《唐易州龙兴观道德经碑文》

The Dao Jing of Laozi (The Upper Section of the Dao De Jing)

Chapter One

If the Dao can be spoken of, it is not the constant Dao. If a name can be spoken as a name, it is not a constant name. The nameless is the beginning of Heaven and Earth; the named becomes the source of the myriad things. Always remain in the state of nonbeing, and you can observe the Dao’s subtlety. Always remain in the state of being, and you can observe the boundaries and appearances of things. “Nonbeing” and “being” both arise from the Dao, though they have different names. Together they may be called profound and mysterious. Mystery within mystery: the gateway to all wonders.

Chapter Two

When everyone under Heaven knows what beauty is, the idea of ugliness appears. When everyone knows what goodness is, the idea of evil appears. Thus being and nonbeing give rise to each other; difficult and easy take shape in relation to each other; long and short are measured against each other; high and low set each other off; musical notes and sounds harmonize with each other; and front and back follow one another.

Therefore, the sage acts through Wuwei (non-action) and teaches without relying on words. The myriad things grow, and the sage does not turn them away. He nurtures them without claiming ownership, acts without relying on his accomplishments, and completes his work without taking credit. Because he does not claim credit, his accomplishments endure.

Chapter Three

Do not give special honor to the capable, and the people will not compete with one another. Do not prize rare goods, and the people will not steal. Do not display things that stir desire, and people’s hearts will not be disturbed. In governing the world, the sage keeps people’s minds simple and their lives sufficient, weakens their desire to compete and prevail, and strengthens their bodies. He ensures that people have fewer schemes and less desire, and that those who consider themselves clever do not dare act recklessly. In this way, the world can be governed.

Chapter Four

The Dao is empty and formless, yet its use never runs dry. Deep and far-reaching, it is the source of the myriad things. It blunts sharpness, untangles disputes, softens its radiance, and mingles with the dust of the world. It is hidden and profound, yet it is always present. I do not know whose child it is; it seems to have existed before the Lord of Heaven.

Chapter Five

Heaven and Earth show no partiality: they treat the myriad things like straw dogs used in sacrifice, ritual objects discarded once the ceremony is over. The sage, too, shows no partiality: he treats the people like straw dogs. The space between Heaven and Earth is perhaps like a bellows: empty, yet never exhausted; when moved, it continually sends forth breath. Too many words make things harder to carry through. Better to hold to inner stillness and balance.

Chapter Six

The Valley Spirit—the Dao, empty and still like a valley, yet ceaselessly giving life—never dies. This is called the Mysterious Female, the deep and generative maternal power that gives birth to the myriad things. The gateway of the Mysterious Female is the root of Heaven and Earth. It extends without end, seeming almost to exist and almost not to exist; in use, it is never exhausted.

Heaven and Earth endure for a long time because they do not live only for themselves; that is why they can last. The sage puts himself behind others, yet ends up ahead of them. He sets himself aside, yet preserves himself. Precisely because he has no selfish aims, he brings his own fulfillment.

The highest good is like water. Water nourishes all things without competing with them. It dwells in low places that people tend to dislike, and so it comes closest to the Dao (the Way). Choose a fitting place to live; keep the mind deep and calm; treat others with sincerity; speak truthfully; govern well; act with skill; and move at the right time. Because water does not contend, it is without fault.

Rather than grasping too tightly or piling things up too high, it is better to stop in time. Sharpen a vessel too much, and it cannot stay sharp for long. No one can keep a house filled with gold and jade safe forever. Pride after gaining wealth and status brings trouble upon oneself. Once your work is accomplished and your name has become renowned, withdraw at the right time. This is the natural order.

Can you unite body, mind, and spirit without letting them part? Can you focus your Jing (essence) and Qi (vital energy), and soften your body and mind until they are like a baby’s? Can you cleanse the depths of your inner awareness until no flaw remains? Can you care for the people and govern the state by following things as they are, without forcing action? Can you keep the body’s and senses’ gateways opening and closing while remaining soft and still, content to stay low? Can you see clearly and understand fully without relying on your own cleverness? To nurture all things without claiming them, to act without taking credit, and to guide all things without ruling over them: this is called profound De (Virtue/Power).

Thirty spokes meet at a single hub. It is the empty space at the hub’s center that lets the wheel serve its purpose. Clay is shaped into a vessel; it is the hollow inside that lets the vessel hold things. Doors and windows are cut to build a room; it is the empty space within that makes the room fit to live in. Thus, what is solid provides convenience, while emptiness makes practical use possible.

The five colors make people’s eyes go blind; the five sounds make their hearing dull; the five flavors make their taste go awry. Horse racing and hunting make the mind and spirit run wild; rare and precious goods hinder people’s conduct. Therefore, the sage values inner fullness and does not chase sensory pleasures. He sets aside the former and chooses the latter.

Chapter Thirteen

Being favored or disgraced is like being startled; regard great troubles as seriously as you regard your own body. What does it mean to be favored or disgraced? Disgrace means being in a low position. When favored, one feels uneasy; when favor is lost, one also feels uneasy. This is what is meant by “favor and disgrace are like being startled.” What does it mean to regard great troubles as seriously as one’s own body? Because we have a body, we can have troubles. If we had no body, what troubles could we have?

