《鹖冠子》Vol. 2

“One” cannot be used to confine all things, so it cannot be further revered or elevated to a higher status. Cheng Jiu, a figure or spirit in ancient legend, attained “One,” and so all things depend on it and are governed by it. This is what is meant by saying, “When the lords and kings attain One, they become the standard for all under Heaven.”

Pangzi asked, “How does it govern all under Heaven?” He Guan Zi replied, “Cheng Jiu’s way of governing accords with the numinous patterns of Heaven and Earth and is upright and impartial. The numinous penetrates downward to investigate the roots of all things and extends upward to reach the bounds of Heaven and Earth. It can reach the depths below and roam freely to the heights above. It can restrain and gather in all things, yet is never satisfied with doing so. It circulates everywhere and illuminates all; it extends everywhere without an outside and shines everywhere without a boundary enclosing it. It returns and joins with Heaven and Earth as one, and so can make plans for all under Heaven.

“If one only looks ahead and never looks back, how can one share with the people in bearing good fortune, misfortune, and calamity? Only by discerning signs in advance and remaining clear-minded when events arise can one preserve the signs of a state’s survival or ruin and examine the grounds of security and danger.”

Pangzi asked, “What are the grounds of security and danger?” He Guan Zi replied, “If what lies below is unstable, what is above cannot be supported. How could one keep piling things on top when the foundation is about to collapse? Nor can the highest point stand firm without a foundation. This is how to judge the grounds of security and danger: if what lies below is in peril, it is already difficult to pile things on top of it—how much more so when there is something higher above? How could what is built this way avoid tilting and bending? ‘Stacked feet’ means standing unsteadily; ‘planted’ means standing firm; ‘crooked’ means bent.

“To understand human feelings, investigate the principles of things, and bring one’s judgment into accord with Heaven and Earth; then even when affairs of government are set aside, the state will not be endangered. Discern the lay of mountains and rivers so that actions and measures follow proper norms. Nurture all things without harming them, and treat the people like parents do, never allowing them to be trampled. Give and take in keeping with benevolence, and bring both instruction and practice of the Way to completion: instruction teaches people how to conduct themselves, while practice means cultivating oneself.”

The key lies in speech: a direct statement is called “yan,” while communication through questions, answers, and debate is called “yu.”

One must keep faith with agreements. A promise once made should not be casually withdrawn; taking back a commitment is called “yi.” The Book of Rites says, “Better to incur resentment by refusing to promise than to invite blame by making a promise.” Joy and anger, too, must not be excessive: when pleased, one’s rewards should not exceed what is appropriate; when angry, one’s punishments should not exceed their proper limits. The army is governed not by displays of force, but by establishing customs according to these principles. In this way, instruction and moral transformation also arise.

Pangzi said, “I would like to hear how, in matters of human relations and practical affairs, one can economize on the use of all things, bring people into accord with Heaven and Earth, and align them with the proper way of the spirits.”

Heguanzi said, “The governing way of the Chengjiu clan never departed from the principle of following the seasons and attending to the regular patterns of daily life. What is called ‘Heaven’s measures’ is a clear code that is easy to follow; what is called ‘the methods of the days’ is a concise procedure that is easy to carry out.”

For example, organizing five households into one wu and five townships into one county, and similar systems, belong to “Heaven’s measures.” Counting a household by the li and having the head of a dian reckon time by ten-day periods, and similar practices, belong to “the methods of the days.” These systems arose at the end of the Zhou dynasty, yet are said to have been used long before by the Chengjiu clan. This is like saying that one has only set out for Yue today, yet arrived there in the past. Thus, this book contains many tales attributed to ancient times.

Pangzi said, “Please explain ‘Heaven’s measures’ and ‘the methods of the days.’”

Heguanzi said, “When establishing settlements and governing the capital, first organize those familiar with administrative affairs into wu: five households make one wu, with one head appointed over it; ten wu make one li, with one official in charge; four li make one dian. The rest follows the same pattern.”

Here, “wu,” “li,” and “dian” are names for ancient local administrative units. A wu consisted of five households, and a li consisted of ten wu. The original text notes that “bian” should be read as “dian”; the same correction is made below.

Every five households formed a “group” (wu), overseen by a group head. Five groups formed a “ward” (li), with an official in charge. Five wards formed a “district” (bian), overseen by a district head. Ten districts formed a “community” (xiang), with a community instructor. Five communities formed a “county” (xian), governed by a magistrate. Ten counties formed a “commandery” (jun), guarded by a senior official. All these levels together were called the official administration.

After leaving the commandery office, the senior official was to inspect and put in order the counties under his jurisdiction. The magistrate inspected his community, the community instructor his district, the district head his ward, the ward official his group, and the group head each household. At every level, officials were to correct one another’s work, observe daily life, and supervise one another’s comings and goings. The word “si” means “to observe and investigate.”

Fathers were to discuss the duties of proper conduct; children, filial piety. Elders were to speak of good deeds, while the young showed respect. From morning until night, people were to influence and shape one another, making this their daily practice for cultivating a custom of kindness and filial devotion.

When someone moved house or left, households were to make a clear handover, and people were to inform one another. In this way, fugitives and illicit goods would have nowhere to hide or escape. This was a system of administration established in accordance with human nature and practical reason.

If anyone in a group, without cause, disobeyed an order from above, or failed to report changes in household circumstances—such as an increase or decrease in residents—to the ward official, this was called “disorder in the household.” The group head was to be held guilty of the same offense. “Same” means that the group head and the members of the group bore equal responsibility.

If anyone in a ward failed to respect elders, care for the young, observe proper conduct, or heed the instruction of parents and elder brothers, or if someone heard of an incident but failed to report it fully to the district head, this was called “disorder in the ward.” The person who led the wrongdoing was to be punished; the ward official also bore joint responsibility, and the official’s household was implicated as well. “Er” means assisting or sharing responsibility, similar to what is called collective liability today.

If a district head failed to inspect and instruct at the proper times, or heard of an incident but failed to report it fully to the community instructor, this was called “disorder in the district.” The district head was to be punished, and the head’s household also bore joint responsibility. Failure to inspect and instruct at the proper times at the community level was a similar dereliction of duty. “Instruction and admonition” means teaching and reprimanding.

When those receiving instruction hear the government’s orders but fail to report them fully to the county sefu (the county’s chief official), their conduct is called “disturbing the local community.” The xiangshi (official responsible for teaching and administering the local community) must be punished for this, and the punishment is extended to his family. If the county sefu fails to make timely rounds and instruct the people, or fails to report the cases he has received fully to the commandery, so that people of good conduct go unrecognized, this is called “obscuring the bright” (concealing good deeds). To witness wrongdoing and conceal it is called “collusion below” (shielding and indulging offenders). Such conduct is called “disrupting county administration.” The county sefu must be punished and may not be pardoned.

The text does not explicitly say that the family is to be punished as well because the penalty is already so severe that it extends to the family. From this we can understand that if a report to the commandery fails to bring good deeds to light, this is called “obscuring the bright”; if wrongdoing is seen but concealed, this is called “collusion below.” The county sefu who disrupts county administration must therefore be punished and may not be pardoned. The text also says that since the punishment extends even to the family, it stands to reason that the county sefu himself could be sentenced to death.

If a commandery official fails to make rounds and instruct the people, he may set aside a report even when its contents are true. If he overlooks something, or fails to report the matter fully and convey instructions to the zhuguo (an important Chu state office), this is called “disrupting commandery administration.” The commandery official must be punished and may not be pardoned. If the zhuguo neglects official affairs, preventing the people’s circumstances from reaching those above and the orders from above from reaching the people and being carried out, this is called “misgovernance” (qiu, “urgent”; here, government orders being mishandled). The zhuguo must be punished, and the penalty may extend to his whole family and the destruction of his clan.

If the lingyin (the highest executive official in the state of Chu, comparable to a prime minister) acts inappropriately for the times or harms the people, this is called “disturbing all under Heaven.” The lingyin is to be punished by being torn apart by chariots, as a warning to the people. The phrase “zhen the lingyin” has variant readings and may originally have been “execute the lingyin”; the commentary notes that some versions also read “execute” in place of “zhen.”

The commentary explains that the zhuguo was a high-ranking office in Chu, while the lingyin was equivalent to a prime minister. King Huai of Chu once sent the zhuguo Zhaoyang to lead an army against Qi. Chen Zhen asked Zhaoyang what reward Chu’s laws granted to someone who defeated the enemy and killed its general. Zhaoyang replied that the person could be promoted to zhuguo, receive land, and be granted a gui scepter—a jade object symbolizing noble rank. Chen Zhen then asked whether any office ranked higher. Zhaoyang answered that only the lingyin did. This illustrates the particular severity of the punishment imposed on the lingyin. The original says, “This is why punishments are restrained”: that is, to curb penalties and prevent their reckless abuse.

Heaven moves according to the four seasons, and Earth moves according to the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, and Water). The Son of Heaven holds fast to the One—the fundamental principle that governs all things—and occupies the center, participating in the workings between Heaven and Earth.

The five tones are used to bring things into harmony, the six pitch standards to set them right, and measures and numbers to keep records; punishments and virtuous governance are used to administer them. From the root to the smallest detail, things are arranged in the order of the Heavenly Stems, beginning with Jia and Yi. Heaven begins with “Origin,” and Earth with “New Moon.”

“Origin” speaks from the perspective of Qi, while “New Moon” speaks from the perspective of direction. The movements of the celestial bodies begin with “Dark Origin,” and the positioning of the Earth begins with “Dark New Moon.”

The division of the four seasons begins with the calendar. The ruler solemnly grants the seasonal calendar to the people, but the determination of the seasons itself begins with calendrical calculation.

Accordingly, household affairs are reckoned in “intervals.” An “interval” means scattered days. The Gongyang Commentary says that an “interval month” is one that happens to coincide with the current month—that is, its end.

The Bian official reckons in ten-day periods, while the Xiang official reckons by solar terms, such as the Awakening of Insects and Grain in Ear. The county sifu reckons by months, and the commandery official conducts affairs according to the arrival of the Qi divisions, such as the spring and autumn equinoxes and the summer and winter solstices. The Pillar of the State uses the six pitch standards as the basis.

Every five days, the li reports to the Bian, with an interval as its reporting period. Every ten days, the Bian reports to the Xiang, with a ten-day period as its reporting period. Every fifteen days, the Xiang reports to the county, with a solar term as its reporting period. Every thirty days, the county reports to the commandery, with a month as its reporting period. Every forty-five days, the commandery reports to the Pillar of the State, with a Qi division as its reporting period. Every sixty days, the Pillar of the State reports to the Son of Heaven, with a pitch standard as its reporting period. The Son of Heaven sends out envoys every seventy-two days. Another version reads, “sends envoys to the commandery.”

The numbers here follow the system in which the Five Phases take turns governing the days and seasons: in each year, each of the Five Phases is in command for seventy-two days.

Reward those who achieve merit and punish those who are unfit. This is done so that governance may accord with the movements of Heaven and Earth. Local conditions are reported once every sixty days, while the Son of Heaven’s beneficence is put into effect throughout the land once every seventy days. These are the numerical rules by which the Dao of Heaven moves in its winding course. Thus, the unworthy do not lose the lowly positions suited to them, and the worthy are not left without recognition of their talent and virtue.

This is the way of governing in harmony with Heaven and Earth. The people’s views are reported to the ruler every sixty days, and the ruler’s benefits are extended to all every seventy days, so that orders flow freely from top to bottom and back again. This is how to follow the seasons of Heaven and act with care. Thus, the unworthy do not lose their lowly place, and the able are not left without recognition; the ruler can grant blessings and emoluments in their proper order, and affairs can be well governed. Those who act beyond their proper bounds receive no advantage.

When the realm is at peace, even if someone secretly wishes to rebel, they will find no opportunity to do so.

Thus, no one can shake the strength of the state. Even when governance reaches abundance, it does not overflow and fall into disorder,

nor is anything added to make it spill over.

One holds the overall situation without showing one’s edge,

and does not diminish it until it grows weak. “Edge” here means something small or weak.

The Son of Heaven makes the Way clear, so that ministers dare not alter orders at will. When the eminent enlarge their fiefs or power, they may seek private gain, oppose the people’s wishes, and mislead the ruler.

If ministers alter orders at will and take the opportunity to exaggerate their praise, while the eminent continually expand their fiefs and influence, abuses will grow until they oppose the people’s wishes and mislead the ruler.

Such conduct should be punished by execution or beating, without pardon. If officials at any level teach and guide the people but are themselves lacking in virtue, and harm or oppress the people, they should be dismissed at once and never employed again. Those in corrupt offices who make a disorder of government, disobey orders, or break the law should also face harsher punishment, so that they do not spread their wrongdoing among the people.

Benefit the people without using the opportunity to pursue private gain; advance the work of government without seeking shortcuts or competing to claim credit.

Thus, people from all quarters come to submit, afraid only of arriving too late. In this way, one can govern the realm in accord with the Way of Heaven,

and keep the realm’s guiding principles in place. The Guanzi says, “When the Four Pillars are not upheld, the state perishes.” This means that if the state’s guiding principles and laws cannot be established, the state will perish.

