《道玄篇》

The Great Dao (the Way) encompasses Heaven and Earth, and so is able to bring Heaven and Earth into being; Heaven and Earth encompass the myriad things, and so are able to nourish the myriad things. The myriad things are abundant, and none fails to contain the Dao. The Dao is empty and without form; it therefore relies on generating the myriad things to manifest its function and its form. Form is the dwelling place of the Dao, and Shen (spirit) is the pivot of the Dao’s operation. Each of the myriad things possesses Taiji (Supreme Ultimate), the root of the transformations of Yin-Yang; whether moving or still, none has ever departed from the Dao.

Wuji (the Limitless) is called the Dao, and Taiji is called the body. Within the body there is yet another body, and so it is called the Heart of Heaven (Tianxin), the inner governing heart of the human person. The Heart of Heaven rests securely in the true center, upright and peaceful; the spiritual mechanism (the pivot of the activity of Shen) presides over the whole body, empty, still, and luminously aware. When the responses of this luminous awareness can constantly remain pure and clear, the myriad transformations return to the True. If luminous awareness follows external things and grows dim, the myriad transformations cause a person to turn away from the true Dao. How could the Dao be far from human beings? It is only that human beings themselves grow far from the Dao.

Human beings are born into the world, and each, without exception, receives an endowed allotment of destiny; and what this allotment confers never fails to include innate nature. Nature is Shen, and life (Ming) is Qi (vital energy). What governs the whole body is Shen; what circulates throughout the body and sustains life is Qi. When Shen does not fail in its guarding and holding, and Qi does not fail in its harmonizing, Shen and Qi fuse into one, and the Qi of the Dao is full and does not wane. In this way one may live long, observe the affairs of the world with clarity, and rise above the turmoil of the mundane world.

The Dao cannot manifest itself of its own accord, and so it generates the myriad things in order to make itself plain; the Dao cannot operate out of nothing, and so it gives birth to human beings so that they may practice it. Therefore human beings are able to live long, observe the affairs of the world with clarity, and rise above the turmoil of the mundane world. One who understands this principle can recognize the constant order of Heaven and Earth, comprehend the realm in which Yin and Yang join and transform, and thoroughly know the methods by which creative transformation operates, and thereby grasp the guiding principles of the transformations of the myriad things. Those who can attain this principle are, in all likelihood, only the sages.

Heaven and Earth are the forms in which Yin-Yang becomes manifest; Yin-Yang is the pivotal mechanism of the transformations of Heaven and Earth. Yang belongs to the odd numbers, and Yin to the even numbers; Yin provides form and substance, and Yang provides assisting force. Yin and Yang, one rising and one descending, do not separate from each other. Therefore the myriad things all stand in relations of mutual pairing and union, which may be inferred according to the principle of like kinds. Seen in this light, the male governs movement and the female governs stillness, and one may thereby observe the condition of the Yin and Yang of Heaven and Earth.

[Note] In the original text, “Chapter Four: Illuminating Principle” appears a second time; the above translates each occurrence separately according to the content of the original. At the end there is only the title “Chapter Six: Human Beings and Things,” with no main text.

Human beings receive a relatively complete endowment from the Qi (vital energy) of heaven and earth, while what the myriad things receive is partial. Although the myriad things each have different natures and lives, their source in every case comes from Heaven. Human beings are divided into good and evil, and the myriad things likewise each have their good and their evil. Why is this so? It is brought about by differences in temperament and constitution, not because original nature is inherently so. The myriad things are each limited by their own form and substance; it is not that the Dao (the Way) favors some of them and treats others with partiality.

Chapter Seven: Lodging in Form

There is nothing under Heaven that does not contain principle, nor any place the Dao does not reach. Where there is a given bodily form, there is a nature corresponding to it; differences among things are not the original condition of nature. The myriad things are each limited by their own form and substance; it is not that the Dao favors some of the myriad things and treats others with partiality.

Chapter Seven: Lodging in Form

There is nothing under Heaven that does not contain principle, nor any place the Dao does not reach. Where there is form, there is nature; where there is nature, there is affective disposition; where there is affective disposition, there is the Dao along which it proceeds. The Dao lodges within the myriad things, moves through the world by means of form, and drives transformation. Therefore there is nothing that cannot be transformed, and nothing that cannot be drawn near. Even dragons and tigers, which are capable of transformation—if I forget the calculating mind, I can bring them to submit of themselves.