Only those who can value themselves as they value all under Heaven may be entrusted with all under Heaven. Only those who can cherish all under Heaven as they cherish themselves may be given charge of it.

Chapter Fourteen

Look for it and it cannot be seen: this is called “the elusive.” Listen for it and it cannot be heard: this is called “the subtle.” Reach for it and it cannot be grasped: this is called “the minute.” These three cannot be pursued to their limits, so they merge into one. Above, it is not bright; below, it is not dark. It stretches on without end and cannot be named, ultimately returning to a state without form or substance. This is called the shape without shape, the image without substance, and also “the indistinct”—a vague, elusive state that cannot be discerned. Face it and you cannot see its beginning; follow it and you cannot see its end.

Grasp the Dao (the Way) of ancient times to explain the things of the present. In this way, knowing the beginnings of antiquity is knowing the Dao.

Chapter Fifteen

In ancient times, those skilled in cultivating the Dao were subtle, mysterious, penetrating, and far-reaching—too deep to fathom. Because they were impossible to see through, we can only describe them by analogy: cautious, like someone crossing a river in winter; alert, as if wary of being watched from every side; solemn, like a guest; yielding, like ice about to melt; simple, like uncarved wood; murky, like muddy water; and broad, like a valley.

Who can make muddy water still and slowly let it clear? Who can set stillness in motion and gradually bring it to life? Those who hold to this Dao do not seek fullness.

Because they do not seek fullness, even when diminished, they can be renewed.

Solemn as though receiving the neighboring states; relaxed as ice about to melt; plain and substantial as uncarved wood; murky as muddy water; open and spacious as a valley. Who can make muddy water still so that it slowly clears? Who can set something at rest in motion so that it slowly comes to life? Those who hold to the Dao do not seek to be full. Precisely because they do not seek fullness, they can be diminished and yet renewed.

Chapter Sixteen

Bring the mind to the utmost emptiness and firmly maintain stillness. The myriad things grow together; from this, I observe how they return to their source. Though the things of the world flourish in profusion, each eventually returns to its root. Returning to the root is called stillness; stillness is called returning to one’s nature; returning to one’s nature is called the constant Dao. Knowing the constant Dao is called clarity. Not knowing the constant Dao leads to reckless action and misfortune. Knowing it brings acceptance; acceptance brings impartiality; impartiality makes one a model for all under Heaven; being a model brings harmony with nature; harmony with nature brings harmony with the Dao. In harmony with the Dao, one endures and remains free from danger throughout life.

Chapter Seventeen

Of the best rulers, the people know only that they exist. The next best are loved and praised by the people; those below them are feared; the worst are despised. When a ruler lacks trustworthiness, the people will not trust him. This is because he places too much importance on his own words. When the work is done, the people all say, “We did it ourselves.”

Chapter Eighteen

Only after the great Dao was abandoned did talk of benevolence and righteousness arise. Only after cleverness and ingenuity appeared did severe hypocrisy emerge. Only when relations among kin grew discordant did reputations for filial devotion and parental care arise. Only when the state fell into disorder did loyal ministers appear.

Chapter Nineteen

Set aside claims to sagacity and displays of cleverness, and the people will gain a hundredfold. Set aside the demands of righteousness imposed on the people, and filial devotion and parental care will return. Abandon cunning and the desire for profit, and thieves will disappear. These three precepts cannot be adequately conveyed in words alone, so their underlying principle must also be stated: preserve simplicity, hold to one’s true nature, lessen selfishness, and reduce desires.

Chapter Twenty

Abandon learning and be faithful to one’s duties as a minister.

One need not deliberately pursue learning; this can bring fewer worries. How great is the difference between a respectful “Yes” and a casual “Uh-huh”? How far apart are good and evil? What others fear is also something one cannot help but regard with reverence. The turmoil of worldly affairs seems to have no end. Everyone is lively and merry, as though enjoying a lavish sacrificial feast or climbing a terrace to admire the springtime view. Only my mind remains unmoved, like an infant who has not yet learned to smile. I drift and wander, as if I have nowhere to return to. Everyone seems to have more than enough; I alone seem to be lacking. My foolish heart is simple and undivided. Worldly people are sharp and discerning; I alone seem dull. Worldly people are skilled at making distinctions; I alone am plain and slow. I am as open and unassuming as the sea, drifting without direction. Everyone seems to have something to accomplish; I alone am stubborn and uncouth. What sets me apart from everyone else is that I cherish the Dao (the Way), which nurtures all things and is their source.

Chapter 21

The bearing of a person of great De (Virtue/Power) follows only the Dao. The Dao is elusive and hard to grasp; within the elusive there are images, and within the indistinct there are things. In its deep mystery lies vital essence, real and not false, containing signs that can be trusted. From ancient times to the present, the name of the Dao has never vanished. Through it, one can observe the beginnings of all things. How do I know what those beginnings are like? Through the Dao.