When the territory is vast and virtuous governance shines clearly, the realm is peaceful and content, and the years bring abundant harvests. Officials in each region have their achievements assessed at the appointed times. If the highest local official’s performance falls short of that of their subordinates, the matter should be reported. After one or two such failures, the official may be demoted; after three, there is no pardon. In handling government affairs, officials must not exceed their authority; government documents and accounts must contain no errors; and transactions in public markets must be fair. When the people survive, they need not offer special thanks,

for the authorities did not deliberately bestow a favor to keep them alive;

and when someone dies, there is no need for resentment,

for the authorities did not deliberately cause their death.

People obtain what they desire, and the state suffers no upheaval. Those who have rendered meritorious service receive rewards, and the benefits of their virtue extend to three generations. If a father committed offenses that were not punished in time, then even if he is later given a disparaging posthumous title such as “You” or “Li”—titles bestowed on rulers for failings in life—his dutiful children and loving grandchildren cannot change it. Some editions write “establish” as “create.”

Matters are handled according to established principles from the outset, without deviation over time. Some people think that doing good in one’s community is not good enough; yet doing good in one’s community is better than doing good only at home. Those who do evil should be punished. Thus, those who do good can be recommended, and those who do evil can be punished. As a result, people dare not do good only for a time, but instead take lifelong goodness as their guiding principle. When everyday conduct is orderly, instruction can take root, and there is no wrongdoing in the world.

Once instruction has taken root and customs have formed, the young live in harmony with one another, and the old treat one another with affection. They share the same interests in outings and recreation, and pray together at sacrificial rites. They care for one another in matters of life and death, share one another’s anxieties when calamities strike, and live together in peace and contentment. Their daily affairs proceed in harmony; they respond to one another in mourning and celebration, and grieve together in tears. Their joys are enough to sustain one another, and when investigating hidden matters and plotting how to stop wrongdoing, they are also able to admonish one another. “□” means to investigate the underlying principles; “die” means to make plans in secret.

Within the army, soldiers unite in purpose, discipline one another, and protect each other on the march. At night, they fight in a way that inspires mutual trust; by day, they coordinate their efforts. When the army enters a territory, it forbids acts of violence. When it campaigns abroad, it punishes injustice and sets right what is contrary to the Dao. Thus, this army can campaign in every direction, yet no one dares oppose it.

So even when punishments are established, they are not lightly imposed. The army does not contend with others, yet its authority carries great weight. There is no need to array chariots and armor: under Heaven, it has no rival. Another text reads, “Under Heaven, there is no enemy to the Dao,” with much the same meaning.

When the Dao is lost, those of low status dare defy the honored; when righteousness is abandoned, the weak dare harm the strong. Chengjiu saw that ancient rulers who inherited the throne lost their achievements when they strayed from the Dao, and ruined their Virtue when they betrayed trust. He therefore established enduring institutions for later generations, to secure the throne and stabilize the ancestral rites.

If a state cannot be preserved, the throne cannot be secure; if the ancestral temple cannot be preserved, the rites cannot be maintained. Even if these institutions were presented to the spirits, they would have no grounds for doubt.

Adding to the compass, the tool for drawing circles, cannot make a circle rounder; adding to the square, the tool for drawing right angles, cannot make one more square. This means that the standards are already perfectly suited to their purpose: nothing is lacking and nothing is excessive, so nothing more can be added to the compass or the square. They can convince people, and even if submitted to the spirits for examination, they leave no room for doubt. The standards of a sage are like the human body: add to it, and the result is a superfluity; cut something away, and something is lost.

These standards should be demonstrated to descendants. They alone are worthy of being upheld and put into practice.

The term “to tend” means to nurture good fortune; neglect invites misfortune. At a sacrifice on an open altar, the sacrificial animal must be kept whole and intact. An animal of pure color is called a “xi”; one that is sound and unblemished is called a “quan.” The ritual must be conducted with dignity and solemnity, so that people’s minds become orderly and clear.

A mind that is pure and undisturbed by distracting thoughts is called “ordered”; an inner clarity free from muddle is called “illumination.” Order and illumination are the proper path and foremost requirements of sacrifice. Abundant and complete offerings are merely supplementary. The Rites says: beyond the ancestral temple lies the tao, the place of sacrifice; beyond the tao lies the altar; beyond the altar lies the shan, an open space used for sacrifice. Here, only the shan is mentioned: to say that sacrifice is performed at the shan allows us to infer the circumstances of sacrifices at the altar and at places of still higher rank.

Sacrificial offerings are made in every season, making sacrifice a great undertaking passed down through generations of the family and enabling the spirits to receive their offerings. The credentials used in ritual are kept in the ancestral temple, where they serve to make known and affirm the rules that the feudal lords are to observe. In this way, the foundation for preserving and transmitting ritual teachings to later generations can remain intact.

The ears and eyes are not drawn away by external things, and the mind does not wander. One’s purpose does not change upon encountering something unusual. Abandon selfish intentions and remove the harm one causes others. Only inner discernment is sufficient to recognize and understand how things are; only by firmly upholding one’s principles can one keep them from being lost. Through repeated renewal, one can continually bring forth fresh meaning.

Take the “Supreme Origin”—the fundamental principle to be honored—as the guiding framework. All share in its beneficent grace, respecting one another without change. At sacrifices, the ancestral tablets must be arranged according to the order of senior and junior branches; they must not be misplaced. Tang of Shang did not place Qi, the founder of the Shang lineage, before himself, and Kings Wen and Wu of Zhou did not place Bu Zuo, an ancestor of the Zhou lineage, before themselves. The state of Lu violated this principle when it moved Duke Xi’s spirit tablet to a position above Duke Min’s.

Once this principle has been established, those who come later cannot easily alter it. This is the highest expression of wisdom.

To reach the end of the guiding principles is to reach the utmost.

Pangzi said, “I would like to hear how one can renew things continuously without changing the original Dao.” Heguanzi replied, “The Chengjiu is the one who transmits the royal ax—the authority and laws by which a king governs the realm.” Pangzi asked, “What is the royal ax?” Heguanzi said, “The royal ax is not an implement suited only to one generation. It brings life to fulfillment through death and restrains killing through killing.”

This is an instruction in which inner laws regulate outward conduct. In later generations, people sometimes regarded the transmission from one generation to the next as vital: descendants inherit the spirit of their ancestors, as a sacred bird passes on its wings. By following tokens of authority and everyday rules, people dare not let their achievements fall into ruin.

Even those who are wise and highly skilled dare not recklessly violate the rules. Those who take responsibility for affairs and investigate the laws must hold to the right way and preserve their inner standards; even if they seem clumsy, they dare not abandon their principles. Those who are dull, even if they lack ability, dare not discard the rules they are bound to observe.

The old and the new follow one another, just as each of the four seasons displays its own effects. If the old laws are sealed up and kept fixed, they cannot operate smoothly.

If later generations enter the ancestral temple in a state of confusion, losing the order of succession from their ancestors, they are said to be “burned.” When disordered desires multiply, the heart loses its harmony. The Liezi says that one’s expression grows haggard and one’s complexion dark; the five senses and the emotions all become confused.

The ancestors’ mandate presses upon the generations that follow. “Mao” means to receive and bear; here, “generation” refers to the Virtue and achievements transmitted from one generation to the next.

If the transmission of ritual is not guided, those who carry out the customary rites cannot enter the ancestral temple. Here, “not guided” means not being ushered into the court, and “not admitted” means not being received into the ancestral temple. “Official in charge of the customary rites” refers to the official responsible for ritual affairs. The ancestral temple’s ritual system originally included an office for this role; during the reign of Emperor Jing of Han, its title was changed to Grand Minister of Ceremonies.

If the ancestral spirits receive no offerings or sacrifices, …

When sacrifices do not conform to ritual law, the spirits will not partake of the offerings. If a ruler of a house or state—a feudal lord or sovereign—arbitrarily fails to perform the sacrifices, Heaven will send down calamities, and the August Spirit will not accept them. If he sacrifices beyond the prescribed rules, he likewise offends Heaven; even if he performs the rites in the suburbs, the August Spirit will not partake of the offerings. The August Spirit mentioned here is the Supreme Lord of Vast Heaven.

This is the principle of neither changing the established institutions nor exceeding the rules already laid down. A ruler should therefore harbor no contrary intentions. If a ruler becomes benighted and confused, unable to carry on the right way, the resulting blame will be as described above. How, then, could a successor take past events as a warning, open a new chapter, and dare lightly to go his own way?

When the people’s hearts do not turn away, they can accord with the Way of Heaven; across ten thousand generations, they follow the same rule. In this way, those nearby grow fond of his goodness, while those far away admire his De, without end. His instruction does not weary people, and his governance does not decline. In time, he can bring the Four Seas together and make all under Heaven one family. Even distant peoples such as the Yi and Mo will come at the appointed times, dressed in court robes, to pay audience and present tribute. They will neither dare to increase their tribute on their own initiative nor omit the tribute they owe.

Those who come to submit hear the teaching and, through interpreters, grasp its meaning. Even in distant lands, no one can alter local customs and thereby shift this teaching. This is like what Mencius said: “We have heard of the people of Xia using their culture to transform the barbarians; we have never heard of the people of Xia being transformed by the barbarians.”

Thus, once this authority is established, none dare to offend it; however far the teaching spreads, it will not be abandoned. This is the principle of the “Inner Sovereign, Plain Emperor” (the supreme Way of Heaven and humanity). “Emperor” is a title of Heaven, “king” a title of human beings, and “sovereign” an honorific that combines the dignity of Heaven and humanity. To be called the “Inner Sovereign, Plain Emperor” is to have attained the highest realm. To occupy a lower position while following this Way is the Way of the “Mysterious Sage, Outer King”; to occupy a higher position is the principle of the “Inner Sovereign, Plain Emperor.” These are the essential teachings mastered by Cheng Jiu, through which he surpassed the ordinary.

What cannot be seized from age to age is the Way of “Profound Sainthood and Outer Kingship”: possessing deep and far-reaching sage wisdom within, and practicing the rule of a king without. By putting it into practice from the highest position, one follows the method of the “Plain Emperor and Inner Sovereign,” governing the realm through simplicity and Wuwei (non-action). Cheng Jiu relied on this as his authority and was able to rise beyond the ordinary.

This Way cannot be seized from age to age. Its achievements grow day by day and accumulate month after month, so it can endure as long as Heaven and Earth. This is a method of cultivation that accords with the spirits and gods; it may also be called a way of bringing ritual order into alignment. It does not depend on officials in charge of records and history, nor on the woman Cangjie who created writing. Thus, no one in later generations can say clearly what faults it has.

A shi is an official who oversees punishments and legal cases. In high antiquity, there were no written laws, yet governance was good. No officials were appointed to keep records, and no written contracts were devised, yet people attained profound virtue and harmony with one another. Those who follow the Dao were allowed to act for themselves without being made to understand the principles behind their actions; even if they understood, they could not express them fully in words. What, then, is there to criticize? The “Tradition” says, “When Cangjie created writing, ghosts wept at night and grain rained down from Heaven.” By that time, the simple, generous virtue of antiquity had already declined.

I have never heard of anyone who failed to investigate the principles of Dao and De (Virtue/Power) thoroughly, yet still managed to do things rightly. Pangzi said, “From what you say, are the principles of antiquity and the present the same?” He Guan Guan replied, “Antiquity became antiquity because I made it endure for a long time; the people became numerous because I brought them together. What is there to compare and distinguish? When something accords with the good Way, people gather around it and never forget it for ten thousand generations. When something goes against the Way, calamity falls upon those responsible. What is strange about that?”

Pangzi said, “Looking at the principles of antiquity from the standpoint of the present, boats and carts can be used across different regions; clothing has similar colors and styles; and people can understand one another’s speech. Even when borders are drawn and each keeps to its own territory, they cannot encroach upon one another. Yet rulers differ and leaders are not the same, so they cannot command one another. Their words clash and sound offensive, and they take up arms to attack one another. Even parents find it hard to manage a hundred children. Judging from what you have said, these things do not go against the orthodox Way of the Central Plains.”

“Li” means separation. It was said earlier that if the Four Seas—that is, all the lands under Heaven—were united as one family, this claim would seem far removed from the orthodox beliefs long held in the Central Plains.

Even among neighboring villages, families already differ in their holdings and ways of life. Some places are inhabited and others are not; settlements are not connected, but scattered here and there. So is it really plausible to say that Jiu Shi could unite everyone within the Four Seas as one family, bringing distant peoples such as the Yi and Mo, along with the various states, to pay court?

The point is that if conditions differ so greatly even from village to village, how much more must they differ across the distant Four Seas and the lands of the Yi and Mo?

The Heguanzi says: Tigers, wolves, crows, flies, ants, and three other kinds of creatures are all different, yet they gather together at the same time. Why? Because they want the same things. From this we can see that when people share common names and designations, the feelings and principles that govern human relations are also the same. What, then, would make such unity impossible?

The point is that people throughout the Four Seas share the same human feelings and principles, so it is not impossible to regard all under Heaven as one family.

Heaven moves according to fixed measures: no matter how small the number, it does not diminish; no matter how great, it does not increase. These measures stand in rows like trees in a forest and pile up like grain in a storehouse. Even when measured and laid out in dou and shi, they are counted without error.

“Wei” is also a unit for measuring grain. The Zuo Commentary says that a small quantity is called “wei,” and a large quantity “ji,” though it does not specify the amounts. The Book of Rites says that grain entering or leaving is measured in “three ji.”