Chapter Eight: Dragon and Tiger

Thus the dragon chants and cries, and thus the tiger roars: the dragon obtains the Dao of Yang, while the tiger manifests the signs of Yin (Yin-Yang). The Yang dragon and the Yin tiger each possess their own mystery. Therefore, when the dragon chants, clouds and Qi follow; when the tiger roars, the force of wind arises. Wind and cloud transform, and thunder crashes. These phenomena, which appear confused and manifold, in fact join in hidden subtlety within a single breath; it is not that the great transformation of heaven and earth harbors private feeling or arranges things by design. Therefore, when the sage arises, numinous transformations are hard to fathom, and the myriad things all gather to behold them.

Chapter Nine: Setting Position Aright

Heaven covers above and earth bears below, and the myriad things grow between heaven and earth. The sage sets his own position aright and thereby brings peace to the world. Those in important positions undertake important duties; those in lesser positions attend to what properly belongs to them. The common people are all my kin; I regard them all as children. Therefore, if I harbor no selfish mind, the people harbor none either; if I am at ease, the people are at ease; if I do not interfere without cause, the people can remain peaceful and undisturbed. When Yao was sovereign, he governed the world for fifty years yet did not feel that he was governing by deliberate effort—this is precisely the point.

Chapter Ten: The De (Virtue/Power) of Humility

When the sage occupies the place of the ruler, he does not take himself to be lofty, does not regard himself as noble, does not consider himself keenly perceptive, and does not boast. This is precisely the practice of lowering oneself and meeting others with an open mind. Therefore, because he does not magnify himself, he can accord with the wishes of all the people under heaven; because he does not prize himself, he can treat the worthy of the world according to ritual propriety; because he does not regard himself as clear-sighted, he can listen to the views of everyone under heaven; and because he does not boast, he can confer rewards according to merit. The sage first cultivates humble De (Virtue/Power) in his own person and then extends it to others, so that no one under heaven fails to revere him.

Chapter Eleven: Ruler and Minister

Without ministers, a ruler cannot bring his undertakings to completion; without a ruler, ministers cannot establish their own duties. When ruler and ministers are of one mind and carry the affairs of government into practice among the people, no one under heaven fails to revere them.

Chapter Eleven: Ruler and Minister

Without ministers, a ruler cannot bring his undertakings to completion; without a ruler, ministers cannot establish their own duties. When ruler and ministers are of one mind, no force under heaven can divide them. The ruler regards the people as his own children, and the people regard the ruler as their own mother. When mother and child are close to one another, no force under heaven can separate them.

Toward the Dao (the Way)—the fundamental principle by which the myriad things operate—I am born from the Dao as a mother bears and raises a child, and I guard the Dao as one protects a child. When mother and child guard one another, long life without death is possible. I do not seek to set myself apart from others; it is only that those who harbor desires cannot free themselves from desire.

Chapter Twelve: Dao and De

The Dao is what presides over goodness, and De is the foundation of goodness. The highest goodness does not deliberately present itself as good, and the Dao naturally manifests goodness; the highest De does not deliberately proclaim that it possesses De, and the Dao naturally manifests De. From where, after all, can De be obtained? It is realized within the heart, recognized by understanding the principles of things, and in this way the innate nature of each of the myriad things under heaven is brought fully into play. The nature of the myriad things is empty and still, yet they delight in growth; therefore all things are in communion with the Dao and De.

Chapter Thirteen: Entrusting by Abdication

To hand all under heaven over to another person is not difficult; what is difficult is to find a suitable person for all under heaven. This is an ultimate truth spoken by the ancients. Therefore the sage does not set the nobility of his own person above all under heaven, but lets the myriad things each follow their own nature and develop. The nature of the myriad things is empty and still, yet they delight in growth; therefore all things are in communion with the Dao and De.

It is comparatively easy to hand the world over to someone else, but difficult to find, for the world’s sake, a suitable person to take charge of it. This is a profound truth the ancients stated. The sage, therefore, does not exalt the world on his own account, but regards the world itself as worthy of honor. If the world is entrusted to a suitable person, the people will be settled and at peace; if it is entrusted to an unsuitable person, the people will fall into turmoil. How can one fail to be cautious?

