiger's mouth, or like people carrying a torch against the wind. Foolish yet unwilling to let go, they will surely burn themselves in the end. Greed is like piled-up firewood, and in the end it consumes a person's peaceful nature. If not a sage, who can see what ordinary people cannot see and know what they cannot know?

The superior person grasps this Dao (the Way) and so can hold to the right path in hardship. When hardship reaches its limit, change comes; change brings passage; passage brings endurance. Even if for a time there is no road, as long as one acts in good faith there is nowhere one cannot finally reach. Even if one restrains oneself and halts for now, one will in the end be able to advance. The Yi Jing (Book of Changes) teaches that things do not remain in hardship forever. The superior person who stands firm in adversity, and then investigates principles to the fullest and explores the wonder of transformation, will find no limit to the realms he can reach.

The petty person grasps this Dao yet holds life cheap, because he does not understand the mandate of heaven and does not revere it. He therefore harms life and injures his nature, adding to his burdens like a growth on the body, and there is nothing he will not do. The intelligence heaven bestows on people also ordains fortune and misfortune, and these principles are ancient. Light and heavy are rooted in each other and must not be neglected. No calamity is greater than desire, and no misfortune more serious than discontent. How could a sage take his own life lightly, or treat the world carelessly?

The "Nine Divisions" of the Hongfan record the principles of the five blessings and six extremities (good fortune and ill), to show how fortune and misfortune are verified. Where the responsibility is too heavy and the ability too small, punishment follows; where the road is far and cannot be reached, one should not force a journey. Punishments are established so that, in the end, there will be no need for punishment and society will return to moderation. Standards are gathered together so that people may return to the right path. All of this is meant to value the lives of the people.

Laozi (Laojun) said: "My words are very easy to understand and very easy to practice, yet no one under heaven can understand or practice them." The reason is that the great Dao is plain and without flavor. Only by shedding excess, extravagance, and extremes can the superior person hold to the right path in hardship. Ordinary people bustle about chasing pleasure, as if going to a great feast or climbing a terrace in spring. They do not understand principle, and desires simply arise in response to external things; some are lost in them all their lives and never turn back. How could they know that what people fear must not go unheeded? To face danger without taking precautions is precisely to hold life cheap. By this, the superior person and the petty person can be told apart.

The sage knows that a crooked mind brings calamity. He therefore explained the delusion of the man who dreamed of chasing a deer, pointed out the fault of the man who forgot things through illness, and removed the root of confusion and doubt. He also used the affair of the Jin city walls to expose deception and the sorrow of Yan to show the error of grief. All of this was meant to enlighten later generations and free everyone under heaven from ignorance and delusion.

The blind hear keenly, and the deaf see keenly. If one cuts off the profit-seeking mind that chases external things and concentrates one's mental energy on a single point, the effectiveness of deploying troops can be increased tenfold. If one repeatedly examines and practices this three times over the course of day and night, the effectiveness can be increased ten thousandfold.

Here, "gu zhe" (瞽者) refers to the blind, and "shi" (师) refers to an army or the use of military force. The scripture (Jing) uses the example of the blind and the deaf, whose senses lean toward one side, as an analogy to show that reducing distraction and applying the mind with focus allows one's abilities to be expressed more fully. "San fan zhou ye" (三反昼夜) means to repeatedly verify and examine over the course of day and night; it emphasizes sustained attention of the mind, and the results achieved are accordingly greater.

Long ago, Marquis Lu heard that Master Kangcang could see with his ears and hear with his eyes, so he prepared generous gifts, invited him to court, and humbly asked for instruction. Kangcang replied, "Those who spread word of my abilities have got it wrong. I can hear and see, but I do not rely on my ears and eyes. How could the functions of ears and eyes possibly be reversed?"

The saying that "the blind hear well and the deaf see well" refers to how such people change the usual way of relying on the senses. Ancient rulers did not discard any kind of talent when employing people: they put those with impaired hearing in charge of fire-related matters and those with impaired sight in charge of music. These are likewise examples of following a person's strengths and altering the conventional use of their faculties. When "deafness" is mentioned here, it also carries the sense of the mind and spirit (Shen) concentrating on a single matter. "Blindness" (gu) is explained through the word "drum" (gu), suggesting wholehearted stirring and immersion. Once the mind is fixed on something, it neither sees nor hears anything else. Therefore, only when one is focused and still, undisturbed by stray thoughts, with the will unified and undivided, can one's skill grow refined.

