《道体论》

Dao (the Way) is the source that universally pervades all things and initiates their transformative coming-into-being; De (Virtue/Power) is the power that brings all things to maturity and carries the course of their lives to completion. Once the work of generation becomes manifest, the two names “Dao” and “De” arise with it. If the activities of all things come to rest and return to the root, Dao and De revert to one and the same. Because they return to unity, Dao does not, apart from De, possess some further function of pervading all things, nor is De a separate correspondence wholly unrelated to Dao. If this single whole is again divided into two, Dao is expressed as pervasion and transformative generation, while De indicates the fulfillment and completion of all things. Dao and De are at times one and at times two; they interpenetrate in perfect harmony yet remain distinct, and for this reason they are called “Daode.”

Someone asked: “When Dao is said to be the beginning that universally pervades and transformatively brings forth all things, what beginning is meant?” The reply was: “The beginning of the inherent nature of all things.” Why is this so? The scripture (Jing) says that De causes all things to grow and move toward completion; from this we know that inherent nature arises from Dao, while bodily form is brought forth by De.

It was asked further: “If that is so, why does the scripture say, ‘Dao generates and De nurtures’?” The reply was: “Tracing all things back to their source in the root, one therefore says that they are generated by Dao; once form is established and receives rearing, this is called ‘nurturing.’” It was asked again: “Does the source from which inherent nature emerges ultimately have a name, or is it nameless?” The reply was: “To call it named or nameless is equally acceptable.”

It was asked again: “If both having a name and being nameless are acceptable, why does the scripture say, ‘The nameless is the mother of all things,’ and not speak of ‘the named’?” The reply was: “‘Dao’ refers to the source that pervades all things and gives them birth and nourishment. Since it pervades and generates, discernible limits arise; once there are limits, it can be named. Therefore any Dao that can be put into words and given a name is not the constant, unchanging Dao. Yet the substance of Dao is vast and all-pervading, and its meaning is not confined to a single formulation. Here ‘nameless’ is borrowed to express a realm profound and hard to fathom, so that one will not cling to shallow and cluttered accounts, but will bring forth the subtle root and enable people to comprehend it.”

It was asked again: “Is the vast, all-pervading Dao the same as all things, or different from them?” The reply was: “It is constantly the same, and also constantly distinct. All things take Dao as their substance, and Dao likewise manifests itself through all things. Within this same substance there still appear good and evil, right and wrong, death and life, accord and opposition. It is like fish, which live by relying on water and may also die because of water; or like people, who walk by relying on the ground, may fall because of the ground, and can yet stand up again by means of the ground.”

The Daodejing says, “Dao (the Way) gives birth to the myriad things, and De (Virtue/Power) nurtures the myriad things,” and it also says, “Giving birth to and nurturing the myriad things—this is called mysterious De.” The former statement says that the myriad things are born from Dao, while the latter says that they are born from De. Why is this? The first assigns the credit to Dao as the root; the second explains that, when it comes to the actual generation of concrete forms and life, it is De that is at work.

This is like the two forces of Yin-Yang coming together so that generation and transformation can unfold, with Yang occupying the place of honor. It is also like ruler and ministers each keeping to their proper station and governing together: once the work is accomplished, the credit goes to the ruler. Thus the forms of the myriad things are in fact brought forth and nurtured by De; when one traces them back to their source and inquires into their origin, this is called “birth by Dao.” The “birth” spoken of here means the actual coming into being of concrete forms.

Dao brings forth the undifferentiated primordial source, which is the nameless beginning. Its principle runs through the myriad things, and its subtle working lies hidden deep at the center. It is hazy and elusive: one cannot say that it truly exists; yet there is something real within it, so one also cannot say that it does not exist at all. It dwells above without showing itself, and rests below without growing dim. Meet it, and one cannot see its beginning; follow it, and one cannot find its end. People do not know where it comes from, nor can words explain it fully.

Dao has no fixed shape, yet it bears the signs of shape; it does not speak, yet it can express inexhaustible principles. When these principles appear through names and images, the distinction between ordinary people and sages arises. Ordinary people cannot awaken on their own; they must keep accumulating felt experience and insight before they gradually come to understanding. Sages, for their part, do not abandon the things of the world. They respond to differing occasions and set forth teachings accordingly. Because the occasions and the ways of teaching differ, all manner of distinctions arise. When these distinctions are gathered into the response that lies nearest at hand, that is what is called “Dao and De.”

Dao takes perfect interfusion and unobstructed understanding as its foundation; De takes each thing’s realization of its own nature as its meaning. Where there is perfect interfusion, no principle fails to be penetrated; where each realizes its own nature, no nature fails to be brought to completion. Dao is originally nameless and can only provisionally be called “Dao.” De originally attains nothing, and its name can appear only in light of actual efficacy. De gives first place to diligent practice; Dao, though nameless, gives priority to daily lessening. Practice diligently, and there is no cultivation or attainment that cannot be fully realized; lessen continually, and there is no entanglement that cannot be removed. When Dao and De do not cling to names and appearances, they can merge seamlessly with the myriad things. Thus, though full and abundant, they seem empty, and their working never comes to an end. They are so great as to have no outside and so small as to have no inside; they circulate and transform, and are present everywhere. The myriad things grow in teeming profusion—whether formed or formless, animal or plant—and all take shape by relying on Dao and De.

The scripture says, “Dao is the hidden treasury of the myriad things.” The perfected person Laozi therefore responded to the actual needs of the world and, in his own time, spread the mysterious Dao in order to rescue people. He set forth the two names “Dao” and “De” as the guiding principles of his teaching. Teaching, however, does not reveal itself of its own accord; it must have a source. Trace that source, and it comes back to Laozi. “Prior to the semblance of the Sovereign” means that Laozi precedes the lord who rules in the manner of an emperor. “Lao” names his great antiquity, while “zi” indicates that he is born by responding to change. The very substance of the teaching is perfectly interfused and freely penetrating, and so it is called Dao; the supreme principle is constant and unchanging, and so it is called Jing (scripture/classic). It stands first among the four sections and is therefore called “Upper.” This is the Laozi Daojing Shang, the Upper Scripture of the Dao of Laozi.

What does Huncheng (the undifferentiated and complete) take as its substance? The answer given is that it takes “empty non-being that contains the myriad beings” as its substance—that is, it is empty and still, and yet embraces all that exists.

The question is then put: if “empty non-being that contains the myriad beings” is the substance of Huncheng, are Huncheng and the Dao (the Way) one and the same, or are they two? The answer is that they are both one and the same and two.

What, then, is the reasoning? They are said to be two because, viewed from the substance’s function of gathering and containing, the name that comes forth is “Dao,” while, viewed from the substance’s function of pervading the myriad things, it is called tong (pervasion). Tong and shou (gathering) each have a different meaning, and so they are said to be two. They are said to be one because the Dao has no entity existing independently of tong; tong is only a formulation discerned from within the function of gathering and containing. Huncheng likewise has no entity existing independently of shou. Shou and tong are merely different names for one and the same substance, and so they are said to be one and the same.

If Huncheng is said to be able both to pervade and to gather in the myriad things, then whatever pervades the myriad things is Huncheng; Huncheng is the myriad things, the myriad things are the Dao, and there is no distinction between the Dao and the myriad things—what, then, remains to be cultivated? What is called cultivation is a distinction drawn upon the substance; Huncheng itself originally carries no such meaning as cultivation. To take the methods by which people are taught to cultivate and use them to explain the substance is to treat two matters that are not of the same kind.

In what ways are Huncheng and the Great Image (daxiang, the vast image manifested by the body of the Dao) the same, and in what ways different? They are both the same and different. Why is this so? The Great Image is a name, while Huncheng speaks of the substance; name and substance differ in meaning, and so the two are distinct. Yet the name has no object lying outside the substance; what it names is precisely this substance. Nor does the substance have a Huncheng lying outside the name, and so the two are said to be the same.

If this is so, can the two concepts, Huncheng and the Great Image, encompass one another? Each can encompass the other. Viewed separately, they differ; viewed together, they are the same. As regards what actually is, there is no independently existing reality outside the name, and so reality can encompass the name; considered from the meaning expressed by the name, reality is likewise not outside the name, and so the name can also encompass reality. Name and reality belong to one and the same whole, and their mutual encompassing is without obstruction.

Someone asked: “The Jing (scripture) says, ‘The Great Image is without substance, while undifferentiated completion serves as substance.’ If the ‘undifferentiated image’ and ‘undifferentiated completion’ are not distinct, why is it then said that one has substance and the other does not?”

The reply was: “‘The Great Image’ is a name; only ‘undifferentiated completion’ is the reality. A name is used to refer to reality—how could the name and the reality be regarded as one and the same?”

It was asked again: “Of name and reality, which comes first and which comes later?”

The reply was: “It depends on the angle from which one speaks. Viewed from the fundamental substance, reality comes first and the name comes later; viewed from the explanation of principle, the name comes first and reality comes later.”

It was asked again: “Since it is said that reality comes first and the name comes later, why not speak of reality first, rather than first discussing the ‘Great Image’ and only afterward ‘undifferentiated completion’?”

The reply was: “To clarify principle, there must first be a name, so that the principle can become evident. Although the name and the principle have been explained, the designation of the fundamental substance has not yet been established; therefore one first puts forward ‘the Great Image is without substance.’ The ‘Great Image,’ however, is not set up out of nothing; it must refer to a subtle reality. This subtle reality is all-pervading and perfectly complete, and so it is called ‘undifferentiated completion.’”

It was asked again: “As for what is called ‘undifferentiated completion,’ does undifferentiated completion explain undifferentiated completion, or do the myriad things explain undifferentiated completion?”

The reply was: “Both ways of putting it are acceptable. To say that ‘undifferentiated completion explains undifferentiated completion’ is because, within undifferentiated blending, there is no distinction of one from another; what is blended without differentiation is precisely the myriad things, and the myriad things of which one speaks do not depart from the principle of undifferentiated blending—hence it is called ‘undifferentiated completion explaining undifferentiated completion.’ To say that ‘the myriad things explain undifferentiated completion’ is because the myriad things each have their differences; since there are differences, one cannot say that they are themselves wholly blended without differentiation. What is spoken of here is the myriad things—how could they be directly called undifferentiated blending? Hence it is called ‘the myriad things explaining undifferentiated completion.’ The former way of speaking is a person explaining himself by means of himself; the latter is explaining the body by way of its different parts—speaking of the body with the mouth, rather than the body itself speaking—and is therefore called ‘explanation by the myriad things.’”