This is why Yao passed the throne to Shun and did not pass it to his own son: Shun was worthy and wise, while Yao’s son was not. Shun passed the throne to Yu and likewise did not pass it to his own son: Yu was worthy and wise, while his son was not. Yu first passed the throne to Yi, and later passed it to his own son. Those whom the people of the world praised and gave their allegiance to were not Yi, but Qi; Heaven therefore gave the world to Qi, and the throne passed to Qi as well. Thereafter the throne was transmitted from father to son, yet what remained essential was still to examine whether a person was capable of bearing the world. Only when someone met this condition could the world be entrusted to him.

Chapter Fourteen: Preserving and Guarding

Only by standing in reverent awe of the Mandate of Heaven (the laws and allotted destiny decreed by Heaven above) can one preserve oneself; only by honoring the words of the sages can one hold fast to proper standards. Only by preserving oneself can one endure; only by holding fast to proper standards can one grow and flourish. If one can endure, neither family nor state will meet with danger; if one can grow and flourish, one’s descendants will not fall into hardship. Only when there is neither danger nor hardship can one preserve oneself and remain far from harm.

Chapter Fifteen: Emptiness and Clarity

When a mirror is empty, pure, and bright, it naturally reflects a person’s appearance. When the mind is vacant, still, and lucid, it naturally discerns a person’s good and evil. “Emptiness” can contain form; “clarity” can distinguish color. Form and color are alike shifting, inconstant appearances, not true reality itself. Therefore the supreme Dao (the Way) values “emptiness.”

Chapter Sixteen: Preserving the Form Intact

Since a person has been given life, how can one fail to stand in awe of death? If, in walking the Way, one takes a steep and perilous road, one will lose one’s original nature—like a horse without reins, galloping with no direction, setting out and not knowing how to return. People are often rash and restless. They indulge their greedy desires and crave enjoyment to excess, and this instead brings ruin upon them. I have seen many such people.

Therefore the exemplary person constantly stands in awe of the Mandate of Heaven, keeps carefully to his own place, remains reverent and cautious, preserves his primordial Qi (vital energy), and nurtures his original nature. In this way, all the myriad things of the world can resonate and respond with me, and come into mutual accord.

Chapter 17: Rites and Music

In daily life, neither rites nor music can be dispensed with. Where there are rites, reverence arises in the heart; where there is music, body and mood tend toward harmony. When the heart holds reverence, all that one does can be kept in good order; when body and mind are harmonious, the hundred spirits—the spirits, or the vital forces, within body and mind—can be settled. When the hundred spirits are settled, Qi (vital energy) fills and abounds in Chongxu (the realm of emptiness, stillness, and luminous clarity).

Chapter 17: Rites and Music

In daily life, neither rites nor music can be dispensed with. Where there are rites, reverence arises in the heart; where there is music, body and mood tend toward harmony. When the heart holds reverence, all that one does can be kept in good order; when body and mind are harmonious, the hundred spirits can be settled. When the hundred spirits are settled, Qi fills and abounds in Chongxu.

Chapter 18: Spirit and Qi

One who is skilled at nourishing Shen (spirit) can, day and night, gather in mind and spirit and turn awareness back upon the inner; one who is skilled at regulating the breath can let feeling and thought grow still and attend closely to each exhalation and inhalation. Shen dwells within Qi, and Qi dwells in the spirit-chamber (the inner place that holds spirit and Qi). When Shen and Qi unite with the true Dao (the Way), one can ascend into Taiqing (the clear, empty, lofty, and wondrous realm of which Daoism speaks).

Chapter 19: Perfect Luminosity

To attend only to the inner is to forget the outer; to attend only to the outer is to forget the inner. Can this accord with the Dao? Human nature is originally full and luminously clear, and it admits of no division into inner and outer. When it is present, it has neither form nor appearance; when it acts, it leaves no trace. Thus the way practiced by the exemplary person is nothing more than the turning of a round ball—rounded and flexible, with nothing that sticks or obstructs.

Chapter 20: Insufficiency

A good person, too, feels that something is lacking, and a person who is not good also feels that something is lacking. The good person feels this lack because learning is thought not yet enough; the person who is not good feels this lack because craving is thought not yet enough. To dwell on the insufficiency of learning is to keep seeking to learn, and in the end to move toward clear understanding; to dwell on the insufficiency of craving, as the wording of this passage has it, is in the end to stop here.