Consider the man who could stack pellets one upon another without letting them fall, the one who bent his body to catch cicadas without ever missing, the one who had a layer of white clay smeared on the tip of his nose and had another swing an axe to pare it away without injuring the nose, and the one who carved up oxen with effortless ease. All of these are cases in which an undivided will led to accomplishment. Even someone living among bandits, or afflicted by some partial harm, can still find a place in the world so long as the mind has a focus, even if they understand only a single thing or excel at a single craft. If one can unite Qi (here meaning the vital energy of life in Daoist teaching) with the mind, and Shen with Qi, one is no longer held captive by ears and eyes, nor troubled by misfortunes from outside.

The jiaoming, minute creatures, fly about in swarms. People rub their eyes and peer at them but cannot make out their form; when they perch on the eyelash of a mosquito, no one notices. Lean down and listen closely at night, and still their sound cannot be heard. Only the Yellow Emperor, calmly gazing with his spirit's intention, saw them clearly, as if looking into a hollow of Mount Song; and calmly listening with Qi, heard their sound clearly, as if it were roaring thunder. This means: to see in the dim and the formless, to hear harmony within silence, to set aside the sharpness of ordinary senses and not cling to concrete forms.

The root of the ears' and eyes' perception lies in water and fire. Heaven belongs to one, and Earth to two; water gathers essence (Jing) and Qi, while fire manifests spiritual clarity. When Shen and Qi flow freely, they appear as keen hearing and sight; when obscured by external things, they appear as deafness and blindness. When the essence of the ear is concentrated, Shen gathers with it; even when the power of the eyes is exhausted, essence joined with Shen still gives sight boundless wonders. When the spirit of the eye is concentrated, essence gathers with it; even when the power of the ears is exhausted, Shen stored within essence still gives hearing boundless wonders.

When harm arrives, benefit may arise alongside it; after evil appears, good may follow. Is this not a matter of being skilled at grasping the good side of things? To treat one's life well is to treat one's death well. Here the text speaks of hearing well and seeing well, and then moves on to "cutting off profit at a single source" (severing scattered sensory desires so the mind and spirit return to one root). Employing troops in this way multiplies the effect tenfold; reflecting on it repeatedly three times, day and night without rest, multiplies it ten thousandfold. This principle cannot be judged by outward traces alone.

In my view, the "five thieves and three plunderers" all arise from a single source, just as one river divides into many tributaries; the Dao is one, yet it brings forth the myriad things. The Dao nourishes all things as water does, and, like the way of Qian, brings benefit to the world. Thus, one should recognize the first signs of change before things have changed, and regulate them with fitting measures; and when change has already occurred, adjusting it yields benefit without end. The pivot of change in Heaven, Earth, and the myriad things, the convergence of the body's hundred joints and nine orifices, the root of orthodox and unorthodox forces in warfare, and the movements of the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water) and the six children of the trigrams all originate here, and nothing escapes it.

If, in employing troops, one can grasp this "accomplished mind," one accords with the fundamental aim of the sage-kings. The sage-kings embraced the great Dao as the standard for the world: they cultivated themselves with the true substance of the Dao, and benefited the world with the true substance of De (Virtue). Applying this principle to all affairs, one can respond to the world's changes and accord with its movements. Whether one wears a small official seal or commands a million troops, one must seize the crucial moment of events; seizing it, one can achieve tenfold results.

This is the essence of the "three plunderers" and the "three powers": things turn and return, day and night alternate, circulating ceaselessly between Heaven and Earth. They sometimes appear and sometimes vanish, with beginnings and endings; beginning from Yang qi, they move downward again and again; beginning from Yin qi, they move upward again and again. What has passed will return, and what is to come will come again. The "three repetitions, day and night in cycle" mentioned here accords with the principle of Heaven and Earth's cycles discussed earlier. Grasp the crux of change and convergence, and the use of troops will match the natural order of things; embrace all phenomena and nurture the myriad things, comprehensively containing every form and encompassing every good, and upon putting it into practice one will reap complete and vast results.