It was asked again: “As for the saying that ‘the substance of the Dao (the Way) is empty and silent,’ what is meant by ‘empty,’ and what is meant by ‘silent’?”

The reply was: “That the fundamental substance has no concrete shape is called ‘empty’; that the principle has no sound or resonance is called ‘silent.’ Therefore it is said to be ‘empty and silent.’”

It was asked again: “Does ‘empty and silent’ refer to the fundamental substance of the fundamental substance itself, or to the fundamental substance as spoken of by the teaching?”

The reply was: “Both understandings are acceptable.”

Someone asked, “Please explain what the teaching of the Dao (the Way) and the substance of the Dao each rest upon.”

The reply was: “Both use the expression ‘empty stillness,’ but the meaning conveyed is not the same. Why is this so? What is here called the teaching of the Dao refers to a realm beyond the mysterious and wondrous, formless and without outward sign. It expounds the Dao as a clear, pure, and lofty realm, and speaks of the myriad things of the world as places of turbidity and entanglement. Only in order to lead people to turn away from defilement and enter the real does one borrow this language of withdrawal from the dusty world and use it as a marker. What is called the substance of the Dao means, by contrast, that the original substance of the Dao is inherently still, abiding from beginning to end in ‘non-being.’ This principle of ‘constant non-being’ reaches everywhere, and so it is called the substance of the Dao.”

Someone further asked, “Is the empty stillness of the so-called substance of the Dao the same as the ‘undifferentiated body,’ or different from it?”

The reply was: “It is both the same and different.”

The questioner asked for the reason. The reply was: “The empty and mysterious original substance is not distinct from undifferentiated stillness, and so they are said to be the same. ‘Undifferentiated’ means embracing and holding together the myriad things; ‘still’ means having no fixed form. Hence they are said to be different.”

Someone asked again, “When it is said that ‘stillness means there is no body,’ does this mean that, departing from the undifferentiated body, one manifests the absence of things, or that the undifferentiated body is itself the absence of things?”

The reply was: “The principle is originally one. Speaking now of the undifferentiated and the still is to explain them separately from the two standpoints of the true and the delusive. If one speaks of the original substance from the side of delusion, stillness always contains the undifferentiated within it. The Jing (scripture/classic) says, ‘There is something undifferentiated and complete, born before Heaven and Earth.’ Thus, from beginning to end, there is nothing that does not lie within the undifferentiated. If one speaks of the original substance from the side of the true, the undifferentiated is in turn constantly still. The Jing says, ‘At ease amid the great transformation, vast and lonely and originally nothing, the great void freely receives whatever is lodged in it.’ The meaning is that the myriad things move and transform, while the source remains lonely and still, originally without things, freely allowing the myriad things to take lodging within it; even where there are forms and colors, they will in the end disperse. From this one may know that all existence now before us is, in its original substance, still throughout.”

Someone asked, “The original substance of the myriad things plainly has real form and material quality. How can an original substance that possesses form and quality be called ‘non-being’?”

The reply was: “The myriad things arise in response to karmic force; their condition is turbid and cannot remain constant, and affairs turn with the mind. It is like an eye afflicted with a film, which sees in empty space wheel-like shadows resembling hairs; once the film is removed, those shadows vanish of themselves. If a person’s karmic force is wholly exhausted, the Three Realms likewise cease to exist.”

At the close a further question is raised: viewed from true principle, the undifferentiated body is constantly still; viewed from delusive appearance, the still body is in turn constantly undifferentiated. Are the undifferentiated and the still, then, two conditions cut off from each other from beginning to end, or do they also change in accordance with the mind?

Someone asked: Viewed from the true, the myriad things are an undifferentiated whole, eternally still; viewed from the false, that still unity is again eternally in turmoil. Are the undifferentiated and the still always cut off from each other, or are there also times when they connect?

The reply was: When delusive thoughts are eliminated, the undifferentiated manifests as stillness; when true nature is obscured, stillness manifests as turmoil. The true and the false have no fixed, unchanging state, and the undifferentiated and the still likewise appear according to circumstances. Whether they connect or remain cut off may, in general, be understood in this way.

Someone asked: Since the undifferentiated and the still have no fixed state, and the true and the false also change with circumstances, then after both the true and the false have disappeared, will the undifferentiated and the still still exist as something fixed?

The reply was: Since stillness is said to appear through the true, and turmoil to arise from the false, then once the true and the false have already disappeared, on what do the undifferentiated and the still depend in order to exist? There is nothing that can be called “undifferentiated,” and nothing that can be called “still.”

Someone asked: Since the names of the true and the false do not hold, and the undifferentiated and the still do not exist either, then that which is neither undifferentiated nor still—what, after all, should it be called?

The reply was: “Undifferentiated” is a name established on the basis of the generation and transformation of the myriad things; “still” refers to the state after delusive thoughts have been eliminated. Now, in order to enter the profound and subtle realm, one provisionally speaks of “stillness,” and thereby dispels the “undifferentiated.” Once both the undifferentiated and the still have been eliminated, there is nothing left that can be called “still.” Since stillness itself cannot be clung to, what name is there left to speak of? Thus the Jing (scripture/classic) says: “The nameless is the beginning of the myriad things.” The treatise says that it can be expressed neither in words nor in silence, yet the principle within it still has a limit. It further says that what can be discussed in words is the coarser aspect of things, while what can be apprehended by the mind is the subtler aspect of things. As for the realm that words cannot distinguish and the mind cannot discern, it is no longer fitting to measure it in terms of the coarse and the fine.

On the Dao (the Way)

The Dao is neither being nor non-being; it has no end and no beginning. In its wholeness it is perfectly integrated and pervades the myriad things; subtle and profoundly remote, it transcends form and name. Yet ordinary people who rely only on what the ears hear and the eyes see cannot yet understand it at the level of the profound and subtle. Thus, where it cannot be named, one can only force a name upon it and call it the “Dao.”

This Dao, only forcibly called the “Dao,” is the beginning of the myriad things. From this beginning the myriad things receive their sustenance, and Qi (vital energy) and form gradually appear. Insofar as the Dao bears and nurtures the myriad things, it is called the “Mother.” The “Mother” is oriented toward the cultivation of De (Virtue/Power); the “Beginning” is oriented toward clinging to nothing. When the distinction between “Beginning” and “Mother” is dissolved as well, one reaches the realm in which the Dao and the myriad things, the subject and external things, connect with one another. Spoken of in this sense of connection, it is called the “Dao.”

Someone asked: The Dao (the Way) is the beginning of all things. All things draw their nourishment from it; once Qi (vital energy) and form appear, the Dao bears and nurtures them, and is therefore called the “mother.” The “mother” finds its fulfillment in the cultivation of De (Virtue/Power), while the “beginning” points toward having nothing to grasp. When both beginning and mother are freed of distinction, one can mysteriously penetrate all things and the self. From this one reaches through to and discerns the principle involved, and so it is called the “Dao.”

Someone asked: The “nameless” is the beginning of all things, and the “named” is the mother of all things. Both beginning and mother carry the sense of bringing things into being; what difference is there between them? The reply: Having neither form nor name, it is the root of what does not itself arise, and is called the beginning of all things. Heaven and Earth have form and name, and can only cause all things to keep growing, and so are called the mother of all things.

Someone asked: The phrase “reluctantly calling it the Dao”—is this because the substance of the Dao is still and may only reluctantly be given a name, or because the substance of the Dao is compelled by external things? The reply: It is people who reluctantly give it a name; this has nothing to do with the substance of the Dao itself. It was further asked: If a reluctant naming has nothing to do with the substance of the Dao, what use is the name? The reply: The substance of the Dao cannot be forcibly fixed, and for that very reason “Dao” can serve as a provisional designation. This designation cannot benefit the substance of the Dao itself, yet it can help people understand.

Someone asked: If the Dao abides in the nameless and cannot extend to things that have form and name, how can it be called supreme? The reply: Precisely because the Dao is without form and without name, it can generate things that have form and name. Therefore all things that have form and name take the Dao as their root.

Someone asked: If each thing is itself the Dao, and each is already complete, why is there still a need to cultivate and advance? The reply: The substance of the Dao originally admits no distinctions of one from another, whereas all things do have their own distinctions; therefore people must still cultivate and learn.

Someone asked: Since the nameless is the Dao, when one says “nameless,” has one already grasped the substance of the Dao? The reply: Clinging to the “nameless” cannot grasp the substance of the Dao; clinging to the “named” cannot grasp it either; clinging to both the named and the nameless as true, or clinging to both as not true, likewise cannot grasp the substance of the Dao. Only when the Dao is neither confined to these four formulations nor apart from them can one be said to have gained some understanding.

Someone asked, “If none of the four formulations can be obtained, and even the way of praise and admiration is cut off, then in the end nothing at all can be accomplished.” The reply was: “In ultimate terms, there is indeed nothing to be obtained. What is called ‘obtaining’ must be spoken of in relation to ‘losing’; and since gain and loss stand relative to each other, what is there in such ‘obtaining’ that deserves to be called obtaining? Only when the four ‘unobtainables’ are all lucid in the mind can one speak of true obtaining. The so-called ‘obtaining of the unobtainable’ is in fact an obtaining of nothing; within this obtaining of nothing there is a measure of understanding, yet one does not depart from the four formulations of ‘obtaining.’”

The Meaning of the Substance of the Dao (the Way)

The substance of the Dao is vast and all-pervading, nowhere absent among the myriad things and affairs. Precisely because it is nowhere absent, the wondrous principle of the Dao transcends any “obtaining” that words can set forth. Only when the four “unobtainables” are all lucid in the mind can one speak of true obtaining. The so-called “obtaining of the unobtainable” is in fact an obtaining of nothing; within this obtaining of nothing there is a measure of understanding, yet one does not depart from the four formulations of “obtaining.”