Chapter 20: Insufficiency

A good person, too, feels that something is lacking, and a person who is not good also feels that something is lacking. The good person feels this lack because learning is thought not yet enough; the person who is not good feels this lack because craving is thought not yet enough. To dwell on the insufficiency of learning leads in the end toward clear understanding; to dwell on the insufficiency of craving leads in the end toward dull obscurity. One who is clear in understanding may enter the realm of sages and worthies; one who is dull and obscure in the end becomes a foolish person. The difference between clear understanding and dull obscurity is as fine as a hair. How can one fail to be careful?

Chapter 21: Abandoning Learning

Learn what the multitude learns, and from it choose what is good to study; inquire into the principles of the myriad things, and make clear what is not understood. Set down the tangle of doctrines, and one can be free of worry and disturbance; search the principles of affairs through to the end, and one can find the root. Free of worry and disturbance, one can fully know the nature of all things under heaven; having found the root, one can comprehend the great Dao of the world. Human nature and the Dao of Heaven in the end both accord with the natural.

Chapter 22: The Mean

In the Jing (scripture/classic), only the chapter title is given; the main text is not provided.

Only a sage can practice and uphold the Dao (the Way) of the Mean. Even the worthy find it hard to reach, let alone ordinary people. Why can the sage be perfectly rounded and penetrating, while the worthy seem constrained and obstinate? A rounded person can shift with circumstances and does not cling to one extreme; a constrained person readily holds to fixed views and cannot adapt. Thus the sage says: the worthy often go too far, while the foolish fall short.

Chapter 23: Dignified Bearing

The sage’s mind is profound and hard to fathom; his breadth of spirit is vast, able to transform and nurture the myriad things, as if no limit could exhaust it. His bearing is solemn and majestic, and the radiance of his refinement shines clear and bright. His De (Virtue/Power) accords with the patterns by which Heaven and Earth move, and through emptiness and stillness he nourishes the inner heart. He sets right the order of the four seasons and becomes the standard that the world emulates. Once he is the standard for the world, the myriad things can all return to what is proper.

Chapter 24: Transformative Motion

The great Dao is vast and empty-still, turning without cease like a bellows. As a presence, the Dao is deep and boundless, undifferentiated and without form. Look at it, and no boundary can be seen; search into it, and no end can be found. At its greatest it embraces Heaven and Earth; at its smallest there is nothing that does not contain it. The “I” of which I speak is not, in fact, a fixed and substantial thing. The Dao precedes every name and cannot be confined by any name.

Chapter 25: Penetrating the Mysterious

The tongue can speak—but who, in the end, governs its speech? The hand can form a fist—but what first causes it to close? One who can penetrate this principle may comprehend the mysterious Dao.

Chapter 26: Essentials of the Dao

The crux of the Dao lies hidden in the vital apertures of body and mind. When Jing (essence) and Qi (vital energy) are abundant, Qi can arise; when Qi is abundant, Shen (spirit) can arise; when Shen is abundant, the mysterious can be reached. Jing, Qi, and Shen—none of the three may be lacking. Lose any one, and the other two are impaired as well; what then remains of cultivating the Dao? The Jing, Qi, and Shen spoken of here are the roots of body and mind commonly discussed in Daoist Neidan (internal alchemy).

Chapter 27: Gain and Loss

Do not rejoice merely because you have gained something for a moment, nor grieve merely because you have lost something for a moment. If you gain and yet do not know when to stop, what has already been gained will surely be lost. If, after a loss, you know how to hold to what you ought to guard, what was lost will in the end be regained. Thus gain may turn into loss, and loss may turn into gain. Only one who has penetrated the great Dao can understand the crux of gain and loss.

Chapter 28: Settling the Heart-Mind

Plants and trees grow by sinking their roots in the soil; the life of human beings and the myriad things, by contrast, relies on the heart-mind to establish nature and life. When the soil is fertile, branches and leaves grow lush; when the heart-mind is empty and still, the Dao (the Way) and De (Virtue/Power) can fully interpenetrate. It is a pity that people do not understand the root. Their heart-mind and Shen (spirit) are drawn along by external things, so that external things instead disturb their own heart-mind; they also let emotions and desires govern the body, and are instead constrained by the body in those emotions and desires. In this way, when the other gains an advantage, one oneself suffers a loss; when one oneself gains an advantage, the other suffers a loss. Therefore, one who possesses the Dao does not take up this kind of gain and loss.