Land is divided and the people settled according to the same principle. How could this increase or decrease the people, or parents and children? Rulers may differ and leaders may be different, but…

“How can one advance and withdraw, transform and change, moving in and out between Heaven and Earth? If one can set the root straight and make it whole, the myriad states will all return to a single standard. If Virtue is carried to its utmost and extended even to the lowliest, then, even with the means to govern the Four Seas, what need would there be to seal off the whole world?” Pangzi said, “If that were truly so, Yin and Yang would dissipate, and the three hundred and sixty days would each return to their original state. Heaven and Earth would seem small—what would there be to doubt?”

“Juju” describes something small or confined. The Mencius says, “Heaven is so high and the stars so distant, yet if one seeks out their patterns, one can sit and calculate the moment of the winter solstice a thousand years from now.”

The sage’s insight reaches far. Within, the sage can discern the principles governing the depth and shallowness, distance and proximity of things, so that even ghosts and spirits cannot peer into their mysteries. This describes the sage’s clear understanding of things and ability to penetrate what is hidden and subtle.

The sage’s workings and movements flow without pause or rest. The sages accord with Heaven and Earth; though concealed by them, they feel no shame. They endure to this day, conveying and putting their Way into practice through the sound of the gong.

The fact that Chengjiu lived for eighteen thousand years is indeed astonishing.

The Dao is the root of all things under Heaven. Gathered inward, it can be used to cultivate oneself; extended outward, it can be used to govern a state. Both bring longevity. Thus Guang Chengzi lived for twelve hundred years, and Chengjiu lived for eighteen thousand. The scripture says that Guang Chengzi may be called “Heaven,” and also that Chengjiu is “Heaven.” Their sublimity and mystery cannot be surpassed.

It does not matter where someone who has attained this Dao puts it to use, or which state puts it into practice. If it is practiced well, the whole world can benefit. Since using this Dao brings benefit, why distinguish who is using it or which state does so?

Chapter Ten: Taihong

“Taiyi” refers to the Great Emperor of Heaven, the exalted deity who governs all things and holds the principle by which the myriad beings return to unity.

Taiyi, the fundamental origin spoken of in Daoism, has nothing unlike itself. Thus it holds the great Dao that connects all things. A man of Chu lost his bow but did not forget that he was a man of Chu. Confucius said, “How regrettable—his understanding was not yet broad enough.”

It harmonizes the Qi of Taihong, the primordial vital energy at the birth of all things.

Taiyi contains primordial Qi, and so it harmonizes the Qi of Taihong. Hongmeng refers to primordial Qi, while Taihong is its beginning.

Taiyi gives each spirit its proper place. The phrase “Heaven is exalted and Earth is lowly” in the Nanhua, another name for the Zhuangzi, speaks of spirits each occupying their proper place.

Thus the Nine Sovereigns, rulers of ancient legend, received instruction from their teacher and investigated what all things came from. The teacher said this was called understanding the mysteries of the natural order of Heaven and Earth—that is, the principles inherent in Heaven and Earth. He also said it was called understanding the origin of Heaven and Earth.

Taiyi gave birth to Heaven and Earth. The teacher said this is the Dao: to understand that the Dao is constant and unchanging. To refrain from reckless action and not depart from the Dao is called “constancy.”

The teacher said this is the Sage. The Sage’s Dao accords with the spirits, and so it is called Dao and De. De means having attained the Dao and putting it into practice.

Investigate the earliest beginning until reaching the root. Xi means to open up; only once there is an initial point can there be a beginning. The Liezi says: “Taiyi” is the stage before Qi has appeared; “Taichu” is the beginning of Qi; “Taishi” is the beginning of form; and “Taisu” is the beginning of substance. Taiyi reaches the utmost limit and probably lies between Taiyi and Taisu. Thus it is said to open up the beginning of all things and fathom their earliest origin.

Taiyi penetrates the source from which all things emerge in ordered transformation. The ancients said, “The sovereign emerges from Zhen and brings things into order at Xun,” meaning that all things arise in the eastern position of Zhen and grow in orderly fashion in the southeastern position of Xun. Taiyi investigates their earliest beginnings and penetrates the source of their ordered transformation. Thus it can discern by looking north and face south, bringing itself into view among all things.

The institutions of the Nine Sovereigns differed, but none governed without taking Taiyi as its model; hence the name Taiyi. Taiyi is everywhere and connects with everything. Though the Nine Sovereigns had different institutions, they could not thereby depart from the one shared root.

The Supreme Sovereign—traditionally regarded as the leader of the Nine Sovereigns of high antiquity—asked the Supreme Unity, the highest deity revered in Daoism: “Of the three—Heaven, Earth, and human affairs—which matters most? In truth, wherever we look, all depends on the One. So although the Nine Sovereigns each have their own systems, they cannot act independently of one another and split into two.”

The Supreme Sovereign then asked: “Of the three—Heaven, Earth, and human affairs—which is most urgent?”

The Supreme Sovereign was probably the leader of the Nine Sovereigns.

The Supreme Unity replied: “Cherishing Jing (essence) and Qi (vital energy), nourishing Shen (spirit), and setting the heart-mind straight are ways of perceiving the Dao (the Way) of Heaven. Those whose hearts are upright can accord with the Dao of Heaven.

“Heaven is the foundation on which the spirits depend. Through pure, harmonious Qi, it brings forth the four seasons and shapes and nourishes what is formless, giving all things the source of their generation before they have yet taken visible shape. The phrase ‘carving before they sprout’ means that before things begin to emerge, the Dao of Heaven has already endowed them with the conditions for coming into being. ‘Carving’ refers to working wood, and ‘engraving’ to working metal. Here, both describe natural generation; they do not mean that anyone literally uses tools to carve all things.

“‘Heaven and Earth separate, and the patterns and forms of all things appear.’ The wording here differs among versions. The meaning is that Heaven’s Dao initiates the creation of all things, while Earth receives Heaven’s Dao and enables them to take shape; that is why the text puts it this way.

“Earth receives the transformations of Heaven’s Dao and has the capacity to bear all things and bring them stability. Now I will tell you the fundamental principle of the spirits: Heaven, Earth, and human affairs ultimately come together as one.

“Establishing the duties between ruler and minister takes what is fundamental and extends it into practical action, bringing Heaven and humanity into harmony and communication without any barrier between them. For this reason, the moral obligations between ruler and minister must first be established.

“Four principles are proposed: understanding the interpretation of Heaven’s Dao, understanding the origin of Heaven and Earth, understanding the constant principles of the Dao, and becoming a sage.

“Put these principles into practice wherever the winds from the eight directions reach. The Eight Winds include the Bright and Ample Wind from the east, the Opening and Closing Wind from the west, the Cool Wind from the southwest, and the Blending Wind from the northeast, among others.

“Then use the Six Directions to encompass and measure them—that is, to take in all things within Heaven and Earth and the four quarters. Arrange affairs according to the four seasons, and extend these principles beyond the Eight Extremities, the farthest reaches in the eight directions.”

Use the sun, moon, and stars to observe the myriad things; use punishments and benevolence to govern them; harmonize musical tones with the five notes and correct their pitches with the six pitch standards; then divide and mark the measures of all things by degrees and measures.

“Kui” means bringing things within the scope of the Six Directions; “xie” means extending their effects to the farthest reaches of the eight directions. Arrange affairs according to the four seasons, and extend their effects to the Eight Extremities.

Observe with the three luminaries, govern with punishments and benevolence, harmonize with the five notes, and correct pitches with the six standards. Divide by degrees and measures, mark with the five colors, and bring things to change through the two Qi of Yin and Yang. Regulate them with warmth and coolness, and bring all things to ripen or decline through cold and heat.

Determine direction by north and south—here, this refers to the sun’s position as it moves north and south. Calibrate time by the moon’s darkness and fullness, and rely on a clear calendar to receive and grasp the seasons of Heaven. Here, “calendar” means the system formed by the movements of the sun, moon, and stars.

In general, the movement of the four seasons between Heaven and Earth already encompasses all things, and the Dao is everywhere: here, it takes the form of what works here; there, it takes the form of what works there. Thus, the eight winds can spread, the Six Directions can encompass, the four seasons can arrange affairs, and the Eight Extremities can extend their influence. The three luminaries can observe, the five notes can harmonize, and the six pitch standards can correct. Punishments and benevolence can govern, degrees and measures can divide, the five colors can mark, and the two Qi of Yin and Yang can bring all things to change. North and south can determine direction, the moon’s dark and full phases can calibrate time, and a clear calendar can be used to grasp the seasons of Heaven. If so, is the Dao over there or here? In truth, it is everywhere. Thus Heaven, Earth, and human affairs are inherently connected and form a single whole.

The sun always rises and sets at its appointed times, and its movement north and south has fixed limits. These provide a basis for examining and verifying degrees and measures. This further explains “determining direction by north and south”: at the winter solstice, the sun is near the Ox star lodge; at the summer solstice, it is near the Eastern Well star lodge. The length of daylight has fixed measures.

Does the moon also follow regular patterns? Thus Heaven, Earth, and human affairs are inherently connected and form a single whole.

The sun always rises and sets at its appointed times, and its movement north and south has fixed limits. These provide a basis for examining and verifying degrees and measures. This further explains “determining direction by north and south”: at the winter solstice, the sun is near the Ox star lodge; at the summer solstice, it is near the Eastern Well star lodge. The length of daylight has fixed measures.

The moon regularly disappears and appears; its waxing and waning, advance and retreat, all follow established patterns that can be examined and verified. After a set number of days, the moon gradually becomes full; after another set number, it gradually wanes. Its increase and decrease follow fixed counts. This further explains “calibrating time by the moon’s darkness and fullness.”

The stars each follow a fixed order in their movements. They appear in turn without interfering with one another, showing the strict order of the celestial bodies’ positions and courses.

The text now takes up the discussion above and uses the calendar to explain these principles. The Five Positions (the five directions or regions of the heavens) and the Twenty-Eight Lunar Mansions each have their own fixed places and order.

Heaven reveals three seasons to establish a common standard; then nothing in the world fails to arrive in its proper time. Three seasons govern growth, while another governs killing and punishment. Each of the four seasons carries out its own task, and through them the principles governing the movement of Heaven and Earth are complete. When things grow, the three seasons do not act any later than the other; when punishment is carried out, that other season does not act any later than the three. This explains the way the three poles—Heaven, humanity, and the Dao—operate. It is difficult to say which one matters most.

At their beginnings, things are unsettled and have not yet taken shape. Once they appear, they are still subtle and mixed together, not yet firmly integrated into the ordinary order. Only when their forms have developed do they become upright and stable: “upright, upright” is the opposite of “tilted, tilted,” and “kingly, kingly” the opposite of “recorded, recorded.”

Things need not be deliberately diminished or increased. Small and young things need only develop in keeping with their own nature; there is no need to force them to mature too soon. At the same time, one should look upward to follow the teachings of one’s elders and look downward to accord with the common ways of the world.

Do not alter the nature one was born with, or lose one’s natural simplicity. Keep to what is natural, and the mind will be clear; disturb it by force, and it will become clouded. The human mind is like a basin of water: when still, it is level and clear; when a light breeze passes over it, the surface can no longer reflect a whole, distinct image.

The sacred person occupies the position of “receiving and supporting” (a revered place in Heaven; what lies before and behind is called “receiving,” and what lies to the left and right, “supporting”), and is aligned in De with the Divine Sovereign (the Emperor of Heaven). They use the celestial chart to set the directions in order, extending to the celestial pole (the center or utmost point of the Heavenly Way). Looking above and below, they make governance reach all four quarters. Then they align themselves with the sovereign, together embodying the Way of Heaven.

Align the directions according to the diagram, ultimately reaching “Nothing” or the “Celestial Pole,” the furthest point in the operation of the Dao of Heaven. Govern what is above and below, and make all four directions accessible. “Governing the two” means discerning above and below; “reaching the four” means extending throughout the four directions.

At times, pause and rest.

Respond to circumstances and answer their influence, so that nothing lies beyond your reach. As described above, one may be said to have reached the utmost. Yet when activity ceases, there is stillness; when speech ceases, there is silence. Can one always remain apart from this state of utter quiet?

Return to the four seasons, each attaching to its corresponding Qi, and thereby bring about the growth and transformation of all things.

“To attach” means to depend on. For example, the spirits of the Five Essences, who each rule one of the five directions and correspond to the Five Phases, each extend their Dao throughout their own direction. Taihao, the emperor of the East, governs spring; Shaohao, the emperor of the West, governs autumn. This is how they accord with the four seasons, attach to the Qi of each time, and bring about the myriad transformations of all things.

Coming and going, people keep their gaze raised toward the crossbar of the carriage.

People commonly look up toward the carriage crossbar as they pass one another, in keeping with customary etiquette. The Book of Rites says, “A ruler’s gaze is level; a minister’s gaze is level with the carriage crossbar.” It also says, “An object held by the Son of Heaven should be raised above the crossbar; what a ruler holds should be level with it; what a minister holds should be below it.” Some say that “crossbar” here means the beam of a balance. The balance’s height changes according to what is being weighed—but where, then, can the human mind be placed?

The five sense organs and six bodily systems, each with its own function, have their proper order. Without a carpenter’s square and an ink line to set the standards, all things would be indistinguishable in chaos.

Make curved things without a square and straight things without an ink line, and the state of undivided wholeness can be preserved. Thus it is said: remove the six pitch pipes, and stop Master Kuang’s ears; disperse the five colors, and cover Li Zhu’s eyes; destroy the square and ink line, and bind Craftsman Chui’s fingers. Only then will the people of the world return to simplicity.