The substance of the Dao is vast and all-pervading, nowhere absent among the myriad things and affairs; therefore its wondrous principle transcends form and name and runs through all things. The principles of the myriad things, traced to their utmost, come down to “sameness” and “difference”; the principles of “sameness” and “difference,” traced to their utmost, come down in turn to being neither the same nor different. Viewed from “sameness and difference,” one comes to realize that the wondrous principle of the Dao transcends all and pervades all; viewed from “neither sameness nor difference,” the substance of the Dao that runs through all things already contains within it the wondrous principle that transcends all, and within the wondrous principle that transcends all there is already a running through of all things. The principle is exceedingly subtle, yet perfectly interfused and freely penetrating; therefore it is called the “Dao.”

Someone asked, “If the substance of the Dao is said to run through all things, why is it also said to transcend all? To transcend all means to leave all things behind—how, then, can it run through them?” The reply was: “When differentiation is traced to its utmost, the teeming myriad phenomena return to the root; yet returning to the root does not mean that all things blend into a single mass wholly without distinction. Likewise, that all things each have their differences does not mean that they are sharply cut off from one another. How is this known? Precisely because their unity can be discerned within difference, they are not an undifferentiated blur; and precisely because difference can be discerned within unity, they are not cut off from one another.”

Someone asked further, “Do the two poles of ‘sameness’ and ‘difference’ produce their names by mutual dependence, or are they originally as sharply distinct as root and branch?” The reply was: “When ‘difference’ is distinguished by way of ‘sameness,’ there is no ‘sameness’ that does not contain difference; when ‘sameness’ is distinguished by way of ‘difference,’ there is likewise no ‘difference’ that does not possess something in common. Precisely because difference can be discerned within unity, the myriad things are not sharply separated.”

Someone asked: Is it only because the “substance” (ti) has sameness and difference that we speak of sameness and difference, or is it rather that the substance originally has neither sameness nor difference, and that sameness and difference simply appear of themselves? The reply was: In order to show that the fundamental substance of the ultimate Dao (the Way) is subtle and transcends sameness and difference, one borrows “sameness” to encompass “difference,” and borrows “difference” to bring “sameness” to light. To borrow sameness in explaining difference is not to cling to sameness; to borrow difference in making sameness manifest is not to say that the substance is realized within difference. One lets go of attachment to sameness and difference, yet does not leave sameness and difference behind in speaking of them; the essential point of mysterious understanding is thereby made clear.

Someone asked: Since the ultimate Dao is said to be subtle and vast, pervading the myriad things, it has never failed to stand in relation to them. Once there are the myriad things and such relation, this falls into the method of conceptual addition—how could that suffice for discussing the utmost subtlety? Put the other way, the so-called supreme realm must take not standing in relation to the myriad things as what is subtle—what does this mean? The reply was: Once it stands in relation to the myriad things, it will in the end become entangled by them.

Someone asked further: Then this so-called “subtlety”—in relation to what is it called “subtle”? The reply was: The side that stands in relation has its own relations of itself, and the one who speaks has his own speech of himself; from this one can see that speech has no fixed object of which it speaks.

Someone asked: Since it is said not to stand in relation to the myriad things, then when one speaks of “stillness” (ji, the realm of serene quiescence and Wuwei, non-action), does one first know stillness and only then speak of it, or does one speak of stillness without knowing it? The reply was: Only when one knows stillness does one speak of stillness.

Someone asked: If “knowing” lies within stillness, it cannot be called stillness; if “knowing” lies outside stillness, then this knowing has nothing to do with stillness. How can one know stillness and yet speak of stillness? The reply was: What is called stillness is stillness to the point that there is nothing left to still; what is called knowing is knowing to the point that there is nothing left to know. This principle then becomes clear.

Someone asked again: Are the Dao and the myriad things the same or different? The reply was: They are ever the same, and they are also ever different. The question followed: Ordinarily, if one says they are the same, one cannot say they are different; and if they are different, one likewise cannot say they are the same. How can they be both ever the same and ever different? The reply was: Seen from the fact that the myriad things each have their own distinctions, the Dao and the myriad things are ever different; seen from the reality of the fundamental substance, the myriad things are the Dao, and the Dao is the myriad things.

Question: If the myriad things are the Dao (the Way), does the Dao have birth and death?

Answer: To say that the Dao has birth and death, and to say that it does not, can both be understood in this way. Insofar as the substance of the Dao encompasses the myriad things, the myriad things are the Dao; since the myriad things have birth and death, the Dao may also be said to have birth and death. The treatise says: “The Dao and the myriad things follow one and the same principle, passing through decline and growth, fullness and depletion, and after coming to an end they begin again.” It also says: “Numinous spirit changes along with the myriad things and undergoes birth and death together with them; forms such as the square and the round are all unable to know its source.”

Good and evil, and birth and death, are like fish that live by means of water and also die by means of water: birth and death occur in the fish, while the water itself does not change. Another explanation is this: viewed from the differences proper to each of the myriad things, there is birth and death; viewed from the whole in which the Dao holds the myriad things together, there is no birth and death. The names of birth and death fall upon the myriad things, and the Dao is not impaired on that account, so one says that the Dao has no birth and death. The treatise says: “The Dao has neither end nor beginning, yet the myriad things have birth and death.”

Question: The Dao has neither end nor beginning, yet the myriad things have birth and death. The myriad things ceaselessly flow and transform—in the end, is it the myriad things that turn, or the Dao that turns?

Answer: Both ways of speaking are acceptable. The myriad things change in profusion, stand relative to one another and rely upon one another, and form and substance change accordingly; this is called “the turning of things.” The transformations of the myriad things arise from their mutual separation. If, from within that separation, one discerns the principle that runs through them, the myriad things have not left the substance of the Dao to transform apart from it. Since transformation does not lie outside the substance of the Dao, one may also say that the substance of the Dao turns along with them.

Question: If the substance of the Dao turns along with the myriad things, how can it still be called a “substance”?

Answer: Distinguished in terms of concrete things, the substance of the Dao manifests change along with the activity of the myriad things. If one can penetrate to the root and forget separation, change and stillness fuse into one. Once change and stillness have already interfused, the name “substance” no longer holds. At that point, upon what does change still depend?

Question: All things at the outset come from the Dao (the Way). There is only one source, and that is the Dao. Yet although the Dao begins as one, in the end it turns into countless things. Are the teeming myriad things, as they now stand, in fact the Dao, or are they not the Dao?

Answer: Between the Dao and the myriad things, how can one simply decide what is and what is not? Say that it is, and it may also not be; say that it is not, and it may also be.

Question: When one says that it is, there is no “is not”; when one says that it is not, there is no “is.” How, then, can one say “it is and yet is not; it is not and yet is”?

Answer: If there were no “is not,” how would anyone go on to ask what “is” is? To inquire into “is” already involves “is not”; to discuss “is not” already involves “is.”

Question: The myriad things originally come from the Dao. What causes them to acquire the distinction between right and wrong?

Answer: What gives them right and wrong, and what keeps them from having right and wrong? This is to say that right and wrong take shape through the natural transformation of the myriad things.

Question: If right and wrong arise through natural transformation, then they are all decided by me. What use, then, does the Dao have for me? And what is it that gives the myriad things right and wrong?

Answer: What gives them right and wrong, and what keeps them from having right and wrong? This is to say that right and wrong take shape through the natural transformation of the myriad things.

Question: If right and wrong arise through natural transformation, then they are all decided by me. What use, then, does the Dao have for me?

Answer: When you grasp the source of the transformation of the myriad things, that is what is called the Dao. The efficacy you obtain is likewise the efficacy of the Dao.

Question: If grasping the source already counts as the Dao, then when I do good, does the result of that good revert to the Dao? And when I do evil, does the result of that evil also revert to the Dao?

Answer: Ascribe the good to the Dao, and you yourself receive the result of good. Ascribe the evil to the Dao, and you yourself bear the result of evil. If you can choose to do evil of your own accord, how would the Dao go against your choice? The scripture (Jing) says: “The person who accords with the Dao is also received by the Dao; the person who accords with the loss of the Dao is also received by that loss.”

Question: Since it is said that the myriad things are the Dao, how can doing evil have anything to do with me? Why say instead that I myself have chosen evil?

Answer: You are the Dao. When you choose to do evil, that is evil arising within the Dao. Is this not your own choice?

Question: If I am the Dao, why still say that I can choose to do evil on my own? How could the Dao go against itself?

Answer: You yourself choose to do evil, and so the result of evil reverts to the Dao; and since the Dao is you, it of course does not go against itself.

Question: If right and wrong come from me, why should I still study the Dao and do away with right and wrong?

Answer: The one who studies the Dao is you yourself, studying the Dao.

Someone asked, “If I am the one who learns the Dao (the Way) myself, why do I still bring evil deeds upon myself in ordinary life?” The reply was, “A good question—only then can one begin to speak of the Dao. Knowing that the good is decided by oneself, one should not do evil. Why, then, would you use the learning of the Dao to escape the tangle of right and wrong?” The reply continued, “Learning the Dao is, from the start, your own learning.”

Someone asked again, “If I am the one who learns the Dao myself, why do I still bring evil deeds upon myself in ordinary life?” The reply was, “A good question—only then can one begin to speak of the Dao. Knowing that the good is decided by oneself, one should not do evil; knowing that evil likewise arises from oneself, one should not cling to the good. Going forward, there is no need to cling to the doing of good; drawing back, there is no need to fear that one will do evil. When good and evil are no longer clung to or entangled, is this not in accord with the Dao? Why must one abandon evil and cultivate good, divide good and evil into fixed boundaries, turn into them again and again, busy and exhausted, rushing about all one’s life, yet never seeing any accomplishment?” Someone who heard this expressed agreement.