Chapter 22

Yield, and you will remain whole; bend, and you will become straight. Be low, and you will be filled; grow old, and you will be renewed. Take little, and you will gain; grasp at much, and you may lose. Therefore, the sage holds fast to the Dao and serves as a model for the world. Because the sage does not display themself, they are understood; because they do not insist on being right, they are recognized; because they do not boast, they achieve merit; because they are not self-important, they endure. Precisely because they do not contend, no one under Heaven can contend with them. Were the words of the ancients, “Yield, and you will remain whole,” empty talk? They truly enable one to preserve oneself and bring all things to completion.

Chapter 23

Speak little; follow nature. A gale cannot last a whole morning, nor can a downpour last a whole day. What makes them so? Heaven and Earth. If even Heaven and Earth’s fierce forces cannot last, how much less can human beings? Therefore, those who act in accordance with the Dao are joined with the Dao; those who act in accordance with De are joined with De; those who act in ways that go against Dao and De are likewise joined with the consequences of losing the Way. When trust is insufficient, it will not be returned.

Standing on tiptoe, one cannot stand for long; taking great strides, one cannot travel far. If people go against the natural Way, they cannot endure—and how much less can ordinary people? Therefore, those who follow the Dao are brought into accord with De by the Dao; those who accord with De are brought into accord with De by De; those who accord with the loss of the Way are left by the Dao to lose it. When trust is insufficient, some will not trust.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Standing on tiptoe, one cannot stand for long; taking great strides, one cannot travel far. One who displays oneself cannot see things clearly; one who insists on being right cannot make oneself shine; one who boasts has no achievements; one who is arrogant cannot endure. Measured by the standards of the Dao, these are like leftover food or a growth on the body—burdens people often detest. So a person who has the Dao does not act this way.

Chapter Twenty-Five

There is something whole and undifferentiated that existed before Heaven and Earth took shape. Silent and still, it stands alone and does not change; it moves in cycles without wearing out, and can serve as the source of all things under Heaven. I do not know its name, so I reluctantly call it “Dao,” and, again reluctantly, call it “Great.” The Great moves onward; moving onward, it reaches far; reaching far, it returns to its source. The Dao is great, Heaven is great, Earth is great, and the king is great. Between Heaven and Earth there are four great things, and the king is one of them. Humans take their model from Earth; Earth takes its model from Heaven; Heaven takes its model from the Dao; and the Dao follows what is natural in itself.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Weightiness is the root of lightness; stillness is the master of agitation. Thus, the noble person travels all day without leaving the baggage cart behind. Even amid splendid sights, they remain composed and unattached. As ruler of a realm commanding ten thousand chariots, how can one treat all under Heaven lightly? Lightness leads to the loss of one’s subjects; agitation leads to the loss of one’s foundation as ruler.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Those skilled at walking leave no tracks like wheel ruts; those skilled at speaking make no mistakes; those skilled at planning need no counters or calculating tools. Those skilled at closing doors need no bolt to keep them shut; those skilled at tying knots need no rope to keep things bound. Therefore, the sage is always skilled at helping people and abandons no one; skilled at helping things and discards nothing. This is called inheriting and putting wisdom into practice. Good people are teachers to those who are not good; those who are not good can also serve as lessons for good people. If one does not respect the teacher or value the lesson, then, though one believes oneself enlightened, one remains confused. This is the profound principle.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Knowing strength yet remaining gentle, one can become the valley of the world. As the valley of the world, one’s constant De (Virtue/Power) will never depart, and one can return to the innocent simplicity of an infant. Knowing brightness yet remaining in shadow, one can become the standard of the world; one’s constant De will not go astray, and one can return to the boundless origin. Knowing honor yet remaining in disgrace, one can become the valley of the world. As the valley of the world, one’s constant De will be complete, and in the end one can return to the uncarved simplicity of the natural state. When the uncarved block is divided, it becomes various implements. The sage uses them to put people to work and govern the world. Thus, good governance does not divide the whole.

To seek to possess the world and act according to one’s own will, I think, is unlikely to succeed. The world is a sacred vessel; it cannot be handled at will. Forcing action makes things fail; clinging to control makes things slip away. Among beings, some lead while others follow; some are gentle while others fierce; some are strong while others weak; some rise while others fall. Therefore, the sage sets aside extremes, extravagance, and excess.

Those who govern a state by means of the Dao do not use force to dominate the world, for military action often brings retribution. Where armies have been stationed, thorns and brambles grow. Those skilled in warfare seek only to achieve what is necessary; they do not use it to assert their strength. When they achieve their purpose, they are neither proud nor boastful, neither self-satisfied nor vainglorious. They act only when there is no alternative, and though they gain a victory, they do not use it to flaunt their strength. Once things become too powerful, they grow old; this is called being contrary to the Dao. Whatever is contrary to the Dao soon perishes.