A grand form cannot be fashioned, and so action has no fixed rules. When spirits contend with one another, they harm living beings.

This explains that undivided chaos cannot be split apart. When artificial contrivance arises, true nature vanishes. Once chaos is divided, spirits struggle with one another, and living beings lose their peace. The Zhuangzi, also known as the Southern Flower, says, “Above, this violates the light of the sun and moon; below, it depletes the vital energy of mountains and rivers.” Could this be what it means?

Secretly drawing in Qi, they … one another … at the time of the ancestors; after this, they can establish their achievements.

Human beings draw upon the harmonizing Qi of Yin-Yang to sustain their physical form, and through it they also adapt to the times.

First establish favorable conditions, then wait for things to arise on their own instead of seeking them out. Arrange things according to established rules; once they arrive, handle them by those same rules. This is the proper principle of Heaven and Earth. If rules are applied in a way that departs from the right path, profound De cannot be attained. Such conduct disrupts the seasons of Heaven and violates the nature of things, making it impossible to realize the hidden depths of the Dao of Heaven.

The highest sage can connect with Heaven and Earth. It is as though he firmly joins the six directions together, yet leaves no knot that can be undone. “Six” here means the Six Directions: Heaven, Earth, and the four quarters. The Laozi says, “One skilled at tying knots uses no cord; when the binding is done well, it cannot be undone.”

Thus, a person who has the Dao faces south to govern and protect the spirits. Those to the left and right, in front and behind, stand quietly around the center. This describes a ruler governing through Wuwei (non-action), while ministers each keep to their duties and do not act presumptuously.

He allows the sources and streams to flow freely, broad as the sea. Subtle Qi moves within and without, sometimes shifting off balance, sometimes running straight and true like a taut line. Within, he remains steady through the way of sustaining what holds things together; outwardly, he directs matters through guiding principles. He acts in accordance with reason and established rules, linking things from beginning to end so that different offices connect and become unified.

He establishes offices of discernment and brings them under the Five Standards—here, according to the commentator, the Five Tones.

Things in each of the four seasons respond to one another according to their kinds, while hidden Qi gives rise to many colors. The flourishing flowers and trees of spring and summer have their roots in the gestation of deep winter. The various sounds harmonize and remain in balance.

The east is the direction in which all things begin to grow and take their place.

“Zhi” means to establish or set something in place.

Thus, the East is tuned with the sound zhi. In the South, all things blossom and grow, their branches and leaves flourishing, so the sound yu is used. In the West, all things form their patterns and approach maturity, so the sound shang is used. In the North, all things are stored away and closed up, so the sound jue is used.

The sound zhi properly belongs to the South, yet here it is said to correspond to the East because the passage is speaking only of how to harmonize the Eastern pitch. It does not mean that zhi is assigned to the East. The same understanding applies when the other directions are discussed below.

The Center is where Taiyi, the Great One—the origin of the cosmos and the foundation that governs all things—resides. The North Pole lies at the center of Heaven and Earth, and its brightest point is the seat of Taiyi. All the spirits look up to it and heed its command, so the Center is tuned with the sound gong.

The Great Dao is the most fundamental principle. This passage also places it before Taiyi, presenting the Great Dao as preceding the Great One. The Book of Rites says, “Ritual must take Taiyi as its root. Taiyi divides into Heaven and Earth, then moves and transforms as Yin and Yang.”

The lines “Raising and bearing the spirits, splendor rising to Heaven” may mean that the spirits are borne aloft and their radiance rises to Heaven. Alternatively, they may mean that the splendor of all things is lifted up to Heaven. The Book of Rites also says, “Ritual must take Taiyi as its root. Taiyi divides into Heaven and Earth, then moves and transforms as Yin and Yang.” The lines that follow, “Raising and bearing the spirits, splendor rising to Heaven,” also have variant readings. One version has “splendor of things, Heaven above,” which may mean that the radiance of all things rises to Heaven. These lines may be the names of musical sections, such as “Imperial Splendor” and “Rising and Spreading.”

The arrangement of the Five Phases takes Huangzhong, the first of the twelve ancient pitch standards, as its basis. It begins in the East, symbolizing the flourishing of all things. Wood causes things to flourish, so it corresponds to the East and governs spring. Fire illuminates all things, so it corresponds to the South and governs summer. Metal cuts through all things, so it corresponds to the West and governs autumn. Water causes things to sink, so it corresponds to the North and governs winter. Earth is the vast foundation of the world, so it occupies the Center and safeguards the land. The people of the realm all come under its governance, and thus the Son of Heaven is established as the rightful ruler.

The passage says that Taiyi presides over the Way of Heaven and assigns responsibilities to the five directions, while the Son of Heaven governs the realm.

This means harmonizing the Qi of the Five Phases, such as the gentle quality of Wood Qi and the clear, austere quality of Metal Qi.

It means harmonizing the flavors associated with the Five Phases, such as the salty flavor of Water and the bitter flavor of Fire.

It means discerning the sounds corresponding to the Five Phases, such as the urgent sound of Fire and the solemn, lethal sound of Metal.

It means setting right the forms corresponding to the Five Phases, such as the round form of Wood and the square form of Earth.

By observing the past, we can understand the present. At times, new policies must be established so that existing undertakings can continue; at other times, they need to be revised. The “Near and Distant Transformations” chapter says, “Before the army has even set out, it can already be put in order.”

The principles governing the world are one and the same: what comes before us is no different from what existed in antiquity, and the past is not fundamentally different from the present. Step back and observe, and you will see that an undertaking may have practices worth continuing. The “Near and Distant Transformations” chapter also says, “Before the army has even set out, its forces can be rearranged.” The word “transformation” here means a shift between advancing and retreating.

If the positions of the beginning and end of Heaven and Earth were to change, the order on the ground would lose its regular course. Spring and summer come first, autumn and winter follow; each has its fixed direction and place in the sequence. How could they be reversed?

If people are deprived of what they love and desire, their hearts will be thrown into disorder. If the order in Heaven is disrupted and the order on the ground loses its regular course, how could people remain untroubled?

Once the patterns governing the heavens disappear, the order of the earth can no longer be known. Thus the patterns and principles of astronomy and geography reflect one another.

The patterns of things and their formal structure illuminate one another; colors and flavors can be measured against one another; ornament and brilliance can bring one another to completion. To take plain substance as a base and add ornament is called “pattern”; to take substance as a base and bring forth radiance is called “flowering.” “Pattern” is like the markings of water plants; “flowering” is like a tree in bloom.

I gather and bring together the many things, so I can use ornament and radiance to bring them to completion in relation to one another. Since the many things are brought together by me, I can also bring them under a single standard. Here, “request” means asking for an increase: since the many things take shape through me, their unification also depends on me. I can therefore request that one standard govern them all.

Govern by following what people love, and even those of different kinds can be brought into harmony. The Liezi says that tigers and humans are different by nature, yet a tiger may draw close to and care for the person who tends it. This is the result of following its nature.

Govern in a way that goes against what people love, and even those of the same kind will harm one another. The Zuo Tradition says, “Who can know that father and son will not become jackals and wolves?”

Therefore, sages honor Heaven as their father and revere Earth as their mother. They model themselves on Heaven and Earth, but do not insist that everyone’s words and actions be the same. They understand that by guiding a single person with care, they can bring harmony to all the people between Heaven and Earth.

The passage says that sages understand how to guide others through the heart of one person, and devote their attention to this task. Everyone between Heaven and Earth can benefit from harmony without being made alike. Thus, the feelings of one person are inherently connected to those of countless others.

“Harmony” has no visible form, yet people can sense its flavor. Harmony is the Dao: the Dao has no form, yet people can sense its effects.

Harmony that accords with the Dao is called “benevolence.”

What can accord with the Dao is called “righteousness.” Without accord with the Dao, righteousness has nothing to accommodate; without accord with righteousness, the Dao cannot accommodate it either.

Benevolence and righteousness are things people cherish in common. If everyone can cherish them together, then although laws and institutions have outward form, they can return inwardly to emptiness and stillness. “True emptiness” does not reject the myriad things; even in emptiness and stillness, it can contain them all.

Thus, the sage with wisdom can understand the subtle laws and harmonize the myriad things without form, so that nothing fails to comply. Heaven receives the essence of the Dao and becomes the source from which the spirits arise.

Earth receives the seasons from Heaven and uses them to bring forth the myriad things.

The holy person can examine matters closely and distinguish good from evil.

Deeply understand the principles of things and bring yourself into accord with them.

The sage abhors losing the power to control destiny. As the Laozi says, “Fish cannot leave the deep; sharp instruments must not be displayed to people.” The sage governs the principles of things with care and acts with caution.

The sage gathers in or releases the vital essence, thereby pacifying Earth and offering comfort to Heaven. This means that the sage both accords with the principles of things and can control and arrange their destinies. Even if the sage were to shatter all things, this would not count as a violation of the natural order. Even if done to pacify Earth and offer comfort to Heaven, it would be permissible. In antiquity, Laozi criticized the Five Emperors and went on to discuss the Three Sovereigns. In Western Regions Buddhism, too, there are accounts of rebuking Buddhas and patriarchs. Could these be similar to what is meant here?

Harmonize flavors, bring colors into vivid clarity, and set the tones in order, so as to bring stability to the affairs of Heaven, Earth, and the human realm. Once all this has been accomplished, the work is complete.

If the principles are as described above, what affairs of Heaven, Earth, or the human realm could lie beyond their scope?

Tai Lu, Chapter Eleven

Enter within and investigate the vastness of Taihong, the boundless cosmos; emerge and observe beyond the Shenming, the subtle, unseen forces; then establish and grasp the central principle of Taiyi, the source of the cosmos.

Here, zhong means “center”: a proper state that inclines neither inward nor outward.

Use this as the standard by which to measure all things.

That is, investigate the depths of Taihong, look outward beyond the Shenming, establish and grasp the central principle of Taiyi, and then use it as the basis by which all things take their model and are measured.

Heaven has nine vast reaches,

The Shiyi Ji says, “Seen from afar, the Three Pots Mountains look like a heap of rice; the Eight Vast Reaches look like a belt encircling them.” Some explain that the “Eight Vast Reaches” means the eight directions, with “vast” referring to their immensity. Thus, the “Nine Vast Reaches” probably refers to the immense expanse of Heaven and Earth in nine directions.

Earth has nine regions,

These are the Nine Provinces described by Zou Yan, and are probably not the Nine Provinces demarcated by Yu the Great.

The Way of Taiyi was transmitted by the Nine Sovereigns. This teaching was not completed until the end of the Taishi era.

The principle of Taiyi (the origin of all things and the supreme Dao) is profoundly subtle. The upper section therefore says that the Nine Sovereigns (ancient rulers) received instruction from their teachers and sought to learn what all things arise from. Here it adds that their teachers once asked the Great Beginning (the origin of Heaven, Earth, and all things) about the way to attain the Dao. It seems that no one but the Great Beginning could understand this principle. The word “yielding” here means following the request of someone below and asking for instruction.

Seeing only the surface of things is not enough to understand them fully; one must also examine their roots beyond the principles of names and things. Here we have only a general sense of how things appear. We must go further and grasp where they ultimately return. Thus the next passage says:

Model yourself on what has no form, and discern the principle that has no taste, so as to grasp the point where the principles of names and things finally converge. “Model” means a standard or rule, while “taste” refers to the true flavor of things. The body depends on taste for nourishment.

Taste is the root of Qi. When Qi is insufficient, Jing nourishes it; when Jing is insufficient, taste nourishes it. Some versions have “clear subtlety” in place of “Jing,” while others read “what it governs” in place of “the beginning of Heaven and Earth.” These matters are discussed after form and taste because grasping the point where the principles of names and things converge also requires attention to the relationships among form, Qi, Jing, and taste.

Seeing only one piece of meat, one praises the finest flavors under Heaven. “Slice” means a piece of meat.

To take the spirit as one’s name and the Great Dao as one’s root is the proper way. Acting appropriately and bringing one’s intentions into accord, upholding right principles and taking benevolence as one’s foundation, and accumulating the results of acting in accord with the Dao—these are what make a former sage. Practicing a particular Dao brings a corresponding reputation; carrying out a particular task brings a corresponding achievement.

This passage describes rule through benevolence and righteousness: those who practice the Dao of benevolence and righteousness earn a reputation, and those who accomplish deeds of benevolence and righteousness gain merit. But sages do not seek reputation, and spiritual beings do not seek merit. Riding along with Dao and De, they roam freely above all things. How could they be confined to the bounds of benevolence and righteousness? Thus the next passage says:

Therefore, Heaven and Earth are formed from primordial Qi (the Qi at the beginning of all things), and all things depend on Heaven and Earth to come into being.

Primordial Qi is the Great Void. The Great Void contains Heaven and Earth, and Heaven and Earth contain all things. Heaven therefore does not deliberately perform feats of merit, but moves in accordance with the Dao and De, operating freely above all things. How could it be confined within the bounds of benevolence and righteousness? The text therefore continues:

Heaven and Earth are generated by primordial Qi (some editions read “no Qi”); all things depend on Heaven and Earth for their existence.

This passage says that primordial Qi is the Great Void. The Great Void contains Heaven and Earth, and Heaven and Earth contain all things; hence this wording.

The sage follows the Dao and De (some editions read “upholds the Dao and De”), as described in the Nanhua Jing, another name for the Zhuangzi: untroubled by praise or blame, appearing like a dragon or withdrawing like a snake, changing with the times.