Someone asked, “It is said, ‘there is having, and yet not having.’ What does this ‘having’ refer to? And when one says ‘not having,’ what is it that does not exist?” The reply was, “There are three explanations of this. First, speaking from the still and silent substance of the Dao, what is called ‘having’ refers to the wondrous being of the Dao, that is, the root that transforms and gives birth to the myriad things. The Daodejing says, ‘Within the deep and dark obscurity, there is a subtle and genuine existence.’ Discussions of the Dao also say, ‘The Dao has genuineness and has what can be trusted, yet it is Wuwei (non-action) and without form.’ What is called ‘not having’ does not refer to things that are turbid, encumbered, and possessed of form and substance. Second, speaking from the substance of the Dao as a blended unity, ‘having’ refers to the existence of that blended whole, and ‘not having’ means that there is no other existence outside the substance of the Dao. There is yet another explanation, which holds that ‘not having’ means not taking any single thing to be a fixed and substantial reality.”

Someone asked, “What is meant by saying ‘there is nothing, and yet not nothing’?” The reply was, “There are two explanations. First, speaking from the still and silent substance of the Dao, ‘nothing’ means that there is no form that can be seen or touched, while ‘not nothing’ means that although it has no form, it is not empty nothingness, for a formless and genuine existence still remains. Second, speaking from the blended substance of the Dao, ‘nothing’ means that no things exist independently outside the substance of the Dao, while ‘not nothing’ means that the Dao takes the blended whole of the myriad things as its own self, and therefore is not a void.”

Someone asked: Can one say that the substance of the Dao (the Way) has form and color, or that it is entirely without form and color? The answer is that one can say neither that it has form and color nor that it lacks form and color. Viewed from the side of stillness and empty quiescence, the material substance and outward shape of the substance of the Dao have both been wholly effaced, so one cannot say that it has form and color. Viewed from the side of its interfusion with the myriad things, the substance of the Dao merges into one with the myriad things; since the myriad things have form and color, the substance of the Dao is manifested within these forms and colors—how, then, can one say that it is without form and color? Another explanation says: when Xuanyuan Miaoqi (the mysterious primordial wondrous Qi, that is, the mysterious and wondrous source-Qi, or vital energy) manifests, material substance and shape have both been wholly effaced, so one cannot say that it has form and color; yet, viewed from the side of interfusion with the myriad things, the substance of the Dao is one with the myriad things, the myriad things have form and color, and the substance of the Dao is thereby manifested in form and color—how can one say that it is without form and color? A further explanation says: when the Xuanyuan Miaoqi brings forth material substance and displays traces of form, is this not itself a kind of form and color?

Someone asked: Is saying that it manifests as form and color the same in meaning as saying that it simply is the color of the myriad things? The answer is that it is at once the same and not the same. Insofar as it is manifested in form and color, one may say that they are the same; yet it is also “the color of no color,” so one cannot say that they are entirely the same.

Someone asked: As for this so-called manifesting as form and color, is it because the substance of the Dao originally possesses form and color that it brings forth material substance, or because the substance of the Dao is without form and color that it brings forth material substance? The answer is that both ways of speaking are acceptable. To say that the substance of the Dao is without form and color is because its fundamental body is empty and still—how could one say that it has form and color? Hence one says that it is without color. To say that it has form and color is because the substance of the Dao is subtle, wondrous, and genuinely real, and therefore possesses a color that is subtle, wondrous, and genuinely real.

Someone asked: Miaoqi (wondrous Qi, the mysterious and wondrous source-Qi) is originally without form and color, and brings forth form and color in accordance with the conditions and occasions of things. Is it, then, that the wondrous Qi itself becomes material substance, or that there is a material substance manifested apart from the wondrous Qi? The answer is that both ways of speaking are acceptable. To say that there is no separate material substance is because material substance is not apart from wondrous Qi; wondrous Qi itself is material substance. It is like water congealing into ice, or Qi gathering into material substance—would one say that there is ice apart from the water? Hence one says that the two are not two things. To say that the two are distinct is because “Qi” refers to what is empty, still, and without form, whereas “substance” is established by having bodily form and meeting with obstruction; once material substance is established, it can no longer be called Qi, just as, once ice has formed, it can no longer be called water. Hence one says that they are distinct.

Someone asked: Ice is formed by congealing through cold; from what, then, does material substance arise? The answer is that ice congeals because of cold, whereas material substance manifests in accordance with the conditions and occasions of things.

“Freezing” is formed by cold congealing, and it disperses only when it meets heat. What I do not understand is this: by what, then, does manifested form and substance disappear?

Answer: Water congeals because of cold, and when the cold recedes it disperses. Form and substance arise because of conditions, and when the conditions disappear they recede. Therefore one acts in response to conditions; when the conditions disappear, action likewise comes to rest.

Question: Can the principle of the Mysterious One (the principle of what is profound and dark and returns to the One) ultimately be put into words, or can it not be put into words?

Answer: Both ways of speaking are tenable. At this point the original text first repeats a passage about form and substance arising from conditions and receding when the conditions disappear. It then says: the myriad differences return to dispersal; form and substance arise in dependence on conditions and recede when the conditions disappear; therefore one acts in response to conditions, and when the conditions are exhausted, activity ceases.

Question: Can the principle of the Mysterious One ultimately be spoken, or can it not be spoken?

Answer: Both ways are acceptable. What is called the “root” originally has no fixed “One”; the “One” is established within speech. If one is now to gather the various differences together, without the expression “One” there is no way to subsume them. By means of the “One” one comprehends the differences, and so one says that it can be spoken.

Yet this “One” that is used to comprehend the differences originally has no substantial reality of its own. It is only because differences exist that one provisionally speaks of a “One”; once the differences disappear, the “One” has nothing on which to rest. Therefore there is no truly fixed thing that can be called the “One.” The Treatise says: “Since one calls it the ‘One,’ how can one say that there is no speech? Since one calls it the ‘One,’ how again can one say that it cannot be spoken?”

Question: Is the “One” that is spoken of spoken in contrast to the differences among the myriad things, or spoken without contrast to the differences among the myriad things?

Answer: Both ways are acceptable. To speak of it in contrast to the differences of the myriad things is to establish the name on the basis of its meaning and function; to speak of it without contrast to the differences of the myriad things is to name it on the basis of the true reality of its fundamental substance. A name established through opposition makes manifest the true reality of the fundamental substance, yet it still cannot be called an eternal and unchanging “One.”

Someone asked: “‘Rooted in the one, yet not stopping at the one’—this ‘one’ is something spoken in language. If we now wish to use it to hold together every kind of distinction, then unless we gather those distinctions by means of the ‘one,’ we cannot contain the myriad differences; so we provisionally borrow the ‘one’ to gather them. Once the distinctions have all dissolved, there is no longer a ‘one’ that can be called ‘one.’ Moreover, the Dao (the Way) shows itself through names set over against other things, while the so-called ‘one’ serves only to make plain the reality of the substance of the Dao. Before it is explained in words, it is called the ‘Constant One.’ If we say that after the distinctions dissolve there is no ‘one’ that can be called ‘one,’ and also say that before it is named it is the ‘Constant One,’ can these two claims, set side by side, really be reconciled?”

The reply was: “What is called the ‘one’ refers to the condition, before any word is spoken, in which the myriad things are held together. To utter the ‘one’ is to make it manifest through discrimination and naming; once discrimination and naming have both been removed, the silent condition of holding things together likewise no longer remains. When speech and silence have both melted away, where is there still a ‘one’? The Treatise says: it is neither speech nor silence, yet the sense of the principle still reaches its utmost. Even when speech and silence are no longer distinguished, how can one say that there is nothing at all?”

Someone asked: “Why is it said that ‘as regards the principle, it is mysterious from beginning to end’?”

The reply was: “Faced with the separation and difference of things, the principle appears mysterious.”

Someone asked: “What is meant by ‘mystery upon mystery’?”

The reply was: “The first ‘mystery’ is a name that appears against the separation and difference of things; going further, it has no need to be displayed, but is mysterious of itself. The earlier ‘mystery’ is a name established in relation to things; the later ‘further mystery’ means that it stands over against no object and awaits no discrimination, but is mysterious from the start. It is therefore called ‘mystery upon mystery.’”

Someone asked: “If it is mysterious of itself without waiting to be displayed, by what means, then, is it to be discussed?”

The reply was: “We only borrow words for the moment in order to explain it.”

Someone asked: “If we must borrow words to explain it, and words themselves involve contrast, why is it also said that its mystery cannot be brought forth by display?”

The reply was: “What was earlier called ‘words of contrast’ uses language set against things in order to display mystery; what is here called ‘words in which meaning is lodged’ uses language to explain a mystery that involves no contrast. Both may be called speech, yet the former has contrast while the latter points toward the absence of contrast. Hence we say ‘further mystery,’ to mark that the two are not the same.”

Someone asked: “Can this ‘mystery upon mystery’ be attained through cultivation?”

The reply was: “What is spoken of here is the Mysterious De (Virtue/Power)—the profound and natural virtue of the substance of the Dao—making mystery manifest.”

Question: Can the so-called “mystery upon mystery” be attained through cultivation?

Answer: There are two ways of understanding “mysterious De,” the subtle realm of the Dao (the Way) and De (Virtue/Power). One is “embodying mysterious De,” and the other is “practicing mysterious De.” Embodying mysterious De means realizing the fundamental principle of the Dao. It is subtle and genuine, yet it does not show itself, and so it is called embodying mysterious De. Practicing mysterious De means that the merits of cultivation are already complete and one accords with the mysterious Dao. Because one enters this realm through cultivation, it is called practicing mysterious De.

Question: Does a person who has realized the mysterious Dao and attained mysterious De still need to cultivate?

Answer: Before mysterious De has been reached, one must still, through cultivation, dispel attachment to “being” and “non-being.” Once the realm is attained, neither embodiment nor practice falls into being or into non-being. One grasps neither of the two sides, being and non-being. This is called “forgetting both,” that is, letting go of both attachments at the same time.

Question: As for this so-called “forgetting both,” what must one cultivate in order to attain mysterious De?

Answer: The aim of the teaching is to view matters in a thoroughly interconnected way, and within it the principles are distinguished as hidden or manifest. “Forgetting both” refers to the cultivation by which attachment is brought to rest, while “mysterious De” refers to the realm of accord with the true Dao. The teaching is not established in vain, and cultivation must necessarily forget what has been gained. Before forgetting both is reached, one’s understanding of things and principles is still affected by discrimination and separation, so differing views arise, and one must let go of grasping and abandoning. After forgetting both is reached, the principle becomes clear from the standpoint of interconnection. Observed with a unifying vision, understanding can return to a single whole and is no longer divided, and thus there is neither grasping nor abandoning. The cultivation spoken of here is precisely the practice of “neither grasping nor abandoning.” The Miaozhen jing (Scripture of Wondrous Truth) says: “Without grasping, proper Qi (vital energy) naturally settles; without abandoning, deviant Qi naturally disappears.” This realm is called “the mysterious.” The natural settling of proper Qi is called “De,” and so it is called “mysterious De.”

