《文子》Vol. 1

The Wenzi consists of twelve chapters and is traditionally attributed to Xin Xing, a man of Zhou. Xu Guang says that Wenzi’s given name was Xing. Li Xian says that his surname was Xin, that he came from the area around Kuiqiu and Puzhang, and that he was known as Jiran and served as Fan Li’s teacher. Pei Yin says that Jiran’s surname was Xin, his courtesy name was Wenzi, and his ancestors were princes of Jin. Meng Kang, by contrast, says that his surname was Ji, his given name Ran, and that he was a minister of Yue. Cai Mo argues that “Jiran” was not a person’s name but the title of a book written by Fan Li, meaning “plans put into effect.” Yan Shigu rejects Cai Mo’s view: Jiran appears in an ancient register of historical figures, where he is also called Ji Yan. The Wu Yue Chunqiu and the Yuejue shu both write his name as Ji Ni. Since “Ni,” “Yan,” and “Ran” sound alike, the name was corrupted in transmission.

A search of Yu Zhongrong’s Zichao reveals two people named Wenzi. One was a descendant of a prince of Jin whose personal name has been lost. He later traveled south to Yue, called himself Wenzi, and took the title Jiran. Fan Li became his student and followed his advice, enabling Yue to become a hegemon. This account appears not only in works such as the Wu Yue Chunqiu, but also in Liu Shao’s Huanglan. The Fanzi Jiran circulating among people presents Fan Li asking questions and Jiran answering them. The author of this Wenzi, however, should be a different Wenzi, named Xin Xing.

Ma Zong’s Yilin includes a thirteen-volume Fanzi Jiran, whose discussions of Yin-Yang and calendrical calculations differ from those in this Wenzi. Some say the author’s surname was Xin, apparently following an error in the Beishi, and cite the line “Tao Zhu achieved his success through Xin Wen” as evidence. They do not realize that the Zichao already records two people named Wenzi. In his analysis of this book, Liu Zongyuan says it is attributed to a disciple of Laozi, though one chapter also contains a dialogue with King Ping of Chu. Zhou’s Shebi discusses this matter as well. In any case, it is more credible that the author was a man of Zhou, rather than Jiran of Yue. Since the book’s ideas mostly honor Laozi, its author may indeed have been Laozi’s disciple, transmitting his teacher’s teachings, though this cannot be established with certainty.

Liu Zongyuan considers the book’s contents eclectic and finds little consistency among its ideas. He also criticizes it for seeming, like several works such as the Mengzi, to borrow the words of others, and suggests that it may have been compiled from materials gathered by several people. Nevertheless, the book’s reasoning is profound and its prose concise and forceful; it does not seem to have been written by someone of the post-Zhou or post-Qin periods, and it is far removed from works falsely attributed to earlier figures, such as the Guanyinzi and the Kangcangzi. Gao Sisun’s Zilüe excerpts several chapters from it and likewise judges them to be outstanding.

The Treatise on Literature in the Book of Han records the Wenzi as having nine chapters. The annotated editions by Li Xian of Northern Wei and Xu Lingfu of the Tang each comprise twelve scrolls. Little of Li Xian’s commentary survives today, and only a small portion of Xu Lingfu’s edition remains in circulation. This is an edition printed in the Wu region, without commentary, divided into two volumes, upper and lower. Li Xian once studied under the monk Prajñāruci; Xu Lingfu’s courtesy name was Moxi Zi. During the Tianbao era of Emperor Xuanzong of Tang, the Wenzi was honored with the title Tongxuan Zhenjing.

Respectfully collated and submitted in the first month of the forty-sixth year of the Qianlong reign.

Chief compilers: Ji Yun, Lu Xixiong, and Sun Shiyi. Chief proofreader: Lu Feichi.

Laozi said: There is something whole and undivided, born before Heaven and Earth. It has only the faintest traces of form: far-reaching and obscure, still and quiet, impossible to hear. I can only force myself to give it a name: “Dao.”

The Dao stretches beyond any reachable end and runs deeper than anything can be measured. It contains Heaven and Earth and receives its nature from what has no form. Its source and flow extend broadly and without end, like water: empty, yet never overflowing. When muddiness settles, it gradually clears. Put to use, it is never exhausted, and knows no distinction between morning and evening. When it appears, it does not fill even the space of a cupped hand; though it seems to draw in, it can expand. It is clear even in darkness, and strong even in weakness. It holds Yin within and releases Yang, bringing the sun, moon, and stars to shine.

Mountains rise high through the Dao, and abysses grow deep through it. Beasts run, birds fly, qilin roam, and phoenixes soar through it; the stars and calendar move by it as well. The Dao preserves what has been lost, raises what is low to a place of honor, and brings those who yield to the front.

The Three Sovereigns of antiquity—the legendary sage kings of the distant past—grasped the essential principles of the Dao. They dwelt at the center and governed the four quarters by following its wondrous transformations. Heaven and Earth therefore moved without ceasing, turning like a wheel that never stops. Water flowed on without end, passing through beginnings and endings along with all things. Winds rose and clouds gathered; thunder sounded and rain fell. All things responded to one another without limit. After being carved and refined, they ultimately returned to simplicity.

Without contrived action, one can follow life’s natural transformations; without deliberate speech, one can embody De. With a peaceful and joyful heart, free of self-praise, one accords with harmony. Though all things differ, each is thereby able to grow. The Dao harmonizes Yin and Yang, regulates the seasons, coordinates the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water), nourishes plants, and permeates metal and stone. Animals grow strong and their coats shine; birds’ eggs remain intact and young animals are not lost in the womb. Fathers need not fear their sons dying young, and elder brothers need not mourn younger brothers who die too soon. Children are not left alone, and women are not widowed. Rainbows do not appear, and thieves do not run rampant. These are the results of De held within.

The constant Dao of nature gives life to and nurtures all things, yet does not claim them as its own. It brings about their transformations, yet does not rule them. All things depend on it to live, yet do not know to be grateful for its De; they also depend on it to die, yet do not resent it for that. It gathers and stores, yet does not become wealthy; it distributes and gives, yet does not become poor.

The Dao is indistinct and elusive, impossible to portray as a concrete image, yet its workings are inexhaustible. It is deep, dark, and remote, responding as all things change, yet has no fixed form. It flows freely and unobstructed, never stirring without cause. It draws in and unfolds as firmness and softness change, and rises and descends as Yin and Yang shift.

Laozi also said: A great man of De is tranquil in mind, free of distracting thoughts, and calm and untroubled. He takes Heaven for a canopy, Earth for a carriage, the four seasons for horses, and Yin and Yang for a driver. He travels without following a set road and roams without weariness; he can set out from anywhere. With Heaven as its canopy, nothing cannot be covered; with Earth as its carriage, nothing cannot be borne. With the four seasons as horses, no force cannot be harnessed; with Yin and Yang as a driver, no condition cannot be met. Thus he moves swiftly without being shaken, travels far without fatigue, and can illuminate everything under Heaven without moving his limbs or exhausting his intelligence. This is because he has grasped the essentials of the Dao and contemplated boundless realms.

The affairs of the world cannot be settled through forceful arrangement; one should guide them by following the way things naturally are. Nor can every transformation among the myriad things be rescued one by one; one should grasp the key and help them return to the right path. Therefore, the sage cultivates the root within rather than adorning outward details. He refines his spirit and releases his attachment to knowledge and what he has seen and heard. Though he seems calm and inactive, nothing is beyond his ability; though he does not govern deliberately, nothing is left unguided.

“Non-action” means not forcing action ahead of the myriad things. “Non-governance” means not altering their original natural state. “Nothing left unguided” means following the changes of all things themselves, so that each finds its proper place.

Laozi said: Those who govern the people through the Dao handle events by following their circumstances as they arise, and respond to changes in things by adapting to those changes. In this way, no transformation among the myriad things goes unanswered, and every shift in affairs can be brought into harmony with it. This is because the Dao follows things as they are in their own nature.

The Dao is characterized by emptiness, ease, stillness, softness, and purity and simplicity. These five qualities make up its form. Emptiness is the Dao’s dwelling place; ease is its nature; stillness is its clear mirror; softness is its way of acting. Returning to the root is the Dao’s constant pattern. The soft can overcome the hard, and the weak can overcome the strong. Purity and simplicity are the Dao’s foundation.

By “empty” is meant a mind unoccupied by external things; by “even” is meant a mind free of burdens. Having no cravings or desires is the utmost emptiness; having no preferences or aversions is the utmost evenness; remaining single-minded and unchanged is the utmost stillness; not becoming entangled with distracting thoughts or external things is the utmost purity. To feel neither sorrow nor joy is Virtue at its highest.

The utmost person governs himself by setting aside cleverness and worldly adornment. Following the Dao, he lets go of cunning and lives among the people in fairness. He narrows the range of what he clings to, reduces what he seeks, casts off temptations and admiration, dispels greed, and lays down anxious thought. With fewer attachments, it is easier to see clearly; with fewer pursuits, it is easier to be content. Thus, by letting inner cultivation guide external affairs, he can handle every matter well. When the mind has something to rely on, one can govern external affairs; when the mind is settled, the five organs are at peace, thoughts are calm, the sinews and bones are strong, and the ears and eyes are clear. The Great Dao is broad and open, and not far from oneself. Those who seek it in distant places will, at the end of their journey, return.

Laozi said: The sage does not make governing others his fixation, but gives priority to governing himself. He does not prize power and status, but values inner contentment. When one can be content within, all under Heaven can find peace. One who does not cling to wealth and rank, but keeps a calm mind and clear understanding, and knows to value oneself and think lightly of fame and gain under Heaven, is close to the Dao. Thus it is said: “Empty stillness reaches its utmost; firmly hold fast to quietude. The myriad things grow together, and from this I observe their return to the root.”

The Dao brings forth and transforms the myriad things, pervading them from beginning to end, yet has no fixed form. It is still and unmoving, yet reaches through all things; profound and vast, it has nothing that can be called outside it. It is so subtle that nothing can be called inside it. Unconfined by any limited space, it is the common source of being and nonbeing.

The perfected person, one who embodies the Dao in action, expresses it through emptiness, ease, stillness, softness, purity, and simplicity, and does not become entangled with external things. His Virtue accords with the Way of Heaven and Earth, so he is called a perfected person. He values himself and thinks lightly of fame and gain under Heaven. He gives priority to cultivating himself rather than governing others, does not let external things damage his inner calm, and does not let desires disturb his nature. He conceals his name: when the Dao prevails, he lives in seclusion; when it does not, he appears in the world. He acts by following what is natural, without deliberate contrivance; he handles affairs without interfering recklessly; and though he has knowledge, he does not presume to know everything.

The perfected person embraces the Way of Heaven and follows the heart of Heaven and Earth. He regulates his breathing and the Qi of Yin and Yang, exhaling turbid Qi and inhaling clear Qi. He changes with Yin and Yang as they close and open, with hardness and softness as they contract and expand, and with Yin and Yang as they rise and fall. He shares the mind of Heaven and the substance of the Dao. He has no particular joy, sorrow, delight, or anger. In viewing the myriad things, he does not cling to distinctions between one thing and another, or to judgments of right and wrong.

When the body is harmed by cold, heat, dryness, dampness, and the like, its form decays and the spirit becomes obstructed. When excessive joy, anger, and anxious thought harm the spirit, the spirit is depleted; even if the body remains, its inner fullness is lost. Therefore, the perfected person cultivates the mind and restores his nature, allowing spirit and body to support one another and thereby preserving life from beginning to end. Such a person sleeps without confused dreams and wakes without worries.

Confucius asked Laozi for guidance: “Make your body upright and gaze intently, and your spirit will naturally arrive in tranquility. Gather your mind and correct your bearing, and your spirit will come to dwell beside you. De will become your appearance, and the Dao your dwelling. Let your gaze be as clear as that of a newborn calf, without asking where it came from. Let your body be like withered wood and your heart like dead ashes. Truly understand the workings of things, yet do not rely on cleverness to make a show of yourself. Can your heart be broad and free of private schemes, perceptive and clear, yet unattached to your own intelligence?”

Laozi said: “To deal with the affairs of life, you must act in response to change; change takes place in accordance with the times. Those who understand the times do not cling to a single, unchanging way of doing things. Thus, the Dao that can be spoken is not the eternal, unchanging Dao; what can be defined by a name is not an eternal, unchanging name. Writing arises from speech, and speech comes from human understanding. Understanding alone cannot grasp the eternal, unchanging Dao. Those who can name things are not necessarily those who truly understand the Dao.

“However many books you collect and however much you learn, you will eventually reach the limits of what can be known. Better to hold fast to inner balance and stillness. Let go of the attachment to deliberate study, and you will have no worries. Set aside thoughts of being wise and clever, and the people will gain many benefits.

“Human beings are naturally still; this is their inborn nature. To be stirred by external things and respond to them is the desire of that nature. When external things arrive and people respond, this is the activity of the mind. When the mind meets external things, likes and dislikes arise. Once they take shape, the mind races outward. If it cannot return to itself, the natural order bestowed by Heaven disappears.

“Therefore, the sage does not replace nature with human contrivance. Outwardly, he responds to the changes of all things; inwardly, he does not lose his true nature. Those who understand the Dao return to stillness. Those who investigate all things ultimately return to Wuwei (non-action). By nurturing wisdom with calm detachment and harmonizing the spirit through emptiness and stillness, one can accord with nature and reach the great Dao. Those who follow the Way of Heaven roam with the Dao; those who follow human desires consort with the world’s conventions.

“Therefore, the sage does not let affairs disturb his nature or desires agitate his original heart. He makes no deliberate plans, yet responds appropriately; he speaks little, yet earns trust; he gives no anxious thought to calculation, yet gains what he needs. He does not act deliberately, yet things are accomplished. Though he occupies a position above others, the people do not feel burdened by him; though he walks before them, they are not harmed. The people of the world turn to him, and the wicked stand in awe of him, because he does not contend with anything. Since he does not contend, no one can contend with him.

Laozi said: Once people give in to their desires, they lose their original nature, and their conduct ceases to be upright. Govern a state in this way, and the state will fall into disorder; cultivate oneself in this way, and one’s own person will be harmed. Thus, those who do not understand the Dao cannot return to their original nature, and those who cannot understand the workings of things cannot remain tranquil.

Human nature is not evil to begin with. It changes gradually only after long immersion in external things. Once changed, people forget their roots and act according to the habits they have acquired. Water is naturally clear, but sand and stones make it murky. Human nature is originally peaceful, but appetites and desires damage it. Only the sage can cast off the burdens of external things and return to the self.

Therefore, the sage does not use cunning to control external things, nor allow desire to disturb the mind’s peace. Faced with joy, the sage does not become so elated as to lose self-command; faced with sorrow, the sage does not grieve so deeply as to lose control. Thus, even when occupying a high position, the sage is not endangered; even when secure, the sage does not fall.

When people hear beneficial words and sound counsel, even the foolish know to approve. When they see the noble De (Virtue/Power) of the sage, even those of poor character know to admire it. Many approve, but few truly follow through; many admire, but few put what they admire into practice. This is because people are held fast by external things and constrained by worldly habits.

Hence it is said: “When I practice Wuwei (non-action), the people transform of themselves. When I refrain from meddling, the people grow prosperous of themselves. When I cherish stillness, the people become upright of themselves. When I have no greed, the people become simple and honest of themselves.”

Stillness is the highest state of De; softness and weakness are the way the Dao operates. Emptiness, quietude, and joy are the source of all things. By putting these three into practice, one can return to the formless. The formless is what returns to the One; the One means having no selfishness in the heart and being able to accord with all under Heaven.

Bestow De without seeking abundance; take action without making people feel burdened. Look for it, and it cannot be seen; listen for it, and it cannot be heard. Though formless, it gives birth to form; though silent, it brings forth the five notes; though tasteless, it manifests the five flavors; though colorless, it gives rise to the five colors. Thus, things with form and appearance arise from the formless and imageless, and what is substantial arises from emptiness.

There are only five basic kinds of musical pitch, yet the variations of the five notes are too many to hear in full. There are only five basic kinds of taste, yet the variations of the five flavors are too many to savor in full. There are only five basic colors, yet the variations of the five colors are too many to see in full. The five notes take the pitch of gong as their foundation; the five flavors are defined by sweetness; the five colors appear from white. When the Dao is established as the One, all things arise from it.

Thus, the principle of the One extends throughout the four seas, and its vastness and depth reach across Heaven and Earth. When whole, the Dao is substantial, like uncarved wood; when dispersed, it is turbid, like muddied water. Within the turbidity, clarity gradually appears; within emptiness, fullness gradually takes shape. It is tranquil as the great sea, vast as drifting clouds. It seems not to exist, yet it truly exists; it seems to have vanished, yet it remains.

Laozi said: The ultimate source of all things is linked to a single root; the origins of all affairs likewise emerge from one and the same gateway. Thus the sage follows a consistent measure, does not alter the fundamental principles, and does not lightly depart from the constant Dao (the Way). Taking a straightedge as his standard, he adapts his response to the bends and straightness of things: where things bend, he follows their natural curve; where they are straight, he follows their inherent straightness.

Joy and anger can cause the Dao to stray from its proper course; worry and grief can diminish De (Virtue/Power); likes and dislikes can become failings of the heart; and cravings and desires can burden life. A person who erupts in anger harms Yin energy; excessive joy depletes Yang energy. When the breath is obstructed, a person may lose their voice; excessive fright can disturb the spirit. Worry and grief, with the spirit in anguish, can gradually accumulate into illness. If a person can rid themselves of the harm caused by these five emotions and desires, they can become one with the divine spirit. Here, “divine spirit” refers to a clear and lucid inner state of spirit. When the heart is clear, the five organs are at ease, thoughts are balanced, hearing and sight are keen, and sinews and bones are strong. One is perceptive without losing one’s balance, firm without becoming depleted; there is neither excess nor deficiency.