Chapter 29: Forgetting Contrivance

If a person forgets cunning and artifice, crows will not grow suspicious or afraid; the moment a person stirs a scheming mind, the crows fly far away. Why is this? Outward appearance can be feigned, but the inner intent of Shen cannot be deceived. The slightest stirring of my thoughts is perceived by the other’s spiritual intent. This is a manifest principle of Heaven that cannot be concealed. Therefore, the sage can dwell among the myriad things without appearing different from others, and constantly forgets cunning and artifice in a state of no-mind and no-thought.

Chapter 30: True Emptiness

The Dao originally has no fixed form. One who clings to the Dao instead falls into clinging to form. The Dao is originally not empty nothingness; one who clings to “emptiness” instead falls into clinging to emptiness. Clinging either to form or to emptiness, one cannot recognize the root of the Dao. Therefore, the form of no-form is the heart-mind.

Chapter 30: True Emptiness

The Dao originally has no fixed form. One who clings to the Dao instead falls into clinging to form. The Dao is originally not empty nothingness; one who clings to “emptiness” instead falls into clinging to emptiness. Clinging either to form or to emptiness, one cannot recognize the root of the Dao. Therefore, the form of no-form is the true form, and the emptiness that is not empty is true emptiness. True form and true emptiness bring the myriad things into unity. They make use of the myriad things yet are not bound by the things they use, and their responsive transformations and manifestations are without end.

Chapter 31: Having and Not-Having

To have, yet not regard oneself as having, is called superior; to lack, yet take oneself to have, is called inferior. Therefore, the noble person studies widely and broadens his knowledge, and even when he achieves something does not claim to possess it. The petty person has shallow learning and limited experience, yet treats what he does not have as if he already had it. Thus Laozi said, “I dare not place myself before the people of the world.” Confucius said, “If it is said that I have already attained sagehood and humaneness, how would I dare accept that?” Yanzi (Yan Hui, a disciple of Confucius) said, “To have is as if not to have; to be full is as if empty.” Therefore, humble De stands above, and shallow De stands below.

Chapter 32: Esteeming the Dao

(The original text gives only the chapter title.)

When regarding others, one who respects others will in turn be respected by them, while one who looks down on others will in turn be looked down upon. Even the myriad things must not be treated with contempt, much less human beings. Therefore the sage cares for the people as one cares for an infant, honors the worthy and capable, and esteems De (Virtue/Power). Thus the sage does not dare to slight all under heaven; how, then, could the people of the world fail to respect him?

Chapter 33: The Dao of Governance

There are five ways of governing the world: administer through benevolence, and the people will be at peace; govern through righteousness, and the people will submit; instruct through ritual propriety, and the people will be respectful; discern with wisdom, and the people will keep to the rules; treat others with sincerity and good faith, and the people will be able to settle their lives. These five ways all issue from the Dao (the Way); they differ only in name. Therefore, when the sage comprehends the Dao, the mind within is empty and clear, as if it were nothingness; yet when the Dao is put to use, it proves more than ample.

Chapter 34: Contemplating the Dao

Contemplating the Dao is like viewing plum blossoms. The great sea rests in a low place, and so it can receive the hundred streams. The deeper the waters that gather, the greater the waves that rise; dragons, fish, shrimp, and turtles all live freely within them. Thus the sage’s mind is also like the great sea: it can contain the impurities and imperfections of every land and region. The more empty and still his mind, the deeper its inner substance; the more he gives of himself in handling affairs, the more abundant, on the contrary, is the power he can bring to bear. Princes and nobles, scholars, and commoners can each find their proper place and rest content in the lives that are theirs. This is the principle by which the Dao prevails throughout the world: one who occupies the lower position can, instead, become one who stands above.

Chapter 35: Emptiness and Nothingness

Emptiness and nothingness can give rise to things that have form, and things that have form in turn depend upon emptiness and nothingness in order to exist. The “emptiness and nothingness” spoken of here refers to the mind and to Shen (spirit); “having form” refers to the body and to Qi (vital energy). When the mind is empty and still, Shen and Qi move freely, and the body and Qi are likewise full; when the mind is dull and obscured, spirit and awareness are blocked, and the body and Qi decline. Therefore the sage constantly keeps the inner mind empty and still, and is skilled at nurturing Shen and Qi.

Only with a heart that is constant and unchanging can there be a Dao (the Way) that is constant and unchanging. If the heart lacks constancy, the Dao has no way to settle. When the heart holds to what is constant, it does not grow slack, and the Dao does not change; if the heart does not hold to what is constant, the Dao cannot rest secure or move freely. Therefore, the noble person always lets the heart abide in clarity and stillness, and looks inward to examine himself.