This is done in order to investigate the principles of things.

Another interpretation holds that all things depend on the sage, who upholds the Dao and De in order to set himself aright and investigate the principles of Heaven, Earth, and all things.

Calling Heaven the supreme August Heaven means that the ancient sages drew on Heaven’s authority to establish policies and issue commands.

The proclamations of Yao and Shun, and of the Xia, Shang, and Zhou dynasties, often invoked Heaven’s authority to establish policies. But how could the results of good governance depend on Heaven? The key lies in people themselves. King Zhou of Shang acted in the name of the Supreme Ruler, yet this did nothing to save his misrule. The text therefore continues:

The results of governance depend on oneself. If one brings about what is lofty, the result will be lofty; if one brings about what is base, the result will be base. This means that the quality of governance depends on what one brings about.

The rise and decline of governance depend entirely on one’s own actions. If one remains confined to the level of Guan Zhong and Yan Ying, one cannot bring about achievements as lofty as those of Yao and Shun.

What has taken shape and cannot be changed is the established system. What has not left oneself, yet appears in external things, is “Xia’ou” (the story of taming gulls, which illustrates how changes within the mind affect external things).

The story goes that when a man’s mind stirred, the gulls began to fly about and would not settle. This shows that although an event takes place outside oneself, its source has not left oneself.

Establishing the forms of things and setting standards for conduct so that they remain unchanged for all ages is the principle by which Heaven and Earth each keep to their proper place. Distinguishing things and creating names so that their order is clear and their differences apparent are the standards the sage uses to assess and bring order to all things.

Here, “qi” means to measure and assess.

Model oneself on Heaven while taking one’s stand on Earth; set aside rigid squareness and choose flexible roundness. “Square” means clear-minded but prone to obstruction, while “round” means adaptable and unimpeded.

The role of the holy person in discernment is to take images from things and explain their names. Using images to compare things is called “image”; discussing and explaining things is called “exposition.”

When a task is accomplished and a work completed, concealment and manifestation always depend on one another. The holy person’s teaching neither fully conforms to things nor departs from them. What is most subtle may appear rather crude; the highest and most distant realm may at times take shape in a lowly place. How could the hidden and the manifest be separated?

This is the teaching of the holy person.

Heaven has its place, Earth has its place, and the sage participates between them, bringing the two into harmony. Through this harmonizing, he takes what is on the other side as a mirror to examine what is on this side, then uses the principles of this side to teach the other. In this way, the principles of all under Heaven can be understood. Thereafter, the myriad things each flourish according to their own nature. Hence the text below says:

Water flows and branches out; from this, spirit arises. “Flowing and branching” refers to water. Heaven, the First, gives birth to water. Among the myriad things, water corresponds to vital essence. When vital essence gathers, spirit arises with it.

Fire stirs and rises; from this, illumination arises. “Stirring and ascending” refers to fire. Earth, the Second, gives birth to fire. Among the myriad things, fire corresponds to spirit. When the spirit-energy comes together, awareness arises with it.

Once things are clearly seen, their forms become manifest; once forms take shape, their functions are also established. Thus, “pattern” distinguishes things, while “principle” organizes them. Heaven and Earth perform the same work, yet occupy different realms: Heaven is above, Earth below.

Heaven forms its round shape without relying on a compass; this is Heaven’s “pattern.” Earth forms its square shape without relying on a carpenter’s square; this is Earth’s “principle.” Heaven moves in accordance with “pattern,” while Earth generates the myriad things in accordance with “principle.” Both are laws of the divine and numinous.

Such, in broad outline, are the laws of the divine and numinous.

The holy person is more exalted than Heaven and Earth. Born after them, he can know their beginnings; he perishes before them, yet can know their ends. This is because the Dao contains Heaven and Earth, enabling him to know their measure. His Dao extends beyond Heaven and Earth, so wisdom can apprehend them and right principle can assess them.

Because the heart is solemn, it can bring things into change and keep them still; it can also harmonize Yin-Yang and alter cold and heat.

Thought is keen and clear, so it can make decisions. Shen (spirit) is the most precious and important of all things. Everything beyond Shen is merely its branches, leaves, and residual traces.

Inner sageliness—the inward virtue of clarity—is the source of Shen. Outer kingship—the achievement of governing the world—is only what Shen brings forth as branches, leaves, and residual traces. Thus inner sageliness is supremely noble; everything depends on it for direction and governance. To govern in this way is to preserve Jing (essence) and Qi (vital energy), stir Shen into activity, and make Qi single-minded.

Jing should be conserved, Shen cultivated, and Qi made single-minded; hence this phrasing. “Raising up” means to make outstanding and to stir into activity.

When what is deep is held within, it does not leak away; when things are simple, quiet, and undisturbed, they do not become confused. When the heart is untroubled, Shen becomes clear and perceptive. But if one uses discernment too intensely, it grows dim; if one exhausts one’s strength, Jing and Qi wither.

Thus, one who enables worthy and capable people to make full use of their abilities brings clarity to Shen. By practicing Wuwei (non-action), one can govern the world and still have strength to spare. All kinds of change follow, and the endings and beginnings of things can be guided in accordance with their course. Here, “ease” means being composed and unhurried, at leisure and content.

Shenming (spiritual illumination) arises when subtle Qi accumulates continuously until it is pure and complete, without admixture. The Way of the sage and the wondrous methods are the essential principles and ultimate fulfillment of the art of governing. When these principles are brought together, the final state lies here.

To direct all affairs through the institutions of the sovereign and bring about change through the wondrous Way is the ideal of governance. It has reached its utmost; nothing can be added to it.

Therefore, the one who teaches and instructs is the ruler, and the one who learns is the minister. The teacher occupies the higher position, the learner the lower: the wisest becomes the Son of Heaven, the next wisest becomes one of the Three Dukes, and those below them become feudal lords. The relationship between teaching and learning follows the same pattern.

Those of noble status are honored as feudal lords.

A new dynasty may replace an old one, and a ruler of a different surname may ascend the throne without inheriting the status of the ancestors or the kingship prescribed by ritual texts. This is done in the hope that all under Heaven may find common security in good governance.

This was the way Yao passed the throne to Shun, and Shun passed it to Yu.

The changes of Heaven, Earth, and the myriad things are first grasped in the mind of the sage, and only then brought about in the affairs of the world. Birth and death, coming forth and withdrawing, are all understood in the sage’s mind. Thus, whatever changes may occur, the sage accords with the growth of things and does them no harm.

The sage’s mind has no fixed laws imposed from outside. Yet it can bring Qi (vital energy) and Shen (spirit) into harmony, and bring Shen into harmony with “nothingness”—a state unbound by form or trace. Heaven and Earth are vast, and the myriad things are countless, yet their changes, birth and death, coming forth and withdrawing can all be grasped in the sage’s mind. How, then, could any affair fail to be accomplished, or any thing fail to be properly cared for?

The sage regulates the opening and closing of the four seasons, guides the movement of Yin-Yang, and dispels resentment, bringing things into clarity.

People under Heaven take this to have happened naturally, and the common people say, “It simply happened of itself.” This is what sets the numinous sage apart from ordinary people.

Zigong said, “Zhongni (Confucius) is like Heaven: there is no way to climb up to him step by step.”

The sage understands the source, and the brilliance of his spirit is manifest. His effects can be verified, though he cannot be seen directly. He has feelings and an inborn nature, yet acts through Wuwei (non-action), leaving no trace.

Thus, what sets him apart from ordinary people can still be seen, while the distance to the utterly transcendent is not far.

The Nanhua Jing (another name for the Zhuangzi) says: Someone traveled south to Ying, the capital of Chu, then looked north but could not see Mount Ming. Why? Because the mountain was too far away. The sage has feelings and an inborn nature, yet acts through Wuwei without leaving a trace. What sets him apart from ordinary people can still be seen, but the realm beyond the ordinary is hard to discern.

Shen can respond to all kinds of things because it can comprehend what they have in common. Hence the saying that Shen is like the cords of a crown, firmly tied to hold the whole together so that it does not come apart and fall.

“Heng” refers to the cords of a crown and is used here as a metaphor. “Binding fast” conveys that Shen holds things closely together, preventing the danger of collapse and falling.

Things of every kind can come into being and change, while the use of a single principle never runs out. Though change takes countless forms, all can be understood through the one.

To say that Zhongni possessed Shen means that he could bring things of every size to fulfillment according to their size. From mountains, rivers, birds, and beasts to grasses and trees, he could handle everything with ease and room to spare.

A shadow moves with its shape, and an echo arises with a sound, each responding clearly. Shape and sound can therefore be called the teachers of Heaven and Earth: the myriad things appear and respond through them, which is why they are called “teachers.”

The effects of the four seasons’ cycles cannot be accomplished by Yin and Yang acting separately. A sage ruler can grasp both root and branch, and so clearly understand the beginnings and endings of things.

The ruler assists and harmonizes Yin and Yang, guiding the four seasons in their course so that each fulfills its work from beginning to end.

In this way, natural changes such as the Eight Winds, blowing from the eight directions, and the Three Lights—the sun, moon, and stars—can unfold smoothly. A sage ruler does not lose sight of root and branch, and so clearly understands the beginning and end of things.

The ruler assists and harmonizes Yin and Yang, guiding the four seasons in their course so that each fulfills its work from beginning to end.

If the Eight Winds and Three Lights fall into disorder and the climate becomes abnormal, people will ask a sage to take charge of governing. The word “du” means to oversee and bring things under one’s direction. Here, it means that people rely on the sage and ask him to govern affairs when Yin and Yang are out of balance. Yet this is also where great disorder begins. This is why Gengsang Chu, a Daoist figure, disagreed with some of Lao Dan’s teachings. The text therefore continues:

When spiritual power, authority, and discernment are misused, the brightness of the heavens is affected. What Lao Dan calls this is “defying the brightness of the sun and moon above.”

When pace and urgency lose their proper measure, the Qi between Heaven and Earth is disturbed. What Lao Dan calls this is “undermining the workings of the four seasons in the middle,” that is, obstructing the seasons’ course.

Killing, wounding, destruction, and calamity then descend upon the Earth. Another version reads “zhengshang,” which likewise refers to calamities reaching the Earth. What Lao Dan calls this is “diminishing the vital essence of mountains and rivers below,” damaging their Jing.

The charge borne by the Yin and Yang of Heaven and Earth can be seen in the signs that emerge in nature. Their effects, as described above, have also become clear. Does this mean that the governance of a sage is unnecessary? No. The text therefore continues:

Heaven is where the various breaths gather. Rainbows, frost and dew, wind and rain are all phenomena formed in the sky when Qi accumulates.

Earth is where the inherent patterns of things take concrete form. The Dao of Heaven is flexible and open, not confined to fixed methods; the Dao of Earth, by contrast, displays definite patterns.

Thus the sage takes Heaven as his model in governing, drawing his way continually from the Dao of Heaven, then bringing the results of governance together and giving them concrete form on Earth.

The Heavenly Dao does not allow all things to become utterly fixed; this is its defining quality. The Earthly Dao, by contrast, calls for things to be put to use, giving them concrete form.

Thus the sage takes Heaven as his model, and the Way he follows often proceeds from the Heavenly Dao. In governing all things, he also puts his actions into practice through the Earthly Dao, while keeping his fundamental principles free from its constraints.

Heaven and Earth turn in opposition, like Yin and Yang. The sage uses laws and moral principles to regulate dryness and dampness, adapting to the circumstances of the time. When Yin energy is strong, he regulates dryness according to law and principle; when Yang energy is strong, he regulates dampness. The commentator Du Wan explains: if the spirit-energy is too damp, Heaven cannot generate water; if the physical body is too dry, Earth cannot generate fire.

When a sage is present, the realm is well governed; when no sage is present, it falls into disorder. This is because Heaven has lost its order and Earth its way of governing. From this we can understand that the sage embodies the spirit and principles handed down by the former kings. A ruler who “commands the myriad spirits” grasps the Great Dao through lofty virtue; such a person is the leader of all things.

Even among rulers who inherit the throne from generation to generation, some may lack virtue yet remain on the throne and bear the title of king without being immediately overthrown. This is because they can still accept the guidance of people who possess the Dao. If they cannot do so and still hope to preserve their ancestral temples and protect their state, such a thing has never happened.

This concludes the middle volume of the He Guan Zi.

The remaining text consists of collation notes, which record differences among editions such as the Daozang and Siku editions, along with the editors’ decisions about adding, changing, or interpreting characters based on the meaning of the passage. For example, the character zao was corrected from shi on contextual grounds, while some editions have shi where others have jian. Words and phrases missing from some editions were supplied from other editions. The notes also point out that certain characters may be misplaced or erroneous, though in some cases the text has been left unchanged for now.

The Dao has its own established standards and patterns. This allows people to communicate with the spirits and to bring about signs of their responses. The Book of Changes says, “The Eight Trigrams were first devised to connect with the Virtue of the spirits.”

All things constrain one another, so people can make use of both water and fire. East, west, south, and north each have their own direction; in this way, the shapes and names of things can be identified. Directions come first, and only then do shapes and names become clear.

The Five Emperors came first and the Three Kings followed. In high antiquity, rule through De had already declined, and the arts of war and strategic ingenuity arose in its wake. The Yellow Emperor fought many battles, though the accounts do not agree on their exact number. In broad terms, he is said to have fought the Flame Emperor three times on the plains of Banquan and Chiyou seventy-two times on the plains of Zhuolu. Some versions, however, hold that the original text did not include the words “seventy-two.”