Nothing under Heaven is softer or weaker than water. The Dao embodied by water is vast beyond limits, deep beyond measure, and stretches on without end. It ebbs and swells, changing without cease; rising, it becomes rain and dew, and descending, it moistens the earth. Thus all things grow and all affairs come to fruition. Water embraces all living beings without favoring any; it nourishes even tiny insects without seeking repayment. It sustains all under Heaven without running dry, and benefits the people without exhausting itself. Its movement cannot be exhausted, and it is too subtle to grasp. Strike it and it bears no wound; pierce it and it is unharmed; cut it and it cannot be severed; burn it and it cannot be scorched. It flows gently and is hard to destroy; it can wear a passage through metal and stone and reach throughout the world. Where there is abundance, it can make up for what is lacking. It carries all things without ranking them, without partiality. Its breadth is equal to that of Heaven and Earth: this is the highest De.

Water achieves this highest De because it is soft, moist, and smooth. Thus it is said that what is softest under Heaven can move through what is hardest, and what has no form can enter where there is no gap. The formless is the root of all things; the soundless is the source of all kinds. The realized person, one who has understood the Great Dao, opens the inner spirit’s abode, joins with the transformations of nature, and keeps mysterious De within the heart. Their transformations and applications are as divine as a spirit’s. Thus the “Dao without a fixed form”—the Great Dao, which is not confined to outward forms—is vast and boundless. Without issuing commands, it can transform customs and ways of life; the key lies in inner cultivation and practical conduct. Each thing has its own point of origin, yet the sage grasps its root. Each affair has its own outlet, yet the sage keeps to its gateway. In this way, one can explore the inexhaustible and reach the limitless, observe the myriad things without confusion, and respond to affairs without needing to issue commands.

Laozi also said: The essentials of cultivating De are to be yielding in one’s intent yet effective in one’s actions, inwardly empty and still yet able to respond appropriately. To be yielding in intent means to be gentle and quiet, not to compete or impose oneself; to remain detached and practice Wuwei (non-action), while acting without missing the right moment. Thus nobility takes lowliness as its root, and high rank rests on a low foundation. By relying on the small, one can embrace the great; by remaining within, one can govern what is outside. Gentle conduct can be strong and forceful: nothing is beyond its ability to overcome, and no opponent beyond its ability to meet. By adapting to change and judging the times, one avoids harm.

To seek strength, one must hold to softness; to seek flourishing, one must preserve oneself through weakness. When softness has accumulated sufficiently, it becomes strength; when weakness has accumulated sufficiently, it becomes power. By observing the direction in which things are accumulating, one can foresee their survival or decline. The strong prevail over those weaker than themselves, but may be obstructed when they meet their equal. The soft can overcome what is stronger than itself, and its power is beyond measure. Thus weapons that become excessively powerful invite destruction; trees that are too hard are easily broken; leather stretched too taut will split. Teeth are harder than the tongue, yet they often decay first. So softness and weakness are the foundation of life, while hardness and strength belong to the realm of death.

Those who rush to act often end up in difficulty; those skilled at waiting to act can instead achieve their aims. By keeping to the Dao and adapting to change, one can act first yet command what follows, or act later yet seize the initiative. In this way, one does not lose the ability to shape events, and others cannot turn around and control one. To “act later” means to adjust the measure of one’s actions so they fit the moment. Circumstances change swiftly, leaving almost no pause: acting too early means going too far; acting too late means missing the moment. The sun and moon move on, and time waits for no one. The sage therefore values not a foot-long jade disk but an inch of time, for opportunities are hard to come by and easy to lose. The sage acts in step with the moment and builds achievements on the conditions at hand. Keeping to the way of stillness and clarity, maintaining a yielding disposition, and acting in response to change, the sage often waits to act rather than rushing ahead, accomplishing things through softness, quietude, ease, and steadiness. However mighty, what is hard and rigid cannot contend with this.

Laozi says: Keep thoughts of cunning and calculation hidden in your heart, and you can establish yourself, conduct your affairs, and accomplish great works. Maintain a tranquil Dao-centered heart, hold fast to the virtue of gentleness and humility, and adapt to the changes of things. Often remain behind rather than competing to be first; settle yourself through a yielding, quiet attitude, and act with composure and ease. Then even forces that are powerful and hard cannot prevail against you.

Laozi also says: When cunning and calculation are hidden in the heart, one’s pure nature is tainted, and one’s inner spirit and virtue cannot remain whole. If someone does not know how deep and far-reaching the inner heart can be, they may be entirely unguarded even while harboring thoughts of harming others—like standing beside a hungry tiger and taking hold of its tail. How much more dangerous, then, is dealing with other people?

Those who realize the Great Dao are at ease and untroubled; those who act through schemes and clever techniques toil without achieving results. Relying on harsh laws and severe punishments, condemning and executing at every turn, is not the foundation of an emperor’s rule. Constantly whipping a horse is no way to make a good journey. When likes and dislikes grow excessive, troubles follow. The laws of the former kings were not invented out of nothing; they accorded with principles already present. Nor were their prohibitions and punishments imposed arbitrarily; they followed established principles. By adapting to how things are, one can accomplish great undertakings. Clinging to trivial details only leaves one constrained by them. Hold fast to the root, and things remain stable; act recklessly, and they are easily ruined.

Relying only on the ears and eyes to hear and see exhausts the mind and spirit without bringing true insight. Relying only on schemes and deliberation to govern wears down the heart without necessarily achieving results. Entrusting government to the abilities of a single person makes it difficult to attain great order; one person’s capacity is not even enough to manage three acres of land well. Follow principle and accord with the natural order of Heaven and Earth, and all things under Heaven can each find their proper place.

Trusting false praise and slander, while the eyes are dazzled by brilliant colors, cannot make even the most elaborate courtesies express affection. Only sincere intentions can move people far away. The most powerful weapon is the human will; the Moye, an ancient sword, comes after it. The greatest calamity is the loss of balance between Yin and Yang. By comparison, the sound of war drums is a small matter. Great calamities lie hidden where nothing can be heard or seen; lesser ones lurk in the mountains and forests; the smallest scatter among the people. Thus, the more clever schemes and devices the people possess, the more strange things arise; the denser the laws and decrees, the more thieves there are. Put aside these practices and adopt their opposite principles, and Heaven-sent calamities will not occur. Governing a state through cleverness and schemes is a calamity for the state; governing without cleverness and schemes is its blessing and De.

The formless is vast, while the formed is small. The formless is abundant, while the formed is scarce. The formless is strong, while the formed is weak. The formless is full, while the formed is empty. Formed things are the products of affairs that have reached completion; the formless is the source from which things begin. Completion gives rise to concrete objects; beginning is the uncarved, simple state. Where there is form, there is sound; where there is no form, there is no sound. The formed arises from the formless, so the formless is the beginning of the formed.

Things that are broad and abundant have names; once named, they are readily valued. Things that are frugal and meager have no names, and so are readily despised. Things that are wealthy and prominent have names and are therefore honored and favored; things that are poor and few have no names and are readily placed in lowly, dishonored positions. Things that are vigorous and strong have names and are therefore conspicuous and clear; things that are yielding, feminine, and indistinct have no names and so remain unseen. Things that are rich in surplus have names and are regarded as noble and worthy; things that lack something have no names and are assigned a low position. Merit brings renown; without merit, there is no renown.

What is named arises from what is nameless; the nameless is the source of the named. In the Dao, being and nonbeing give rise to one another, and difficulty and ease bring one another to completion. Therefore, the sage holds to the Great Dao and cultivates De through emptiness, stillness, and subtlety. Where there is Dao, there is De; where there is De, there is achievement; where there is achievement, there is renown. After gaining renown, one returns to the Dao. In this way, achievement and renown can endure, and one remains free from fault throughout life. When princes and nobles have achieved renown, they call themselves “orphaned” or “desolate”; those without such achievements do not use these titles. The sage calls himself orphaned or desolate in order to return to the root. He accomplishes his work without claiming it as his own. Thus, achievement can bring benefit, while namelessness allows things to fulfill their function.

In ancient times, the people were innocent and simple, with no concern for distinguishing east from west. Their expressions remained true to their nature, and their words did not go beyond their everyday actions. Their conduct was unadorned, without polished rhetoric; they wore clothes for warmth, not for color, and their weapons were blunt and unsharpened. They walked at an unhurried pace, their gaze calm and hazy. They dug wells for water and plowed fields for food, neither flaunting their kindness nor seeking a fine reputation. People of high and low rank did not struggle against one another; they did not compare one another’s height. Customs were peaceful and uniform, life followed the natural course, and everyday tasks could easily be accomplished through their own abilities. The sage does not adopt practices that boast and contrive to mislead the world, nor customs that are deviant and confuse the people.

Laozi said: Heaven appears vast and high, Earth appears deep and weighty, the sun and moon move in their appointed courses, the stars shine clear and bright, and Yin-Yang is in harmony. None of this is the result of deliberate action. Each keeps to its proper course, and all things thereby take their natural form. Yin-Yang and the four seasons do not directly bring forth the myriad things; nor does rain and dew fall at their appointed times with the intention of nourishing plants and trees. The wondrous transformations between Heaven and Earth, and the Qi of Yin-Yang, meet and harmonize, and the myriad things then grow.

The Dao is to conceal Jing and Qi within the heart, let Shen dwell there, and remain quiet, calm, cheerful, and at peace. In this way, one’s heart is open and unbound by outward appearances, still and without sound. In governing the state, the offices seem to have nothing to disturb the people, and the court seems free of superfluous officials. Hermits need not withdraw from the world; the people need not flee taxes and duties; and there are no forced labor services or unjust punishments. Everyone under Heaven admires the ruler’s De and follows the ruler’s laws. Distant lands and places with different customs do not hesitate to come and submit, even if they must pass through many interpreters. This is not because the ruler personally visits every household to meet the people, but because he extends a sincere heart throughout the world.

Rewarding the good and punishing violent offenders is a way to set government commands in order. For those commands to be truly carried out requires inner sincerity and single-mindedness. However clear the commands may be, they cannot be implemented by themselves; they must be rooted in sincerity. Thus, even when the people are governed according to the principles of the Dao, they may still refuse to obey because the sincerity of those governing them has not yet reached its full measure.

Laozi said: Heaven sets the sun and moon in motion, arranges the stars, establishes the four seasons, and harmonizes Yin-Yang. The sun and moon can each follow their own course because of sincerity. A ruler may gather the principles of the Dao and use them to instruct the people, yet they may still refuse to obey because that sincerity has not yet reached its full measure.

Laozi says: In the heavens, the sun, moon, and many stars are set in their places; the seasons are made to turn in succession, and Yin-Yang is brought into harmony. By day, sunlight shines on all things; at night, all things are allowed to rest. The wind dries them, and rain and dew moisten them. When things grow, people cannot see who is nurturing them, yet they gradually come to maturity. When things decline and die, people cannot see what is bringing them to an end, yet in time they perish. This is the working of the spirits: the unseen forces and patterns by which nature moves.

The sage therefore takes nature as his model. He brings blessings, and people cannot tell where they came from, yet the blessings arrive. He dispels calamities, and people cannot see how they vanished, yet they are gone. Examine closely, and no obvious trace can be found; look deeply, and it is not mere nothingness. Count day by day, and the gain seems slight; count year by year, and a surplus has accumulated. He is silent, and with a single word can bring great change to the world. This is because he acts without personal motives, following the Dao of nature and allowing things to change of themselves.

When inner sincerity is complete, it takes form within and moves the Qi of Heaven and Earth. Auspicious signs appear: the Jingxing star, the Yellow Dragon, and the phoenix; sweet springs well up, and fine grain grows. The Yellow River does not flood, and the sea is not lashed by violent waves. But when the Dao of Heaven is defied and living things are harmed, the sun and moon are obscured, the Five Planets stray from their courses, the seasons fall into disorder, day grows dim while night brightens, mountains collapse and rivers run dry, thunder sounds in winter, and frost falls in summer. Heaven and humanity are connected. Thus, when a state is on the verge of ruin, abnormal celestial signs, disorder in public conduct, and rainbows appear as portents. All things are interconnected, and their vital energies act upon one another.

The workings of the spirits, then, cannot be attained through cunning calculation or force. A great person’s De accords with that of Heaven and Earth, with the radiance of the sun and moon, with the subtle efficacy of spirits, and with the cycles of the seasons. Holding Heaven’s heart and nurturing Earth’s Qi, he maintains emptiness, stillness, and calm. Without even leaving his hall, he can bring change to the lands within the Four Seas and improve their customs; the people turn toward goodness as though they had done so of their own accord. This is the power to bring about change through subtle influence.

Laozi says that one who enters the Dao (the Way) can preserve their nature and remain simple and genuine, without harming themselves. Even when faced with sudden danger, they can accord with the Way of Heaven. If they never depart from the Dao’s roots, what could they fail to accomplish? In their eyes, life and death belong to the same realm; neither can intimidate or oppress them. What is more, they can encompass Heaven and Earth, contain the myriad things, return to the source of creation, and embrace the Qi (vital energy) of perfect harmony. Such a person is no longer bound by ideas of life and death.

When inner sincerity becomes evident, others can understand it naturally. This is the Dao transmitted without words. The sage occupies the highest position and holds the Great Dao in their heart, yet speaks little; still, their benevolence reaches all the people. The influence of this wordless teaching is boundless. When signs of estrangement and mutual deception between ruler and ministers emerge, they correspond with the celestial patterns, and the vital spirits respond in kind. This is called “debate without words, a Dao without proclamation.”

To draw people from afar, let them follow their own nature and do not force matters. To bring those nearby closer, issue fewer commands and stir up fewer affairs. Only those who can move unseen understand this approach. Thus, retire the warhorses and put them to work plowing and fertilizing the fields, so that roads for chariots and horses no longer lead to distant battlegrounds. This is called “traveling while seated,” or “being at rest in the world.” The Way of Heaven favors no one: it neither draws near to anyone without cause nor keeps away from anyone without cause. The capable have something to spare, while the inept seem to lack what they need. Follow the Way of Heaven and things will go well; go against it and danger will follow. Thus, governing a state through clever schemes and coercion is difficult to sustain for long. Only those who accord with Great Harmony—the balanced harmony of Heaven, Earth, and all things—who preserve the natural way and follow the course of things, can truly govern a state well.

Laozi also says that the relationship between the Dao and De (Virtue/Power) is like that between tanned hide and raw hide: they may seem far apart, yet up close they are closely related; they may seem alike, yet careful examination reveals their differences. One may wish to investigate them, but cannot fix them in place; one may wish to see them clearly, but cannot judge by appearances alone. The sage is therefore like a mirror: they do not hold on to what has passed or reach out to what is yet to come. When things arrive, they reflect them as they are, without storing them in the heart. Though the myriad things appear within it, they are not harmed by this.

To gain it can seem like losing it; only by losing it does one truly gain it. Thus, one who has attained Great Harmony appears hazy and indistinct, as if peacefully falling asleep after becoming slightly tipsy, at ease within the Dao and seeming never to have left its roots. This is called “Great Communion.” They seem to do nothing, yet bring about what truly works.

Laozi said: In ancient times, when the Yellow Emperor governed the world, he regulated the movements of the sun and moon, harmonized the Qi of Yin-Yang, arranged the seasons, and set the standards for music and the calendar. He distinguished the duties of men and women and clarified the ranks of high and low, so that the strong did not oppress the weak and the many did not bully the few. The people were able to preserve their lives and did not die young; harvests were abundant, and there were no famines. Officials were impartial, and harmony prevailed between those above and below, without resentment or reproach. Laws and commands were clear, not ambiguous, and those who assisted the ruler were fair and did not show favoritism. Farmers yielded to one another over the boundaries of their fields; no one on the roads took what others had lost; and trade in the markets was fair, with no prices raised in advance.

In such an age, the sun, moon, and stars moved in their proper courses, and wind and rain came in due season. The five grains flourished; phoenixes flew through the courtyards, and qilin wandered across the outskirts. The same signs appeared when the Fuxi clan governed the world: farmers yielded to one another over field boundaries, nothing lost on the roads was taken, and trade in the markets was fair. The sun, moon, and stars moved in their proper courses, wind and rain came in season, the five grains flourished, and phoenixes and qilin appeared as well.

People then rested their heads on stones and slept on ropes, living simply. In autumn they gathered in what was needed, and in winter they practiced restraint. They bore the square earth on their backs and embraced the round heavens. Wherever the Qi of Yin-Yang was blocked, stagnant, and unable to flow, they opened and regulated its passage. They also removed and restrained rebellious, harmful forces that injured living things and the people, as well as anything that had accumulated in excess.

The people of that time were as innocent and unaware as children, unable to tell east from west. Their gaze was hazy and they stumbled as they walked, content in themselves and unaware of why they were as they were. They wandered freely, not knowing the source of life; they nourished themselves naturally, without knowing where they were headed. In such an age, birds, beasts, insects, and snakes kept in their claws, fangs, and venomous stings, and harmed no one.

Their achievements were worthy of Heaven and Earth. Though the Yellow Emperor stood beneath the founding ancestor, he did not display his accomplishments or proclaim his fame. Instead, he concealed the traces of the True Person—one who follows the Dao and returns to nature—and followed the natural workings of Heaven and Earth. Why? Because when Dao and De reach up to Heaven, clever schemes and contrivances fall away.