Chapter 37: Loyalty and Filial Piety

One who truly understands loyalty will certainly also understand filial piety, and one who truly understands filial piety will certainly also understand loyalty. At home, one applies a loyal heart to the care of one’s parents, and the duty of a son or daughter is fulfilled; in office, one extends the heart of filial devotion to the ruler, and the duty of a minister is likewise fulfilled. Thus ruler and parents are one in the principle of wholehearted loyalty and nurturing care, and loyalty and filial piety return to the same principle. Those who are adept both at loyalty and at filial piety accord with the Dao of Heaven.

Chapter 38: Rectifying Nature

Confucius would rather go thirsty than drink from Robber Spring. When Zengzi passed through a village whose name meant turning one’s back on one’s mother, he turned his carriage about and avoided it. The ancients, merely upon hearing an improper name, would still keep clear of it—how much more would they refrain from doing what is improper themselves?

Chapter 39: Holding to the Mean

The way of the sage is to hold to what is central and upright. In bearing the responsibilities of the world and carrying out the principles of the world, one treats high and low alike, without distinction. What is in excess is reduced; what falls short is supplied. Benefit is applied to the low, so that the low may be raised; the surplus of the high is pared away, so that those below are also taken into account. This is the practice of diminishing what is excessive and replenishing what is insufficient. In this way, above and below can be harmonious and balanced, and all the affairs of the world can be fittingly settled.

Chapter 40: Substance and Function

When one embodies and follows the Dao with sincerity, the Dao naturally comes to rest; when one applies the Dao according to the occasion, the Dao naturally yields benefit. Thus, when the heart within is settled, the Shen (spirit) is in every respect harmonious; when one’s outward conduct is fitting, the spirit can respond to things and change with them. Viewed from the standpoint of stillness, the Dao is not still; viewed from the standpoint of movement, the Dao is not in motion either. What brings both movement and stillness into accord with the Dao lies solely in sincerity.

Chapter 41: The Vacuity of Spirit

The opening of this chapter in the original reads, “A person’s spirit…,” and then repeats part of Chapter 40: “When the heart within is settled, the spirit is in every respect harmonious; when one’s outward conduct is fitting, the spirit can respond to things and change with them. Viewed from the standpoint of stillness, the Dao is not still; viewed from the standpoint of movement, the Dao is not in motion either. What brings both movement and stillness into accord with the Dao lies solely in sincerity.” The original text here appears to contain omissions or disordered slips, and the surviving wording does not fully convey the meaning of the chapter on the vacuity of spirit.

Chapter Forty-One: The Emptiness of Shen

A person’s Shen (spirit) is the embodiment, in the human being, of the empty and numinous Qi (vital energy) of heaven and earth. What is numinous and wondrous cannot be grasped by thinking, recognizing, speaking, or seeking. Ponder it deliberately, and its wonder is lost; cling to discerning it, and sincerity is gone; force oneself to speak of it, and purity is lost; search for it everywhere, and it is no longer genuine. Thus a person’s small body can contain heaven and earth, and when a vast body is manifested it can extend throughout the finest dust. One may enter water without sinking and fire without being burned, pass through metal and stone, and move in and out of dark and obscure realms. Those who understand this can command ghosts and spirits.

Chapter Forty-Two: Unimpeded Flow

The mind must not cling, and in handling affairs one must not be rigid. Cling to the mind, and innate nature cannot flow freely; be rigid about affairs, and principle cannot run through. Keep the mind empty and still, in accord with the Dao (the Way) of Heaven, and innate nature flows freely of itself; let one’s conduct accord with rightness, and principle runs through of itself. Thus the sage sets the mind within comprehensive principle, and so can handle affairs with flexibility, free of rigidity.

Chapter Forty-Three: Auspicious Efficacy

Those who are auspicious and good cultivate themselves and practice the Dao of Heaven; those who are baleful and evil act in filth, seeking only the cravings of mouth and belly. The key to practicing the Dao of Heaven lies in frugality and restraint, while seeking the cravings of mouth and belly means nothing but greed for ever more. Therefore those who are frugal and restrained grow daily deeper in De (Virtue/Power), and the Dao of Heaven often protects the auspicious and good; those who greedily seek more often lose just as much, and the way of ghosts—here meaning the obscure forces that correspond to evil conduct—often bewilders the baleful and evil. Thus greed for the pleasures of food and drink is the beginning of the disturbance of innate nature.