The Dao of Taiyi (the fundamental Dao before the differentiation of all things) is above the four directions and Heaven and Earth yet is not high; below them, yet is not deep. The Bagua (Eight Trigrams), between what Heaven covers and Earth bears, alternate between softness and firmness, and their changes have no end. Who sets this in motion? And who is it that causes forms to move and transform?

Sunzi, who excelled at discussing warfare, used the "shuairan" as an analogy. The shuairan is a kind of snake of Mount Chang: strike its head and the tail comes to its aid; strike its tail and the head comes to its aid; strike its middle and head and tail both come to its aid. Surely some power lies behind it that makes it act this way. Understand this, and one can grasp the tenfold and ten-thousandfold effects, and the key to how the myriad things emerge from one source and how change moves in cycles.

The heart-mind arises with external things and perishes with them; the key to this shows in the eyes.

Commentary: Mencius said that the heart of compassion is the beginning of benevolence, the heart of shame and aversion is the beginning of righteousness, the heart of deference is the beginning of propriety, and the heart of right and wrong is the beginning of wisdom. Benevolence, righteousness, propriety, and wisdom are all rooted in the heart. The heart governs the five senses and is the dwelling place of Shen (spirit, 神) and of the hun and po souls; joy, anger, sorrow, and delight, as well as love, hatred, and desire, all arise from it. The ideas of ten thousand things begin in the heart and also dissolve because of it. When the heart-spirit is used properly, one can grasp endless change; when it abides in the Dao (the Way, 道), it becomes single-minded and pure.

The sage joins the heart-spirit with Qi (vital energy, 炁, the life-breath spoken of in Daoism), and joins Qi with the heart in return. The heart is the abode of spiritual clarity, while Qi carries the transformations of good and evil. Therefore, to nourish the heart one should reduce desires, and to nourish Qi one should make it abundant and upright. In this way one can dispel obscuration and confusion and break free from the many bonds of the present moment. One nourishes Shen with Qi, and Qi in turn is born from Shen: when Shen moves, Qi moves, and when Shen is settled, Qi is settled. The heart can rest in Qi, and Qi can rest in the heart. When the heart does not move recklessly, it accords with the Dao. Cultivating one's nature should be done evenly and steadily, without disturbing or pulling at it.

The heart is the Dao, and the Dao is the heart. Benighted people let their nature run loose in the mundane world, chasing external things without knowing how to turn back, until those things finally steal their aspirations, and they never understand the reason in a whole lifetime. When they see something they want, the heart is thrown into turmoil, yet they do not realize that this is a calamity of the heart's own workings. Laozi said, "Do not display what could arouse desire, and the heart will not be disturbed." Only the sage understands that all things are born from the transformations of being and non-being and are not eternally real. The sage therefore regards all things equally and gives rise to no heart of preference or rejection. With a tranquil mind, how could external things disturb them? Hence the teaching not to prize goods that are hard to obtain, so that people may have less greed and desire.

The Liezi says that while people live they cherish one another, and after death they scatter, each going their own way. It also says that the ancients knew life is only a temporary arrival and death only a temporary departure, and that when the movements of the mind do not oppose one's nature, one is at ease and content. Thus they were neither drawn along by fame nor threatened by punishment, and simply followed their nature. In life there are differences of worthy and foolish, noble and humble, but in death all return to decay and extinction. From this we may infer that the key to the life and death of all things lies in the heart, the key to the movement or stillness of the whole body lies in the eyes, and the root from which movement originates lies in the heels.

The five organs each have Jing (essence, 精), which originates in the Kan position (the trigram symbolizing yang within yin); the five organs also each have Shen, which originates in the Li position (the trigram symbolizing yin within yang). When Jing and Qi are stored away, Shen gathers. When Shen is within, it is stored in the heart; when it issues outward, it shows in the eyes. The workings of the heart and the eyes draw on each other like a form and its shadow, or a sound and its echo. What is it that makes them respond to each other and act upon each other? The white yi birds (white water birds) gaze at one another, and through that gaze they affect each other and bring about changes in their intentions.