Laozi said: If Heaven is not at peace, the sun and moon have nothing to rely on; if Earth is not at peace, plants and trees have nowhere to grow; if body and mind are not at peace, right and wrong cannot arise. Thus, only with the True Person can there be genuine wisdom. If you do not understand even the principles you yourself uphold, how can you know that what is called “knowledge” may in fact be ignorance?

To spread kindness widely and accumulate wealth, bringing joy to the people so that all delight in life—this is benevolence. To establish great achievements and make a name renowned; to observe the rites between ruler and minister and set the order between high and low; to distinguish degrees of kinship; to rescue states from ruin, continue severed lineages, and provide heirs for those without descendants—these are righteousness.

To close the nine apertures of the body, gather in the heart and thoughts, cast aside cleverness and ingenuity, and return to a state of unknowing; to drift indistinctly beyond the dusty world and roam freely amid Wuwei (non-action) and non-involvement; to nurture Yin Qi, breathe out and take in Yang Qi, and live in harmony with all things—this is De (Virtue/Power).

Thus, when the Dao spreads out, it becomes De; when De fills out, it appears as benevolence and righteousness. Once benevolence and righteousness are established, the root of Dao and De is obscured.

Laozi says: Those whose spirits are agitated often speak in ornate but empty words; those whose De (Virtue/Power) is impure often act hypocritically. Their vital essence and Qi (vital energy) are scattered within, yet outwardly they fuss over their words and conduct. Such people cannot help being controlled by external things. Their energy is drained by sorrow, while their desires and actions have no end. Without firm principles in their hearts, they are easily swayed by worldly fashions. Thus, sages attend to cultivating the Dao within themselves rather than adorning themselves outwardly with benevolence and righteousness. They understand how to regulate the nine apertures—the sensory openings of the eyes, ears, nose, mouth, and so on—and the four limbs, bringing body and mind into harmony. This is how sages prevent their spirits from being disturbed.

Laozi says: Sages move within the utmost emptiness and stillness. Their minds and spirits roam through boundless expanses, speed beyond the limits of the regions, and walk the path without a gate. They hear soundless sounds and behold formless things. They are not confined by worldly affairs or burdened by customary ways. Thus, the way sages transform the world is to let realized people—those who embody and follow the Dao—remain true to their original nature, and to let worthy people—those of virtue and ability—preserve their harmony. This is how sages conduct themselves in the world.

Laozi says: Sages move within the utmost emptiness and stillness. Their minds and spirits roam through boundless expanses, speed beyond the limits of the regions, and walk the path without a gate. They hear soundless sounds and behold formless things. They are not confined by worldly affairs or burdened by customary ways. Thus, sages transform the world by helping realized people remain true to their original nature. Using worthy people to correct worldly customs is something sages do not endorse. Consider those constrained by worldly conventions: their bodies are held in check and their spirits bound, so they cannot help being burdened. If I, too, could be constrained and bound, it would surely mean that my fate was controlled by external forces.

Laozi says: When the ruler’s mind and spirit (thought and intention) do not race outward, and wisdom does not exceed its proper bounds, he holds a kind and sincere intention and bestows favors at the proper times. Then the five grains flourish and grow. They sprout in spring, grow in summer, are harvested in autumn, and stored in winter. Each month they are inspected, each season they are assessed, and at year’s end tribute is presented. The ruler cares for the people with a just heart and governs with authority without constantly restraining them through admonitions. His laws and commands are clear and simple, not cumbersome, and his teaching works in a subtle, unseen way. The laws are lenient and punishments light; the prisons stand empty. The customs of the whole realm return to simplicity and unity, and people harbor no deceitful intentions. This is the benevolence of the sage.

If the ruler craves acquisition without limit, his subjects will compete for merit and refuse to yield to one another. The people will be distressed and impoverished, fighting among themselves; their labor will be wasted to no effect, while cunning and deceit take root and thieves grow ever more numerous. Rulers and subjects will resent one another, and commands will no longer be carried out. When water is turbid, fish rise to the surface gasping for breath; when government orders are harsh, the people fall into disorder. The more desires those above have, the more those below resort to deceit. The more those above disrupt things, the less settled those below become. The more those above demand, the more those below compete.

To neglect the root and try to mend only the branches is like opening a channel and then trying to stop the water, or carrying firewood to put out a fire. The sage governs the realm well while expending little effort, and the people grow prosperous while their desires remain few. Without deliberately bestowing kindness, the sage is benevolent; without speaking at length, trustworthy; without forcing, able to obtain; and without acting recklessly, able to accomplish things. The sage embraces the Way of nature, holds fast to what is utterly true, upholds the Great Way, and puts sincerity into practice. Then all under Heaven follow, like an echo answering a sound or a shadow reflecting a form. What the sage cultivates is the root.

Laozi also says: Those whose spirit races outward and whose thoughts churn within cannot govern themselves well. The farther the spirit reaches, the more easily what is nearby is overlooked. Thus one can understand the world without leaving the doorway, and comprehend the Way of Heaven without peering through the window. The farther one travels, the less one knows. This means that when sincerity issues from within, the spirit and Qi respond to Heaven.

Laozi said: “All things naturally gravitate toward the winter sun and the cool shade of summer, without anyone having to drive them there. The influence of utmost refinement and sincerity requires no summons: people come of their own accord. Nothing is done deliberately, yet things are quietly brought to completion. This influence is subtle and profound; no one can see how it comes about.

“If people will not believe until their eyes have seen, or act until someone else gives an order, governing a state will be difficult. Gaoyao could not speak, yet served as an official in charge of criminal justice. He fulfilled his duties as chief judge, and no punishments were imposed unjustly throughout the realm. Why, then, rely on words? Shi Kuang was blind, yet served as grand steward; the state of Jin had no disorder in its affairs. Why, then, rely on sight? The sage takes teaching without words and insight that needs no direct observation as the way to guide others.

“People are influenced by those above them not by what they hear them say, but by what they see them do. If a ruler delights in martial prowess, then even without urging people to fight, the state will suffer many calamities; over time, this may lead to robbery and violent disorder. If a ruler is infatuated with beauty, then even without inviting people to speak of it, the state will fall into confusion; as this accumulates over time, it may lead to the calamity of debauchery.

“So the sage is inwardly sincere and upright, and outwardly makes his likes and dislikes clear. His words accord with his true intentions, and his orders make those intentions plain. Punishments alone cannot change customs, nor can killing alone prevent wrongdoing; what is most valuable is transforming people through De (Virtue). When sincerity reaches its utmost, it can bring about wondrous responses: what it touches is like the spring force that makes all things grow, or the autumn force that makes them wither. A noble person who governs human affairs is like an archer: a difference of only a hair’s breadth in aiming can lead to a distance of a thousand miles in the result. Those who govern the people must therefore be careful in everything they use to influence them.”

Laozi said: Laws may be enacted and rewards established, yet they cannot change the customs and habits of society if those who rule lack sincerity. Listen to the music of a place and you can understand its general character; observe its local rites and music and you can understand its customs. Once you know the customs, you can also understand how effective its instruction has been.

Those who remain true to their nature and treat others with sincerity can resonate with Heaven and Earth. Their subtle influence extends even beyond the four quarters. Once their commands are issued, people obey; their intentions accord with the Dao, and their meaning is conveyed. Even without speaking a word, the people of the world, along with birds and beasts and spirits, all change in response to them. Thus the highest form of governance transforms all things through the subtle influence of De. Next best is to make people afraid to do wrong. Only after that come rewarding the worthy and punishing violence.

Laozi said: The Dao follows its own nature and does not act by deliberate effort. What is meant by Wuwei (non-action) is not clinging to possession. Without clinging to possession, one does not remain in any one place; without being confined to one place, one can dwell among all things without fixed form. Without fixed form, there is no reckless movement; without reckless movement, all things can change of themselves. Thus the highest form of governance transforms all things through the subtle influence of De. Next best is to make people afraid to do wrong. Only after that come rewarding the worthy and punishing violence.

Laozi also said: The Dao follows its own nature and does not act by deliberate effort. What is meant by Wuwei is not clinging to possession. Without clinging to possession, one does not remain in any one place; without being confined to one place, one can dwell among all things without fixed form. Without fixed form, there is no reckless movement; without reckless movement, there are no words. Without words, there is stillness and silence; without form, there is nothing to see; without sound, nothing can be heard. This is called the deep and subtle, and also the highest mystery. It continues without end, seeming almost to exist: this is the root of Heaven and Earth.

The Dao has neither form nor sound, so the sage makes a reluctant attempt to describe it and gives it a name in a single word. The Dao by which Heaven and Earth operate takes vastness as its function, yet subtlety as its root. The myriad things may seem countless, but they arise from a few beginnings. The Son of Heaven takes Heaven and Earth as his model and uses the myriad things as resources. His De is immense, and his authority and rank are supremely exalted. For this very reason, he must follow the Dao and make it the root of all things under Heaven.

Laozi said: When the poor are given relief and urgent troubles are remedied, a reputation arises from this. When beneficial undertakings are promoted and calamities removed, achievements are made. If the world is free of disaster, even a sage has no opportunity to exercise benevolence; if those above and below live in harmony, even a worthy person has no achievement to establish. Thus, when the Perfected Person—one whose virtue has reached the highest level—governs the world, they embody virtue, hold the Dao, treat people with sincerity, and delight in giving. Their wisdom is boundless, yet they do not boast of it or speak at length. The people of the world therefore do not understand the value of speaking little. Hence, “A Dao that can be spoken is not the eternal Dao; a name that can be named is not the eternal name.” What is written on bamboo and silk, carved into bronze and stone, and passed on to others is only a rough outline of the Great Dao.

The Three Sovereigns, Five Emperors, and Three Kings—the sage rulers of ancient legend—acted in different ways, yet what they held in their hearts was the same. Their paths differed, but they arrived at the same destination. Later scholars did not understand the root of the Great Dao or the guiding principles of virtue. They knew only how to copy precedents, sitting upright as they discoursed on them. Even those learned and widely read could not avoid falling into confusion.

Laozi said: The mind is subtle and profound, able to respond to change, yet the Great Dao cannot be made clear in words. A sage need not leave their seat to bring order to the world; their sincerity is more powerful than a loud cry. Thus, when someone speaks the same words as another but people are willing to believe them, it is because trust was established before the words were spoken. When someone issues the same command as another but people are willing to carry it out, it is because sincerity was already present beyond the command. When a sage holds the highest position, the people are transformed as if by a wonder. If the sincerity of those above comes first but those below do not respond, their feelings and their government orders are not in accord. A three-month-old infant does not yet understand benefit or harm, yet its loving mother cares for it all the more deeply. This is the power of sincere feeling. From this we can see that the effects of words are limited, while the effects that do not depend on words reach far more widely. A noble person keeps their word and is faithful in heart. When trustworthiness and faithfulness shine forth from within, they move others and elicit a response. This is the teaching of the worthy and the sage.

Laozi said: When a son dies for his father or a minister for their ruler, they do not willingly face death to seek a reputation. Rather, deep in their hearts they hold gratitude and righteousness, and so they do not turn away when hardship comes. A noble person keeps their word and is faithful in heart. When trustworthiness and faithfulness shine forth from within, they move others and elicit a response. This is the teaching of the worthy and the sage.

Laozi said: When a son dies for his father or a minister for his ruler, they do not deliberately sacrifice their lives to seek fame. They act because they hold gratitude and a sense of duty in their hearts, and cannot bear to betray that bond in a time of danger. A gentleman’s grief is not put on deliberately; it naturally wells up from within. Yet one must also observe what he actually does. The sage feels no shame when his actions are seen in the light of day, while the gentleman is careful about his words and deeds when alone. To abandon what can be done at hand and speak idly of distant aims only blocks the way forward. Thus, when the sage holds the highest position, the people gladly accept his governance; when he is in a lower position, they admire his aspirations. He never forgets to help others.

Laozi said: When a warrior gives a single shout, the whole army retreats. This is because his shout comes from sincerity. If someone merely gives orders and no one responds, or has ideas in mind but cannot carry them through in action, something within him must be out of accord. Those who can set the world right without leaving their seats seek the means within themselves. What words cannot convey may sometimes be conveyed by expression and bearing; what expression and bearing cannot convey may be conveyed by a subtle resonance. What moves within the heart shows itself in the body. What is most subtle can be sensed through physical contact, yet cannot be measured in advance by the eye.

Laozi said: Words have their grounds, and affairs have their sources. If one loses sight of the source, then however many skills and abilities one possesses, it is better to say little. Chui, the legendary ancient craftsman, harmed many people through his skill and was eventually mutilated by having his fingers cut off. This shows that even extraordinary craftsmanship can bring calamity, and should not be displayed without restraint. A craftsperson knows that at times skill must be held back; the key is to recognize the right moment. If one does not know when to restrain oneself, one must first close the door; only then can one speak of opening it.

Laozi said: When the sage handles affairs, the paths he takes may differ, yet they all lead to the same end: saving what is on the verge of ruin and stabilizing what is about to collapse. He never forgets to help others. The songs of Qin, Chu, Yan, and Wei differ, yet all express joy; the cries of the Nine Yi and Eight Di, ancient names for peoples on the frontier, differ, yet all express sorrow. Singing gives voice to joy, and weeping gives voice to grief. Emotion arises from within and appears outwardly in sound; what matters is what has moved the heart. The sage’s heart never ceases, day or night, to remember others’ needs, and so the reach of his benevolence is far and wide.

Laozi said, “If the people govern through Wuwei (non-action), but the ruler insists on acting, harm will result. True governance through Wuwei takes non-action as its guiding principle. Those who know only how to act can neither achieve non-action nor truly accomplish anything. People need not say much; the spirits will make things clear of their own accord. If the people are silent while the spirits prattle on, harm will likewise result. To carry out the Way of silence is, in fact, to injure the spirits themselves.”

Wenzi said, “Reputation can be deliberately established, and achievements can be deliberately attained. In ancient times, Nan Rongchu, a Daoist figure, was ashamed that he had not understood the Way of the sages, and reflected alone on his shortcomings. He traveled south to visit Laozi. A single sentence inspired him: his spirit suddenly opened up, and the knots in his heart came undone. He worked diligently and went ten days without food, yet felt as satisfied as if he had enjoyed a feast. Thus his wisdom illuminated the world, his reputation endured through later generations, his plans reached far, and his insight penetrated the subtlest things. His renown spread throughout the lands of the Hua and the Yi, and continues to this day. This is an example of how reputation can be deliberately established.

“Therefore, if farmers do not work hard in the fields, the granaries will not be full. If officials do not devote themselves to their duties, their loyalty will not be wholehearted. If ministers and generals do not strive, achievements will be difficult to attain. If rulers grow complacent, they will leave no lasting renown to later generations.

“The Perfected Person, one whose virtue and wisdom have reached the highest level, cultivates De (Virtue/Power) in secret, like thunder hidden from view. Acting in accord with the proper moment and establishing achievements according to circumstances, they advance and withdraw with ease, and nothing is beyond their reach. Their inner sincerity shines forth naturally as virtue and spreads in every direction. Seeing what benefits the world, they rejoice without forgetting the people; seeing what harms it, they are troubled and uneasy. They are troubled by what troubles the people, and the people are troubled by what troubles them. They take pleasure in what brings the people joy, and the people take pleasure in what brings them joy. Thus no one who takes the joys and sorrows of all under Heaven as their own has ever failed to establish kingship.

“The way a sage governs a state is hard to discern at first, but in the end no one can surpass it. The sage stands on firm ground, stores up granaries that can never be emptied, and possesses treasuries whose contents never run out. His ordinances flow forth like a spring, so that the people need not compete; he opens paths through which people can gain what they need. He does not attempt what cannot be accomplished, seek what cannot be obtained, occupy a position that cannot be held for long, or put into practice a course that cannot be sustained.

“Great people put forward ordinances that accord with reason and that people are glad to accept, so the people obey naturally. When ordinances accord with the people’s wishes, small things can accumulate into great things. When they run counter to those wishes, even good intentions are seen as harmful, and what was meant to succeed turns into failure.

“A true great man is strong within and clear-sighted outwardly. Within, he is as steadfast as Heaven and Earth; outwardly, he is as bright as the sun and moon. Heaven and Earth cover and sustain all things, while the sun and moon shine on all things. When great people show others the good Way, hold fast to what is fundamental, and do not depart from the constant Way, everyone under Heaven follows their ordinances as grass bends before the wind.

“When ordinances are misguided, the stars of the four seasons show irregularities. If governance is faulty in spring, Jupiter strays from its normal course; if it is faulty in summer, Mars moves in reverse; if it is faulty in autumn, Venus appears and disappears irregularly; if it is faulty in winter, Mercury is not in its proper place. When governance is out of balance in all four seasons, Saturn wavers, the sun and moon behave strangely, the five planets fall into disorder, and comets appear.

“Conversely, when governance is proper in spring, millet and grain flourish; when it is proper in summer, rain falls at the right time; when it is proper in autumn, the people are content and prosperous; and when it is proper in winter, the state is peaceful and secure.”

Laozi says: Before Heaven and Earth took shape, there was a dim, chaotic unity, silent and clear. The heavy, turbid part condensed into the Earth, while the subtle part rose up to become Heaven. Heaven and Earth separated, giving rise to the four seasons. Yin and Yang became distinct: pure Qi condensed to form human beings, while coarse, turbid Qi formed insects. Firmness and softness worked together, and from this all things came into being.