Question: Whenever one speaks of cultivation, there must be something to grasp or abandon. If there is neither grasping nor abandoning, on what grounds can it be called cultivation?

Answer: From the standpoint of the principle of “forgetting,” there is in fact no practice of grasping or abandoning. What is called the practice of forgetting both takes Wuwei (non-action) as its cultivation: without deliberate contrivance, cultivation arises of itself. Subtle accord with mysterious De refers precisely to this realm.

Question: Does the substance of the Dao contain both emptiness and being?

Answer: The substance of the Dao is present everywhere; what is there that it cannot contain?

Question: Is the Dao (the Way) said to “embrace emptiness and being” because it contains emptiness and being? Or is there, beyond “neither emptiness nor being,” another kind of Dao, which is therefore able to embrace emptiness and being?

Answer: Both ways of speaking hold. What is said here is put from the standpoint that the substance of the Dao penetrates everywhere without obstruction; it is not confined to the range covered by doctrinal teaching. Teaching does not arise for no reason; it is always established in response to concrete things. Because it responds to things, it speaks of the Dao as dwelling in clarity, stillness, and lofty remoteness, and of things as dwelling in turbidity and entanglement. Thus, to say that the Dao lies beyond emptiness and being is to bring out the sense in which the Dao embraces all; to say that emptiness and being are themselves the Dao is to say that, once the Dao has been realized, what thing is not the Dao? The myriad things are all the Dao, and so even emptiness and being can display the significance of the Dao’s embracing all things.

Question: That what lies beyond emptiness and being can make plain the Dao’s capacity to embrace may be granted. But if emptiness and being are themselves the Dao, then nothing else remains. How, in that case, can one still speak of “embracing”?

Answer: The Dao is neither emptiness and being, nor wholly apart from emptiness and being. “Not” serves to clear away names and appearances, while “not-not” serves to express the true substance of the Dao. Because the substance of the Dao can contain the myriad things, it is called “embracing.” It is like the Four Great Elements—earth, water, fire, and wind, which constitute the body—gathering to form a human body. The body contains the Four Great Elements and is not thereby left empty or incomplete; yet the body is not merely the Four Great Elements themselves, and so one may say that the body embraces the Four Great Elements.

Question: Does saying that it is “not non-emptiness and not non-being” exhaust the substance of the Dao?

Answer: Even the “six negations”—a series of formulations that use “not” to negate names and appearances—still cannot exhaust the substance of the Dao, much less “the not-not of emptiness and being.” When it was said earlier that in this way one may come to apprehend the Dao, that was because, after these negations, one seems to draw near to what is real. But if the realm beyond words has not yet been reached, one can only provisionally set a name and offer a rough account. In truth, the real scope of the Dao lies far beyond these formulations. Hence it is said: “The Dao that can be spoken of is not the constant Dao.”

Question: What does the constant Dao take as its substance?

Answer: Because the true substance of the Dao has not yet been reached, one can only provisionally set a name and offer a rough account. In truth, the real scope of the Dao lies far beyond these formulations. Hence it is said: “The Dao that can be spoken of is not the constant Dao.”

Question: What does the constant Dao take as its substance?

Answer: It takes being and non-being, together with neither being nor non-being, as its substance.

Someone asked: “Because the Dao (the Way) cannot be fixed as any particular concrete existent, it is called ‘non-being’ (wu); yet it can also cause non-being to be transformed and generated as ‘being’ (you). Since being and non-being differ from each other, who is their master? And since the Dao does not act by deliberate intention, why may it still be called ‘substance’ (ti)—the root and ontological ground?”

The reply was: “Since it is called the constant Dao, the eternal and unchanging Way, how can one say that it can be spoken of, and how can one say that it cannot? One says that it can be spoken of because the substance of the Dao is not simply being or non-being; one says that it cannot be spoken of because it may also be explained by means of being and non-being.”

Someone further asked: “If the substance of the Dao is neither being nor non-being, then beyond being and non-being there would seem to be another substance of the Dao. If one says that the substance of the Dao may also be described as being or as non-being, then being and non-being are already each distinct in themselves—why speak further of a substance of the Dao? If one takes ‘neither being nor non-being’ as the substance of the Dao and ‘being and non-being’ as the function of the Dao, then neither-being-nor-non-being stands on one side, and being and non-being on the other. If they each occupy a separate side, one must look further for two kinds of Dao-substance; if one side is taken as the other, then one side will be active and the other discarded. How can one both say that it is neither being nor non-being and say that being and non-being are also the Dao? Having heard this reply, my doubts have only grown deeper.”

The reply was: “What is there that the substance of the Dao cannot embrace? Viewed from the side on which ‘being is not non-being,’ both being and non-being are originally quiescent; and since they are originally quiescent, what could there still be outside the substance? Viewed from the side of being and non-being, quiescent non-being is not incapable of giving rise to being, and quiescent being does not exclude non-being. Being issues from the ontological ground, and quiescence is thus present within being and non-being. The root of the myriad things originally admits of no distinction, and therefore neither being nor non-being may be clung to. Quiescence and function can both be established; function is not abolished, nor can any place be found where it is abolished. How can you let your mind fall into confusion, and then use that confusion to doubt the substance of the Dao?”

Someone asked: “If one speaks of being and non-being, why does one also say that it is not being and not non-being?”

The reply was: “The Daodejing, the Jing (scripture/classic) of the Dao and of De (Virtue/Power), says: ‘The nameless is the beginning of Heaven and Earth; the named is the mother of the myriad things.’ The Nanhua Jing (the Zhuangzi) likewise says that the Dao cannot be called being, nor can it be called non-being.”

Someone further asked: “Being cannot be called non-being, and non-being cannot be called being. How, then, can one say that both being and non-being are the substance of the Dao, and also say that neither being nor non-being is the substance of the Dao?”

The reply was: “The Dao can generate the myriad things and transform the myriad kinds. In light of the principles of the Way of Heaven, it is still and profoundly remote, so one cannot say that it is non-being; yet, being still and profoundly remote, one also cannot say that it is being—and therefore one further says that it is neither being nor non-being. Just as a person takes the four limbs as parts of the body, the Dao holds four principles together as its root. What is there in this to doubt?”

Someone asked: The fundamental nature of the Dao (the Way) is profound and still, and hard to put into words. It cannot be called “being,” and so it is further said to be neither being nor non-being. By analogy, a person takes the four limbs as the body, while the Dao takes the unified grasp of four principles as its fundamental nature. What is there in this to doubt?

Someone asked: Since it is not settled whether the fundamental nature of the Dao is ultimately being or non-being, its name ought likewise to have no fixed standard. Why, then, is it always called the “Dao”? The reply was: Quite so. The name “Dao” itself has no fixed and unchanging rule. The Jing (scripture/classic) says, “I do not know its name; reluctantly I give it the style-name ‘Dao,’ and again reluctantly I call it ‘great.’” And, “The Dao that can be spoken is not the constant, unchanging Dao.” How can a name be fixed? What is meant by “having a fixed aspect” is this: even though neither being nor non-being has a fixed standard, the Dao can still follow the pattern of things and run through the myriad beings. One may therefore also say that it has a determinate side.

Someone asked: If the fundamental nature of the Dao has no fixed standard, and its name is not constant either, how can a principle without a fixed standard be learned? The reply was: Some things can be cultivated through practice, while others cannot be fully reached. It may also be explained in this way. What is called “not-being” is not established by relying on any particular cause. The name “Dao,” by contrast, is how one comes through learning to understand the nameless, and the nameless can in turn become the name that embraces all things. Among the four principles set out above, the fundamental nature without a fixed standard is my own self, and the name without a fixed standard is my own designation. What, then, is there that cannot be learned? The questioner has truly asked a great deal.

Someone asked: It is said that the Dao can penetrate all things without the least obstruction. From where can this be shown? The reply was: There are two explanations. One accounts for penetration from the side of obstruction; the other accounts for penetration from the fundamental nature itself. To speak from the side of obstruction is to say that “penetration” serves to remove blockage. To speak from the fundamental nature itself is to say that its fundamental nature is penetrating from the outset, and so it is called “penetrating.”

Someone asked: That “penetration” can remove obstruction is, broadly speaking, understandable, and not hard to believe. But if the fundamental nature originally bears the sense of obstruction, then where is this so-called “penetration” supposed to penetrate? The reply was: To say here that the fundamental nature penetrates is likewise only to explain it by means of words. It is precisely because the fundamental nature is constantly penetrating that one says it is constantly penetrating.

Someone asked: “‘Penetration’ is spoken of in contrast to separation. Since what is separated is not penetrated, how can one say that, in terms of fundamental substance, it is penetrated?”

Answer: “In terms of the principle of fundamental substance, the Dao (the Way) is originally such that there is nowhere it does not penetrate; even before it has been clearly discerned, it is already penetrating. It is like the surface of water, or a mirror: even when nothing is reflected in it, its nature remains clear and luminous. It is also like fire, whose nature is constantly hot—must one wait until someone recognizes it before it counts as hot?”

Someone asked: “When one says that the fundamental substance is originally penetrating, and that it remains penetrating even before it has been discerned, is this penetration spoken of with reference to separation, or without reference to separation?”

Answer: “Both are the case; only the situations they address differ. To speak of it ‘with reference to separation’ is because only when things have become separated does penetration show itself. To speak of ‘the penetration of fundamental substance’ is to say that, even before any separation, it has constantly been so; it is not something that comes to be only now. Although the fundamental substance is constantly penetrating, in the past no separation had yet appeared, and so people had no way of recognizing this penetration. If one does not rely on separation to bring it to light, by what means can this penetration be discerned?”