One who truly comprehends the principle beyond the physical form can concentrate to the utmost without blinking: even if an awl's point comes close to the corner of the eye, or an arrow strikes the eye, they do not blink. Ordinary people, however, always chase after what the eyes want to see, taking beautiful appearances for beauty and outward show for reality. A blind person cannot see even a scene of dazzling colors; the sage therefore grieves over the calamities of the world. Mencius says that when the heart within the breast is upright, the pupils are clear and bright; when the heart within the breast is not upright, the pupils are dim.

Good and evil accumulate in the heart, and whether the heart-spirit is clear or clouded shows in the eyes. If even spiritual clarity cannot change this manifestation, who can discern the stirring and transformation within it? In the state of Song there was a family that practiced benevolence and righteousness for three generations, and a calf was born to them with white markings, which later returned to its mother to suckle. They consulted Confucius, who each time said it was an auspicious sign. Later, father and son went blind one after the other for no apparent reason; three years afterward, because of illness, they escaped the siege of the state of Chu, and when the siege was lifted, their eye ailments were healed. Such is the confirmation found in the accumulation of good and evil and in the manifestation of the eyes. If one does not understand the principle behind it, how can one see through such marvelous transformation?

The Liezi records that the artisan Yan Shi made a wooden puppet that could blink and beckon with its hand. When King Mu had it cut open, he found that its inner structure resembled that of a real person; once reassembled, it could move again. When its liver was removed, its eyes could not see; when its kidneys were removed, its feet could not walk. If a man-made thing can be so ingenious, how much more so the eyes formed naturally by Heaven and Earth, and the mechanisms within them?

The book of the Yellow Emperor says that the Perfected Person (one who has attained the Dao) seems dead and still when at rest, and seems to operate like a machine when in motion; whether others look at them or not does not alter their bearing. They come and go alone, enter and exit alone; who can hinder them? This is because they let the stirrings of the mind and the functions of the eyes follow their natural course.

Heaven and Earth seem to show no private favor, yet for that very reason they bestow the greatest kindness. When thunder rumbles swiftly and the wind blows fiercely, there is nothing among the ten thousand things that does not stir in response.

Heaven and Earth are deep and boundless, and they move according to their own regularity. In their stillness they make no distinctions, and so the ten thousand things turn of their own accord. Heaven and Earth favor no one, yet they let each thing grow in its own way, bringing forms out of the formless. They do not deliberately cause things to be born, yet life continues without end. They do not deliberately set change in motion, yet change never ceases. Thus the Virtue (De) of Heaven and Earth is vast and without limit. All things under heaven grow naturally without knowing why they were born, and all are nourished together without knowing where the nourishment comes from. Kindness given with intent is limited; only kindness that comes from the absence of intent is boundless. Great kindness arises precisely from "not deliberately bestowing kindness."

Laozi said, "Heaven and Earth are not benevolent; they treat the ten thousand things as straw dogs." This means that Heaven and Earth have no favorites, and regard all things as straw offerings, discarded once the sacrifice is over. Heaven and Earth let things grow without demanding anything in return. They bring things to completion without possessing them or boasting of their merit. Therefore those who follow the Dao (the Way) of Heaven let things grow without possessing them and accomplish tasks without taking credit. Their kindness lasts for ten thousand generations, yet they never call themselves benevolent. They put the ten thousand things in order, yet never claim to act with righteousness.

As for felling the trees of Ox Mountain, or damaging the natural shape of the beijuan (vessels made from bent wood), these acts harm life and injure nature. In ancient times people released living creatures to show their kindness. When someone asked about this practice, the answer was that it did not compare with what Master Bao said: "Heaven and Earth were born together with me, and the ten thousand things are of one kind with me." All things belong to one kind, with no distinction of noble and base. They merely use cunning and strength to control and devour one another. Heaven did not create other creatures specifically for human use, nor did it create mosquitoes specifically to torment people. Then who, in the end, is harming life?

Nothing moves the ten thousand things more forcefully than thunder, and nothing transforms them more visibly than wind. But what drives the thunder and wind? Yang Qi (vital energy) gathers and presses against itself, and thus thunder is formed. The thunder bursts swiftly upward, and only then is rain able to fall. From the hour of zi to the hour of mao, Yang Qi accumulates until it reaches a certain point, and then the thunder sounds. This is exactly the moment described in the Book of Changes as "the sovereign emerges in Zhen." Action must accord with the right time: what was suppressed can unfold, and what lay dormant can awaken. All of this must wait for the thunder to burst forth swiftly. When the movement of Qi is single-minded and rises upward, it may still meet obstruction; only when it bursts forth swiftly can it reach its proper course and bring down the rain.