The human spirit has its source in Heaven, while the bones are rooted in the Earth. When the spirit returns to its source and the bones return to the Earth, what remains of me? Therefore, the sage takes Heaven as a model and follows the Earth, free from worldly constraints and from others’ influence. Heaven is regarded as father, Earth as mother; Yin and Yang serve as the guiding principles, and the four seasons as the standard. Heaven is clear, still, and bright; Earth is settled and calm. Things that go against the natural order decline and perish, while those that follow it can grow. Stillness and simplicity are where the spirit finds rest; emptiness, quietude, and Wuwei (non-action) are where the Dao resides.

The spirit is what a person receives from Heaven; the bones are what a person receives from the Earth. The Dao gives rise to One, One gives rise to Two, Two gives rise to Three, and Three gives rise to all things. All things turn their backs on Yin and embrace Yang; the two Qi mingle and surge together, reaching harmony.

Laozi says: Human beings receive life from Heaven and Earth: the spirit comes from Heaven, and the bones from the Earth. The Dao gives rise to One, One gives rise to Two, Two gives rise to Three, and Three gives rise to all things. All things turn their backs on Yin and embrace Yang; the two Qi mingle to form harmony.

Laozi said: People are born through the transformations of Heaven and Earth. In the first month of pregnancy, the fatty substance takes shape; in the second, the blood vessels form; in the third, the embryo develops; in the fourth, it becomes a fetus; in the fifth, sinews grow; in the sixth, bones grow; in the seventh, the body takes shape; in the eighth, it begins to move; in the ninth, its movements become more vigorous; and in the tenth, it is born. Once a person’s body has fully formed, the five organs are also distinct: the liver corresponds to the eyes, the kidneys to the ears, the spleen to the tongue, the lungs to the nose, and the gallbladder to the mouth. The outside of the body corresponds to the visible features of Heaven and Earth, while its interior corresponds to their workings. The head is round, taking its model from Heaven; the feet are square, symbolizing Earth. Heaven has the four seasons, the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water), the nine celestial bodies, and 360 days; a person has four limbs, five organs, nine apertures, and 360 joints.

Heaven has wind, rain, cold, and heat; people have giving and taking, joy and anger. The gallbladder corresponds to clouds, the lungs to Qi (vital energy), the spleen to wind, the kidneys to rain, and the liver to thunder. People and Heaven and Earth belong to the same kind. The heart governs the body; the ears and eyes are like the sun and moon, and the blood and Qi are like wind and rain. When the sun and moon move out of their proper courses, eclipses blot out their light. When wind and rain come at the wrong time, they destroy the myriad things and bring disaster. When the five planets move out of their proper courses, calamities also befall the regions below.

The workings of Heaven and Earth are vast and profound, yet they still have measure. They cherish their own radiance and take care of their own spirit. How can people’s ears and eyes remain immersed in external things without rest? How can the spirit keep racing outward without growing weary? Thus the sage guards the inner self while also attending to what is outside.

Blood and Qi are a person’s radiance; the five organs are where their vital essence resides. When blood and Qi are concentrated within and not dissipated outward, the chest and abdomen become full, and desires diminish. With fewer desires, the ears and eyes become clear: one can listen for a long time without weariness, and observe things with keen understanding. This is called “clarity.” When the five organs remain joined to the heart and do not separate from it, one’s Qi and resolve grow strong, and one’s conduct does not stray into error. When the spirit is abundant and Qi does not scatter, there is nothing one cannot hear, nothing one cannot see, and nothing one cannot accomplish. Calamities have no way to enter, and harmful Qi cannot intrude.

The more things one wants, the less one often obtains in reality; the broader one’s field of vision, the less one truly understands. The apertures of the ears and eyes are gateways through which the spirit enters and leaves; blood and Qi are messengers of the five organs. When the ears and eyes become absorbed in sounds and sights, the five organs are shaken and unsettled, blood and Qi surge without cease, and the spirit races outward and cannot be held in place. Then, even if fortune or calamity as great as a mountain comes before one, it will go unnoticed.

Therefore, the sage receives things from the outside world without letting the mind and spirit exceed their proper bounds. The sage keeps the ears and eyes clear and open, so they are not drawn in by external things and do not give rise to craving. The mind, intention, and Qi remain still; desires diminish, the five organs settle, and the spirit stays within the body rather than passing beyond it. In this way, one can discern patterns that extend beyond past events, see the first signs of what is to come, and perceive the changes of fortune and calamity.

Thus, the farther one pursues things outward, the less one knows. This means that one must not let the spirit become immersed in external things. The five colors in confusion disturb the eyes and cloud sight; the five tones in disorder disturb the ears and dull hearing; the five flavors mixed together damage the mouth and tongue. Thoughts of choosing and rejecting unsettle the heart and make conduct unrestrained and unstable. Desires scatter a person’s Qi; preferences and aversions exhaust the spirit. If these are not removed early, one’s resolve and vitality will diminish day by day.

People cannot enjoy the full span of their lives because they pursue the pleasures of living too greedily. Only by ceasing to make the pursuit of life’s pleasures one’s aim can one hope to preserve life for a long time.

Heaven and Earth move in cycles, flowing back and forth and communicating with one another; the myriad things all return to the One. Whoever can know the One can know everything; whoever does not know the One truly knows nothing. We, too, are one thing among the myriad things in the world, and each of the myriad things is itself a thing. Why should things force one another to change?

To want to live does not mean one must devote oneself to making a living; to hate death does not mean one can escape it. One should not despise life on that account, nor rejoice in it merely because it is precious. Settle body and mind in accordance with one’s own nature, and do not dare go to extremes. By avoiding extremes, one can attain the greatest joy.

Guarding Emptiness

Laozi said: The sage follows the times, is content with their place, and, living in the present age, gladly attends to their own affairs. Sorrow and joy damage De; likes and dislikes burden the heart; anger and delight lead one away from the Dao. In life, the sage follows the course of Heaven; in death, they go along with the transformations of the myriad things. In stillness, they accord with the De of Yin; in action, they flow with the Qi of Yang.

The heart is the body’s master, and spirit is the heart’s treasure. If the body labors without rest, its vitality declines; if spirit is expended without end, it is depleted. Thus the sage follows these principles and dares not violate them. Responding to what is substantial with emptiness, they seek out the underlying principle of things; receiving fullness with stillness, they grasp the proper measure. Tranquil and content, empty and at peace, they remain so until life’s end. They neither distance themselves from anyone nor favor anyone, but cultivate De and harmonize Yin-Yang, follow the way of Heaven, join with the Dao, and keep company with De. They do not rush ahead of good fortune or fall behind calamity; neither life nor death can unsettle them. This is why they are called “supremely numinous”: attaining a wondrous state, they can obtain whatever they seek and accomplish whatever they undertake.

Guarding Nonbeing

Laozi said: If you regard the world’s power and affairs lightly, your spirit will not be burdened. If you see all things as equal, your heart will not be confused. If you take life and death lightly, your resolve will not be shaken. If you understand that all things are changing, your insight will not be clouded.

The perfected person relies on an unshakable foundation, travels a path without obstruction, draws from a source that never runs dry, and learns from a teacher who never perishes. Wherever they go, they meet with ease; whatever they encounter, they understand. Whether bending or straightening, bowing or looking up, they hold fast to the root of life and are not confused by what they meet. Neither fortune nor calamity, benefit nor harm, can disturb their heart.

Those who uphold benevolence and righteousness can be guided by benevolence and righteousness, but cannot be forced by military might; they can be corrected through justice, but cannot be lured by profit. The gentleman dies for what is right and does not change for wealth or rank; one who acts righteously does not fear even the threat of death. How much more so for those who practice Wuwei (non-action)? Those who practice Wuwei have no burdens; those without burdens regard the world as a shadow and simply watch in stillness from beside a pillar. The perfected person probes the true meaning of virtue and then examines worldly conduct, enough to make people of the world feel ashamed. There is nothing in the world worth clinging to. One may treat learning as a drum hung high, using it to rouse oneself.

Guarding Balance

Laozi says: High status and abundant wealth are things people covet. Compared with one’s own person, however, they are not truly precious. Thus the sage eats only to satisfy hunger and replenish strength, and dresses only to cover the body, ward off cold, and remain comfortable. The sage does not covet what is unnecessary or accumulate excessive wealth.

The sage keeps the eyes clear, without coveting external things, and the ears quiet, without chasing after sounds. The sage speaks cautiously, without opening the mouth carelessly, and steadies the mind, without indulging in unfounded thoughts. Letting go of cleverness and artifice, the sage returns to an unadorned nature. “Great Simplicity” means the original state before it has been shaped or embellished. The sage gathers the spirit and sets aside excessive cleverness. In this way there is neither preference nor aversion. This is called “Great Communication”: being in accord with the Dao (the Way).

To dispel troubles and free oneself from entanglements, nothing is better than never departing from the root of the Dao. What, then, could not be accomplished? Those who know how to preserve life and keep body and mind in harmony will not be tempted by profit. Those whose inner and outer selves are in accord and whose minds are open will not be tempted by power and status. Externally, there is no realm more vast than “no outside”; internally, there is no realm more exalted than “no inside.” Those who understand this highest nobility can go anywhere and find things going smoothly.

Keeping to the Simple

Laozi says: In ancient times, those who cultivated the Dao began by taking the root of the Dao as their starting point, and so there was nothing they could not accomplish. Those who know how to preserve life and keep body and mind in harmony will not be tempted by profit. Those whose inner and outer selves are in accord and whose minds are open will not be tempted by power and status. Externally, there is no realm more vast than “no outside”; internally, there is no realm more exalted than “no inside.” Those who understand this highest nobility can go anywhere and find things going smoothly.

Keeping to the Simple

Laozi says: In ancient times, those who cultivated the Dao regulated their emotions and dispositions, refined their thoughts and intentions, nurtured body and mind through calmness, and maintained themselves through moderation. Taking joy in the Dao, they did not feel diminished by low status; content with De (Virtue/Power), they did not feel impoverished. If their nature did not incline toward something, they did not force themselves to do it; if their hearts were unwilling, they did not compel themselves to accept it. They did not use anything that benefited their nature to damage their De, nor anything harmful to life to disturb the harmony of body and mind.

They did not indulge the body and act as they pleased. Instead, they kept to a fitting measure, so that their conduct could serve as a model for all under Heaven. They ate according to their appetite, dressed according to their bodily needs, sought only shelter in their dwelling, and acted only in ways that accorded with reason. Even if they possessed all under Heaven, they did not claim it as their own; even when faced with the myriad things, they did not greedily seek profit from them. How could such people lose their nature and life because of poverty or wealth, high rank or low? Only those who do this can be said truly to have understood the Dao.

Keeping to Clarity

Laozi said: “Human beings receive Qi from Heaven. The ears and eyes are used to perceive sounds and colors; the nose and mouth to distinguish fragrances and odors; and the skin to feel cold and warmth. These aspects of human nature are originally the same in everyone. Yet some people meet death while others preserve their lives; some become exemplary people while others sink into baseness. The key is what governs each of them.

“Shen is the deep source of wisdom. When Shen is clear, wisdom becomes lucid; wisdom is the storehouse of the heart. Only when wisdom is impartial can the heart be at peace. People do not use flowing water to look at their reflections, but clear, still water, because it is pure and calm. Only with clear Shen and a peaceful heart can one see the true state of things. Thus, those who are skilled at making use of things must understand the value of relying on the empty stillness of ‘not making use’ of them. A bright mirror is not clouded by dust, and clear Shen is not thrown into confusion by desires. Once the mind settles on something, Shen gathers with it. If it then returns to emptiness and stillness, agitation will fade and Shen can settle and rest. This is the state in which the sage moves freely and at ease. Therefore, anyone who governs the world must understand the true condition of human nature before they can govern it well.”

Preserving the True

Laozi said: “A sage is simply someone who follows their nature and keeps their feelings and intentions in due measure. They eat according to their appetite and dress according to their body’s needs. By exercising restraint, they leave no room for greedy and corrupt thoughts. Thus, those who can truly possess the world do not devote themselves to claiming it as their own; those who can truly attain renown do not seek it through actions that defy ordinary standards. For those who truly understand the nature of life, the way of benevolence and righteousness follows naturally.

“If Shen is unobscured, the heart is not burdened by external things, thought is open and clear, and the mind is calm and untroubled, then power and profit cannot tempt a person, and sensual pleasures cannot confuse them. Those skilled in argument cannot persuade them; the clever cannot sway them; and the brave cannot frighten them. This is the state in which a ‘True Person’—one who has reached a state of accord with the Great Dao—moves freely and at ease.

“Those who can sustain life are not themselves attached to the process of ‘bringing life forth’; those who can set change in motion are not themselves bound by change. Without understanding this Way, even knowledge broad enough to encompass Heaven and Earth, insight bright enough to examine the sun and moon, eloquence capable of unfastening a chain, and words persuasive enough to move metal and stone bring no benefit to the governance of the world. Therefore, the sage does not abandon what they hold to be fundamental.”

Preserving Stillness

Laozi said: Serenity and detachment are ways to nurture life; peace, joy, and an empty mind are means of abiding in De. When the outer world does not disturb the heart, one’s nature can find a fitting place to rest. When the heart is tranquil and does not act rashly, peace allows De to settle securely in its proper place. To conduct oneself in the world through the way of nurturing life, and to pass one’s days embracing De, may be called truly realizing the Dao.

Such a person’s blood and Qi do not stagnate or become blocked, and the five viscera—the heart, liver, spleen, lungs, and kidneys, in traditional Chinese medicine—do not accumulate harmful influences. Neither fortune nor misfortune can unsettle their resolve, and neither praise nor blame can taint them. Who, amid the world as it is, can manage this? Even a person of talent cannot escape when born into an inauspicious time. How much less can someone without the Dao?

One who fixes their eyes on the tip of a fine autumn hair cannot hear the sound of thunder. One who listens intently to music as pleasing as gold and jade cannot see the form of Mount Tai. Thus, when the mind concentrates on what is small, it overlooks what is vast.

Today, all things stream toward us, entangling us and wearing down our lives, drawing out our Jing as relentlessly as a spring bubbling forth. Even if we wish to remain untouched by them, how could we manage it? If a basin of water is kept clear, after a time it can reflect one’s eyebrows and eyelashes. But if the water is muddy, the slightest stirring makes it impossible to discern shapes, whether round or square. The human spirit is hard to keep clear, yet easily muddied, just like the water in this basin.

Keeping to the Law

Laozi said: The highest sage models himself on the Way of Heaven; the next honors worthy people; those below them entrust the affairs of government to their ministers. Relying on ministers for everything is a path toward ruin. Exalting the worthy without restraint is a source of folly and delusion. Modeling oneself on the Way of Heaven is the principle for governing Heaven, Earth, and the myriad things.

Emptiness and stillness are fundamental. With emptiness and Wuwei, nothing cannot be received; with clarity, stillness, and stability, nothing cannot be held fast. Only by understanding the way of emptiness and stillness can one maintain constancy from beginning to end. Thus the sage takes stillness as the way of governance and rash action as the source of disorder. As the saying goes: “Do not stir things up; do not intrude, and the myriad things will become clear of themselves. Do not startle them; do not alarm them, and the myriad things will arrange themselves.” This is the Way of Heaven.

Keeping to Weakness

Laozi says: The Son of Heaven, the feudal lords, and other rulers treat the world or their state as their own household, and all things as their store of wealth. When their minds are filled with the vastness of the world and the multitude of all things, their force and ambition can easily grow excessive and arrogant. Those in high positions then use military force to encroach on the weak, while those below may arrogantly mistreat their subordinates. Desires that reach too far are like violent winds and rain: they cannot last.

Therefore, the sage uses the Dao (the Way) to bring peace to the world, holds fast to the root, and follows what is natural. The sage does not damage the harmonizing, balanced Qi (vital energy) of Yin-Yang—the state of peace without partiality. By discerning what is subtle, remaining gentle, yielding without possessing, and taking the rivers and seas as a model, the sage follows their example. The rivers and seas do not boast of their achievements, so their merit and reputation arise naturally; they do not force things, so they can accomplish the work of a king. The sage willingly takes the lowest place in the world, like the female in her humility, and so can reach the wondrous and endure without end. By knowing how to cherish the self, the sage can attain honor.

To hold the power to govern a state with ten thousand chariots is to bear a grave responsibility, and one cannot take oneself lightly. If one treats one’s position as insignificant, it is difficult for merit and reputation to be established. The Dao seems vast, yet accomplishes its work through what is subtle; it seems abundant, yet takes what is little as its root. Thus the sage governs the world through the Dao. Gentleness and subtlety make it possible to perceive what is small. Frugality, restraint, and reduction make it possible to be content with little. Seeing what is subtle makes it possible to accomplish what is great; being content with little makes it possible to achieve excellence.

Heaven’s Dao lowers what is high and raises what is low; it reduces what is excessive and replenishes what is insufficient. The rivers and seas lie in low places, so all under Heaven flows toward them and upholds them. The sage is humble and quiet, yields, and does not contend because the sage values taking the lower position. The sage is open-minded and does not claim to be complete, knowing that there is still something lacking. By taking the lower position, one can reach the heights; by knowing what is lacking, one can attain virtue.