Chapter Forty-Four: Knowing Where to Remain

Fish swim in deep rivers, and beasts dwell beside high ridges. Each of the myriad things knows where it should remain; why, then, does the human mind go astray and not know its own resting place? The mind is the master of the body. Gain it, and life flourishes; lose it, and life declines.

Chapter Forty-Five: Attending to the Root

The working of the Dao differentiates into two functions. Thus creative transformation mutually assists, good and evil depend on each other, life and death go together, strength and weakness restrain each other, and favor and harm lean upon one another. Some do not understand the root yet chase only the branches and tips—this is delusion. Therefore those skilled in using the Dao hold to the root, accord with the functions of change, draw in agitation and return to stillness, and let emotion and desire return to innate nature. When innate nature is empty and still, it accords with the genuine; when the mind is calm and at ease, one gladly follows the mandate of Heaven.

Spiders weave their webs in a darting flurry, and dung beetles—commonly called tumblebugs—roll balls of dung. Without studying under a teacher, they can still do these things with skill; this is inborn instinct. The sage therefore emulates the spontaneous nature of the Dao (the Way), and constantly teaches the common people to preserve their plain and genuine character: they dig wells to draw water for drinking and till the fields in order to eat. He does not let the people weary their minds over clever contrivances, nor does he allow them to scheme against one another. In their dealings and their coming and going, people do one another no harm; until they grow old and die, the common people have no disputes or lawsuits, and they peacefully enjoy a harmonious and tranquil life. Even if decrees and orders are issued, what would there still be that needed to be carried out?

The appearing of divine spirits and the lying hidden of ghosts and spirits manifest the conspicuous working of the Dao and of De (Virtue/Power); the transformations of the dragon and the movements of the tiger manifest the unobstructed circulation of the mechanisms of Qi (vital energy). The sage acts in accord with the timing of Heaven, and is therefore able to resonate with human hearts. Thus the transformations of the divine and the numinous cannot be fathomed by ghosts and specters; the transformations of dragon and tiger cannot be fathomed by insects and beasts; and the transformations of the sage cannot be fathomed by ordinary people. If divine spirits could be fully seen through by human beings, they would no longer count as numinous; if the transformations of dragon and tiger could be fully seen through, they would be no different from ordinary insects and beasts; if the sage could be seen through, he would not be honored by all under Heaven. Therefore, one who occupies a high position should constantly hold reverence and awe, set his own spirit (Shen) aright, and instruct and transform the world by means of the Dao, so that the hearts of all under Heaven turn toward him.

One who relies on wealth and rank will surely grow arrogant; one who relies on merit and fame will surely grow restless; one who relies on learning will surely grow disdainful; and one who relies on favor will surely bring humiliation upon himself. These four kinds of dependence are all human failings. Arrogance is hard to sustain for long; restlessness is hard to maintain; disdain makes it hard to rise to distinction; and suffering humiliation is no auspicious matter. Therefore the gentleman, though he lives amid wealth and rank, does not magnify himself; though he establishes merit and fame, he does not claim them as his own; though his learning is broad, he does not treat it as his private possession; and though he receives favor, he does not flaunt it. He guards against trouble before it arises and, even while dwelling in safety, considers possible danger. His words and conduct all accord with the Dao, and he preserves a state of mind that is tranquil, plain, and natural.

When the Dao (the Way) of Heaven loses peace and stability, the sun and moon fall out of their proper brightness and darkness; when the Dao of Earth loses peace and stability, mountains and rocks collapse and tilt; when the Dao of Humanity loses peace and stability, Jing (essence) and Qi (vital energy) scatter and drift apart in disorder; when the four seasons lose peace and stability, the myriad things cannot grow as they should.

Why is it that when the Dao of Heaven is peaceful and secure, it is vast and luminously clear, and the sun and moon are naturally bright? Because when the Dao of Earth is peaceful and secure, it is broad and tranquil, and mountains and rocks are naturally firm; when the Dao of Humanity is peaceful and secure, it is penetrating and spiritually lucid, and Jing and Qi naturally gather; when the four seasons are peaceful and secure, they proceed according to their proper times, and the myriad things naturally grow without hindrance. Therefore, one who accords with this Dao moves along with the changes of Yin-Yang, and one who returns to this Dao may enter the void (in the Daoist context, this means transcending the mundane world and entering the realm of emptiness and stillness).