As for “Yao attacked You Tang,” an old account says that Yao assisted Emperor Zhi, was enfeoffed in Tang, and ascended to the throne at the age of twenty. The source for the statement here that Yao attacked You Tang is unknown; some versions also write “replaced” instead of “attacked.”

When Yu attacked the Youmiao, Heaven and Earth still followed their established ways: Heaven did not alter its regular course, Earth did not change its laws, the Qi of Yin-Yang remained in order, life and death each kept their proper place, the sun, moon, and stars continued on their usual paths, and the spirits did not change their laws. Those skilled in warfare should act in this way, following the constant patterns of Heaven and Earth.

Gain and loss cannot both flourish at once; success and failure cannot both prevail at once. The principle behind the distinction between the worthy and the unworthy has been the same from ancient times to the present. The exemplary person does not grow slack; the perfected person—one who has succeeded in cultivation of the Dao—does not let up. First comes slackness, then laxity, and then idleness. Thus the exemplary person speaks of “falling away,” while the perfected person speaks of “slacking off.” The Book of Rites says, “For three days he did not slacken; for three months he did not grow lax.”

Do not assume that someone has no talent simply because they have long been poor and low in status. Yi Yin once worked in Jian as a tavern hand, looking after the wine shop and serving its customers; the Grand Duke also made his living by slaughtering cattle. According to an old account, the Grand Duke was poor in his youth and sold fermented drinks. In cold weather he sold wine; in hot weather he slaughtered cattle and sold the meat, but it spoiled quickly.

Guan Zhong sometimes made leather goods and sometimes wove objects from straw; Baili Xi had once been a government slave.

Baili Xi was from the state of Yu. After Yu fell, the ruler of Jin humiliated him by sending him as part of Lady Mu Ji’s dowry when she married Duke Mu of Qin. Later, in Qin, he worked for someone tending cattle. Was this what is meant by a “government slave”? In his early years, Jiang Taigong was poor. He once sold a fermented drink when the weather turned cold, and at another time slaughtered oxen and sold their meat, only for it to spoil in the heat.

Guan Zhong sometimes made leather goods and sometimes wove objects from straw; Baili Xi had once been a government slave.

Baili Xi was from the state of Yu. After Yu fell, the ruler of Jin humiliated him by sending him as part of Lady Mu Ji’s dowry. Later, he worked for someone in Qin tending cattle. Was this what is meant by a “government slave”?

When the world was in disorder, those who were elevated to guide the people were all skilled at making plans and adapting to Heaven and Earth. The sun and moon move without ceasing, thereby bringing about the four seasons. Only by studying carefully the patterns and subtle principles of the myriad things can people come to understand them.

The Nanhua Jing (Classic of the Southern Florescence, that is, the Zhuangzi) says: “Once an iron vessel has been cast, those who see it marvel, as if they had encountered ghosts and spirits.” Could this be what it means?

Who says that skill can be acquired from nothing?

The point is that ability cannot be possessed without learning.

First master how things are used; then understand where they come from.

What is said to begin with understanding the causes of things, to develop by following their nature, and to reach completion through Heaven’s mandate.

With land only seventy li square, Tang of Shang drove out Jie of Xia; with land only a hundred li square, King Wu of Zhou attacked Zhou of Shang. They understood the importance of grasping the root, and so their plans were not complicated.

Grasp the root, and things become simple.

Methods change in countless ways and take many winding paths. Yet the various approaches cross and intertwine, and at their root they are connected.

Bring them together, and their common root can be found. Thus, they are not truly different from one another.

With land only a hundred li square, King Wu of Zhou attacked Zhou of Shang. He understood the importance of grasping the root, and so his plans were not complicated.

Grasp the root, and things become simple.

Methods change in countless ways and take many winding paths. Yet the various approaches cross and intertwine, and at their root they are connected.

Bring them together, and their common root can be found. Thus, they are not truly different from one another.

There is not just one way to win.

How could there be only one means of achieving victory?

The wise make thorough plans,

and so they are sure to win in battle and to take what they attack.

A worthy general does not defy the moment or give up an advantage. A brave soldier does not fear death, nor is he willing to let his reputation be ruined. If one wishes to surpass the beautiful heights of supreme virtue, one’s thoughts cannot be the same as those of ordinary people.

Follow convention blindly, and you will be bound by it. To surpass the beautiful heights of supreme virtue is difficult.

If you wish to test the loftiness of the Nine Heavens—the nine layers of heaven as conceived in antiquity—your actions cannot follow only the paths already laid out.

How could you reach them merely by asking for directions? The names and positions of the Nine Heavens are described in detail in the Honglie Zhenjing (The True Classic of the Grand Light, also known as the Huainan Honglie). For example, the south is called Vermilion Heaven, the north Mysterious Heaven, and the center Balanced Heaven.

So a loyal minister should not concern himself only with his own safety while disregarding the ruler’s. If a loyal minister is forced into isolation, with no one to support him, and entrusts his life to a general, the state will fall into difficulty. If it fights in the open country, its resources will be exhausted and its people worn down; if it defends itself within the city, its food may run out, until people are reduced to “exchanging children to eat and splitting bones for firewood.”

When plans are misguided, the state grows weak and the ruler is driven into difficulty, becoming a laughingstock in the world. How can those who direct the affairs of state fail to consider matters carefully? At times, plans may go too far; at other times, they must first be tried. It is wrong to proceed with scant consideration when testing a plan, just as it is wrong to make plans for every situation in excessive detail. What matters in action is finding the proper measure, and this must be examined with care.

Cao Mo, also known as Caozi, was a general of Lu who led its armies against Qi three times. As a result, Lu lost a thousand li of territory. Had Cao Mo ignored the consequences and, thinking only of the disgrace of defeat, drawn his sword and killed himself, he would have been no more than a captured general of a defeated army. Cao Mo understood that being defeated and captured did not count as bravery; weakening his state and ruining its reputation did not count as wisdom; and dying while putting his ruler in danger did not count as loyalty. The dead cannot prolong another person’s life, so he withdrew and discussed a plan with the ruler of Lu.

Later, when Duke Huan of Qi gathered the feudal lords, Cao Mo took a sword and seized him at the sacrificial altar. Calm in expression and steady in speech, he compelled Qi to return the territory Lu had lost in its three defeats. The event shook the world and alarmed the neighboring states, while Cao Mo’s name was handed down to later generations. Someone who acts rashly over a moment’s slight humiliation cannot accomplish great things. Cao Mo therefore set aside anger and resentment and achieved a lasting enterprise; he gave up a moment’s pride and left behind a reputation that would endure for generations. Cao Mo knew how to seize the right moment, and the ruler of Lu knew how to recognize talent.

Ju Xin, a general of Yan, led its army against Zhao. After his defeat, he killed himself, and Yan consequently lost five cities. To kill oneself and thereby invite disaster, to die while placing one’s ruler in danger, and to let both one’s reputation and one’s achievements come to nothing: this is called a failure of judgment. Such a plan cannot save a state.

The ruler of Yan took a plan with no secure fallback as evidence of knowing how to appoint people well. Ju Xin served as a general of Yan and fought against Zhao. When his army was defeated, Ju Xin killed himself, and Yan lost five cities as a result. He brought disaster upon himself, died, and left his ruler in danger; his reputation and achievements were destroyed as well. This is called “failure.” It was not a plan capable of rescuing others.

This was not a setback that those lacking ability happened to suffer.

The point is that worthy people took defending a city and facing death very seriously. Even so, Cao Mo’s seizure of Duke Huan of Qi happened to coincide with Guan Zhong’s presence. Guan Zhong would not damage Qi’s standing among the feudal lords merely to secure a small victory in the moment, and so Cao Mo was able to make a name for himself. As for Li Ling, he surrendered to the Xiongnu hoping to repay the Han, but in the end his wife and mother were executed because of him, and people throughout Longxi regarded the affair as shameful. How, then, can Cao Mo’s use of force to coerce the other side be treated as a general rule? What is more, that was a method of statecraft employed by a hegemon. A ruler with the Virtue of a king, whose integrity was widely known, would never have returned Lu’s territory to Qi only to execute Cao Mo. In that light, what is there about Cao Mo’s conduct to praise?

Those who have attained the Dao work to avoid great faults; ordinary people concern themselves only with pursuing small acts of goodness. Small good deeds, accumulated without end, can instead foster many evil thoughts. Those who single-mindedly crave wrongdoing cannot accumulate De (Virtue/Power). When De cannot be accumulated, calamities multiply. As calamities increase, the mind and spirit grow clouded, and judgment is lost. When desires are excessive, one’s understanding becomes narrow; a narrow understanding brings many worries, and too many worries cloud the mind and spirit until judgment is lost. Greed and evil thoughts obscure a person’s perception. Forcing oneself to do what one cannot do leads to punishment and disgrace. “Lu” means to be disgraced.

This means that Ju Xin was able to put an end to defeat by giving his life, while the King of Yan did not know how to recognize people.

In the past, those skilled in warfare coordinated their movements when they deployed their troops. They arranged their formations according to the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, and Water) and conducted battle according to the five musical notes—Gong, Shang, Jue, Zhi, and Yu. They aligned themselves with the pivotal principles of the Way of Heaven and faced in the same direction as the spirits. They followed the distinct categories and generative patterns of the myriad things, applying a single principle to meet endless changes. The clear-sighted took this as their model, practiced subtle principles, and advanced or withdrew at the proper time. They modeled themselves on the movements of Heaven and Earth, letting the real and the empty act upon one another.

The Wu army fled southeast, so Zhou Yafu sent troops to guard the northwest. It seems he understood this principle.

When the enemy is about to collapse, attack with the speed of a loosed arrow and the force of thunder. Strike suddenly, as if crashing into empty space, with a sound as great as a wall collapsing. “Yin” is the sound a wall makes as it falls.

Action should be coordinated and swift. The Sunzi Bingfa (The Art of War) says, “In action, seize the critical point; keep the rhythm short and sharp.”

In warfare, do not move slowly or sluggishly. Avoid places where we are certain to be defeated and move toward places that favor us. Seize the opportune moment and, riding the momentum, attack an enemy we can defeat. Then the soldiers will not suffer defeat, and the army will not fall into difficulty. Those who understand this principle can deploy troops as easily as directing ordinary people in a marketplace, advancing with the current of the water and moving freely in every direction alongside the Dao (the Way).

Every advance and retreat, attack and defense, must be properly timed. The army changes with the circumstances like breathing: at times it holds steady, at others it shifts with the moment. Sometimes it acts first, sometimes later, as musical notes answer one another. Sometimes it turns right, sometimes left, always in accordance with what is fitting. Follow the patterns ordained by Heaven, determine deployments according to the terrain, and achieve success through human affairs.

Once the moment arrives, how can it be made to turn back? How can it be drawn in and controlled? The point is that once an opportunity has passed, it is difficult to command and impossible to stop.

The workings of Heaven and Earth show no favoritism. The various forces intertwine and change, awaiting someone skilled in warfare to grasp them. The measures and principles of military strategy act upon one another: Yin-Yang constrain one another; life and death transform into each other; momentum and force wax and wane; emptiness and fullness depend on each other; and gain and loss shift unpredictably.

Victory in war depends on acting in accordance with the momentum. The art of war says, “It is like rolling a round stone down a mountain a thousand ren high.” This is momentum. Circumstances are never constant: early and late, strong and weak, alternate and transform, creating new situations. Change has no end.

The times and circumstances never remain unchanged. Sometimes things come sooner, sometimes later; sometimes they wane, sometimes they grow, transforming into one another again and again. Change has no end—how could anyone describe it all? When water is obstructed, it surges and rushes more fiercely; when an arrow is drawn back, it flies farther. The Qi of the spirit revolves and flows, stirring and transforming. Things develop at different speeds, each in its own time.

The changes of things must follow certain patterns. Gathering and dispersing, decline and growth—who can know exactly when they will occur? The Perfected Person, who has reached a profound state, does not cling to external things. Alone, they walk with the Dao, letting circumstances carry them and accepting their fate, coming and going as the times change. Prosperity and decline, death and renewal—who can know when they will arrive? Who can see the changes within things that appear calm and profound? Misfortune is what fortune depends upon, and fortune is where misfortune lies concealed. Misfortune and fortune intertwine like strands of a rope.

Amid confused and turbulent changes, everything may seem like one undivided whole. Forms overlap and break apart, but who can discern the patterns within them? Things are subtle, hard to distinguish, and without fixed shape; only the sage can grasp their meaning. Change flows and shifts like water, never coming to rest.

When things end, they begin again. Who can know where change comes to an end? A net with meshes too wide cannot catch a bird; a cage with bars too close traps a crow, leaving it to look out in vain, unable to fly free.

People merely go along and echo what others say. How can they view fortune and misfortune with composure? Grief and joy may arrive together, and good and ill may appear in the same place: those celebrating are still in the hall when mourners have already reached the gate. Loss may turn into gain, and success may in turn become failure. Wu was strong and powerful in arms, yet King Fuchai fell into dire straits; King Goujian of Yue retreated to Kuaiji, then later became hegemon among the feudal lords. Those who understand the Way look at things broadly and can see what is truly possible. How can one method, narrow and singular, allow anyone to respond freely to change?