Those who are self-satisfied and self-important cannot remain steady; those who are extravagant cannot endure; those who strive to overpower others will eventually decline; and those who rest content with the status quo will eventually fall. Violent winds and rain do not last a whole day, and a stream valley cannot remain filled forever. Violent winds and rain carry the force of aggression, so they cannot endure and eventually dissipate. A stream valley lies beneath powerful currents and cannot avoid being eroded and swept away. Therefore, the sage holds to the feminine way—a way of life symbolized by gentleness and humility—and casts off extravagance and arrogance, refusing to force things through sheer strength. By holding to gentleness and humility, one can establish work of strength and resolve; by avoiding extravagance, arrogance, and domination, one can endure.

Laozi says: When the Dao of Heaven reaches its peak, it turns back; when something is full, it diminishes. The changes of the sun and moon follow this pattern. Thus the sage reduces self-satisfaction day by day, keeping the heart humble and clear. At the same time, the sage makes steady progress through gentleness and humility, so that De does not decline. This is the law of the Dao of Heaven.

People naturally prefer high places to low ones, gaining to losing, benefit to hardship, and honor to low status. They act according to these desires, and so often fail to accomplish their aims. Clinging to what they have gained also makes it difficult to truly possess anything. The sage therefore follows the Dao of Heaven: acting without contrivance, yet accomplishing things; not clinging to possession, yet gaining what is needed. The sage’s feelings are like everyone else’s, but the path they follow is different. That is why they endure.

It is said that the Three Sovereigns and Five Emperors had a vessel for self-admonition called the youzhi, a tilting wine vessel meant to remind people not to become complacent. When it held little water, it stood upright; when full, it tipped over. When things flourish to their peak, they begin to decline. At noon, the sun starts moving westward; after the moon is full, it gradually wanes; and when joy comes to an end, it often turns to sorrow.

Therefore, those who are intelligent and perceptive should restrain themselves with simplicity. Those who are widely read and skilled in debate should restrain themselves with brevity. Those who possess physical strength and courage should keep themselves in check with reverence. Those who are wealthy and prominent should remain humble. Those who bestow favors throughout the realm should understand when to yield. These five practices were principles by which the former kings safeguarded the realm.

Those who follow this Dao do not seek fullness. Because they do not seek fullness, even when what they have is diminished, they are not compelled to begin a new undertaking to restore it.

Laozi says: The sage follows the Yin energy as it withdraws and gathers, and the Yang energy as it unfolds and expands. In this way, the sage reaches a state of mind that seeks no pleasure. Attached to no pleasure, there is nothing the sage cannot face with calm; thus the highest joy is attained. This joy arises from within and does not depend on outward pleasures to satisfy the heart. The sage can therefore find contentment within and remain true to their aspirations.

The sage is honored under Heaven because they accord with the principles that govern the world and grasp the essentials of its governance. The key lies not in external things, but in oneself; not in others, but in oneself. When one’s own cultivation is complete, the principles of all things are present within. Thus, those who understand the way of inner cultivation place their preferences, desires, likes, and dislikes outside the heart and are not led by them. They are neither overjoyed by success nor angered by failure; they neither lose themselves in pleasure nor suffer under worry and distress. To them, all things are mysterious and equal, and they do not cling to judgments of absolute right or wrong.

Thus, a scholar can hold firmly to their convictions, and a woman can maintain unwavering conduct. They can earn respect without relying on power, be wealthy without relying on possessions, and be strong without relying on force. They do not covet riches or worldly fame, feel secure because of high status, or feel endangered because of low status. Body, spirit, breath, and will each rest in their proper place.

The body is where life takes shelter; Qi is the root of life; Shen is its ruler. If any one of the three loses its proper place, the other two are harmed. When Shen takes the lead, the body benefits; when the body takes the lead, Shen suffers. Those who are greedy and full of desire have their minds turned upside down by power and profit, then are enticed and drawn along by rank and reputation. If they devote themselves to surpassing others in knowledge and standing above the world in status, their spirit is gradually depleted. If they remain immersed in this for a long time and cannot turn back, the body’s inner functions become obstructed, and nothing from outside can help them. In the end, they may fall into confusion and forgetfulness, losing their sense of self.

When spirit, will, and breath are still, they gradually grow fuller and stronger; when they are restless, they gradually become depleted and worn. Therefore, the sage carefully tends the spirit, keeps the breath calm and gentle, and the body steady and at ease, changing along with the movement of the Dao. In this way, the changes of all things accord with the sage, and every shift in circumstances can be met.

Those who preserve simplicity grow fuller and stronger when still, but gradually become depleted and worn when restless. Therefore, the sage carefully tends the spirit, keeps the breath calm and gentle, and the body steady and at ease, changing along with the movement of the Dao. In this way, the changes of all things accord with the sage, and every shift in circumstances can be met.

Preserve simplicity.

Laozi said that a “True Person” is someone whose original nature accords with the Dao (the Way). They seem to possess things, yet appear to have nothing; they seem full, yet appear empty. They cultivate what is within and do not deliberately adorn their outward appearance. They understand how to return to original simplicity, restore plainness through Wuwei (non-action), recognize what is fundamental, and preserve their spirit. They wander among the origins of Heaven and Earth.

They roam at ease beyond the world of dust, free in a realm without striving, and do not concern themselves with clever devices or schemes. They see through the illusory and are not changed by external things. They witness things transform yet hold fast to what is fundamental. Their attention is focused inward, and they understand that good fortune and calamity share a common source. At rest, they do not know what they are about to do; in action, they do not decide their destination in advance. They know without learning, see clearly without looking, accomplish things without deliberate effort, and discern without governing.

When touched by a stimulus, they respond; when circumstances compel them, they act. They go only when there is no other choice, like light that illuminates things or a shadow that follows a form. They follow the Dao and act in accord with how conditions unfold naturally. Their minds are open and still. They let the myriad lives return to a single transformation and the countless differences return to one source. Though they possess Jing and Qi, they do not deliberately use them; though they possess spirit, they do not recklessly direct it. They preserve undivided simplicity and stand at the subtlest limit.

They dream not in sleep, and their wisdom does not stir without cause. When they act, they leave no trace; when still, they do not cling to form. Their existence seems like nonexistence, and their life like death. They pass in and out without obstruction and can even command ghosts and spirits. This shows that spirit can rise into the realm of the Great Dao. When spirit flows freely without losing its original source, and day and night are without division, one can merge with all things, so that they all flourish like spring. This is the state in which the heart accords with the Dao and life follows the seasons.

Thus, the body may decline, but the spirit does not change along with it. Meeting the myriad changes with what does not change, one turns through endless transformations without reaching an end. What changes will eventually return to formlessness; what does not change remains alongside Heaven and Earth. The source that enables all things to live and renew themselves is itself not “born” in the ordinary sense; the things it produces are subject to birth, death, and change. The source that transforms all things does not itself change along with them; the transformations it brings about are what truly change. This is the realm in which the “True Person” wanders, and it is the pure and undivided Great Dao.

The Talismanic Words

Laozi said that the Dao is so high there is nothing higher, and so deep there is nothing deeper. It is level like a measuring rule, straight like an inkline, round like a compass, and square like a carpenter’s square. It contains Heaven and Earth, yet has no boundary between inside and outside. It runs through everything and covers all things, yet meets no obstruction.

Therefore, those who embody the Dao are not angered or pleased by external things. Sitting, they have no worries in their hearts; sleeping, they do not dream. When they see things, they can discern what to call them; when events arise, they can respond.

Laozi says: Those who seek to possess fame will inevitably stir up trouble. Once trouble arises, they abandon public-mindedness to pursue private gain, turn away from the Dao and act on their own opinions. They feign goodness to win praise and feign wisdom to establish a reputation. If governance does not follow the natural order of things, and conduct does not respond to the times, it will invite many criticisms and achieve little. Acting recklessly and hoping for success by chance, even success cannot make up for the faults; failure, however, may bring death.

Laozi says: Do not make yourself the master of fame, the storehouse of schemes, the bearer of affairs, or the leader in wisdom. Hide yourself from view, and act without slackening. Do not act ahead of the arrival of good fortune, and do not be the source of calamity. Let things begin unseen, and act only when there is no choice. To have good fortune arrive first, avoid calamity; to gain profit, first keep clear of harm.

Thus, if you seek peace through Wuwei (non-action) but lose the foundation of peace, you will fall into danger. If you seek good governance through Wuwei but lose the foundation of governance, disorder will follow. So do not try to seem precious as fine jade, or aloof as unhewn stone. Things with beautiful patterns will eventually have their surfaces stripped away; animals with splendid horns are often hunted for them. Sweet springs eventually run dry, and straight trees are eventually cut down. Flowery speech may later bring blame; jade hidden in stone can damage the mountain that holds it. The troubles of the people are often planted before words are spoken; calamity befalls them because someone has rashly debated the state’s laws and institutions.

Laozi says: As circumstances change, action should follow the Great Dao. Those who do not understand the Dao take good fortune for calamity, and regard Heaven as a canopy and Earth as an axle. Those skilled in using the Dao never exhaust their capacity to act and meet no obstruction. Any account of the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water) must address their cycles of overcoming one another; everything beneath Heaven’s canopy has its own corresponding principle. To know what you do not know is insight; not to know what you do not know is a failing.

Laozi says: Gold emerges from mountains and jade from stone, yet their emergence causes them to wear one another away. Trees produce insects, which in turn gnaw at the trees. When people stir up trouble, they too bring harm upon themselves. Those who delight in meddling take Heaven for a canopy and Earth for an axle. Those skilled in using the Dao never exhaust their capacity to act and meet no obstruction. Any account of the Five Phases must address their cycles of overcoming one another; everything beneath Heaven’s canopy has its own corresponding principle. To know what you do not know is insight; not to know what you do not know is a failing.

Laozi said: Metal is born in the mountains, and jade in the stones, yet they wear one another away. Trees breed worms, and the worms in turn eat into the trees. People bring trouble upon themselves and ultimately suffer harm from it. Those who like to stir up trouble never fail to become embroiled in conflict; those who compete for profit never fail to end in hardship. A skilled swimmer may drown, and a skilled rider may fall: anyone may invite disaster through their own particular skill. Whether what one gains is fitting depends on timing, not on contention; whether governance is sound depends on the Dao (the Way), not on a person’s cleverness. Earth settles in low places and does not strive to rise higher, so it is secure and faces no danger. Water flows toward low places and does not strive to move faster, so it can travel far without being held back. Therefore, the sage clings to nothing and so loses nothing; the sage acts without forcing things and so does not fail.

Laozi said: One sentence can provide inexhaustible use; two sentences can serve as a guiding principle for all under Heaven; three sentences can make a feudal lord a hegemon; four sentences can bring all under Heaven into submission. By upholding integrity and trustworthiness, one can provide inexhaustible use; by following the Dao and De (Virtue/Power), one can serve as a guiding principle for all under Heaven; by elevating the worthy and virtuous, a feudal lord can become a hegemon; by rejecting treachery and caring for the people, one can win the allegiance of all under Heaven.

Laozi said: There are three ways people die that are not determined by fate. If they eat without restraint and neglect their bodies, illness will take their lives. If they indulge in pleasure without limit and pursue their desires without end, punishment will take their lives. If the few contend against the many and the weak seek to dominate the strong, war will take their lives.

Laozi said: The deeper the kindness one shows, the better the return; the deeper the resentment one incurs, the greater the disaster one invites. There has never been a case of showing little kindness while expecting a rich return, or building up resentment while still hoping to escape disaster. Examine how something began, and you can know how it will develop.

Laozi said: Investigate the workings of fate, govern the mind, set one’s likes and dislikes in order, and regulate one’s temperament, and the way of governing the state will be clear. By investigating the workings of fate, one will not be confused by good fortune or calamity. The deeper the kindness one shows, the better the return; the deeper the resentment one incurs, the greater the disaster one invites. There has never been a case of showing little kindness while expecting a rich return, or building up resentment while still hoping to escape disaster. Examine how something began, and you can know how it will develop.

Laozi said: Investigate the workings of fate, govern the mind, set one’s likes and dislikes in order, and regulate one’s temperament, and the way of governing the state will be clear. By investigating the workings of fate, one will not be confused by good fortune or calamity; by governing the mind, one will not give free rein to joy or anger; by setting one’s likes and dislikes in order, one will not covet useless things; by regulating one’s temperament, one will not let desire exceed its proper bounds. When one is not confused by good fortune or calamity, both action and stillness accord with what is appropriate. When one does not give free rein to joy or anger, rewards and punishments will not be biased. When one does not covet useless things, desire will not damage one’s nature. When desire does not exceed its bounds, one can nourish life and know contentment. None of these four things need be sought outside oneself or depend on others; all can be achieved through self-reflection.

Laozi says: Do not do things that invite blame, and do not hate others for their faults. Cultivate virtues worthy of praise, but do not seek praise from others. You cannot ensure that calamity will never befall you, nor can you guarantee that good fortune will come. Believe that calamity was not brought on by you, and when you are in difficulty, do not grieve. Believe that good fortune was not created by you, and when things go well, do not boast. Thus, one can be content in quiet seclusion, and the world can be well governed without contrived action.

Laozi says: Those who accord with the Dao (the Way) hold fast to what they already have and do not pursue what they have yet to obtain. In pursuing what is not yet theirs, they may lose what they already possess; by living in accordance with what they have, what they need may instead arrive of its own accord. To govern before things are secure while presuming the realm is already at peace is bound to bring danger. To seek fame in haste while one’s conduct remains flawed is bound to end in failure. Therefore, the greatest good fortune is to suffer no calamity, and the greatest benefit is to incur no loss. At times, things bring harm when they seem to bring gain, and bring benefit when they seem to bring loss.

The Dao does not aim to persuade people to seek benefit, yet it can settle the spirit and keep harm at bay. Therefore, seek only to avoid calamity, not to pursue good fortune deliberately; seek only to avoid wrongdoing, not to pursue achievements deliberately. The Dao is vast and profound. It follows the power of nature and shares the same Qi (vital energy) as Heaven and Earth. It does not indulge in needless thought or make plans in advance. It does not welcome those who come or send off those who leave. Though a person may stand in any direction, they can remain centered and self-reliant. Amid countless twists and turns, they do not lose their integrity; flowing along with all things under Heaven, they do not leave the bounds of the Dao.

Those who accord with the Dao do not deliberately advertise their goodness, nor do they flee from reality because of its ugliness. They follow the Way of Heaven, neither acting ahead of time nor claiming everything as their own. They follow the patterns of nature, making no plans in advance and missing no opportunity, in accord with the timing of Heaven. They do not force what they receive, nor refuse their share of good fortune; they follow the natural order in all things. In this way, no unexpected blessing arises within, and no unexpected calamity arises without, so neither good fortune nor calamity has a place to take root. Otherwise, a person’s selfish desires may bring harm.

In the age of utmost De (Virtue/Power), people’s words and actions were in accord, and they shared in good fortune; those above and below were of one mind, without division. They followed the principles of Heaven, making no plans in advance and missing no opportunity, in accord with Heaven’s timing. They did not force what they received or refuse their share of good fortune, following the natural order in all things. In this way, no unexpected blessing or calamity arose within or without, and neither good fortune nor calamity had a place to take root. Otherwise, people’s selfish desires would bring harm. If someone strayed from the path, those by the roadside would guide them away from the crooked way and toward the right one, and the people would then move in the right direction.

Laozi said: When people do good, encourage them; when they do wrong, observe them. Encouragement invites blame, while standing by as an observer invites trouble. Thus, those who cultivate the Dao should not seek fame through conspicuous deeds, but withdraw and cultivate themselves. The sage does not seek renown through action or praise through cleverness and talent. In governing, the sage follows nature and does not interfere recklessly. Forcing oneself to act may sometimes prevent success; forcing oneself to obtain something may sometimes make it unattainable. People may find themselves at an impasse, but the Great Dao always has a path through. Being clever without acting recklessly can achieve the same results as being unintelligent; having ability without interfering in everything embodies the same De as having no ability. Be clever as though unintelligent, and capable as though incapable. When the principles are understood, the mind’s schemes and contrivances recede. A person and the Dao cannot both shine forth at once: one who clings to fame will not follow the Dao; when the Dao’s workings surpass a person’s own display, fame fades. If the Dao recedes while a person’s fame flourishes, danger and ruin will follow.

Laozi said: When dividing property, it is better to set the shares in advance and then draw lots than to entrust the task to an honest person. Why? Even when someone with selfish motives tries to be fair, they are not as naturally just as someone without selfish motives. When guarding property, it is better to lock the door and secure the goods than to entrust them to an upright person. For even when someone with desires tries to be honest, they are not as naturally free of greed as someone without desire. When others point out our faults, we resent them; when a mirror shows us our ugliness, we instead try to improve our appearance. If we can engage with external things without letting them become entangled with us, we can avoid being burdened by them.

Laozi said: In serving others, one relies either on valuable gifts or on humble words. Gifts are limited, but desires are hard to satisfy. Lowering oneself can prevent resentment over insufficient gifts and avoid disputes. Yet dealings based only on words make no binding agreement; even when an oath is sworn, it may be broken afterward. Therefore, the gentleman does not adorn himself outwardly with benevolence and righteousness, but cultivates virtue within. He puts his own territory in order, makes the fullest use of its resources, and encourages the people to remain loyal to the state. He strengthens the city walls so that people of every rank unite to defend the state and its altars of soil and grain. This is how those who seek to establish a name for themselves avoid killing the innocent, and those who seek profit avoid attacking places that are difficult to conquer. It is the way to preserve oneself and the principle by which benefit is gained.