Fine weapons are inauspicious things, and people generally detest them, so those who possess the Dao do not keep them as their usual tools. In ordinary life, the gentleman honors the left; in war, he honors the right. Weapons are inauspicious things, not things a gentleman exalts. They are used only when there is no alternative, and calm detachment is best. War is not worthy of praise; to praise it is to delight in killing. Those who delight in killing cannot hope to govern the world. Thus, at celebratory occasions the left is honored, while at funerals the right is honored. The assistant general stands on the left and the supreme general on the right, arranged according to the rites of mourning. When many people have been killed, one should grieve and lament; even after victory in battle, one should observe the rites of mourning.

The Dao originally had no fixed name and was as simple as an uncarved block of wood. Therefore, the deputy general stands on the left, while the senior general stands on the right. When many people have been killed, one should grieve and weep; even a victory in battle should be marked with the rites of mourning.

Chapter 32

The Dao never has a fixed name and is as simple as an uncarved block of wood. Though the uncarved block is small, no one under Heaven dares treat it as a subject. If rulers and nobles can hold fast to the Dao, all things will naturally come to them. When the Yin-Yang energies of Heaven and Earth mingle, sweet dew descends. No one commands it, yet it falls evenly of its own accord.

When the Dao begins to be divided and given names, names have already come into being, and one should know when to stop. Knowing when to stop keeps one from danger. The Dao spreads throughout the world, like streams flowing into rivers and seas.

Chapter 33

Understanding others is cleverness; knowing oneself is true wisdom. Overcoming others takes strength; overcoming oneself is true power. Those who know contentment are rich; those who firmly practice the Dao have resolve. Those who do not lose their foundation can endure. Those whose spirit and influence remain after their bodies die may be called long-lived.

Chapter 34

The Great Dao flows everywhere, present in all places. All things depend on it to grow, yet it does not refuse them. It brings all things to completion, yet does not claim credit. It cherishes and nurtures all things, yet does not rule over them; for this reason, it may be called great. Because the sage never considers himself great, he is able to accomplish true greatness.

Chapter 35

Those who hold fast to the Great Dao will be welcomed by all under Heaven. Once they have come, they will suffer no harm, and the world will be peaceful, harmonious, and at rest.

Music and fine food can make passersby stop. The Dao, when spoken of, seems bland and tasteless. It cannot be seen or heard, yet its effects are inexhaustible.

Chapter 36

If you want to contract something, you must first let it expand. If you want to weaken it, you must first let it grow strong. If you want to cast it aside, you must first let it rise. If you want to take something, you must first give it. This is called subtle insight.

The soft and weak can overcome the hard and strong; the small and weak can overcome the great and powerful. Fish cannot leave the deep pools. The state’s powerful instruments should not be displayed lightly for others to see.

The highest form of De (Virtue) does not deliberately display itself as virtuous; for this reason, it truly possesses De. Lesser virtue clings to making others see that it observes virtue, and so cannot be called true virtue. The highest virtue follows its natural course, without acting toward a particular end; lesser virtue appears to practice Wuwei (non-action), yet inwardly seeks something.

The highest form of benevolence actively helps others without seeking a return. The highest form of righteousness takes action with a clear purpose. Those who insist on ritual conduct, when they receive no response, roll up their sleeves and force others to comply. Thus, only after the Dao (the Way) is lost does De come to be discussed; only after De is lost does benevolence come to be discussed; only after benevolence is lost does righteousness come to be discussed; and only after righteousness is lost does ritual come to be discussed. Ritual means that loyalty and trust have grown weak, and it marks the beginning of disorder. So-called cleverness and foresight are merely the Dao’s outward glitter, and the beginning of folly.

Therefore, the great person takes their stand in what is substantial and does not linger on the shallow surface. They value what is genuine within and do not pursue outward glitter. They let go of the glitter and choose what is substantial and genuine.

In ancient times, all who attained the fundamental principle called the Dao (the Way) found that heaven became clear, earth became tranquil, spirits became efficacious, valleys became full, all things came to life, and lords and kings could bring order to the world. If heaven could not remain clear, it might collapse; if earth could not remain tranquil, it might quake; if spirits could not remain efficacious, they might lose their power; if valleys could not remain full, they might dry up; if all things could not come to life, they might perish; if lords and kings could not uphold what is right, they might fall.

Thus, the honored take the lowly as their root, and the high take the low as their foundation. That lords and kings call themselves “orphaned,” “widowed,” or “unworthy” (humble terms expressing insufficient virtue or ability)—does this not mean they take the lowly as their root? Take apart all the pieces of a cart, and there is no longer a complete cart. One should not wish only to be as polished and precious as jade, nor to be as rough and isolated as stone.

Chapter 40

The movement of the Dao is a return; its function is softness and weakness. All things under heaven arise from “being,” and “being” arises from “nonbeing.”

Chapter 41

When people of the highest capacity hear of the Dao, they diligently put it into practice. Those of middling capacity hear of it and seem to remember it, yet seem to forget it. Those of the lowest capacity hear of it and laugh aloud. If it were not laughed at, it would not be worthy of being called the Dao. Thus, an old saying goes: the bright Dao seems dim; the advancing Dao seems to retreat; the level Dao seems uneven. The highest De (Virtue/Power) is like an empty valley, open and receptive. The purest white seems stained; abundant De seems deficient; vigorous De seems slack; what is truly genuine seems to change. The greatest square has no corners; the greatest vessel is completed only at the end; the greatest sound is barely heard; the greatest image has no fixed form. The Dao is hidden and has no fixed name. Only the Dao is good at giving and bringing all things to completion.