The breath the Earth exhales has its source in the movement of Heaven. All activity among the ten thousand things depends on something, and even insects are born through these changes. The first sounds and the later ones answer; once the wind stirs, ten thousand hollows howl along with it. The wind passes over the ten thousand things, and each gives a different sound. When the wind stops, all things return to Xun (the trigram for wind in the Book of Changes, which also carries the sense of gentle penetration). The movement of the wind adjusts to the seasons: when plants sprout and withered trees flourish again, it is because they have waited for the force of the fierce wind. This fiery power is where marvelous transformation resides, and it is also the root from which ritual propriety arises.

Spring is the season when the ten thousand things begin to stir, and its foundation lies in Yang Qi. The ten thousand things are born and transformed through the wind, and they rise up when roused by the thunder, so it is said that none fails to stir and sprout. Yet how could the forces that become thunder and wind know why they move as they do? The Book of Changes says, "What stirs the ten thousand things to action is surely thunder and wind." And what stirs the people to action is surely government decrees.

When the sage governs the world, rule is carried out through nurturing and killing, giving and taking away, and from this great kindness arises. Fairness is upheld through rewards and punishments. Are these arranged by the sage with deliberate intent? Perhaps, in the end, everything that the ten thousand things and the people receive is simply the consequence each must bear for themselves.

Supreme joy arises from the fullness of one's own nature. When one reaches utmost stillness, one can discern things clearly and keep to one's proper measure.

Xiao Zhenzai explains: From the standpoint of the Dao (the Way), heaven, earth, and the myriad things are fundamentally one body, so how could boundaries and right and wrong be drawn? Do the myriad things truly achieve anything or suffer any loss? Zhuangzi uses the example of Zhao Wen, a skilled lute player, playing or not playing: if one believes things have completion and loss, Zhao Wen plays the lute; if one believes there is no real completion or loss, he may also refrain from playing. Supreme joy does not depend on any particular joy, and the purest nature does not cling to any fixed temperament. Once joy turns into pursuit, attachment arises; only because there is life can there be talk of nature, and only when nature manifests can one experience empty stillness. A state that flows naturally from within is inherently quiet, while a state that comes from yang qi (Qi, vital energy) appears empty and harmonious.

Follow nature and understand one's allotted destiny; exhaust the principles of things and fully realize one's nature, and one will see that although the myriad things each have their own forms, none has any surplus or lack: the wild duck's legs are short and the crane's legs are long, and neither should be cut shorter or stretched longer. Extending the knowledge of one's own nature to the nature of all things, one will feel that each is complete in itself, lacking nothing and needing no extra pursuit. Laozi says that the sage does not hoard for himself; the more he helps others, the more he has himself, and the more he gives to others, the more he gains. Draw upon it and it will not run dry; rely on it and it will never be depleted. This fullness that flows naturally out of one's nature is what is meant by "supreme joy leaves nothing over."

All things have their own original allotment, and only in stillness can it be seen clearly. Do not act rashly because of external things, and do not struggle and contend because of movement. When the heart is settled, a clear and luminous brightness appears; an empty, still mind is like a white and empty chamber. Distinguish the boundary between the inner and the outer, and see clearly the separate domains of honor and disgrace; observe things with an eye to the whole, yet without encroaching on each one's boundaries. When each keeps its proper measure and none disturbs another, the mind becomes at peace.

The Zhuangzi says that stillness is like water when it comes to rest; when the surface is level, all things settle into their places. When the mind is still, it is like a mirror of heaven and earth, able to reflect things while keeping to its own boundaries. A true sense of proper measure comes from the natural clarity of the heart, and this is what is meant by "utmost stillness brings integrity."

Fully realize one's nature and one finally returns to the root; return to unity and one finally returns to the source of life. The sage understands this, and so can take purity and stillness as the standard for all under heaven.

On the surface, the Dao (the Way) of Heaven seems to favor the myriad things, yet in its operation it is utterly impartial. Why say this? Because Heaven is the most wondrous of powers: its movement never ceases, it covers the earth, and it nourishes all living beings.