Laozi says: The sage can restrain the thoughts of the heart, while ordinary people find it difficult to restrain their desires. The noble person acts in accordance with upright Qi; the petty person acts in accordance with deviant Qi. When the heart accords with one’s nature, one’s outward conduct conforms to what is right, and one acts according to how things are without being constrained by external things, this is upright Qi. Indulging in fine foods, becoming infatuated with sights and sounds, letting joy and anger run unchecked, and disregarding the consequences: this is deviant Qi.

Deviant Qi conflicts with upright Qi, and desire obstructs one’s nature; the two cannot exist at the same time. When one rises, the other declines. Therefore, the sage reduces desire and follows nature. The eyes delight in beauty, the ears in music, the nose in fragrance, and the mouth in fine flavors. Taken together, these sensory preferences are pleasing, yet they are inseparable from concerns about gain and loss and from cravings. The ears, eyes, nose, and mouth do not themselves know what they want. It is the heart that directs them, allowing each to obtain what it seeks. From this, we can see that desire is indeed difficult to overcome.

Laozi says: Those who care for the body and cultivate their nature should regulate their daily routines, keep their eating and drinking moderate, temper their joy and anger, and make both movement and stillness appropriate. In this way, they can bring themselves to rest, leaving deviant Qi no opening through which to enter. Deliberately embellishing one’s appearance harms what is within; indulging one’s emotions impairs the spirit; pursuing outward ornament obscures one’s true nature. Do not forget this for even a moment. Constantly striving to be a worthy person instead disturbs one’s nature; walking a hundred paces while never forgetting to maintain one’s appearance is bound to exhaust the body. Thus, feathers and wings that are too splendid harm a bird’s bones, while foliage that grows too thick burdens a tree’s roots. Nothing under Heaven can bring both sides to benefit.

Laozi says: Heaven has light and does not worry that the people live in darkness; Earth has resources and does not worry that the people are poor. One whose De is deep and accords with the Dao stands firm and unmoving like a mountain; those who travel look to him as their standard. By setting himself right, he is enough to help all things find what is fitting for them. He does not regard his actions as favors, so those who benefit from them do not feel indebted to him. Thus he is secure and can endure; nothing in Heaven and Earth can take him away. He does not claim to possess De, and so no one resents him.

Those who are quick to anger are sure to invite much resentment; those who are fond of giving are also easily robbed. Only by following the natural order of Heaven and Earth can one grasp how things work. Thus, when fame appears, slander often follows; when a good name emerges, ill will comes after it. Gain may be the beginning of misfortune, and good fortune may foreshadow disaster. If you do not deliberately pursue gain, you will not thereby invite misfortune; if you do not deliberately pursue good fortune, you will not thereby bring disaster upon yourself. Preserving oneself is the constant way. Wealth and rank are merely external things that lodge temporarily in the body.

Laozi says that sages do not wear unusual clothes or do strange things: their dress is orderly, and their conduct does not call attention to itself. They understand how things work without being showy; they are not afraid when circumstances are difficult, and they do not flaunt their status when honored. They do not feel humiliated in seclusion, nor do they seem strange when they differ from others. They act alongside everyone else, yet no fitting name can sum them up. This is called “Great Penetration,” a state of profound understanding.

Laozi says that cultivating the Dao means setting oneself aright and following Heaven’s command. When the time comes, one cannot rush to meet it and drag it back by force; when it passes, one cannot raise a hand to hold it back. Thus sages do not hasten to seek advancement, nor do they deliberately withdraw to avoid the world. They simply follow the moment. If the time does not come for three years, they leave; if, after three years, the time still lies behind them, they neither hurry to depart nor rush to pursue it, but remain at ease in their place. The Way of Heaven favors no one; it helps those who possess De.

Good fortune comes without deliberate seeking, so one does not boast of one’s achievements. Calamity comes without necessarily being one’s own doing, so one does not regret one’s actions. The heart remains at peace, not allowing external things to damage one’s De. Even the sound of a barking dog causes no alarm, because one trusts one’s own heart to be sincere and free of craving. Those who understand the Great Dao are not confused; those who understand Heaven’s command are not anxious.

After emperors die, their bones are buried in the wilderness, yet they are worshipped in the Bright Hall, the palace where emperors hold great ceremonies and offer sacrifices. This shows that Shen is more precious than the physical form. When Shen governs the body, the body follows; when the body overcomes Shen, a person falls into difficulty. Intelligence and skill may be put to use, but they must return to the inner spirit. This is called “Great Penetration.”

Laozi says that those in ancient times who were able to preserve themselves took joy in De and did not regard low status as a concern; therefore, rank could not sway their purpose. They took joy in the Great Dao and did not regard poverty as a concern; therefore, gain could not sway their hearts. They were humble yet joyful, quiet and untroubled. To keep calculating the length of one’s life while worrying about turmoil under Heaven is like weeping for fear that a river will run dry, then adding only a little water to it: it helps nothing. Only someone who does not worry over the world’s disorder and remains at ease can be spoken with about the Great Dao.

Laozi says there are three circumstances that readily invite resentment: when one’s rank is high, people grow jealous; when one’s office is powerful, the ruler may take offense; when one’s stipend is generous, people grow resentful. To avoid this, the higher one’s rank, the humbler one’s attitude should be; the greater one’s office, the more cautious one’s heart; the more generous one’s stipend, the more widely one should give. When these three are observed, resentment will not arise. Thus, nobility takes lowliness as its root, and high position rests on a low foundation.

Laozi says: Speech is used to convey one’s meaning to others; listening is used to understand what others mean. When the ears and eyes are blocked, people cannot communicate with one another. Thus those who are deaf or blind often find it difficult to understand how things work. Are such obstructions of the ears and eyes limited to the body? The mind, too, can become blocked, leaving a person unsure how to understand or communicate. This is like deafness and blindness of the mind.

The Dao is the root of all things. Everything that has form is born from the Dao, which is so closely joined to all things. Every living being that eats grain and breathes the Qi of Heaven and Earth is nourished by following the Dao; to them, the Dao is like a ruler of profound benevolence. All who possess wisdom learn from the Dao, which is like an enlightened teacher. People often waste time pursuing useless things and neglect what would benefit them. As a result, their knowledge remains narrow, and they always feel short of time. If they used the time spent playing chess and games of chance to ask questions and investigate principles, their experience and understanding would grow much broader. To refuse to listen or seek instruction is like being deaf or blind and unable to communicate with others.

Laozi says: People’s hearts are willing to submit to virtue, but they do not truly submit to force. What matters is whether one has virtue, not whether one compels others. Therefore, if a sage wishes to be held in high regard, they first make themselves worthy of respect; if they wish to be respected, they first respect others; if they wish to surpass others, they first overcome themselves; if they wish others to be humble, they first make themselves humble. The principles of high and low, honored and humble, should be measured by the Dao. When the sage kings of antiquity spoke, they addressed others modestly; in their actions, they willingly placed themselves behind others. Thus the people of the world gladly chose them as leaders without growing weary, and honored them without feeling burdened. This was because their virtue was deep and abundant, and their inner Qi was calm and harmonious. From this we can see that giving is in fact a way of receiving, and that by placing oneself behind others, one can come to the fore. This is close to the Dao.

Laozi says: If one has little virtue yet receives excessive favor, one is likely to invite criticism. If one has little ability yet holds a high position, one will be in danger. If one has achieved no notable merit yet enjoys a generous stipend, one will invite misfortune. Thus at times what seems like gain brings loss, while what seems like loss brings benefit. Everyone knows how to pursue gain, but few realize that misfortune can disguise itself as gain. Only the sage understands that misfortune may sometimes be a benefit, and that benefit may turn into misfortune. A tree that bears fruit twice in one year will inevitably suffer damage to its roots; a household that amasses too many riches will often meet with disaster later. Excessive pursuit of great gain can instead bring harm. This is the law of Heaven.

Laozi said: Petty people act only for what they can gain for themselves, while exemplary people act only in accordance with what is right. Those who do good do not seek fame, yet fame comes to them; it was never arranged with profit, yet profit also attaches itself to them. Both pursue the same ends, but ultimately arrive at different places. Therefore, when one acts only for immediate gain, loss often follows. Those who speak inconsistently and act at the wrong time are petty people. Those who can see only one thing and possess only one skill are ordinary people. Only sages can take all sides into account, command a wide range of abilities, and appoint people well.

Laozi said: Life is something we bear for a time; death is where we ultimately return. Thus, when the world is at peace, uphold yourself through moral principle; when the world is in disorder, uphold moral principle through yourself. Death marks the end of a lifetime’s actions, so exemplary people need only take care with the responsibilities they bear in this life. Human life is received from Heaven, while one’s fate is determined by the circumstances of the age in which one lives. To have ability but not encounter the right time is Heaven’s doing; to follow the proper path in pursuit of something, while whether one attains it depends on fate. Exemplary people can do good, but cannot guarantee that blessings will follow; they cannot bear to do wrong, yet may not escape calamity. So when the time is right, exemplary people advance and achieve results through moral principle—what is there to chance in that? When the time is wrong, they withdraw and act according to ritual—what misfortune is there in that? Thus, even in poverty and low standing, they have no regrets, because they have gained what they truly value.

Laozi said: The smooth or unsettled Qi in a person arises from the heart. When the heart is calm, Qi flows smoothly; when the heart is disturbed, Qi becomes unsettled. Whether the heart is calm or disturbed depends on whether one follows the Way: when one attains the Way, the heart is calm; when one loses it, the heart is disturbed. When people’s hearts are calm, they yield to one another; when their hearts are disturbed, they struggle with one another. Yielding brings De, while struggle invites harm. With De, Qi flows smoothly; when harm takes root, Qi becomes unsettled. Those whose Qi flows smoothly reduce their own consumption to help others; those whose Qi is unsettled harm others to satisfy themselves. These two states can be regulated and controlled by following what is right. The Way of Heaven is like an echo answering a sound: accumulate De, and blessings arise; accumulate misfortune, and resentment arises. High office easily leads to corruption, and as a wife and children gradually grow distant, filial devotion easily declines. Troubles often arise just as they are about to be resolved, and an illness may worsen just as it seems about to improve. Therefore, if you remain as careful to the end as you were at the beginning, things will not go wrong.

Laozi said, “What happens when upright people are appointed to correct the crooked? If this cannot be done, then upright people should be appointed, and the crooked should not be allowed to gain power. This is what it means to dwell amid filth without being stained by the mud.”

Laozi said, “The sage sees life and death as natural transformations, and the foolish see them that way too. The sage does so because he understands their proper measure and reason; the foolish do so because they do not understand where benefit and harm lie. The Dao hangs high in Heaven, the myriad things spread across the Earth, and harmonizing Qi exists among humanity. If a ruler cannot bring harmony to government, the Qi of Heaven cannot descend and the Qi of Earth cannot rise. Yin-Yang falls out of balance, and winds and rains no longer come in season. The people then suffer widespread illness, hunger, and hardship.”

Laozi said, “Gaining ten thousand soldiers is not as good as hearing one apt word; obtaining the Marquis of Sui’s pearl, a legendary treasure, is not as good as understanding what caused a matter; acquiring the jade of He, a famed precious stone, is not as good as understanding how a matter ought to be handled. Though the realm is vast, those who delight in warfare will bring their state to ruin. Even when circumstances are peaceful, those who delight in fighting will put their state in danger. Therefore, in a small state with a small population, even if people possess many kinds of tools, or several of each, they need not use them.”

Laozi said, “Those who can accomplish the work of a hegemon must be skilled at winning. Those who can defeat their enemies must have strength; those with strength must be skilled at directing people; those skilled at directing people must be able to win their hearts; and those who can win their hearts must first be able to master themselves. Those who master themselves must be gentle and humble. It is better to defeat someone who is not your equal than to defeat someone who is your equal; and to defeat someone who is your equal, you must restrain yourself and keep yourself in check. The principle by which weakness overcomes an equal is beyond measure. Thus, the way to achieve a great victory is to gather the strength of many.”

Wenzi asked Laozi: “Learning and seeking the Dao without depth comes from listening to the Dao without depth. One listens to the Dao to increase wisdom, put it into practice, and achieve merit and renown. If one listens without care, clarity, or depth, one cannot truly understand it. Without clear understanding, one cannot grasp its essential points in full; without grasping them in full, practice is unlikely to succeed.

“There is a way to listen to the Dao: be open-minded and still, gather in restless energy, and do not let the mind grow agitated and excited. Do not indulge in idle thoughts, let the eyes wander, or let the ears take in stray sounds. Concentrate on accumulating understanding and let the mind grow full. Once you have understood the principles, hold them firmly in memory and keep to them over time.

“The Dao’s workings often begin subtle and yielding, then become firm and strong. They begin small and slight, then gradually grow in number and size. A tree ten arm-span in girth began as a young shoot no thicker than a handful; a terrace a hundred fathoms high began at the ground. This is the way of Heaven. The sage follows the way of Heaven: by staying low, one avoids competing to rise above others; by taking the rear, one avoids competing to lead; by living frugally, one avoids inflating oneself; by reducing what one has, one avoids craving abundance and greatness. Humility allows one to occupy a position of honor; yielding allows one to take the lead; frugality brings abundance; reduction brings great achievement. These are all brought about by the way of Heaven.

“The Dao is the foundation of De, the source of Heaven, and the gateway to good fortune. All things depend on it to grow, come to completion, and find stability. The Dao is Wuwei (non-action) and formless: inwardly, it can cultivate oneself; outwardly, it can govern others. When one’s achievements are complete and one’s affairs are in order, one accords with the way of Heaven. The Dao seems inactive, yet nothing is beyond its power to accomplish. Its true character is difficult to see, but within it lies a foundation that can be trusted.

“When the Son of Heaven follows the Dao, all under Heaven submits, and the state’s ancestral rites and political power endure. When a duke or marquis follows the Dao, the people live in harmony and the state is preserved. When scholars and common people follow the Dao, they can protect themselves and care for their families. A powerful side that follows the Dao can win without fighting; a weaker side that follows the Dao can gain without contending. Conduct affairs in accord with the Dao, and you will achieve merit and receive good fortune. When ruler and ministers follow the Dao, the ruler is benevolent and the ministers loyal; when fathers and children follow the Dao, fathers are loving and children filial; when scholars and common people follow the Dao, they care for one another. Thus, the Dao brings harmony, while its absence brings harshness. From this we can see that the Dao applies to every aspect of human life.

“When people follow the Dao in small matters, they receive small blessings; when they follow it in great matters, they receive great blessings. If they follow it in all things, all under Heaven will submit. When all under Heaven submits, people draw near and offer their allegiance. An emperor is one to whom all under Heaven turns; a king is one to whom all under Heaven comes. Without such turning and coming, one cannot be called an emperor or king. Therefore, if emperors and kings fail to obtain capable people, they cannot accomplish their work; even if they obtain people, they cannot hold on to their achievements for long if they lose the Dao.

“Those who lose the Dao are extravagant and unrestrained, arrogant and indolent, proud and self-important. They show themselves off, compete to prove their ability, insist on being hard and triumphant, create calamities, and make enemies. In the end, they become agents of war and sources of disorder. When petty people behave this way, they bring great disaster upon themselves; when those in power do so, the state is brought to ruin. The harm may fall lightly on the person alone or, at its worst, extend to their descendants. No wrongdoing is greater than turning away from the Dao; no resentment runs deeper than the absence of De. This is the outcome ordained by the way of Heaven.”

Laozi says that those who follow the Great Dao can make it so that even a brave enemy cannot stab them, and even a clever one cannot strike them. Yet even so, they may still be humiliated. It is better for enemies to be brave but not dare to stab, and clever but not dare to strike. Making them afraid to act is better than letting their attacks miss, but better still is to keep them from ever forming the intention to attack. To have no such intention means harboring no thoughts of harming or fighting.

Further still, if the men and women of the world gladly wish to care for and help someone, then even without territory or official rank, that person will be embraced by the people. Everyone in the world will want to keep them safe and bring them benefit. Acting recklessly out of bravado brings the danger of losing one’s life; knowing not to act rashly or show off one’s strength can instead preserve it.

Wenzi asked Laozi, “What is called De (Virtue/Power)?” Laozi replied, “Nurturing all things so that they grow smoothly, showing no favoritism and choosing no particular recipients, while accord­ing with the workings of Heaven and Earth: this is called De.

“What is called benevolence? To hold a high position without boasting of one’s achievements; to be in a low position without feeling ashamed of one’s own hardship. To face great matters without complacency, and to handle small matters without carelessness. To care for all things without exception and harbor no selfish thoughts, sustaining this for a long time without decline: this is called benevolence.

“What is called righteousness? To hold a high position and support the weak; to be in a low position and remain steadfast in one’s integrity. When successful, not to indulge oneself; when in hardship, not to change one’s principles. To act always in accord with standards and reason, without twisting or abandoning principles for private gain: this is called righteousness.

“What is called propriety? To hold a high position with dignity and seriousness; to be in a low position with humility and respect. To understand how to yield and harbor no selfish thoughts; to remain gentle and humble, without asserting oneself or striving to come first, occupying a place where one does not dare act rashly or presume one’s own abilities: this is called propriety.”

Thus, when De is cultivated, those below will obey commands; when benevolence is cultivated, they will not fight; when righteousness is cultivated, they will be fair and upright; when propriety is cultivated, they will respect others. If these four are cultivated well, the state can be at peace.

All things are able to grow because of the Dao (the Way); they grow strong and flourish because of De. Caring for all things is benevolence; setting things right is righteousness; treating others with respect is propriety. Without nurturing, things cannot grow smoothly; without compassion, they cannot be brought to maturity; without setting things right and correcting them, they cannot endure; without respect and care, people cannot be treated with honor. Therefore, De is treasured by the people, benevolence is remembered fondly by the people, righteousness is held in awe by the people, and propriety is respected by the people. These four are the foundations for governing affairs and the means by which sages guide all things.