The Dao gives rise to “one”; “one” differentiates into “two”; and “two” gives rise to “three.” From these, all things come into being. All things turn their backs to Yin and face Yang, and the two kinds of Qi mingle to form harmony. People dislike being called “orphan,” “widower,” or “unworthy,” yet lords and kings use these names for themselves. Thus, what is diminished may sometimes gain, while what is increased may sometimes suffer loss. What others teach, I teach as well: those who rely on force and assert their strength meet an untimely end. I will take this as the foundation of my teaching.

Chapter 43

The softest thing in the world can pass through the hardest thing in the world. Formless, shapeless power can enter where there is no gap. From this we can see the benefit of Wuwei (non-action). The benefits of teaching without words and acting without deliberate effort are understood by few in the world.

Chapter 44

Which is dearer: fame or life? Which matters more: life or possessions? Which is more troubling: gain or loss? Excessive attachment inevitably exacts a great price; storing up too much inevitably brings heavy loss. Therefore, knowing contentment keeps one from disgrace, and knowing when to stop keeps one from danger. In this way, one can endure.

Chapter 45

What is truly perfect may seem incomplete, yet its use never wears out. What is truly full may seem empty, yet its use is inexhaustible. What is most upright may seem crooked; what is most skillful may seem clumsy; what is most eloquent may seem inarticulate. Movement can overcome cold, and stillness can overcome heat. Clear stillness and Wuwei can serve as the standard for all under Heaven.

Chapter 46

When the world follows the Dao, warhorses are sent home to plow fields and carry manure. When the world departs from the Dao, warhorses are born on the outskirts of cities. No fault is greater than indulging desire; no calamity is greater than failing to know contentment; no error is more serious than craving ever more. Therefore, knowing contentment and being content brings lasting contentment.

Chapter 47

Without leaving one’s home, one can understand the world; without looking out the window, one can know the Way of Heaven. The farther one travels, the less one may understand. Therefore, the sage knows without traveling, recognizes the patterns of things without seeing them firsthand, and accomplishes things without deliberate action.

Chapter 48

The pursuit of learning adds to one’s knowledge day by day. The pursuit of the Dao (the Way) calls for desires and artificial attachments to diminish day by day. Keep reducing them, until one reaches Wuwei (non-action). Wuwei does not mean being unable to do anything. It means following things as they are and refraining from contrived action; in this way, nothing remains undone. Governing the world usually depends on not disturbing the people and not acting rashly. If commands are too numerous and interference too great, the world cannot be governed well.

Chapter 49

The sage has no fixed opinions and takes the people’s wishes as their own. When the people are good, the sage treats them with kindness; when they are not good, the sage still treats them with kindness. In this way, people can be led toward goodness. When the people are trustworthy, the sage trusts them; when they are not, the sage still treats them with trust. In this way, people can be led to keep their word.

Living among the people, the sage is cautious; in governing them, the sage keeps a generous and simple heart. The people all watch and listen intently, while the sage regards them as children, offering care and guidance.

Chapter 50

Of those who pass from birth toward death, about three in ten belong to the long-lived; about three in ten die young or move toward death; and another three in ten are alive to begin with, yet through their various actions move toward a place of death. Why is this? Because they pursue pleasure excessively and make their lives too indulgent.

It is said that those skilled at nurturing life walk on land without encountering tigers or rhinoceroses, and enter battle without being harmed by weapons. The rhinoceros has nowhere to use its horn, the tiger nowhere to strike with its claws, and weapons nowhere to pierce. Why is this so? Because they do not place themselves where danger can bring death. “Nurturing life” means caring for life and avoiding peril.

Chapter 51

The Dao gives rise to all things; De (Virtue/Power) nourishes them. All things take on their particular forms, while their surroundings and conditions bring them to maturity. Thus, nothing fails to honor the Dao and cherish De. The Dao is honored and De cherished not because anyone commands it, but because this happens naturally.

The Dao gives rise to all things, and De nourishes them, helping them grow, develop, mature, and reach completion, while also sustaining and protecting them. To give life to and nourish things without claiming ownership; to act without relying on one’s own achievements; to let things grow without ruling over them: this is called “mysterious De,” a profound and natural virtue.

Chapter 52

Continuing from the previous passage, the Dao and De enable all things to grow, develop, and mature, sustaining and protecting them. To give life to and nourish them without claiming ownership; to act without relying on one’s own achievements; to let them grow without ruling over them: this is called “mysterious De.”

To govern the world, one must first understand its root. The root is like the mother of all things under Heaven. Once you know the root, you can know the things that grow from it. After knowing those things, still hold fast to the root, and you will remain free from danger throughout your life. Block the openings through which desires enter and close the gates through which you pursue external things, and you will never exhaust yourself. If you indulge your desires and chase things in every direction, you will never be able to turn back. To notice what is subtle is called clarity; to hold fast to weakness is called strength. Use the wisdom of illumination, then return to inner clarity. Do not bring calamity upon yourself: this is called following the constant Dao.