Chapter Fifty: Creative Transformation

Heaven has day and night because one and the same Qi moves back and forth; human beings have life and death because one and the same Qi gathers and disperses. Day and night, and life and death, are all brought about by the creative work of this single Qi. Thus where there is day there must be night, and where there is life there must be death; where there is going there is coming, and where there is gathering there is dispersing. This is a necessary principle.

Only Shen (spirit)—the luminous nature that transcends the changes of bodily form—abides between Heaven and Earth, its light shining upon the void, neither born nor dying, neither gathering nor dispersing. Therefore one may know without speaking, arrive without acting, comprehend without deliberating, and bring things to completion without being driven by any external force. To realize this is to transcend life and death and to step beyond the limits of Heaven and Earth.

Chapter Fifty-One: Provisional Words

The sage uses language to make the great Dao manifest, and the words spoken are not bound to any fixed form. The worthy, by contrast, cling to language when speaking of the great Dao, so that every sentence has a concrete image and a definite reference. Thus words not bound to form carry their meaning before speech and image appear, while words that bear concrete images carry their meaning after speech and image.

If the worthy can leave outward images behind, set aside clever and calculating thought, nurture and preserve the spirit, hold to centered harmony, and dwell amid concrete things without clinging to them, they too reach the state of the sage.

Chapter Fifty-Two: Non-Contention

The Dao does not contend with people; one who contends is not in accord with the Dao. Nor does the Dao cling to any thing. (The original text continues, “wisdom; preserve the spirit and hold to the center; dwell amid what has image without clinging to it—such a one is also a sage,” and the sense seems to contain a gap.) To nurture and preserve the spirit, hold to centered harmony, and dwell amid concrete things without clinging to them is likewise to be a sage.

(At the end of the original, “Chapter Fifty-Two: Non-Contention” appears once more; the chapter title is recorded here as it stands.)

The Dao (the Way) does not contend for superiority or victory; to contend for superiority and victory is not in accord with the Dao. The Dao does not cling; to cling is not in accord with the Dao. Thus those who love contention give rise to a mind that draws distinctions, and those who love clinging divide self from other. Those who form such views depart from the Dao and lose De (Virtue/Power). Therefore the sage wears garments of coarse cloth, draws in his radiance, and keeps a virtue like fine jade concealed within; dwelling among the multitude, neither contending nor clinging, he guards and blends the Qi (vital energy) of Great Harmony—the peaceful, concordant primordial energy between heaven and earth—and accords with the changes of the four seasons and the movements of heaven and earth.

Chapter 53: The Dao Transforms

The Dao transforms and gives rise to Qi; Qi transforms and gives rise to blood; blood transforms and gives rise to bodily form; bodily form transforms and gives rise to the myriad things; and the myriad things in turn transform into one another. The forms of these transformations differ, yet the wondrous essence within them is one and the same. When Qi turns turbid, the brightness of Shen (spirit) appears dim; when Qi turns clear, the brightness of Shen appears lucid. Things without sentience may transform into things with sentience, and things with sentience may likewise transform into things without sentience; all of this is the differentiation of one and the same Qi. The myriad things differ in form, yet their essence is the same. If one looks to the beginning of creation and transformation, at that time there were as yet neither forms nor names.

Chapter 54: The Public-Spirited Heart

A minister who assists the ruler in accordance with the Dao should keep himself pure and upright and put public affairs first. If those above do not block grace and favor, the beneficence of the ruler’s De can reach downward; if those below do not conceal their words and circumstances, the true conditions of the people can reach upward. When above and below communicate, the governance of the state can long remain stable. If someone, relying on the favor of a superior, secretly manipulates the handles of power and arbitrarily bestows favor and establishes authority, disaster will surely follow. Is this mere empty talk?

Chapter 55: The Upright Person

The upright gentleman is open and magnanimous at heart. When employed, he sets forth the Dao and right principle at court; the original phrase “不道常泰” is unclear in meaning. When set aside, he withdraws to the mountains and forests and restrains his sharp edge. Dwelling in wealth and rank, he is not arrogant; placed in poverty and low station, he does not fawn. His advancing and withdrawing accord with proper measure; his action and stillness are both fitting. He constantly follows the Mandate of Heaven and does not deceive himself within. Such a one may be called an upright gentleman.

In the original text, “Chapter 55: The Upright Person” and its opening passage appear twice; their sense has been retained above in accordance with the original.