The world holds countless kinds of things: creatures that fly, run, or lie hidden, and all that moves and grows, differing in height and size. Whether sage, wise person, or fool, each grows and develops according to its own endowment and circumstances, receives a fitting measure of nourishment, and has what it needs to live. Each has its own form and color, and each makes its own way in life. They appear to receive different degrees of care, as though Heaven had its favorites.

In truth, all things under Heaven receive the same Primordial Qi (Yuanqi), the fundamental breath of vital energy from which the myriad things are made, and nothing can exist apart from it. All things also have form, and none can escape the transforming work of Qi (vital energy). Thunder stirs things into motion, wind disperses them, rain moistens them, and sunlight shines upon them. Spring brings sprouting, summer growth, autumn gathering in, and winter storing away. None of these influences fails to reach all things. Precisely because the Dao of Heaven is free of selfishness, it achieves the greatest impartiality; it bestows no deliberate kindness, and yet all things receive its blessing.

The sage models themself on the Dao of Heaven, acts without selfish interest, and so is able to fulfill their own nature. What is called impartiality is the kingly way; the kingly way accords with the Dao of Heaven, and the Dao of Heaven accords with the Dao. Only by following the Dao can one avoid partiality and deviation.

The control of birds lies in Qi: the key to restraining birds lies in Qi, meaning breath and the movement of vital energy.

When the body settles and sustains life, it is called "form" (xing). When the movements of qi drive the body into activity, this is called "Qi" (炁, the vital energy of Daoism). Once form is established, Qi moves within it; the pivot that coordinates form and Qi and sets them in motion is called "Shen" (spirit). Hence, when Qi is abundant, Shen can be at peace.

When anger arises, Qi surges upward and cannot descend; in joy, Qi slackens and is hard to gather in; in sorrow, Qi disperses and cannot continue its steady circulation; in fear, Qi sinks and cannot rise; with excessive worry and thought, Qi congeals and cannot be dispersed. Form and Qi are both regulated by the pivot of Shen. The sage understands the principles at work here, and so is able to command their own activities without being swayed by external things.

The Mencius says: "The flood-like Qi is supremely great and supremely firm. Nurture it with uprightness and do not harm it, and it will fill the space between Heaven and Earth." This does not mean contending head-on with external things while the heart is tangled in desire and aversion. The sage can govern all activities; their function is like that of Heaven and Earth in bearing the myriad things, and it is in accord with the way Yin-Yang transforms and generates them, so that Qi fills the above, the below, and the four directions.

It is like a bird that rides the wind and beats its wings, soaring high in the sky; some, aided by a whirlwind, rise ninety thousand li into the heights, pass through the clouds, and bear the blue heavens on their backs. How is this different from the sage roaming at ease in the realm of free and unfettered wandering? The bird's movements are governed by Qi, and Qi is chiefly Yang energy; the bird cannot escape this governance. When a thing reaches its extreme, it changes: shifting from inner nourishment to outward protection, and only then can it exert some restraint. Whatever can restrain things relies on something; relying on a certain method to restrain and make use of things is called "method" (fa).

Birds differ in size: some leap up and down no more than a few zhang, flitting among the brambles and weeds, and this too is the limit their capacity for flight can reach. What makes them differ in manner and extent of flight? Could the difference between the great and the small be caused by Qi?

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

All things flourish and grow, yet in the end each returns to its own root. Returning to the root is called returning to one's nature; to understand this constantly is called enlightenment (ming). Whatever follows the pivot of generation, contraction, and transformation comes and goes, moves and turns, without end. This is the pivot of the Dao (the Way). Within the structure of the trigrams, the Gen trigram (one of the Bagua, the Eight Trigrams, symbolizing mountain and stillness) occupies the northeast, and this is the reason why. Thus the Dao can bring all things to their end and can also set them in motion; it attaches itself to the root, and yet branches out to the sides. A tree is steadied by its root, but the place where it stands is not, strictly speaking, the north.

Kindness may arise from harm, and harm may arise from kindness.