Chapter 53

If I had even a little understanding of the Great Dao and walked its path, my only fear would be straying from it. The Great Dao is broad and level, yet people prefer perilous side paths. The court is lavishly adorned, while the fields lie fallow and the granaries stand empty. People wear splendid clothes, carry sharp swords, eat their fill of fine food, and possess wealth to spare. This is the extravagance and display of bandit chiefs, wholly at odds with the Dao.

Chapter 54

What is well established cannot easily be uprooted; what is well held cannot easily slip away. Thus the offerings to one’s ancestors continue from generation to generation. Cultivate the Dao in yourself, and De (Virtue/Power) becomes real. Cultivate it in your family, and De becomes abundant; cultivate it in your village, and De grows; cultivate it in your state, and De flourishes; cultivate it throughout the world, and De is practiced everywhere. Thus you can observe yourself through yourself, one family through another, one village through another, one state through another, and the world through the world. How do I know what the world is like? By this principle.

Chapter 55

A person rich in De is like a newborn infant. Venomous insects do not sting it, fierce beasts do not attack it, and birds of prey do not seize it. Its bones are soft and its sinews tender, yet its fists are tightly clenched. It knows nothing yet of sexual union, but its sexual organ can become erect; this shows that its vital essence and Qi are abundant. It cries all day without becoming hoarse; this shows that its breath is in harmony. To understand harmony is called knowing the constant Dao; to understand the constant Dao is called clarity. Craving longevity and deliberately intensifying life’s activity instead brings misfortune. To force the breath under the control of the will is to strain for strength. Whatever becomes excessively vigorous will move toward decline. This is called being at odds with the Dao; what is at odds with the Dao soon perishes.

Those who understand the great Dao do not speak of it lightly. Those who love to talk at length often do not truly understand it. Block the outlets of desire and close the gates of distraction; soften sharp edges, loosen knots of anger, let your light remain concealed, and blend with the ordinary world. This is called “mysterious sameness” (being in harmony with the profound Dao without displaying distinctions). Those who reach this state cannot be drawn close or pushed away, benefited or harmed, honored or slighted. For this reason, they are respected by all under Heaven.

Chapter 57

Govern the state by the proper way, wage war with unconventional strategies, and take the world through Wuwei (non-action). How do I know this is so? I see it in the following: the more prohibitions there are under Heaven, the poorer the people become; the more sharp weapons people possess, the more disorderly the state becomes; the more people pursue cleverness, the more strange things appear; the more numerous and detailed the laws and regulations, the more thieves there are.

Therefore, the sage says: “I do not act recklessly, and the people transform themselves. I cherish stillness, and the people set themselves right. I do not meddle, and the people grow prosperous. I have few desires, and the people remain simple and unadulterated.”

Chapter 58

When government orders are generous and not overly strict in their scrutiny, the people are honest and simple. When orders are harsh and every matter is closely inspected, the people lose their simplicity. Misfortune may conceal good fortune, and good fortune may harbor misfortune. Who can see how their transformations will ultimately unfold? Nothing in the world is governed by fixed rules: the proper way may turn into an unconventional approach, and goodness may turn into the strange and uncanny. People have been lost in this for a long time.

Therefore, the sage is upright without causing harm, pure without being cutting, direct without being unrestrained, and bright without showing off.

Chapter 59

In governing the people and following the Way of Heaven, nothing is better than restraint. Only through restraint can one prepare in advance; preparing in advance is called accumulating De (Virtue/Power) without cease. When De has been accumulated deeply, nothing cannot be overcome. When nothing cannot be overcome, one’s strength cannot be measured. When one’s strength is beyond measure, one can govern the state. By holding to the root of governance, the state can endure. This is the way to make the roots deep and the foundation firm, and to live long and endure.

Chapter 60

To govern a great state, be like someone cooking a small fish: do not stir it or fuss with it too often. When the world is governed by the Dao (the Way), ghosts and spirits do not display their supernatural powers to cause trouble. It is not that they lack power; rather, their spiritual power does not harm people. And it is not only ghosts and spirits that do no harm: sages do not harm people either. When neither ghosts and spirits nor sages cause harm, all things can return to their natural state and live in harmony.

Chapter 61

A great state should be like the lower reaches of a river, where the waters of the world converge and meet. It should also be like the female: humble, yielding, and still. The male often prevails over the female through stillness, because stillness means willingly taking the lower position. Thus, if a great state humbles itself before a small state, it can win the small state’s trust; if a small state humbles itself before a great state, it can be welcomed by the great state. When both treat each other with humility, each can attain what it seeks. A great state in particular should be humble.

Chapter 62

The Dao is the hidden foundation of all things. Good conduct is a treasure for people; those who do not act well should not be cast aside. Fine words can win respect, and good conduct can serve as an example to others. What reason is there to cast aside those who do not act well?