Someone asked: “Whatever has form cannot become nothing, and what is formless cannot become something. Heaven is supremely wondrous, and so it is ranked among the Four Greats, yet in the end it cannot change form and become earth. The same is true of the Dao. Since the Four Greats are each bound by their own limits, how can the Dao alone be an exception?”

Answer: “Although heaven, earth, and the Dao are each called one of the Four Greats, heaven and earth have fixed form and position, and so they cannot transform into one another. The Dao, by its fundamental substance, penetrates without exception, and is therefore present everywhere.”

Someone asked: “If one says that the fundamental substance penetrates without exception, are both principle and phenomena included within it?”

Answer: “They are included, and yet not entirely included.”

Someone asked: “Why say that they are included, and also not entirely included?”

Answer: “The myriad things in all their profusion are manifestations of the Dao; this is what is meant by saying that it includes the myriad things. Yet the myriad things are always confined by their own limitations, while the Dao is constantly penetrating, empty and fused, and free of obstruction. Therefore one also says that it is not limited by the myriad things.”

Someone asked: “Including all the myriad things can serve as the substance of the Dao. But if one says that it does not include the myriad things, can that also serve as the substance of the Dao?”

Answer: “Precisely because the substance of the Dao both includes the myriad things and is not confined by them, it is able to embrace all things. It both embraces and is not bound by what it embraces; only this is an embrace that is perfect and all-pervading.”

Someone asked: If one has fully grasped the overall meaning of the Dao (the Way), then one ought also to regard “obstruction” as one aspect of the substance of the Dao. Why do people always say that “the Dao is penetrating”? Always speaking of the substance of the Dao as penetrating only leaves one unclear how to grasp it in full.

The reply: To say that “penetration” is the substance of the Dao is only to single out one aspect within the whole of that substance for discussion. Seen from the ultimate standpoint, neither penetration nor obstruction can be fixed in place. If one explains it from only one side, there is penetration and no obstruction; if one is cut off by discriminative clinging, one sees only obstruction and cannot see penetration. If both are taken into one’s understanding, there is both penetration and obstruction; if one clings to neither side, there is no fixed obstruction and no fixed penetration. The Dao and the myriad things mysteriously unite as one, at once penetrating and obstructed. Once this is thoroughly understood, one sees that the claim “there is only obstruction and no penetration” cannot stand either.

Only in order to awaken the dull does one specially say, “There is only penetration and no obstruction.” If one lays stress only on explaining the penetrating aspect of the substance of the Dao and of De (Virtue/Power), one must not take this to mean that the substance of the Dao is wholly still and cuts off everything. Only then can one be said to have, from beginning to end, a perfectly integrated and penetrating understanding of the principle. The Dao flows and interweaves; one listens for it yet hears no sound. It crisscrosses and circulates; one bears it yet feels no weight. The root of the Dao is hard to seek, yet it lies close within your own heart; its branches and tips are easy to see, right before the eyes, no more than a foot away. When the mind is limpid like empty space, it can illuminate all things, and the luminous mind and Shen (spirit) that discern the transformations of things will also appear. Craving and appetite bring a person to ruin; yet once these principles are understood, the features of craving stand out all the more clearly.

Someone asked: Daoist discourse often speaks of the Dao as penetrating. From what angle is this “penetration” spoken of here?

The reply: It is explained from the angles of the substance of the Dao and of the teaching.

Someone asked: Does the “substance” spoken of here embrace and govern all things?

The reply: Since it is called “substance,” it embraces all things.

Someone asked: Since the substance of the Dao embraces all things, one ought also to say that obstruction is the substance of the Dao. Why speak only of taking penetration as the substance?

The reply: When “substance” is spoken of here, it is expressed on the basis of the teaching; what the teaching can indicate is only the aspect of “penetration.” The fish-trap is verbal teaching used to point to the principle, just as the bamboo implement used to catch fish is only a tool and not the object indicated.

Someone asked: When it is said that the teaching takes the substance of the Dao as its ground and elucidates penetration, does this mean that the teaching itself is the substance of the Dao and thereby explains penetration, or that the teaching itself is not the substance of the Dao, yet can indicate the substance of the Dao and elucidate the principle of penetration?

The reply: Both ways of putting it are acceptable.

Someone asked: If the teaching is not the fundamental reality, then the fundamental reality cannot be exhaustively fathomed; if the teaching is the fundamental reality, then the fundamental reality would seem also to contain both penetration and obstruction at once. Why, then, take penetration as the main content of the teaching? Why speak of penetration alone as the teaching?

Answer: The teaching has not departed from the fundamental reality; to speak of the teaching is already to speak of the fundamental reality. Thus one says that the teaching is not the fundamental reality, and at the same time that the teaching is the fundamental reality. The teaching lays particular stress on clarifying penetration; this does not mean that obstruction is left undiscussed. It is only that, with regard to one and the same fundamental reality, what is superior and what is inferior must be distinguished: pointing out that obstruction is wrong serves to make plain that penetration is right. This is the intent proper to instruction and cultivation.

Someone asked: Since, within one and the same fundamental reality, superior and inferior are to be distinguished, and in teaching penetration is taken as correct and obstruction as mistaken, is the aim to have people abandon obstruction and turn instead to seeking penetration?

Answer: To abandon what is mistaken and choose what is correct is naturally to tend toward penetration.

Someone asked: Since it is said that, taken as a whole, both are accepted, then both penetration and obstruction count as correct. Why still tell me to abandon obstruction and turn toward penetration?

Answer: From the standpoint of the fundamental reality, there is originally no such thing as cultivation, nor anything that needs to be abandoned. What is called “abandoning” here is spoken from the standpoint of the teaching.

Someone asked: When it is said that, from the standpoint of the fundamental reality, one takes the Dao (the Way) as penetration, on what basis is this discerned?

Answer: It is discerned from the standpoint of the teaching.

Someone asked: If one speaks of penetration from the standpoint of the teaching, then are the teaching and penetration the fundamental reality?

Answer: When one discusses penetration, one speaks only of penetration and does not discuss the fundamental reality; when one explains the fundamental reality, one speaks only of the fundamental reality and does not discuss penetration.

Someone asked: What is called “penetration” is spoken of relative to “obstruction.” Does the “obstruction” spoken of here belong to the fundamental reality or to the teaching?

Answer: Obstruction belongs neither to the fundamental reality nor to the teaching; like penetration, it is used within the teaching to clarify the principle.

Someone asked: Since both penetration and obstruction are formulations within the teaching for clarifying the principle, why does the teaching esteem only penetration? If penetration is especially esteemed, does obstruction then not count as the teaching?

Answer: Both penetration and obstruction are what the teaching uses to clarify the principle; the two things thus clarified are themselves not the teaching. Why should it be that only “obstruction” does not count as the teaching?

Question: What is ordinarily called “penetration” is not the same as the teaching, and neither “penetration” nor “obstruction” is the teaching itself. Why, then, is “penetration” given particular emphasis within the teaching?

Answer: Precisely because the teaching itself is not “penetration,” it can be used to distinguish what penetration is and what obstruction is. In this distinction there is naturally a difference of higher and lower. Why is this so? When a person penetrates their original nature and awakens to principle, the teaching manifests as “penetration”; when one is deluded and bound, clinging to ignorance, the teaching manifests as “obstruction.” That the teaching can distinguish the higher from the lower—what is there to doubt?

Question: Is the principle just as was stated above?

Answer: Precisely because the teaching itself is not “penetration,” it can be used to distinguish what penetration is and what obstruction is. In this distinction there is naturally a difference of higher and lower. When a person penetrates their original nature and awakens to principle, the teaching manifests as “penetration”; when one is deluded and bound, clinging to ignorance, the teaching manifests as “obstruction.” That the teaching can distinguish the higher from the lower—what is there to doubt?

Question: According to what was said above, when one speaks of the fundamental substance there is only the fundamental substance and no “penetration”; when one speaks of “penetration” there is only “penetration” and no fundamental substance. Are “penetration” and “obstruction,” then, outside the fundamental substance or within it? If they lie outside it, the fundamental substance cannot encompass the myriad things; if they lie within it, why is it said that when one speaks of “penetration” there is no fundamental substance?

Answer: “Penetration” and “obstruction” do not depart from the fundamental substance, yet in concrete analysis what are called “penetration” and “obstruction” are not the fundamental substance itself. When one speaks of the fundamental substance one likewise cannot leave “penetration” and “obstruction” aside, yet the fundamental substance itself is not identical with “penetration” or “obstruction.”

Question: Earlier it was said that analyzing the fundamental substance cannot do without “penetration” and “obstruction,” yet the fundamental substance is not “penetration” and “obstruction”; it was also said that speaking of the fundamental substance involves no “penetration,” and speaking of “penetration” involves no fundamental substance. Now, however, it is said that “penetration” and “obstruction” do not leave the fundamental substance, and yet in analysis they are not the fundamental substance. Does this not also mean that “penetration” and “obstruction” are distinguished out from within the fundamental substance? Why, then, still say that speaking of “penetration” involves no fundamental substance, and speaking of the fundamental substance involves no “penetration”?

Answer: To discuss the fundamental substance and “penetration” separately is a distinction at the level of principle and meaning; to say that “penetration” does not leave the fundamental substance is to speak from the actual root. Names and what they actually refer to may be discussed apart. The fundamental substance can both encompass the two and discern their sameness and difference; therefore it is said that the fundamental substance cannot be completely exhausted by the particular distinctions among the myriad things.

Question: Does the Dao (the Way), in the end, give rise to the myriad things, or does it not give rise to the myriad things?

Answer: It both gives rise to the myriad things and does not give rise to the myriad things.

Someone asked, “Between ‘generating’ and ‘not generating,’ roughly how many layers of meaning are there?”

The reply was, “Roughly three. In the first, ‘function’ is ‘meaning’—that is, meaning is explained from the side of function. On this account, the Dao (the Way) both generates and does not generate. In the second, the Dao itself does not arise, nor does it have awareness or feeling; yet awareness and feeling become unobstructed by means of the Dao, and discriminative discernment arises from this, so one says ‘the Dao generates.’ The Dao itself has no mental activity, and so one also says ‘it does not generate.’ In the third, the myriad things each arise on their own, and there is no Dao that can go on to generate them, so one says ‘the Dao does not generate.’”