The character tuo is pronounced like the character sui in the phrase sui qiong; the character fang is pronounced like the fang in the phrase fang bian. The affairs of the world change in countless ways, so one should meet them with a hundred different responses. Yet now people rely on just one method, sui fang. How can that be enough to handle change and understand how things work?

From ancient times to the present, what has not changed? Here, you means a postal station. Travelers pass through a station and continue on their way, so past events are also called you, meaning that they have already passed.

Shun was once said to be unfilial, and Yao was said to lack compassion. King Wen of Zhou was once imprisoned, and Guan Zhong was once jailed. Heaven and earth are vast and boundless; who can truly see through their principles? Yangyao wuyin describes something immense and obscure, without limits. Dajun refers to the power that transforms and creates the myriad things; lu refers to the place between heaven and earth where the myriad things come into being. Everything is part of this transformation. Who can fully understand its comings and goings, gains and losses?

One who is truly adept has no selfish thoughts, like a boat floating on water without a mooring rope, simply going with the current. Those who can steer their circumstances pass through difficulty; those who cannot are overturned. The Way of Heaven cannot be laid out by human plans, and the lay of the land cannot be calculated by people. The sage sets aside external things and makes choices only by following how things are.

Ordinary people have narrow perspectives and are driven by their likes and desires. They rush to be first over the smallest display of cleverness, and they fret over what they like and dislike. Those who love to show off die for power; those who consider themselves noble flaunt their appearance. The Book of Songs says, “The hanging sash trembles”—a description of this very anxiety. People of ambition exert themselves for reputation; the greedy exert themselves for wealth. Xun means to run after external things.

Learning may be extensive, but without a guiding principle to bring it together, one can end up unable to cope. Why? Because the essentials of the Great Dao are always simple. What is there to be ashamed of in adapting to the times? If you have done nothing wrong, there is no need to feel ashamed.

Those who lack virtue cling to worldly affairs, while the virtuous contend within the circumstances of their time. Wisdom becomes a tool for competition, and reputation leads people to undermine one another.

Why be troubled by minor matters? They are like small thorns that prick and obstruct us. When something is accomplished and our wishes are fulfilled, what is there to boast about? The point is that, whether things go smoothly or not, there is no reason to rejoice or grieve over them.

After speaking a thousand words, or ten thousand, whom should we reward in the end? The meaning is that once the principle has been fully explained, even if others go on at length with thousands upon thousands of elaborate words, the one who has already made the principle clear should be rewarded.

King Goujian of Yue once submitted to the state of Wu, yet the situation between Wu and Yue never settled. King Wen of Zhou was once imprisoned at Youli, but King Wu still could not set things right. Although Guan Zhong had suffered humiliation, he was not thereby disgraced. His reputation did not match that of the great sages, and his achievements could not compare with those of the Three Kings, but he had fulfilled his own responsibilities.

Understanding the Principles (Chapter Thirteen)

Although Heaven is high, it can still be explored; although Earth is vast, it can still be governed. How can the myriad things be brought to rest? How should human nature be understood? Boyi and Shuqi could keep themselves from stealing, but they could not stop others from suspecting them.

How could anyone foresee being wronged and harmed by others?

Shentu Di was an impoverished scholar at the end of the Shang dynasty. Believing the world corrupt and unfit to live in, he tied a stone to himself and drowned in a river. Yet he did not know that the turmoil beneath the water was greater than that in the world above.

In an age of deep De, there were no paths or footprints in the mountains, no bridges across lakes and marshes, no travel between communities, and no passage by boat or cart. Why was this so? Because the people were as simple and unspoiled as newborn infants. The Laozi says, “Those whose De is profound are like newborn infants.” A boy is called a “red child,” and a girl an “infant.”

The wise did not deceive or exploit others, and the strong did not rule over others as their subjects. People could therefore bend down to inspect the nests of magpies and crows, or even approach herds of elk and tie them up. Crows and magpies are naturally suspicious, while elk are easily startled. They are used here to show that people had no wariness toward the things around them and that the world was at peace.

When the age declined, fathers and sons schemed against one another, and brothers grew suspicious of one another.

The bond of affection between father and son is innate; the relationship between brothers is a natural human bond. Kindness and trust are already present in them; they are not imposed from outside. Thus, if you step on a stranger’s foot, he will politely say that he was careless. If you step on your elder brother’s foot, he will understand and reassure you. This is simply because you are close.

Now virtue has steadily declined, to the point that fathers and sons suspect one another, and brothers reject one another. Can their nature really be different from that of people in ancient times? Perhaps governance has become too intrusive. Why has this happened? Because instruction has grown ever more shallow, and people have begun deliberately to manage their relationships with one another.

Here it says: Brothers reject one another; can their nature really be different from that of people in ancient times? Perhaps governance has become too intrusive. Why has this happened? Because instruction has grown ever more shallow, and people have begun deliberately to manage their relationships with one another.

The point of this passage is that people can no longer feel naturally close without deliberately cultivating their relationships, or help one another spontaneously without deliberate effort. That is how the troubles have reached this point. Guo Xiang says: Those who follow Heaven and Earth and merge with change do not deliberately coordinate the distinct functions of their limbs or the separate roles of their five internal organs, yet every part of the body remains in harmony. This is what it means to “associate with one another without deliberate cultivation.” Nor do they deliberately assist one another, yet the body’s interior and exterior fulfill each other. This is what it means to “act for one another without deliberate effort.” If one deliberately engages the mind to care for the limbs, or drives the arms to manage the internal organs, the more one strives to achieve this, the more exhausted body and mind become. That is the principle being described.

Therefore, deliberate action can bring about failure, and deliberate governance can bring about disorder. Failure leads people to form factions for private gain; “peng” means forming a faction. Disorder leads to favoritism and dependence; “e” means showing partiality or currying favor. When favoritism becomes widespread, affairs and principles fall into neglect. If one seeks only ordinary, expedient compliance, moral principles cannot be established either.

Yao handed the realm to Shun. Those who esteem righteousness therefore consider Yao wise, while those who covet gain consider him foolish. King Tang and King Wu exiled or killed their rulers, thereby securing the realm for their own descendants; those who esteem righteousness therefore consider them to have acted against the Way.

What does this mean? From what I have learned, only those who esteem righteousness would consider such actions morally right.

Those who covet profit are instead regarded as worthy and capable. As a result, a ruler has no truly worthy ministers at his side, and the world no longer honors virtue. In the end, rulers are driven into exile by their own ministers. When a ruler favors those who flatter him, regicide follows. A ruler’s exile or murder is a sign that the state is on the verge of collapse. I have never seen anyone who knew such things would bring disaster yet calmly believed they would bring benefit. To mistake danger for safety, and to follow sorrow and ruin at the expense of happiness and well-being: these are the warning signs that a state will suffer funerals where ritual mourning is not observed, and wars fought without an army.

Jizi fled to avoid disaster; this does not mean that he went far away from his state. Confucius said, “Weizi left, while Jizi became a slave.” Qiumu was killed when he went out to meet the ruler of Song in battle. When Shang Rong was imprisoned, Jian Shu wept for him. Jian Shu was a minister of Qin, and he also wept when Duke Mu of Qin launched an attack on Zheng.

In the past, when someone climbed to a high place, those below feared for him and grew so anxious that their hands and feet broke out in sweat. The climber, however, might feel no fear at all. He might even break off a branch and hastily grab a piece of wood, as if there were no danger. Onlookers who tried to stop him might be killed for it. This describes how someone in a perilous situation can forget the danger, while those who try to warn him are humiliated.

Thus, people throughout the realm grow disheartened, and the ruler is left without support. Those who serve at the ruler’s side today are all ministers who throw the court into disorder. Their schemes are enough to deceive the ruler and keep him from understanding the facts; their words are enough to disrupt government; and their factions join forces, concerned only with pursuing their own advantage.

In the past, Shang Tang employed Yi Yin, the Zhou employed the Grand Duke, Qin employed Baili Xi, and Chu employed Shen Baoxu.

The state of Qi appointed Guan Zhong and achieved great success; several other ministers, by contrast, remained loyal and died when their states fell.

This means that the abilities of people in antiquity were much the same. Some became famous in their own age, while others lost their lives. The reason was that they encountered different rulers.

Seen this way, differences in people’s intelligence and talent are not so great that one person cannot attain what another can. What is difficult to grasp is the timing and course of one’s fate. The abilities of Yi Yin, Lü Shang (Jiang Taigong), Shen Buhai, and Guan Zhong were not beyond the reach of others. People such as Jizi and Qiu Shi were ultimately killed and humiliated because they did not encounter the right time and fate.

When the right time and fate are absent:

To seek advancement when the time has come means that there is a ruler but no worthy minister. So even when the time is right, the ruler must still seek worthy people.

To decline when the time has come means that there is a worthy minister but no enlightened ruler. So even when the time is right, the worthy minister will decline to enter service.

When fate closes the way, one declines; when fate opens the way, one seeks advancement. Here, “closed” and “open” both refer to whether one enters service or withdraws in accordance with fate.

The worthy do not always encounter a favorable time, and the unworthy do not necessarily miss their chance. The worthy therefore seize the moment, while the unworthy leave things to fate. To “abide by fate” means to accept what fate brings.

Even today, there are people with the character of Shun, but they have not encountered a ruler like Yao. Nor are people lacking who could achieve what King Tang of Shang and King Wu of Zhou achieved; they simply have not encountered people like Yi Yin and Taigong. Feizhong and E Lai received King Zhou’s favor and rewards, yet failed to understand that the unworthy can only leave things to fate.

It is not that the world today lacks people of virtue like Shun. Rather, people do not understand why Yao appointed Shun. Nor does it lack people who have achieved great things like Tang of Shang and King Wu of Zhou. Rather, people do not understand the part played by Yi Yin and Jiang Taigong in assisting them. Feizhong and E Lai profited by relying on King Zhou, yet did not know that King Wu would ultimately attack him. Bigan and Wu Zixu devoted themselves to loyal remonstrance, yet did not know that their rulers would kill them. Feizhong and E Lai may be said to have understood their ruler’s intentions, but not the course of events; Bigan and Wu Zixu may be said to have understood the duties of loyal ministers, but not their rulers’ intentions. A sage must possess both kinds of understanding to see clearly into the nature of an age.

On Military Affairs and Governance, Chapter Fourteen

Pangzi asked Heguanzi, “The methods of warfare include following the seasons, taking advantage of the terrain, uniting the people, and then using rewards to spur soldiers to fight and punishments to press everyone into action. If all five have been planned, why do the Jiuyi—an ancient name for several peoples in the east—sometimes still fail to win when they use these methods?”

Heguanzi replied, “They know how to fight, but do not yet understand the principles on which fighting depends. That is why the Jiuyi cannot be sure to win even when they use these methods. As the saying goes, ‘Driving a carriage by following a book does not mean you fully understand a horse’s nature.’ That is what this means.”

He continued, “It is like someone saying, ‘When my teacher runs swiftly, I run swiftly too; when my teacher walks with short steps, I do the same. But when my teacher races away, leaving the dust far behind, I can only stare and lag behind.’ Is that not more or less the idea?”

Heguanzi said, “All things pass through processes of arising and change. Before Metal, Wood, Water, and Fire are put to practical use, they are already related through mutual restraint.” The commentary explains that this means gaining an advantage in advance, before events unfold.

“Have you never seen a door bar? Set it upright against something, and even a woman can move it. Lay it flat on the ground, and anyone can lift its middle, however strong or weak they may be.” This passage uses a door bar to show that the same thing can be easier or harder to handle depending on its position and the circumstances.

If you grasp the root of things, even choosing excellent soldiers will not by itself conquer territory. Guan Shang was the same person, yet he was regarded as more or less important depending on how those in power appointed him. From the case of Guan Shang, we can see that things exist in themselves; what matters is how they are governed and put to use. The Nine Yi followed this approach, but choosing soldiers did not necessarily bring victory, because they did not understand the patterns by which things grow and change.

This passage says that those who do not understand how things change and transform will suffer repeated defeats. The Suwen says: “The growth of things is called transformation; when their development reaches its limit, it is called change.”

If one understands the patterns by which things grow and change, then five different cases can be brought under a single principle. Pangzi asked, “How can five cases be regarded as one?” He Guanzi replied: “Heaven cannot make morning into evening; Earth cannot make high into low; people cannot make a man into a woman. Rewards cannot make an incapable person capable—even if gold and silk are placed before him, they cannot make someone lame and weak carry a heavy load. Nor can punishment guarantee that what cannot be done will be done—even if an axe and battle-axe, instruments of ancient punishment, are placed behind a mute person, they cannot make him speak.”

Pangzi asked, “How can one achieve success?” He Guanzi replied: “Heaven cannot command people, and people cannot command Heaven. One should act in accord with the inherent patterns of things; success and failure, prosperity and hardship all depend on this. The key lies in weighing circumstances and making use of the situation. Those who know how to weigh circumstances can create wealth beyond ordinary prosperity; those who know how to grasp the situation can win extraordinary victories in war. To create wealth, one must draw on the power of the land and follow the seasons. To win in battle, one must accord with reason and meet the needs of the people. Those who do not understand this mistake going against the patterns of things for following them, and take disaster for benefit. If they mistake defiance of the patterns of things for following them, their wealth will dwindle; if they take disaster for benefit, their armies will be captured. In ancient times, those who understood the times could accord with the Dao and follow Heaven’s seasons. Those who did not understand the times endangered their spirit and discernment. Once the Dao is lost and spirit and discernment are damaged, what could possibly heal the wound?”