Therefore, when an emperor is installed and the Three Dukes—the senior officials who assist the emperor—are appointed, even an offering of jade discs and a team of four horses drawing a carriage is not as valuable as presenting the Dao with reverence. Why did the ancients value the Dao so highly? Because those who seek the Dao can gain something, while those who have erred can use it to encourage themselves and correct their mistakes. That is why the Dao is treasured throughout the world.

Chapter 63

Act with Wuwei (non-action), intervening without presumption; handle affairs without creating disturbance; experience the Dao’s plain, flavorless quality. Treat the great as small and the many as few; resolve resentment through De (Virtue/Power). Tackle difficulties by starting where they are easy, and accomplish great things by starting where they are small. The difficult tasks in the world must begin with what is easy; the great undertakings in the world must begin with what is small.

Therefore, sages never claim to be undertaking great achievements, and so they are able to accomplish them. Promises made too readily are often hard to keep; treating things as too easy often brings more difficulties. So sages always take difficulties seriously, and in the end encounter no difficulties.

Things are easy to keep stable when they are settled, and easy to plan for before problems appear. Fragile things are easy to break, and subtle things are easy to dissipate. So deal with things before they arise, and bring order before disorder takes shape.

A great tree grows from a tiny sprout; a nine-story terrace is built basket by basket of earth; a journey of a thousand miles begins with the first step beneath one’s feet. Deliberately forcing things often leads to failure; clinging to things often leads to their loss. The sage follows the natural course and does not act rashly, so nothing fails; does not cling to possession, so nothing is lost.

People often fail at their work when they are close to success. If they remain as careful from beginning to end as they were at the start, they will not spoil what they have done. The sage seeks what others do not seek and does not prize rare and precious goods. The sage learns what others do not learn and makes amends for the mistakes people commonly make. In doing so, the sage helps all things grow according to their nature and does not dare to interfere rashly.

Chapter 65

In ancient times, those skilled in following the Dao did not use grand principles to make the people clever. They kept them simple and unassuming. The people are difficult to govern because they have too many schemes and clever devices. Governing a state through cleverness brings it harm; governing without relying on cleverness brings it good fortune. Understanding these two ways of governing means grasping the guiding principle. Constantly understanding and following this principle is called “profound De,” a virtue that is deep and subtle. Profound De is deep and far-reaching, contrary to the ways commonly followed in the world. In the end, only then can one reach the state of following the Great Dao.

Chapter 66

The reason rivers and seas can receive the waters of all the valleys is that they are good at staying low; thus they gather the waters of a hundred rivers. If the sage wishes to stand above the people, the sage must speak humbly; if the sage wishes to lead the people, the sage must willingly take a place behind them. In this way, although the sage is above them, the people do not feel oppressed; although the sage is ahead of them, the people do not feel hindered. Therefore, people throughout the world gladly support the sage and do not grow weary of them. Because the sage does not contend with others, no one in the world can contend with the sage.

Everyone under heaven calls me great, yet also regards me as unconventional. It is precisely because I am great that I seem unconventional; if I conformed to convention, I would long ago have become insignificant. I have three treasures that I have always guarded: the first is compassion, the second is frugality, and the third is not daring to put myself ahead of all under heaven. Because I am compassionate, I can be courageous; because I am frugal, I can be generous; because I do not put myself ahead of all under heaven, I can become a leader among the people. Today, people abandon compassion and seek only bravery; abandon frugality and seek only extravagance; abandon yielding and seek only to come first. This leads to death. Those who are compassionate can prevail when they take up arms and remain secure when they defend themselves. Whomever Heaven wishes to save, it protects with compassion.

Chapter 68

Those in ancient times who were skilled at leading armies did not flaunt their bravery or provoke conflict. Those skilled in battle were not quick to anger. Those skilled at defeating their enemies did not compete with others. Those skilled at employing others kept themselves humble. This is called the De of not contending. In this way, one can draw on the strength of others and accord with the principle that has guided Heaven from ancient times.

Chapter 69

Those who use arms have a saying: “I dare not take the initiative in attack; I would rather take the responding position. I dare not advance an inch; I would rather retreat a foot.” This is called acting as though one had no formation, raising one’s arm as though one had no arm, facing an enemy as though there were no enemy, and holding a weapon as though there were no weapon. No disaster is greater than underestimating the enemy; doing so nearly makes us lose our treasures. When two armies meet in battle as equals, the side that approaches with compassion and caution can prevail.

Chapter 70

My words are easy to understand and easy to put into practice, yet no one under heaven can understand or practice them. My words have a basis, and my actions follow a guiding principle. Because people do not understand these foundations, they do not understand me. Those who understand me are few, and so those who follow my example are precious. The sage wears coarse cloth on the outside and holds jade within: this means that outwardly, the sage is plain, while inwardly, the sage is precious.

Chapter 71

Knowing that one does not know is wisdom. Not knowing, yet thinking one knows, is a flaw. The sage has no such flaw because he regards a flaw as a flaw; in this way, he can avoid it.