Reasoning from the Five Phases (Wuxing: Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water), whatever has a side of kindness often brings harm as well, and whatever has a side of harm may turn and give rise to kindness. Here Metal is taken as the father and Wood as the child, by way of illustration. When Metal acts, it is as though it begins a matter; when Wood acts, it is as though it brings the matter to completion. If Metal overcomes Wood, Wood is injured. Yet once injured, Wood returns to its root and draws close to it again. This is an example of "kindness arising from harm."

Laozi said: "When wisdom appears, great hypocrisy arises; when the six relations fall out of harmony, filial piety and parental love come to be displayed." Filial piety and parental love originally spring from what is natural. In an age when the Dao and De (Virtue/Power) were rich and unadulterated, people each fulfilled their own nature and the common people lived together in harmony. What need was there to single out filial piety and parental love, or to proclaim them? Once simplicity faded, people began to use the names of filial piety and parental love to seek reputation, and the result was that the six relations fell into discord. This is an example of "harm arising from kindness."

The truly profound kindness does not regard itself as bestowing favor; the most impartial conduct may sometimes look like partiality. Kindness and harm follow upon one another, and so regulate the original beginning of all things. Who can see through the workings of the "Five Thieves" and the "Three Plunderers"? Only the sage, who models himself on the Way of Heaven, bestows benefit without causing harm, so that neither side is damaged and virtue gathers there as a result.

The foolish believe that observing the patterns and order of heaven and earth constitutes sagacity; I hold that observing the patterns and order of the four seasons' changes and the movements of all things is true wisdom.

Heaven has patterns that can be observed, and Earth has an order that is its own. When the sage observes the changes that move through heaven and earth, above and below, he comes to possess within his own conduct the capacity to meet all affairs. Ordinary people may seem dull, yet they too have spiritual intelligence; their station may be humble, yet they too have worth. In the journey from common person to sage, is there truly a division between the noble and the lowly? The Shangshu (Book of Documents) says: "If a sage does not strive to advance, he too will become benighted; if a fool can make the effort to think, he too can become a sage." Recite the words of Yao again and again, follow the Dao (the Way) that Yao walked, and one can become a person like Yao.

Thus the fool comes to know the sagely Dao through the patterns and order of heaven and earth, while I grasp principle through the patterns and order of circumstance and of things. The principles of all things are complete within my heart. Therefore, one must observe how opposites are distributed and measured, and respond to them fittingly; only then can one fully establish one's own sense of rightness. If one understands that nothing is unconnected to oneself, one can manage affairs; one then sets aside cleverness and fixed opinion and accords with the principle of things themselves. Hence one should take the constant Dao of Heaven as one's model and rely on the regularities of Earth.

In heaven there are the regular courses of sun, moon, and stars; on earth there is the ordered growth of mountains, rivers, grasses, and trees. To discern the principles of the four directions is enough to arrange the affairs of the world; to comprehend the principles of heaven, earth, and humanity is enough to nurture the myriad things. To observe the advance and retreat of the sun is also to establish one's own measure by it. Only by mastering the principle of responding to the times, and by observing how things meet, interpenetrate, change, and develop, can one's wisdom win the trust of the multitude and one's words arrange affairs properly.

The wisdom of the sage takes many forms: there is profound wisdom, wisdom that holds fast, wisdom that initiates things, and wisdom that is clear and penetrating. The sage accords with the times and governs worldly affairs; with wisdom he establishes standards, probes the wonders of heaven and earth, and observes the roots from which all things change. What wisdom could surpass this? "I practice Wuwei (non-action), and the people transform of themselves; I love stillness, and the people set themselves right."

Heaven has its seasons, and Earth has its myriad things. To speak of heaven and earth is to speak of the changes displayed in their forms and vessels; to speak of the times and things is to speak of the subtle mastery with which circumstances and things are put to use and transformed. The fool sees only the outward traces of things, whereas I seek to grasp the mystery within them. Yao was perceptive and possessed cultured virtue, and governed the people according to the Dao; Shun was profoundly penetrating, cultured and virtuous, and carried out the Way of Heaven through human affairs. To embody this principle and accord with the times is, in the end, one and the same thing.