Someone further asked, “Within the principle of creation and transformation there are distinctions of arising. Do the myriad things also admit a distinction of superior and inferior in terms of principle?”

The reply was, “Of the principle of creation and transformation one may say both that it has superiority and inferiority and that it does not. Why is this so? Seen from the sameness of the natures of the myriad things, one may say there is no superiority or inferiority; seen from the differences that the myriad things manifest, one may also say there is superiority and inferiority.”

Someone asked, “Set aside for now those arguments that take their stand on difference. I ask only this: if, in terms of principle and nature, there is no superiority or inferiority, how do the myriad things arise from principle? And once the myriad things have arisen, how can superiority and inferiority be distinguished on their own?”

The reply was, “It is like a person’s saliva: the larger resembles dew drops, the smaller mist. The person’s mind has no intention of dividing the saliva into large and small, yet large and small appear of themselves.”

Someone further asked, “If saliva inherently has a nature that can be distinguished, then superiority and inferiority are already fixed within principle. If saliva inherently has no nature of large and small, then the difference between dew and mist cannot even be spoken of, and within principle there is likewise no real substance of superiority and inferiority.”

The reply was, “Two contrasting positions were set out earlier: one says that nature has differences, and one says that nature has no differences. Understand this, and the matter is clear. Speaking now from the side that can be distinguished, nature displays superiority and inferiority; when distinction has not yet appeared, there is no ground for speaking of superiority and inferiority. To say there is no superiority or inferiority refers to the time before distinction; to say there is superiority and inferiority refers to the time when difference has already appeared. As for its fundamental substance, it is pure and unitary, without distinction; as for the appearing of distinctions, the forms of the myriad things each undergo their own changes. Both of these principles hold. What is there to doubt?”

Someone asked: When we speak of innate nature, it is sometimes said to exist and sometimes said not to exist, and this line of reasoning can still be understood. What I have not yet grasped is how different things are to be compared. Although their forms differ in size, each is endowed with its own principle; and if the principle they receive is the same, is there still a distinction between noble and base?

The reply was: What is called exalted and lowly is spoken of from the standpoint of innate nature. Viewed as a whole, human beings and the myriad things are originally the same. Thus the Nanhua lun (that is, the Zhuangzi) says: “Seen from the Dao (the Way), there is neither noble nor base; seen from the standpoint of each of the myriad things, each values itself and looks down on the others.” It also says: “Heaven and Earth come into being together with me, and the myriad things and I form one undifferentiated whole.”

Someone asked: At root, things are an undifferentiated whole, their meaning complete; only when concrete distinctions are discussed do high and low appear. What is called “non-being” is the state not yet differentiated; what is called “being” is the flux of transformation after differentiation. It is now said that, viewed as a whole, humans and the myriad things are always the same. Yet once humans and things have already been distinguished, how can this sameness be equated with the still-unchanged, undifferentiated state?

The reply was: What is being spoken of is the principle prior to change, whereas distinctions are spoken of in terms of form and qualitative nature. When distinctions are discussed, no form can be wholly unlike every other form; when the whole is discussed, humans and the myriad things have not altered their common root. Is there, apart from humans and the myriad things, some further unchanging existence? Particular things, then, do not subsist independently on their own, and this principle of “not-being” can indeed serve as a basis for understanding and for holding fast.

Someone asked: From the perspective of the Dao, humans and the myriad things are always the same; yet from the standpoint of their respective feelings and positions, the myriad things again show distinctions of noble and base. Within these mutually estranged standpoints, then, is there noble and base after all?

The reply was: Discriminated from the standpoint of mutual distinction, there truly is a difference between noble and base.

Someone asked: If, seen from the Dao, there is neither noble nor base, while, seen from each of the myriad things, each values itself and slights the others, then every thing regards itself as noble. On what grounds, then, do humans claim nobility for themselves?

The reply was: The scriptures (Jing) and the teachings hold that humans are noble, and this claim has a basis and does indeed carry that meaning.

Someone asked: Who set forth the scriptures and the teachings?

The reply was: The sages set them forth.

Question: Those who lecture on learning are also sages, yet they regard themselves as noble. What, after all, is distinctive about the sage’s thorough understanding of his own nobility?

Answer: To consider oneself noble while looking down on others is a common practice among people of the same kind. Even if one may esteem oneself, this does not prevent others from revering the sage. The Jing (scripture) says: “Dwelling in a high position while the common people suffer no harm from it—this is why one is honored by all under Heaven.”

Question: The inherent natures and principles of the myriad things differ from one another, and so nobility and baseness can be distinguished. It is still not known on what grounds ordinary people are said to be the most noble.

Answer: All things under Heaven are managed and directed by human beings, and from this one may infer that the human station is noble. Why is this so? Because human beings possess numinous intelligence and can discern the good and know the evil. To say that the myriad things have neither nobility nor baseness is the saying of the sage; to discuss human beings as the most noble is in order to clarify the distinctions of teaching and transformation. To say that each person is noble in himself is meant to leave people content with themselves and clinging to delusion. To discuss the nobility of the human being is in order to make plain that cultivation proceeds by gradual stages. Teaching and transformation aim to clarify principle and to guide and receive sentient beings; there is no method that cannot be employed. One first grants a certain statement and then sets it aside, so as to show that what is taken up and what is rejected must accord with differing capacities and aspirations, and that one must not cling rigidly.

Question: The arising and the passing away of sentient beings—upon what does each depend?

Answer: Sentient beings are born through the Dao (the Way), and they also perish through the Dao. Because the fundamental substance of the Dao is blended and undifferentiated, embracing the myriad things, the birth and perishing of all things never depart from the Dao. If we now use a concrete thing as an analogy, the point is easy to grasp: in washing, water comes from water and in the end returns to water.

Question: Why is there birth? And why is there also perishing?

Answer: To arise through transformation is called “birth”; to return from transformation to the original source is called “perishing.”

Question: To be born for no reason at all, and then to perish once more—what benefit is there in this?

Answer: One does not know why it is born, nor why it perishes; since nothing makes it necessarily so, this is called spontaneous birth and perishing.

Question: What benefit is there in the substance by which the Dao transforms and generates the myriad things, and in the myriad things following what is natural to them and arising and perishing according to conditions?

Answer: One does not know why it is born, nor why it perishes; since nothing makes it necessarily so, this is called spontaneous birth and perishing.

Question: Is the fundamental substance by which the Dao (the Way) transforms and brings forth the myriad things one and the same reality as spontaneity and causes and conditions, or are they two different things?

Answer: Creative transformation is precisely spontaneity and causes and conditions, and the root of spontaneity and causes and conditions is non-abiding (neither fixed nor stagnant). Spoken of in terms of its function of generating the myriad things, it is called “creative transformation.” Change never departs from creative transformation; at every moment it arises spontaneously. Its own changes are subtle and unceasing, and so they are called “causes and conditions.” Viewed separately, each is different; viewed in fusion, they are the same. Why is this so? The principle cannot be reached all at once; concrete things can be established only by relying on various conditions. The root of those conditions takes causes and conditions as its guiding aim. When the working of causes and conditions is complete, it ultimately returns to spontaneity. At this point the mind grasps neither external things nor itself. Inner and outer are both forgotten, and the inner mind fuses into one with the myriad things.

Question: Does what is called “embodying the self” mean explaining the self by setting it apart from external things, explaining the self within the interfusion of the myriad things, or simply explaining the self by means of the self?

Answer: All of these ways of putting it are acceptable. Ordinary people, confused and fixing their contemplation on something, readily divide purity and defilement into two sides, and so one provisionally places the fundamental substance of the self outside the myriad things. Those who have reached understanding contemplate the myriad things as a whole and regard the myriad things and the self as one and the same body. In order to dispel both of these discriminations, one therefore speaks of discerning the self within interfusion. If one contemplates from the standpoint of fundamental equality and oneness, then there is nothing that can be interfused and nothing that can be distinguished, and so one says that one merely explains the self by means of the self.

Question: If one still speaks of “the self explaining the self,” how can the language of interfusion be eliminated? If one sets interfusion aside in order to speak of the self, a “self” still remains. When the mind thinks of this self, it is still thinking of the interfused things that stand opposed to it, and that is why one speaks of explaining the self by means of the self.

Question: If the formulation “the self explaining the self” is still retained, how can interfusion be eliminated? If one excludes interfusion and speaks of the self, a self still remains. How does thinking of the self differ from thinking of the object with which it is interfused?

Answer: Because you raised the question of “the self,” I answered with “the self explaining the self.” If one does not ask about the self, there is nothing that needs to be called “the self.”

Question: Since one answers “the self explaining the self” only because someone has asked about the self, and if no one asks there is nothing that can be called the self, may one also answer in this way: if someone asks about interfusion, one answers with interfusion, and if no one asks about interfusion, there is likewise nothing that can be called interfusion?

Answer: Both are acceptable.

Question: If that is so, what difference is there, after all, between interfusion and the self explaining the self? Why is it said that the self explaining the self is superior to interfusion?

Answer: The expression “interfusion” is a name set up in response to distinctions. To penetrate the self is to manifest the self from the standpoint of embracing the myriad things without discrimination. Since the non-discriminating realm that embraces the myriad things has not yet been reached, one still makes use of the expression “the self.”

Someone asked: If that is so, what in the end is the difference between “hunzi” and “zizi,” and why is “zizi” said to surpass “hun”? The reply was: “Hun” is a name established in response to the incipient workings of differentiation. One who has penetrated “zi” does not take differentiation as fundamental, but brings to light the comprehensive holding of differentiation within self-nature. Because this comprehensive holding still falls short of the realm without differentiation, “zizi” is used to indicate a higher level.

Someone asked: Is “hun, and yet with nothing that is mixed” Daguan (penetrating insight), or is it not? The reply was: It is Daguan.

Someone asked: Only “hun, and yet with nothing that is mixed” is called Daguan. Since “hun” is itself already “zi,” how can it still be called Daguan? The reply was: Speaking comparatively, there are several kinds of Daguan. “Hun” is called Daguan because, set against the “ting” (hall) beyond things, it appears penetrating. What is meant here by “being without hun and thereby constituting Daguan” is the Daguan that exhausts the fundamental purport.