“Liu” means stopping something. Preventing an injury from spreading further is also called “liu.”

Thus it is said: “The Dao, the Dao—perhaps one might call it the Dao of Dao. Can it preserve itself together with the spirits?” Pangzi asked, “How can they preserve one another?” He Guanzi replied, “Worthy and virtuous people give rise to sages; sages give rise to the Dao; the Dao gives rise to laws; laws give rise to the spirits; and the spirits, in turn, give rise to clarity and understanding.”

The alternating movement of Yin and Yang is called the Dao. Establishing rules and putting them into practice is called law. Skillfully applying these rules so that they guide movement and stillness, advance and retreat, and serve the people collectively—this function is called “spirit.” “Clarity of spirit” is the final expression of the path of rectitude.

Partiality can be transformed into impartiality, impartiality can bring clear discernment, and trustworthiness can give rise to clarity of spirit. Thus, clarity of spirit is the final stage of the path of rectitude. Perhaps it has no true endpoint, because it draws on the root; in this way, the two can preserve one another.

On Learning, Chapter Fifteen

Pangzi asked He Guanzi, “When sages seek instruction in learning from their teachers, does it have a beginning and an end? Or do they merely gather, recite, and memorize words until they stop at the closing of the coffin?”

He Guanzi replied, “Learning begins with the first question and is complete only when one understands the Nine Ways. If you do not understand what the Nine Ways mean, but merely gather, recite, and memorize words until death, how can you judge whether you truly understand?”

This is not merely a matter of confused speech that is difficult to sort out. Even studying until one’s final days may not be enough to judge whether one truly understands. So is the value of inquiry and learning really just in reciting and explaining? The key is to grasp the essential point of a book and understand the meaning of its words.

Pangzi asked, “What are the Nine Ways?” He Guanzi replied, “First, Dao and De; second, Yin and Yang; third, laws and ordinances; fourth, the offices of Heaven—the responsibilities or knowledge concerned with celestial phenomena and the timing of the seasons; fifth, divine portents—wondrous and anomalous signs; sixth, skills and techniques; seventh, human affairs; eighth, tools and devices; and ninth, the art of warfare.”

Pangzi said, “Please explain the contents of the Nine Ways.” He Guanzi replied, “Dao and De are a person’s principles and conduct, the root of all practice; hence they are called ‘the unadorned.’ Here, ‘the unadorned’ is like white silk before it has been dyed, and signifies what is essential and fundamental.”

Yin-Yang provides categories for classifying and measuring things, allowing us to observe changes in Qi (vital energy).

The “Protector of the State” chapter of the Rites of Zhou says that one divines disasters and blessings throughout Heaven and Earth by examining the signs of the starry regions, clouds and Qi, the planet Jupiter’s twelve-year cycle, and the winds from the twelve directions.

Laws and decrees determine whether the realm is well governed or in disorder; they are the lifeblood of the state. The celestial officials—those responsible for observing the heavens and responding to their signs—make omens visible. Changes in the sky receive a response below.

This passage refers to divining disasters and blessings throughout Heaven and Earth by means of the twelve-year cycle and the winds from the twelve directions.

Laws and decrees determine whether the realm is well governed or in disorder; they are the lifeblood of the state. The celestial officials make omens visible, and changes in the sky receive a response below.

This explains the order in which one should learn and understand things: first grasp Dao and De (Virtue/Power), then study Yin-Yang; after understanding Yin-Yang, learn about laws and decrees. Only with knowledge of all three can one speak of governing. The celestial official is the Grand Steward, the highest office in ancient government, who directed all the officials. Since the officials took the Grand Steward as their standard, he was called their model and exemplar. The Grand Steward initiated affairs, so he was said to be the beginning of auspicious omens. Those above remain still and issue commands; those below act in response. This is why it is called “the response below.”

Numinous signs include wind, radiance, shadows, and apparitions; these are used to distinguish different kinds of strange phenomena.

The passage in the Book of Rites: Meaning of the Sacrifices describes vital essences rising to Heaven and forming a brilliant appearance, while also bringing a desolate feeling, like the scent of mugwort. These are manifestations of the vital essences of all things and signs of divine presence.

In matters of skill, some things are shared and others differ. The phrase “prevailing, sameness, and responsibility” also appears with different readings in different texts. It means that skills have elements in common as well as distinctive features, and so produce different effects.

The Rites of Zhou lists six virtues separately: wisdom, benevolence, sageliness, righteousness, loyalty, and harmony. The six arts, by contrast, are studied in common: ritual, music, archery, charioteering, writing, and mathematics.

People differ in temperament and ability: some are old or young, dull or clever, worthy or unworthy; some are vigorous, gifted, bold, or outstanding. Their differences are considerable. Implements can be borrowed or ridden—one version reads “horses”—and serve the needs of the world as well as the needs of the state. The army is a means of holding power and authority, and a way to establish an unassailable position. The nine ways of governing can shape the human heart; this is what it means to possess spiritual potency.

“Form” means what has become visible.

Only afterward can one perceive changes and give them names.

Things can be named only after they appear. Some say that when people see something strange or hear an unusual report, they call it a “transformation.” The Liezi records that when Yu the Great was traveling, he saw a strange creature, and Boyi recognized it and gave it a name. This probably refers to such a case.

People determine a thing’s name from the way it appears. For example, the heart has no physical form, yet it has the power of clear awareness, so it is sometimes called “emptiness.” In some texts, the two characters “tuankun” are copied down; “kun” is close in meaning to “kouzhuo,” meaning to strike or hit.

No one knows where it is headed. The heart is the ruler, and is sometimes written as “zhi.” The heart issues commands within, and outward actions follow. Without subtle discernment within, it is difficult to verify things outside.

Look too closely, and you cannot see the whole; look too far away, and you cannot reach it. Pangzi said, “I have heard of the principles of ritual, music, benevolence, righteousness, loyalty, and trustworthiness. I would like to know how they accord with the patterns of things.”

The Heguanzi replied, “Ritual means not offending others; music means being free from calamity; benevolence means sharing others’ likes; righteousness means sharing others’ dislikes; loyalty means that the longer people are together, the closer their bond becomes; trustworthiness means that one’s words and actions do not differ, and that they accord with one another from beginning to end. The sage uses these six virtues to divine the gains and losses, the favorable and unfavorable turns, of the age.” Here, “gua” is close in meaning to “bu,” divination.

If one departs from the Dao and speaks only of techniques and calculations, one cannot make sense of how things fit together. If one does not follow the fundamental principles, one cannot examine things with care. Here, “hollowing out the heart” means clearing away preconceptions and attachments. The “Discussion on Making All Things Equal” in the Zhuangzi says to forget the limbs and cast aside cleverness and skill. It also says that the Dao covers and supports Heaven and Earth, and that a noble person must “hollow out the heart.”

Tracing inner roots from outward skills, even a shallow education will not reach an end; with an empty and still heart and broad understanding, even extensive knowledge can remain empty and still. Pangzi bowed again and said, “Is there anything else worth advising me? Even without doing this, a deep and unfathomable nature can make a person strong; but without learning, who can achieve it? This is the highest principle under Heaven. Why would rulers of the world abandon it?”

The Heguanzi replied, “Vitality does not arise from an implement itself; an implement can function because a force sets it in motion.”

What is held in low regard often simply has no practical use. Someone whose boat was lost in a river had nothing left but a gourd. It became worth a thousand gold pieces: tied to the body, it could help him cross the water, which is why people in the south called it a “waist boat.” This shows that things have no fixed standard of value; their worth often changes with the times and their uses.

One must always clearly distinguish what is good from what is bad, without changing one’s standards for judging right and wrong. If one does not know how to discern the good, the result may be death, the ruin of one’s state, the end of its ancestral rites, and the extinction of one’s clan. If this can happen to ordinary people, how much more so to those in high positions?

The Worthy of the Age, Chapter Sixteen

King Daoxiang of Zhao asked Pang Nuan, a Zhao general, “Does a ruler also have to work for the state?”

Pang Nuan replied, “Has Your Majesty not heard of Yu Fu, the legendary physician, and his treatment of illness? Even when a disease has become severe, he can still cure it; even ghosts and spirits keep out of his way. When the king of Chu held court, he was troubled by the army of Sui. When Yao appointed people, he did not consider whether they were close to him or distant; he chose only those capable of governing the state. Nor did he entrust the treatment of illness to his favorites, but gave it to experienced old physicians. As the saying goes, ‘For illness, seek an old physician; for divination, seek a young person.’ Old physicians have seen many illnesses, which is why Yao entrusted them with treating the sick. The king of Chu heard that Fu was gravely ill. By evening, the illness had reached his body, and he would surely have to wait for Yu Fu to examine him.”

Yu Fu was probably not a native of Chu; his story is also a parable. Legend says that in ancient times there was a famous physician named Yu Fu. He treated illness without decoctions, strong wine, stone lancets, breathing and movement exercises, massage, or heated medicinal compresses. Instead, he cut open the skin, separated the muscles, loosened knots in the sinews, reached the marrow and brain, washed the intestines and stomach, and regulated Jing and Qi while reshaping the body. Though his treatment was already so thorough, he could still cure the sick. Even ghosts and spirits kept their distance from him.

King Zhao of Chu said, “Well said.”

Pang Nuan said, “Has Your Majesty perhaps forgotten? In the past, Yi Yin assisted the Shang, the Grand Duke assisted King Wu of Zhou, Baili Xi assisted Qin, Shen Piao assisted the Chu capital Ying, Yuan Ji assisted Jin, Fan Li assisted Yue, and Guan Zhong assisted Qi. These states became hegemons as a result. The strengths of these men were alike, but the methods they used were different.”

King Zhao of Chu said, “I would like to hear about those methods.”

Pang Nuan said, “Has Your Majesty never heard the story of Marquis Wen of Wei asking Bian Que?”

Bian Que was from Zheng in Bohai. His surname was Qin, and his given name was Yue Ren.

Marquis Wen of Wei asked him, “Of you three brothers, who is the most skilled physician?”

Bian Que replied, “My eldest brother is the best physician, my second brother comes next, and I am the least skilled.”

Marquis Wen asked, “Can you explain why?”

Bian Que answered, “My eldest brother notices signs in a person’s Shen and Qi before an illness has taken shape, then dispels it. This is the highest level of medical skill: dealing with a problem before it appears. That is why his reputation never spread beyond our household.”

The Rites of Zhou say that physicians determine whether a person will live or die by examining the Five Qi, Five Sounds, and Five Colors. They then observe changes in the nine orifices and take account of the activity of the five zang organs and six fu organs. This method detects signs through Shen and Qi, then checks them against the breath, voice, complexion, and changes in the body. It is already a fairly rough form of diagnosis. The Rites of Zhou records only these methods, perhaps because they are within the reach of ordinary physicians. How often does the world produce renowned physicians like Qi Bo and Yu Fu?

His achievement is evident within the palace gates. The Laozi says, “The best ruler is one the people merely know is there; the next best is one they love and praise.”

A middling physician treats illness when it has only just begun to appear.

The truly skilled physician can treat disorder as soon as its first signs emerge. This is what is meant by “perceiving and understanding things just as they begin to take shape.”

So his reputation does not spread beyond his village,

though everyone there knows his ability.

A physician like Bian Que examined the pulse, prescribed medicine, and even treated the skin; his reputation then spread among the feudal lords.

The more visible the illnesses he could cure, the farther his reputation traveled.

A physician like Bian Que examined the pulse, prescribed medicine, and even treated the skin; his reputation then spread among the feudal lords.

The more visible the illnesses he could cure, the farther his reputation traveled.

Marquis Wen of Wei said, “Well said.” If Guan Zhong had acted according to Bian Que’s methods of treating illness, could Duke Huan of Qi still have achieved hegemony?

Guan Zhong assisted and corrected Duke Huan of Qi by often addressing matters at their earliest, most subtle stage. In this way, he helped the duke become hegemon. Once, Duke Huan grew angry over his favored concubine Shao Ji (a concubine of Duke Huan of Qi) and attacked the state of Cai to the south. Guan Zhong seized the opportunity to campaign against Chu, accusing it of failing to present bundled thatch to the Zhou royal house as tribute. On another occasion, Duke Huan campaigned against the Shan Rong to the north, and Guan Zhong used the opportunity to have Yan restore the policies instituted by the Duke of Shao (the founding ancestor of the Zhou state of Yan). At the time, none of the other feudal lords understood the purpose behind these actions. This is what it means to address troubles while they are still as fine as a hair.

All these measures involved treating illness before it had become apparent as an illness.

Some also say “not ill,” meaning that the illness has not yet taken shape. Once it has broken out, is it not already too late to treat it? When the condition becomes severe, it is called “illness.”

To govern before things have a name or form. Another version reads: “Deal with troubles while they have not yet left a trace.”

When the signs and name of an illness have already become clear, only then to summon a physician to treat it—that is why Duke Huan of Qi (the patient meant here) lost his life.

Once the result has been achieved, people may call it “nameless.” Another version reads: “Deal with troubles while they have not yet left a trace.”

When the signs and name of an illness have already become clear, only then to summon a physician to treat it—that is why Duke Huan of Qi lost his life.

After the highest achievement has been accomplished, people may call it “natural.”

The effects of acupuncture and moxibustion need not be deliberately praised or rely on outside acclaim, so…