When a ruler lacks De, those below will resent him; when he lacks benevolence, they will fight; when he lacks righteousness, they will become violent; when he lacks propriety, they will rebel. If these four principles of governing the state cannot be established, this is called being without the Dao. A state without the Dao that does not perish—such a thing has never been.

Laozi said: In the age when Dao and De were at their purest, merchants were content to conduct their business in the markets, farmers took pleasure in cultivating the fields, officials were at ease in their duties, and reclusive scholars cultivated their own Dao. People all delighted in pursuing their respective occupations. As a result, wind and rain did not destroy crops and plants, and vegetation did not wither before its time. The Yellow River produced the Diagram—the legendary River Diagram—and the Luo River produced the Writing—the legendary Luo Writing.

When the age fell into decline, taxes were imposed without restraint and killing never ceased. Those who offered remonstrance were put to death, and worthy and capable people were executed as well. Mountains collapsed, rivers dried up, insects bred without end, and not even ordinary vegetables could grow in the fields. Thus, when the age is at peace, even a foolish person cannot throw it into turmoil single-handedly; when the age is in chaos, even a worthy person cannot bring it back to peace by personal effort alone.

The sage’s mind is harmonious and calm because the sage lives in an age when Dao and De are pure and the Dao can be put into practice. A person must first encounter favorable times in life to have the chance to display their abilities; one’s destiny must also meet its age in order to become manifest. The right age must come first, and only then can the people suited to it emerge.

Wenzi asked what sageliness and wisdom are. Laozi said: To know of something before it happens is sageliness; to understand it only after seeing it appear is wisdom. Thus, sages often discern the origins of fortune and misfortune and choose the appropriate path accordingly. The wise observe the signs that appear once fortune and misfortune have begun to manifest, and act accordingly. Sages understand the auspicious and inauspicious patterns of the Way of Heaven, and so know where fortune and misfortune begin. The wise can foresee the course things are taking as it becomes apparent, and so know where fortune and misfortune will arise. To perceive something before it appears is sageliness; to see the signs first and then make a judgment is wisdom. Those who have neither heard nor seen anything are foolish and confused.

Laozi said, “If a ruler values righteousness, he will honor commitments in keeping with the times. If he acts only according to his own wishes, he will abandon laws and govern solely through favors. Though his favors to the people may be generous, he will lack the wisdom to govern. No one has ever succeeded by trying to meet vast responsibilities with shallow understanding. Those who rely only on their own cleverness are bound to make many mistakes. Valuing clever schemes leads to a dead end; valuing military force leads toward peril and ruin. If a ruler gives freely on a whim, rewards will have no consistent standard. When the standards for rewards above are unstable, those below will form endless expectations. If he amasses too much, he will incur the people’s resentment; if he takes little and gives much, he will lack the resources to sustain it. Thus, arbitrary acts of favor invite resentment. These principles show that material wealth cannot suffice to govern the world; following the Dao is the way to do so.”

Wenzi asked, “How did the ancient kings follow the Dao to govern the world in practice?”

Laozi said, “Hold fast to the root and do not act recklessly. Follow the patterns of Heaven and Earth, changing with the transformations of all things. The world is a great vessel: it cannot be handled at will or forced into action. Those who force things will fail; those who insist on holding on will lose what they have. Such people see only a short distance ahead, and those with short vision cannot accomplish great things. Wuwei (non-action) means maintaining stillness. Only by maintaining stillness can one become a model for the world.

“Be amid abundance without letting it overflow; occupy a high position without becoming arrogant. Then you can be prosperous without suffering loss, and hold a high place without becoming haughty: elevated, yet not in danger. Prosperity without loss allows wealth to endure; status without danger allows honor to endure. Wealth and honor will remain with you, and blessings and rewards will extend to your descendants. The principles by which the ancient kings governed the world are all contained here.”

Laozi also said, “The people share a common Dao to follow and common laws to uphold. Yet righteousness alone cannot make people firm in their relations with one another, and force alone cannot ensure their obedience. Therefore, a ruler is established to bring unified governance. If the ruler holds fast to the root, the state will be at peace; if he loses the constant principles, the state will fall into disorder. The ruler’s Dao does not lie in taking action, but in Wuwei.

“Those with wisdom do not flaunt their virtue; those with courage do not use their strength to commit violence; those who are benevolent do not rely on their status to bestow favors. In this way, they may be said to hold fast to the ‘One.’ The One is the impartial Dao, the root of all things.

“If a ruler repeatedly changes the laws, and the state repeatedly changes its ruler, the people will express their likes and dislikes according to their respective positions. Those below, acting out of fear, will each go their own way, and governance will become difficult to sustain. Thus, the disorder caused when a ruler loses the root is worse even than having no ruler. The ruler must hold fast to the root in order to unite the people.”

Wenzi asked, “How many kinds of the kingly way are there?”

Laozi said, “There is only one.”

Wenzi asked again, “Some in ancient times achieved kingship through the Dao, while others achieved it through military force. Why, then, do you say there is only one?”

Laozi said, “So long as governance is brought into accord with the Dao, in the end there is only one way. The disorder caused when a ruler loses the root is worse even than having no ruler. The ruler must hold fast to the root in order to unite the people.”

Wenzi asked, “How many ways are there for a ruler to guard the royal way?” Laozi said, “There is only one.”

Wenzi asked again, “In ancient times, some rulers governed the world through the Dao, while others became kings through force. Why, then, do you say there is only one way?” Laozi replied, “Those who become kings through the Dao rely on De. Those who become kings through force ultimately rely on De as well. There are five kinds of warfare: righteous warfare, responsive warfare, angry warfare, greedy warfare, and arrogant warfare. Punishing a tyrant and rescuing the weak is called righteous warfare. When an enemy invades, and one has no choice but to fight back, it is called responsive warfare. Fighting over a minor matter, unable to contain one’s anger, is called angry warfare. Coveting another state’s land and seizing its people’s wealth is called greedy warfare. Relying on a powerful state and a large population to flaunt one’s superiority before an enemy is called arrogant warfare. Righteous warfare can establish kingship; responsive warfare can win victory; angry warfare ends in defeat; greedy warfare leads to ruin; and arrogant warfare brings destruction. This is the law of Heaven’s Dao.”

Laozi said, “Abandoning the Dao and relying on clever schemes brings danger; setting aside what is constant and acting solely on one’s own abilities leads to difficulty. So remain within your proper bounds and follow the way things are. Do not worry over what you lose, nor rejoice over what you gain. Do not deliberately seek to accomplish things, and do not covet the results you obtain. When receiving, accept what is offered without claiming it as your own; when giving, offer something without seeking repayment. Follow spring as it brings forth the growth of all things, and follow autumn as it brings them to decline. Do not boast of your merit for making things grow, and do not resent their decline. This is close to the Dao.”

Wenzi asked, “How can a ruler win the people’s affection?” Laozi replied, “Be like rivers and seas. Though they seem bland and tasteless, they provide for people’s use without ever running dry. Begin with the small, and in the end accomplish the great. If you wish to stand above others, make your words humble; if you wish to go before them, let your actions yield. People throughout the world will naturally follow your example, cherish you, and honor your benevolence and righteousness, without finding you harsh. Though you occupy a high position, the people will not feel oppressed; though you walk ahead of everyone, they will not be hindered. People everywhere will gladly uphold you and never tire of you. Even across great distances and differing customs, birds and crawling creatures will draw near and cherish you. Wherever you go, you will find a way through; whatever you do, it will go smoothly. Thus you become one whom all under Heaven hold in honor.”

Laozi said: Clinging stubbornly to laws established in the present age and using them to reject the customs of later generations is like gluing the bridges of a zither in place and then trying to produce a fitting tone. A sage adapts to the times and responds flexibly, taking appropriate measures according to actual circumstances. When the world changes, affairs change; as the age shifts, customs also change. Governing the world and making laws should be done in step with the times. The laws of the ancient kings differed from one another, not because they deliberately defied the laws of antiquity, but because the matters they had to address were different.

Therefore, one should not simply copy laws already established, but learn the principles behind making laws and adapt them as circumstances change. The laws made by sages can be observed, but the fundamental principles on which they based those laws cannot be traced with complete clarity. Their words can be heard, but the reasons they spoke as they did are difficult to fully discern. The Three Sovereigns and Five Emperors, legendary sage rulers of antiquity, held the power of the world lightly and did not regard the myriad things as precious. They saw life and death as equal and followed change. Embracing the Great Dao and putting trustworthiness into practice, they were like mirrors, reflecting the true condition of all things. Above, they accorded with the Dao; below, they adapted to change in their conduct among people. Those who now wish to learn their way, but lack their clear and profound sage virtue, and merely cling to old laws and follow old decrees, will certainly be unable to govern the state well by these means.

Wenzi asked how to govern affairs of state. Laozi said: Govern by the Dao and nurture through De. Do not display your own worthiness or rely on force to compel others. Reduce selfish desires and hold fast to the root. Do not claim benefits for yourself or display things that provoke covetousness. Be upright without harming others, strict without being harsh; do not boast or take credit. When you govern by the Dao, the people will rally to you; when you nurture them through De, they will trust you. When you do not display your worthiness, the people will be content; when you do not use force, the people will be simple and sincere.

Not displaying your worthiness means promoting frugality; not using force means not daring to act recklessly. If those in lower positions can unite the people and gain their trust, they can preserve themselves through frugality and find security by refraining from reckless action. If they cannot unite the people, the people will scatter; if they do not nurture them, the people will turn against them. When worthiness is displayed, the people compete; when force is used, the people grow resentful. When the people scatter, the state’s power declines; when they turn against their ruler, the ruler loses credibility; when they compete, they are more likely to act improperly; when subjects resent their ruler, the ruler’s position is endangered. If these four principles are genuinely put into practice, the right way can be upheld.

Laozi said: What those in higher positions say will be imitated by those below; what those below say will be regarded by those above as reasonable. When worthiness is displayed, the people compete; when force is used, the people grow resentful. When the people scatter, the state’s power declines; when they turn against their ruler, the ruler loses credibility; when they compete, they are more likely to act improperly; when subjects resent their ruler, the ruler’s position is endangered. If these four principles are genuinely put into practice, the right way can be upheld.

Laozi said, “Words spoken from above are meant to be acted upon by those below; words spoken from below are meant to be considered by those above. The pronouncements of those above can generally be followed, while those of those below must be weighed against the circumstances before being adopted. Only the sage understands this way of adapting to circumstances. Then the words he speaks are sure to be trustworthy, and the deadlines he sets are sure to be met.

“Under Heaven, there are extreme acts: one person goes so far as to testify that his own father is guilty; another, out of fidelity to his word, would rather die than change it. Who could call such people noble? Thus, when the sage judges what is right and wrong, just and unjust, he bends and yields according to the circumstances, rather than clinging to fixed rules. A diviner may sometimes call someone ‘lord’ and at other times seize that same person; this depends on the circumstances. The ability to adapt is a discernment unique to the sage. To go against ordinary expectations at first, yet later accord with reason, is to understand how to adapt. To conform to ordinary expectations at first, yet later violate reason, is to fail to understand how to adapt. Those who fail to understand this often turn good things into bad outcomes.”

Wenzi asked, “Master, you have said that governing the world depends on Dao and De. Among the ancient kings who inherited the achievements of their predecessors, some did not practice De, yet lived out their lives in peace without suffering calamity or defeat. Why was this?”

Laozi said, “From the Son of Heaven down to the common people, anyone who merely conforms to ordinary expectations at first and later violates reason does not understand how to adapt. Those who fail to understand this often turn good things into bad ones.”

Wenzi asked, “Master, you often say that without Dao and De, the world cannot be governed. In ancient times, kings passed their authority down through generations. Some of them did not uphold Dao and De, yet they lived out their lives without suffering disaster or ruin. Why?”

Laozi replied, “From the Son of Heaven down to ordinary people, each makes a living, but lives differ in fortune. Countries sometimes fall and families are destroyed because Dao and De have been lost. Those who uphold Dao and De remain vigilant day and night, careful and alert, always fearing that their country may fall into danger. Those without Dao and De indulge their desires and grow lazy and neglectful; their country may collapse at any moment. If Jie and Zhou, the legendary tyrannical rulers, had followed the right path and governed with De, then even worthy men such as Tang of Shang and King Wu of Zhou would have had no chance to overthrow them and establish their own achievements.

“Dao and De are the foundation that enables people to sustain one another, help one another grow, feel affection for one another, and show one another respect. Even foolish creatures do not harm those they love and protect. If all the people under Heaven held compassion in their hearts, where could disaster arise?

“Some rulers who abandoned Dao and De did not suffer misfortune at once because compassion had not yet vanished, and the principles of right conduct had not yet disappeared. But though compassion and right conduct remained, the feudal lords had already begun to slight their ruler. When the lords slight their ruler, the court loses its respect, and commands are disobeyed. Once compassion and right conduct are gone, the lords rebel. People then fight one another by force: the strong oppress the weak, great states seize from small ones, and the people make warfare their daily business. Disaster follows, disorder rises, and the country soon perishes. How could anyone expect to escape calamity?”

Laozi said, “When laws and regulations are complicated and punishments severe, the people become deceitful. When the ruler has too many affairs to manage, those below him develop all kinds of false behavior. The more one demands, the less one actually gets; the more prohibitions there are, the more often they are broken. To create more government affairs through government, then use government to suppress those affairs, is like fanning a flame while trying to prevent a fire. To create calamity through schemes, then use schemes to guard against calamity, is like stirring the water while trying to make it clear.”

Laozi also said, “When a ruler delights in making things complicated, those below him develop all kinds of false behavior. The more one demands, the less one actually gets; the more prohibitions there are, the more often they are broken. To create more government affairs through government, then use government to suppress those affairs, is like fanning a flame while trying to prevent a fire. To create calamity through schemes, then use schemes to guard against calamity, is like stirring the water while trying to make it clear.”

Laozi said: When a ruler favors benevolence, people without merit may be rewarded, while the guilty escape punishment. When a ruler favors punishment, people with merit may be cast aside, and even the innocent may be implicated. If a ruler does not show favoritism based on personal likes and dislikes, then even when someone is put to death, this will not arouse resentment. The ruler grants favors without claiming virtue for himself, acts according to standards and follows the law, and does not entangle himself in particular affairs. Like Heaven and Earth, he bears and shelters all things. The ruler is the one who harmonizes and brings all affairs together; the law is what assigns blame and imposes punishment. When the people are punished without resentment, this is called virtue.

Laozi said: Right and wrong in the world have no fixed standard. In every age, people regard what they approve of as right and what they dislike as wrong. When people pursue what they call “right,” they may not be seeking what is reasonable; often they are simply pursuing what accords with their wishes. And when they reject what they call “wrong,” they may not truly be removing evil; they are merely rejecting what goes against their wishes.

If I now tried to choose the things the world considers “right” and put them into practice, while removing the things it considers “wrong,” I would not know what the world actually means by right and wrong. Governing a great state is like cooking a small fish: do not turn it over too often. When you deliberately flatter someone and say what they want to hear, they grow closer to you. Once you become distant, even sound plans will be met with suspicion. If I now seek to set myself aright and respond to things naturally, how can I know by what measure the world will judge me? Rushing along with worldly customs is like someone fleeing the rain: wherever they run, they get wet. If you deliberately try to make yourself empty and still, you cannot achieve it; if you do not deliberately seek emptiness and stillness, you attain them naturally, and everything you desire is fulfilled.

One who understands the great Dao is like an axle: the axle itself does not move forward, yet it turns the wheels and enables the carriage to travel a thousand miles, circling without end. The sage follows the Dao and returns to a state of utmost simplicity, without altering it recklessly, and in this way responds to the changes of all things. In action, the sage seems to accomplish something, yet inwardly does not impose control.

Laozi said: When a state wages war repeatedly and wins again and again, it often meets destruction. Frequent warfare exhausts the people, and repeated victories make the ruler arrogant. Arrogance leads the ruler to act without restraint, until desire knows no bounds. Exhaustion breeds resentment among the people, and resentment deepens their troubles. When both ruler and people reach extremes, no state has ever avoided ruin. Thus, once an achievement is complete, to withdraw from it is in accord with the Way of Heaven.

King Ping asked Wen Zi, “I have heard that you received the Dao from Lao Dan. These days, even though a worthy person may possess the Dao, he encounters a corrupt and disorderly age. How could one person possibly teach people who have been causing disorder for so long?”

Wen Zi replied, “The work of De is to correct evil and lead people back to the right path; to calm disorder and restore good government to society; and to change a climate of excess and corruption, leading people back to simplicity and sincerity. When De is restored, the whole world will be at peace. The key lies with the ruler himself. The ruler is the people’s teacher, and those in higher positions are examples for those below to follow. Whatever is upheld above will be accepted below. When those above have De, those below will have benevolence and righteousness; when those below have benevolence and righteousness, the age will not be one of excess and disorder.

“Accumulate De, and you can establish a kingly enterprise; accumulate resentment, and you will move toward ruin. Stones become a mountain by being piled up, and water becomes a sea by gathering together. There has never been a principle by which great things can be accomplished without accumulation. Those who accumulate De receive gifts from Heaven, help from Earth, and support from spirits and deities. The phoenix will fly to their courtyard, the qilin will appear in their outskirts, and the dragon will dwell in their ponds. Therefore, govern the world in accord with the Dao, and the world will have De; govern it without following the Dao, and you will bring calamity upon it. If a person makes an enemy of the people of the world, he cannot hope to hold on for long. This is why Yao and Shun prospered, and Jie and Zhou were destroyed.”