I have examined the upper section of the Yinfu Jing (Scripture of the Hidden Talisman). It begins by speaking of observing the Way of Heaven and grasping its operations, then turns to the "Five Thieves" (the forces between heaven and earth that act upon one another and bring about change), and finally treats cultivation. The middle section begins by speaking of heaven and earth taking from one another, then turns to the "Three Plunderings of the Three Powers" (the interaction among heaven, earth, and humanity), and ends by distinguishing the superior person from the petty one: the superior person guards himself, while the petty person treats his nature and life lightly. The lower section begins with the blind who hear well and the deaf who see well, and closes by saying that the fool knows the sagely Dao through the patterns of heaven and earth, while I grasp wisdom through the patterns of circumstance and of things.

What arises without deliberate arrangement is Heaven; what comes of itself without human seeking is Ming (destiny). To observe the Way of Heaven without presuming to interfere, one must first preserve the body and nourish the Shen (spirit). To harm the standards that the Way of Heaven has bestowed is for the "Five Thieves" to injure the constant Dao. Cultivating one's true nature and tempering the heart-mind are both ways of following the natural Way of Heaven; who but the wisest person under heaven could accomplish this?

One should serve Heaven openly, as one serves a father, and serve Earth with care, as one serves a mother. Yet people in the world often do not know to revere the height and depth of heaven and earth, nor can they tell the good and ill fortune that come from accord and from opposition. For this reason the scripture explains the "Three Plunderings" one by one, letting each fulfill its function; it then joins the Three Powers of heaven, earth, and humanity into one body, and in the end still distinguishes the superior person from the petty one. Can the petty person act according to proper measure and await the decree of Heaven? Only the superior person can rest easy in the circumstances of the time and accord with change.

As for seeing well and hearing well, they share one source, yet the benefit gained may differ tenfold or ten-thousandfold; this is precisely where the fool and the sage part ways. If the fool can reach the sagely Dao, he too can cultivate himself step by step. Taking oneself as the root and applying wisdom, one can observe the Way of Heaven and grasp its operations. The book of Laozi opens with "the Dao that can be spoken" and closes with "acting without contending," and the principle is the same.

The meanings of the three sections answer one another, like the legendary serpent called Shuairan, whose head and tail respond to each other. It is also like Sunzi on the art of war, who says that when subtlety reaches its utmost, there is neither form nor sound. When San Yisheng saw doubt and fear in the army, he used divination to steady morale; Taigong held that divining with rotten grass and withered bones was not enough to decide matters, but that tortoise-shell divination could calm the people's feelings and milfoil divination could dissolve their doubts. San Yisheng first proposed the method, and Taigong then completed the plan. The sage's principle of seizing the right moment runs through both the beginning and the end of an undertaking.

Earlier commentators divided the Yinfu Jing into separate themes: seeking immortality and embracing the One, enriching the state and pacifying the people, strengthening the army and winning victory. But Taigong told King Wu that the most important thing in the art of war is "guarding the One"; holding to this principle, one can act independently. The Yellow Emperor said: "The One is the ladder to the Dao, close to the numinous; in using it, one must seize the moment; in manifesting it in the world, it must be carried out by the ruler." Emperor Taizong of Tang also said to Li Jing: "Rather than read a thousand chapters and ten thousand lines, grasp a single sentence." Understand the root, and all affairs interconnect. From antiquity to the present, the generation of heaven, earth, and the myriad things has never departed from this root.

Grasp the root, and from it one can know the myriad things; from it one can then deduce the cycles of the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water) and observe the changes of the four seasons. The principle revered by the ancient classics, and in which immortals and sages dwell, is far beyond what ordinary knowledge and deliberation can exhaust. Were it not for one who has probed deeply into subtle transformations, how could anyone seize its crux and guiding thread, gather up its essential meaning, and enter the wondrous realm that leads from the subtle to the manifest? Only the most numinous and penetrating person under heaven can embrace many subtle principles, discern the clear and transparent root, and master the pivot of opening and closing: things with form bring practical benefit, while the formless Dao operates with inexhaustible wondrous function.

Note: The base text continues for a further 114 characters after the character "zhe" (哲); the annotator holds that this portion was added in error.

The Huangdi Yinfu Jing Jieyi (Explication of the Meaning of the Yellow Emperor's Scripture of the Hidden Talisman) is a commentary by Xiao Zhenzai on the Huangdi Yinfu Jing (Yellow Emperor's Scripture of the Hidden Talisman).