Someone asked: Only equality, and hun with nothing that is mixed, count as Daguan. Does a state that still involves “hun” then not count as Daguan? The reply was: It may be said to count, and it may also be said not to count. Relative to the differentiated states later divided off by qingshi (emotional consciousness), “hun” may be called Daguan; relative to the prior state of equality, “hun” still does not count as Daguan.

Someone asked: If, viewed from the standpoint of equality, “hun” does not count as Daguan, does “hun” instead become an obstruction of qingshi? The reply was: If one measures by the level of equality, “hun” instead becomes an obstruction of qingshi; if one discerns from the angle of the differentiation of the myriad things, “hun” may be called Daguan.

Someone asked: If that is so, and obstruction by qingshi is of two kinds, is there likewise a distinction among forms of Daguan that can be discerned? The reply was: Although obstruction by qingshi has two levels of entanglement, from the standpoint of the differentiation of the myriad things “hun” may still be called Daguan.

Someone asked again: If that is so, and obstruction by qingshi is of two kinds, is there likewise a distinction among forms of Daguan that can be discerned? The reply was: Although obstruction by qingshi differs in depth, Daguan likewise has two names; this does not prevent “hun” and “zi” from differing from each other.

Someone asked: If contrast with something else is enough for a state to be called Daguan, then how does the Daguan of equality become manifest? The reply was: It becomes manifest by being set in contrast with “hun.”

Someone asked: By contrast with “hun,” it may be called Daguan. Yet within the Daguan of equality, both differentiation and “hun” have already vanished—where, then, is there still any Daguan to speak of? The reply was: Both kinds of Daguan receive their names only through contrast with some state. One speaks of “hun” in order to dispel differentiation, and one speaks of equality in order to dispel “hun.” Once differentiation has been dispelled, equality no longer stands; once equality has come to rest, the name “Daguan” likewise ceases.

Question: Are the so-called “differentiation,” “undifferentiated completion,” and “equality” drawn from the classics, or are they the Master’s own explanation?

Answer: These expressions are not set up without foundation; each has a basis in the classics. “Differentiation” refers to what the classics describe as the myriad things being manifold and distinct from one another. “Undifferentiated completion” refers to the classics’ phrase, “There is something undifferentiated and complete.” “Equality” refers to what the Zhuangzi says: that an autumn hair is equal to Mount Tai, that rubble is the same as gold and jade, that Heaven and Earth come into being together with me, and that the myriad things and I blend into one.

Question: The first three expressions are all stated explicitly in the scriptures and treatises. Apart from “undifferentiation” and “differentiation,” then, there is a further principle that neither makes distinctions nor speaks of equality. From which classic does it come?

Answer: The classic says, “Look at it and you do not see it; listen to it and you do not hear it.” It is Wuwei (non-action) and without form; it is the fundamental substance of Xiyi (the invisible and the inaudible). It is still and vacant, without shape. Since it has no shape, how could one measure it by “equality”?

Question: Does this fundamental substance contain good and evil?

Answer: Good and evil are present within the fundamental substance, yet good and evil are not the fundamental principle of the Dao (the Way).

Question: If good and evil both exist within the same fundamental substance, and neither is the fundamental principle, why does the teaching still require one to cut off evil and cultivate good?

Answer: Although good and evil are both contained within the fundamental substance, evil does not accord with the principle and obscures it, whereas good can make the fundamental substance clear and luminous.

Someone asks: If evil exists within the fundamental substance, why is it precisely evil that obscures the principle?

The reply is this: It is like insects growing on a tree. Although the insects are born upon the tree, they are not the tree itself; once the seasonal rain falls, the situation changes. It is also like rust and grime on the outside of a mirror: neither belongs to the mirror itself, yet rust can make the mirror’s surface show its brightness, while grime impairs the mirror’s power to reflect. That the fundamental substance contains both good and evil means roughly this. Moreover, in name, good and evil stand opposed; since evil can obscure the principle, the distinction between good and evil naturally becomes clear as well.

There is also another explanation, which discusses the meaning of the fundamental substance. Of the fundamental substance there are two accounts. One says that the fundamental substance includes good and evil, yet the fundamental substance itself is not identical with good or with evil. The other says that the fundamental substance is the root of good and does not belong to the distinction between good and evil. All manner of afflictions arise because of the fundamental substance, and misfortune appears at the far end of flowing change. If one now wishes to suppress the misfortune at that far end, one should return to the reality of the root. To say that the fundamental substance is good is in order to explain the root of goodness; to say that the fundamental substance includes good and evil and yet does not belong to good and evil is in order to explain that good and evil transform without end, while the fundamental substance remains ever as it is.

Viewed from the natural principle of the Dao (the Way), the fundamental substance has no division into good and evil, nor is there any so-called suppressing of misfortune and returning to reality. What is called “forgetting, ceasing, the fish-trap, and exhaustion” means forgetting distinctions and grasping until everything interfuses as one. What is called “not flowing” means not drifting along with external things; this must still take the fundamental substance as its basis. If one speaks in terms of the functioning of the fundamental substance, this is called the good and evil within nature and feeling. Although good and evil are continually forgotten, the distinction between the genuine and the false still remains.

Another explanation says that the scripture (Jing) states: “Only when one recognizes the constant Dao does one count as wise; if one fails to recognize the constant Dao and acts recklessly of one’s own accord, one will bring on disaster.” At present, good and evil, right and wrong, are tangled and intermingled; all of this is reckless movement and reckless action. Reckless action seems to exist, but in fact it does not truly exist; and what it depends upon is precisely the fundamental substance. Hence it is said to be “none other than arising from”—meaning that it arises from the fundamental substance. It is like a film in the mind (an ailment that veils the eyes): before one’s eyes one then sees illusory images like hairs in empty space. After the film recedes and the mind is clear and perceives the principle, those former illusions need not be deliberately driven away; they vanish of themselves. Once delusive thoughts have subsided, afflictions likewise need not be separately dispelled; they disperse naturally as the fundamental substance becomes manifest.

Someone further asks: What does the Dao take as its fundamental substance?

The reply is: The Dao takes “neither being nor non-being, both being and non-being” as its fundamental substance—one cannot simply say that it exists, nor can one say that it does not exist; one may say that it has being, and one may also say that it is without being.

Question: Please clarify the essential nature of the Dao (the Way).

Answer: The Dao can be called neither “being” nor “non-being”; this is in order to show that it transcends the distinction between being and non-being. The treatise says that the Dao cannot be called being, nor can it be called both being and non-being. When the Dao manifests and responds to things, it may be called “being”; when its fundamental substance is quiescent and unmanifest, it may be called “non-being.” Thus the Jing (scripture) says: “The nameless is the beginning of the myriad things; the named is the source of the myriad things.”

Question: Is the Dao, in the end, neither being nor non-being, or is it both being and non-being? When one says that it is both being and non-being, is this spoken from the side of things as they manifest, and when one says that it is neither being nor non-being, is this spoken from the fundamental substance of the Dao?

Answer: Spoken of from its fundamental substance, the Dao is neither being nor non-being; spoken of from its manifestation, it is both being and non-being. What is called “both being and non-being” is precisely “neither being nor non-being.”

Question: Please clarify this further.

Answer: The fundamental substance of the Dao is not divided into two, yet in manifestation there remain the two aspects of being and non-being. Therefore, to say that it is both being and non-being is to say that, although being and non-being are distinct, they do not depart from a single whole. To explain the essential purport by means of names is to bring out this very point: that the Dao is neither being nor non-being.

Question: Please clarify this further.

Answer: The fundamental substance of the Dao is not divided into two, yet in manifestation there are still two aspects, and so it is both being and non-being. Although being and non-being are divided into two, they are not separate from each other. Names are used to explain the essential purport in order to make the fundamental substance clear. The meaning of this fundamental substance is perfectly complete and all-pervading, and nothing further can be added to it; therefore it is called “substance.”

Question: Are the “non-being” in an empty, spacious room, and the “being” that has form and material substance and gives rise to obstruction, in fact the substance of the Dao?

Answer: From one point of view, they are; from another, they are not. Insofar as one is discussing the substance of the Dao, being and non-being are not different from that substance. But if one speaks in terms of the distinction between phenomena and principle, vacancy and solid objects, form and material substance together with obstruction, belong to concrete things; they are not the principle-substance of the Dao, and so one says that they are not the substance of the Dao. Wide-open emptiness and the solid existence of mountains never depart from the substance of the Dao, yet neither can be directly equated with it. The being and non-being of which the substance of the Dao speaks are not being, nor absolute non-existence; they are not non-being, nor absolute being. The being and non-being found amid mountains and valleys are the places where living beings live, come and go, and dwell; they are also the being and non-being of ordinary experience.

Someone asks: A chapter of the Jing says, “The Great Image is without a body,” meaning that the great Dao has no fixed form of its own, but takes the myriad things as its body. If that is so, may one say that the great Dao is false and the myriad things are true?

Answer: The “false” and the “real” spoken of here have a further, deeper meaning, and are not the same as the false and the real that are established through mutual opposition.

Someone asked, “If these names are not provisionally established in mutual opposition, how can there still be a further distinction between the ‘provisional’ and the ‘real’?”

The reply was: “What is here called ‘provisional’ and ‘real’ may be understood in two ways. One explanation holds that the fundamental substance of the myriad things is originally an undifferentiated whole; within this undifferentiation, people draw boundaries and distinguish different things. The undifferentiated substance is therefore called ‘real’ in order to show that the myriad things are only temporarily established provisional existents; once distinctions among things are eliminated, one can return to the undifferentiated true substance.

“Another explanation holds that one may also say the substance is undifferentiated, while provisionally existent things do indeed appear. Yet the substance itself originally admits of neither reality nor unreality; it is only that people’s minds cling to distinctions and principles, and so the name ‘undifferentiated’ is borrowed in order to guide them. The scripture (Jing) says, ‘speaking provisionally and borrowing names,’ meaning that such statements are merely expedient designations and cannot truly express the root to which they point.

“It may also be put this way: the substance is undifferentiated, and provisionally existent things are inherently illusory; yet people cling to these illusory things and take them to be real, and so they are called ‘real.’”