King Ping said, “I respectfully accept your instruction.”

Superior De

Laozi said, “The ruler is the heart of the state. When the heart is at rest, every part of the body is at ease; when the heart is unsettled, every part of the body falls into disorder. Thus, when the body is well governed, its limbs work together in harmony without obstructing one another. When the state is well governed, ruler and ministers each fulfill their duties, without needing to interfere deliberately with one another.”

Laozi said, “I once studied with my teacher Chang Cong, Laozi’s teacher. Seeing his tongue, I understood the need to remain soft. Then I looked up at the trees on the roof and went down to the river to observe their reflections, and so I understood the need to remain behind. The sage is empty and still, practicing Wuwei (non-action) and following the natural course of things. He is content to stay behind and does not rush to the front. It is like a pile of firewood: the wood placed on top burns last, and for that very reason remains on top.”

Laozi said, “A ringing bell wears away from making sound, and lamp oil is consumed by burning.”

Laozi said, “I once studied with my teacher Chang Cong, Laozi’s teacher. Seeing his tongue, I understood the need to remain soft. Then I looked up at the trees on the roof and went down to the river to observe their reflections, and so I understood the need to remain behind. The sage is empty and still, practicing Wuwei (non-action) and following the natural course of things. He is content to stay behind and does not rush to the front. It is like a pile of firewood: the wood placed on top burns last, and for that very reason remains on top.”

Laozi said: A bronze bell makes itself known through its sound, but for that very reason it wears out. Grease gives off light as it burns, but for that very reason it is used up. Tigers and leopards attract hunters because of the patterns on their coats; apes are captured because they move so nimbly. Thus, those who show off their courage and love to fight die through their own forcefulness; those who are clever with words and schemes become trapped by their own contrivances. Wisdom can reveal some things, but it cannot reveal everything. Someone who has only one skill and knows only one way of speaking can discuss specific, complicated matters with you, but you cannot expect them to deal broadly with every kind of situation.

Laozi said: The Dao has for its substance what is formless and imageless. Its shape cannot be seen and its sound cannot be heard; this subtle and far-reaching realm is called “darkness beyond.” “Darkness beyond” is merely a way of speaking about the Dao, not the Dao itself. Those who perceive the Dao examine and reflect within themselves. In this way, they are neither dull and unresponsive nor excessively confused; neither convinced of their own cleverness nor ignorant and unclear.

People do not use shallow, flowing water as a mirror; they use still water, because still water is settled within and not disturbed by external things. When the moon is full, sunlight dims its light. When the sun rises, the stars can no longer be seen or rival its brilliance. The end cannot outrank the beginning, and a branch cannot grow larger than the trunk. When the top is heavy and the bottom light, something is bound to topple easily. One deep pool cannot contain two dragons; one group cannot have two leaders. Order can be stable only when one leads. If two lead, they will struggle.

Jade hidden in a mountain nourishes the plants and trees around it; pearls born in a deep pool keep the banks from drying out. Earthworms have neither strong bones nor sharp claws and teeth, yet they eat dry earth above and drink groundwater below. This is because their purpose is single-minded. Clarity lets us see plainly: a cup of clear water can show us the eye. Turbidity obstructs our vision: when a river is muddy, even Taishan cannot be seen.

Orchids and angelica remain fragrant even when no one wears them. A boat does not sink merely because no one rides in it. A noble person follows the Way and does not stop simply because no one knows of it; this is in their nature. Entering a turbid place with a clear and upright mind brings hardship and humiliation; entering a clear and upright place with a muddled mind brings ruin. When two currents of Qi in the sky clash, they form a rainbow; when two currents beneath the earth clash, the earth’s Qi leaks away; when two currents within the human body clash, illness arises. Yin and Yang cannot remain in one condition forever, and so winter and summer take turns. The moon knows nothing of daytime, and the sun knows nothing of night.

Rivers must be broad for fish to grow large; mountains must be high for trees to grow tall; the land must be vast for De to develop deeply. So one cannot fish without bait, nor attract wild animals with an empty vessel alone. When fierce beasts live in the mountains, people do not cut down the trees. When poisonous insects live in a garden, people do not pick its mallow and other greens. If a state has worthy ministers, it can resolve a crisis a thousand miles away.

One who is attuned to the Dao is like an axle turning within a wheel hub: without rushing about, it can carry a cart a thousand miles, circling endlessly. So how could appointing a crooked person and then promoting someone upright compare with appointing an upright person from the start? Do not let the upright and the crooked rise to power together. Sometimes events cannot be planned in advance, and things cannot always be predicted beforehand. Therefore, the sage cultivates De and waits for the right moment.

To catch fish, first clear a channel for the water; to attract birds, first plant trees. When water gathers, fish gather; when trees grow lush, birds come to roost. Those who catch fish do not carry them down into the depths; those who catch apes do not carry them up into trees. They simply act in accordance with the creatures’ natural surroundings. The ground already covered by your feet is shallow, yet you depend on the ground you have not yet covered to keep moving forward. What the mind already knows is limited, yet you must rely on what it does not know to understand more. When a river dries up, its valleys become empty; when hills are leveled, deep pools fill with silt; when the lips are gone, the teeth grow cold.

In the depths of a river, silt settles. When water becomes still, it clears; when clear, it becomes calm; and when its surface is calm, it can readily reflect the shape of things. Different shapes cannot be confused with one another, which is why water can serve as a basis for distinguishing things. Leaves fall because the wind shakes them; water turns muddy because something stirs it. Jade disks and other objects must be polished and shaped; a precious sword needs a whetstone to become sharp. A fine horse must be harnessed and guided to travel a thousand miles. However fine a horse may be, it cannot fly; without grain, it cannot escape hunger. Once the cunning hare is caught, the hunting dog is cooked; when all the high-flying birds have been caught, the good bow is put away. To withdraw after one’s achievements and reputation are complete is the pattern of Heaven.

Anger must arise from a state of not being angry; action must arise from non-action. By observing what is formless, one gains true insight; by listening for what is soundless, one hears the true sound. Birds return to their native places, hares run back to their burrows, foxes die facing the hills, and cicadas cling to trees: all things return in accordance with their own nature.

Water and fire overcome one another, yet placed between them, a cooking pot can bring the five flavors into harmony. Parents and children are naturally close, yet slander can drive them apart and put father and son at odds. Dogs and pigs are not choosy about their food or vessels; the fatter their bodies grow, the closer they come to death. The phoenix soars at great heights, beyond anyone’s ability to summon it.

Hard wood may be suitable for a door bolt, but that does not mean it can be used for roof rafters. The eyes can see a hundred paces away but cannot see their own corners. Build up high ground in accordance with the terrain, and it will be secure and safe; shape a deep pool in a low place, and fish and turtles will come of their own accord. Ditches and ponds fill when it rains and dry up in drought. Rivers and seas have deep, distant sources, and so they do not run dry. A turtle has no ears, but that does not obstruct its sight; a blind person has no eyes, but that does not obstruct their hearing. This shows that a single sense, when focused and used, can fulfill its function.

Can muddy water be used to wash the feet? Can cool, clear water be used to wash a hat cord? The same piece of white silk may be made into a cap or a shoe: the cap is worn on the head, while the shoe is trampled underfoot. Metal’s strength overcomes wood, yet one knife cannot fell an entire forest. Earth’s strength overcomes water, yet a handful of earth cannot block a great river. Water’s strength overcomes fire, yet a ladle of water cannot put out a cartload of firewood. Thunder in winter and hail in summer are signs that cold and heat have lost their proper rhythms. Thick frost and snow melt as soon as the sun comes out. What is easily toppled falls with the slightest tilt; what is easily aided can readily be pushed along by others. Dampness readily draws rain.

Orchids and angelica are fragrant, and should not be picked at the time of the first frost. The toad is said to ward off weapons and commonly appears around the fifteenth day of the fifth month. Things that let their vital essence escape are easily damaged; flowers that bloom out of season are unfit to pick and eat. Which wears down first, the tongue or the teeth? Which becomes straight first, the rope or the arrow? What makes a shadow crooked is the object itself; what makes an echo muddled is the sound that is sent out. Someone who suffers the same illness as the dead can hardly become a good doctor. Nor can someone who follows the same road as those who brought down a state offer loyal counsel to that state.

Let singers blow the mouth organ and musicians play its pipes. Even if they keep time, that does not mean they understand how to govern a state, for they have not grasped the key to governing. The deaf do not sing and so have no way to entertain themselves; the blind do not watch and so have difficulty engaging with the world. Someone walking through a forest cannot take a perfectly straight path; someone moving through dangerous terrain cannot walk as steadily as if following an ink line. A state grows vast when the resources of the four seas flow into it. The sun never appears twice at once; foxes never have two male leaders; divine dragons do not pair with their own kind; fierce beasts do not gather in groups, and birds of prey do not pair up.

A carriage canopy without spokes and a rim cannot shield its passengers from the sun; a wheel without spokes cannot turn swiftly. Yet the canopy and wheel alone are not enough to guarantee a successful journey. A bow cannot shoot without a string, and an arrow is only one part of the skill of archery. When a horse is hungry, it stands quietly in the stable; put grass beside it, and the desire to compete for food appears.

A three-inch pipe, open at both ends, cannot be filled even with all the water under Heaven. Block it, and it can hold a hundred dou of water. Cut along an ink line and you will not stray; weigh with a suspended balance and you will not err. Ancient methods can be applied according to the type of thing in question, though sometimes one must also use instruments of punishment such as a staff. To apply a fitting method at the right time is called decisiveness; knowingly doing what is unfitting is called disorder. Farmers labor, while gentlemen are sustained by their work; fools speak, while the wise choose what is worth keeping from their words. When you see clearly, decide as firmly as when distinguishing jade from stone; when your view is unclear, delay your decision.

The light of a hundred stars is not as bright as the moon. Ten open windows let in less light than a single open door. You cannot add feet to a snake or wings to a tiger. A six-foot mat is easy for a person of little ability to cross while lying down, but even a person of great ability would find it difficult to cross while standing, because the circumstances differ. Those taking part in a sacrifice can share in the offerings; those who break up a fight may be injured. When trees grow thickly, axes cut into them. No one deliberately invites this; the circumstances bring it about.

Human nature seeks peace, but appetites and desires harm it. When dust is flying, grit is bound to get into the eyes. A tortoise-shaped seal made of gold may be worn by a worthy person; ordinary soil spread on the ground can sustain someone with the ability to make a living from it. So, for a poor person, a yard of white silk is more useful than gold and jade. Thirty spokes each serve their purpose by converging on the hollow hub of a wheel. If only one axle extends through it and all the other spokes are useless, how could the wheel travel far?

Oranges and pomelos each have places suited to their growth; reeds, too, have their own marshes where they thrive in clumps. Animals of the same kind keep company, and birds with matching wings travel together. It is impossible to understand every place in the world without being willing to travel a thousand miles; it is also difficult to rule the people without the foundations of instruction and government. Those who make a fierce display are easily promoted, while those who are gentle and yielding may instead be shot. Thus, what is purest white can look as if it has a stain, and those whose De is greatest can appear to have something lacking.

When a gentleman has wine, common people knock on earthenware vessels to make music. Though the instrument may not be very fine, it can still be used for amusement. Human nature is suited to wearing silk and cotton; if someone shoots at you, however, you put on armor, adapting yourself to an inconvenient situation. Thirty spokes converge on a single hub, each aligned with its own hole and unable to crowd into another’s place. This is like ministers each keeping to their own duties. A person skilled at employing others is like the many-legged centipede: its legs do not hinder one another. It is also like the tongue and teeth: hard and soft rub against each other without destroying one another.

Stone is naturally hard, and angelica is naturally fragrant. Some abilities are present from youth and become more evident as a person grows. Helping and supporting, declining and yielding, gaining and losing, agreeing and refusing can differ greatly from one another. Newly sprouted plants have not yet flowered; flowers that bloom too early need not wait for the first frost before they wither. Smearing the measuring rod or daubing the forehead makes measurement unreliable. Set a rotten rat on the steps and expect it to give off a fragrance; jump into water and resent getting wet; carry a foul odor and hope to become fragrant: even the most skillful person can do nothing about such things.

Winter ice can be broken, and summer wood can be made sturdy; opportunities are hard to come by and easily lost. While trees are flourishing, they will grow back even if you pick from them all day. When autumn winds bring frost, plants and trees can wither in a single night. An open target lets an arrow strike; a dense forest invites the axe to cut into it. No one deliberately invites this; circumstances bring it about. A nursing dog dares to bite a tiger, and a brooding hen attacks a fox, because affection and closeness make them disregard the difference in strength. Those who climb high in pursuit of profit may also be driven into danger by that same pursuit, if they meet with peril or drowning.

A boat can both float and sink, but fools do not understand why. If a fine horse is driven too hard, it may refuse to move; if it is only ever pulled along, it may refuse to stop. A ruler who does not seek the Way will govern in the same manner. Even the smoothest water has waves; even a correctly set balance can give a faulty reading; even the straightest ruler can deviate. Without a compass, one cannot determine what is round or square; without an ink line, one cannot correct what is crooked or straight. Those who use measuring tools must also have standards in their own minds.

Taishan is tall, yet if you raise your gaze twice as high, you will no longer see the fine hairs of an autumn down in front of you. Fire lies hidden in bamboo and wood, but without drilling, it cannot be kindled; water lies hidden in the earth, but without digging, it cannot be brought forth. However swiftly an arrow flies, it travels only a few miles. But if steps are taken without stopping, even a lame turtle can travel a thousand miles. Keep piling up earth, and you can form a hill. If you want to catch fish by the river, you would do better to go home and weave a net. First adjust the bow, then expect it to shoot with strength; first tame the horse, then expect it to become a fine steed; first make a person trustworthy, then expect them to be capable. Even a master smelter cannot melt wood, and even a skilled craftsman cannot chop through ice. Some things cannot be helped, and a gentleman need not spend his mind on them.

You cannot stop people from crossing a river, but you can keep the river from becoming turbulent. You cannot ensure that nothing ever goes wrong, but you can refrain as far as possible from doing harm. A wine vessel may fall, but it will not drop into a well without cause. A passerby who criticizes me hopes to associate with me; someone who disparages my goods hopes I will sell them to him. A single move in a game of Go cannot tell you a player’s skill; playing one string cannot express all of one’s sorrow.

When a single piece of charcoal is burning, reaching out to pick it up will burn your finger. Stand a little farther away, and the smoke from ten pieces of charcoal will not kill you. This is because the effects differ when things of the same kind are gathered together or spread apart. Where there is wealth and splendor, there must also be sorrow and decline; those above wear fine silks, while those below wear coarse hemp. The taller the tree, the more its roots spread and twist; the higher the mountain, the broader its foundations must be.

Laozi says: A drum does not conceal sound, which is why it can produce sound; a mirror does not hide objects, which is why it can reflect their shapes. Metal and stone naturally have sound, but they make no noise unless struck; pipes and flutes can produce musical notes, but give no sound unless played. Thus, the sage keeps ability and De (Virtue/Power) within and does not actively cater to external things. When a matter arises, the sage handles it according to the circumstances; when something external appears, the sage responds to it.

The Dao of Heaven moves without stopping and turns in cycles, which is why it endures. A wheel can turn and travel far only when it is properly fitted. The Dao of Heaven always proceeds without deviation, so it does not go wrong. When the qi of Heaven descends and the qi of Earth rises, the Qi (vital energy) of Yin-Yang intermingles, allowing all things to grow in harmony. At such a time, the noble person can put their abilities to use, while the petty person gradually withdraws. This is the way Heaven and Earth operate.

If the qi of Heaven does not descend and the qi of Earth does not rise, the Qi of Yin-Yang cannot intermingle, and all things cannot flourish. The petty person gains power while the noble person declines; the five grains cannot grow, and the Dao of De becomes concealed.

The Dao of Heaven diminishes what is excessive and adds to what is insufficient. The Dao of Earth lowers what is high and raises what is low. The Dao of spirits and ghosts harms the arrogant and full, and benefits the humble. The usual pattern among people, by contrast, is that those who have much are often unwilling to give to others. The sage’s Dao is humble and lowly, yet nothing can rise above it.

Only when the sky is clear and the sun shines brightly can light reach in every direction. Only when ruler and ministers are both discerning can the state be at peace. A state can endure only when every aspect of it is clear. To “be discerning and put it into practice” means to carry out instruction and guidance in a clear and direct way.

The Dao of Heaven gives things their underlying principles; the Dao of Earth gives them their order. All things come together in unity; the four seasons drive their transformation and, in the end, bring them to completion. This is called the Dao. The Great Dao is broad and level, and is not far from a person’s own life. When you cultivate the Dao within yourself, your De becomes real; when you apply it to things, your De continues without end.

Heaven covers all things, bestows its favor, and nurtures them. It gives without seeking anything in return, which is why the spirit can return to Heaven. Giving without seeking a return is the highest De. Nothing is higher than Heaven, and nothing is lower than marshland. Heaven is high and marshland is low; when the sage follows this clear order of high and low, the world can be at peace.

Earth bears all things and enables them to grow. It gives to all things, but also takes something from them, which is why human bones ultimately return to Earth. Giving while also taking is a lower grade of De. If lower De clings to the idea that it possesses De, it loses genuine De.