Chapter 72

When the people no longer fear the ruler’s authority, a greater disaster is about to arrive. Do not oppress the people until they have nowhere to live; do not burden them until they can no longer make a living. Only when the people are not oppressed will they not grow weary of the ruler. Thus the sage knows how to value himself but does not flaunt himself; he cherishes himself but does not exalt himself.

When the people no longer fear those in power, a greater calamity is about to come. Do not deprive the people of a place to live, and do not make them weary of life. Only when the people are not weary of life will they not grow weary of their rulers. Thus the sage knows himself but does not make a show of it; he cherishes himself but does not exalt himself. So he lets go of the latter and chooses the former.

Chapter 73

One who relies on force and dares to act recklessly may bring about his own death. One who has the courage to restrain himself and avoid rash action can preserve his life. Knowing these two ways, one may see that sometimes they are beneficial and sometimes harmful. What Heaven loathes—who can know the reason? The Dao of Heaven does not contend with people, yet is skilled at winning; it does not speak, yet receives a response; it does not summon, yet things come of themselves. It seems calm and unhurried, yet arranges everything well. Heaven’s net is vast and boundless: it may seem loosely woven, but nothing escapes it.

Chapter 74

If the people do not fear death, how can they be frightened by the threat of death? If the people always fear death, and someone still dares to rebel, I could seize and kill him—but who would then dare to rebel? Yet there is already one who presides over killing and punishment. For a person to take the place of that ruler is like taking the place of a master carpenter and cutting wood. Whoever wields an axe in a master carpenter’s stead rarely avoids injuring their own hand.

Chapter 75

The people go hungry because their rulers levy excessive taxes; that is why they go hungry. The people are difficult to govern because their rulers issue too many orders and interfere by force; that is why they are difficult to govern. People treat death lightly because they pursue a life of excessive comfort; as a result, they do not fear losing their lives. Only those who do not deliberately pursue a life of excessive comfort surpass those who prize life above all else.

Chapter 76

When alive, the human body is soft; after death, it becomes stiff. When alive, plants are tender and pliant; once they wither and die, they become dry and brittle. Thus, hardness and force belong to death, while softness and yielding belong to life. An army that relies on force will struggle to win, and a tree that grows too hard is easily broken. Therefore, the strong are placed below, while the soft and yielding are placed above.

The Way of Heaven is like drawing a bow: when the string is too high, it is pressed down; when it is too low, it is raised. When there is excess strength, some is taken away; when strength is insufficient, some is added. The Way of Heaven reduces what is excessive and supplies what is lacking. The ways of the human world are the reverse: they often take from those who lack and give to those who already have plenty. Who can take what they have in excess and use it to support all under Heaven? Only one who has attained the Dao can do this. The sage acts, yet does not rely on what they have done; achieves success, yet does not claim it as their own. Thus they do not display their worth.

Nothing under Heaven is softer or weaker than water, yet nothing is better at wearing away what is hard, and nothing can take its place. The soft can overcome the hard; the yielding can overcome the rigid. Everyone under Heaven knows this, yet few truly understand it or put it into practice. Therefore the sage says, “One who can bear the humiliation of a state is fit to be its ruler; one who can bear the misfortunes of all under Heaven is fit to be its king.” Words that accord with the right way often sound like their opposite.

When deep resentment is reconciled, some bitterness is sure to remain. How can that be considered a proper resolution? Therefore the sage holds the debt contract—the half kept by the lender—but does not use it to demand repayment from others. A person of De (Virtue) is like the holder of a contract: trustworthy and generous. A person without De is like a tax collector, eager to exact payment. The Way of Heaven favors no one in particular; it always aids those who are virtuous.

In an ideal small state, the population is sparse. Though there may be various tools, people need not use them. The people cherish life and do not move to distant places. Though there are boats and carts, there is no need to ride in them; though there are armor and weapons, they are not displayed or used. Let people return to the simple life of keeping records by tying knots. They find their food delicious, their clothes comfortable, their homes secure, and their customs delightful. Neighboring states can see one another, and the sounds of their chickens and dogs can be heard, yet the people grow old and die without visiting one another.

True words are not ornate; ornate words are often untrue. One who is skilled in following the Dao does not boast in words; one who is truly wise does not show off what they know. A virtuous person does not argue; one who loves to argue often lacks De. Those who accomplish things do not boast; those who boast rarely accomplish anything. Those who are truly capable are not complacent; those who are complacent rarely have real ability. The sage does not hoard for themselves: the more they give to others, the more they have; the more they share, the richer they become. The Way of Heaven benefits all things without harming them. The sage acts, yet does not contend with anyone.

Trustworthy words are often plain, while beautiful and pleasing words are not always trustworthy. A person truly rich in De (Virtue) does not rely on argument to prevail; those skilled in argument are not always virtuous. A truly wise person does not seek to know everything; those with broad knowledge are not always truly wise. The sage does not hoard things for himself. The more he helps others, the more fulfilled he becomes; the more he gives to others, the richer he becomes. The Dao (the Way) of Heaven benefits all things without harming them. The sage acts and accomplishes things without contending with others.