《文子缵义》

The Wenzi Zuanyi consists of twelve volumes and was written by Du Daojian of the Song dynasty. Du’s courtesy name was Nangu, and he was from Dangtu. He became a Daoist priest and lived at Shengyuan Abbey on Jichou Mountain in Wukang. His life is not recorded in local gazetteers, and many bibliographies do not mention this work. From the preface written for Du Daojian in Mou Yan’s Lingyang Ji, together with another preface, “Preface to the Record of Simple Living at Jichou Peak,” Du appears to have lived during the reign of Emperor Lizong in the Southern Song.

The Wenzi is written in profound language and expresses ideas that are difficult to discern, so readers have long relied on commentaries to understand it. Since the Northern Wei, three scholars—Li Xian, Xu Lingfu, and Zhu Yuan—have written commentaries on it. The commentaries by Li Xian and Zhu Yuan were lost long ago, while only part of Xu Lingfu’s survives. Because Du Daojian lived on Jichou Mountain, where traces of the Wenzi remained, he admired its author and gathered interpretations from various sources, combining them with his own understanding to compile the Zuanyi. He had a strong grasp of the subtle principles of Daoist thought. His prose may seem plain, yet it clarifies the Wenzi’s difficult and obscure meanings, making the text easier for readers to understand. Although he did not identify the sources of the older interpretations he cited, traces of commentaries written before the Song dynasty that have since been lost can sometimes still be discerned in his work. It is therefore valuable for research on the Wenzi.

Since the Yuan dynasty, copies of this work have been extremely rare. Only portions of it were included in the Yongle Dadian, arranged under rhyme categories. The Zuanyi commentaries on seven chapters—“Jingcheng,” “Fuyan,” “Shangde,” “Xiade,” “Weiming,” “Ziran,” and “Shangyi”—are comparatively complete. The commentaries on the other five chapters—“Daoyuan,” “Jiushou,” “Daode,” “Shangren,” and “Shangli”—were not included. It is impossible to determine whether these passages were omitted when the Yongle Dadian was copied or whether Du Daojian had not yet commented on those chapters. The missing portions must therefore remain as they are; the original text has been transcribed, and the work has been arranged by chapter into twelve volumes.

Many passages in this book differ from those in the Ming dynasty Daoqian Hall edition that circulates today. For example, in the chapter “Fuyan,” the phrase “Seeking to act brings peace; seeking to act brings order” is mistakenly printed in the Ming edition as “non-action,” which reverses its meaning in context. In “The time that passes cannot be pursued and grasped,” the character “pursued” is mistakenly printed as “foot.” In “Weiming,” the character “see” in “The sage sees good fortune within the inner barriers” is mistakenly printed as “first.” The Ming edition also deletes two sentences in “Xiade” concerning rulers’ understanding of Yin-Yang and their emulation of the four seasons, and omits a sentence in “Fuyan” about how the sage achieves a great victory by means of a position that the multitude cannot overcome. In addition, after “Thus the world can be unified” in “Shangyi,” the Ming edition adds the character “person.” These examples show that the Ming edition contains clear errors, while the text preserved in this book is more coherent and reliable. Du Daojian lived at the end of the Song and may still have had access to superior old copies. Though the surviving text was also corrupted by later editors, this work remains a precious source for correcting editions of the Wenzi. In the fifth month of the forty-second year of the Qianlong reign, the collation officials respectfully corrected and submitted this book.

The chief compilers Ji Yun, Lu Xixiong, and Sun Shiyi respectfully report: Our family holds a fine edition. Although the received text of the Wenzi has long been altered by later generations, this old edition has fortunately been preserved. It can therefore serve to correct errors and resolve questions in the text, making it especially worthy of safekeeping. In the fifth month of the forty-second year of the Qianlong reign, we respectfully collated it and submitted it to the throne.

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

Chief proofreader: Lu Feichi (the official responsible for proofreading the entire work).

Original preface to Wenzi Zuanyi.

Yu received counsel at Kuaiji. “Kuaiji” carries the meanings of gathering and reckoning. Jichou Mountain in Wukang was originally called Chou Mountain. It came to be known as “Jichou” because Jiran once surveyed the terrain there and devised plans. This account has a historical basis: Fan Li studied under Jiran, as recorded in the Records of the Grand Historian. Yan Shigu considered Jiran a contemporary of Confucius.

The book Wenzi includes an exchange between Wenzi and King Ping of Zhou, so Xu Lingfu concluded that Wenzi lived in King Ping’s time. This is a highly unreliable claim. The Wenzi catalogued by Liu Xiang contained only nine chapters, while Li Xian’s annotated edition has twelve; some of its material may well have been added later. Others hold that “King Ping” here refers to King Ping of Chu. During the conflict between Chu and Yue, Chu’s position grew increasingly weak. After Wu Zixu fled to Wu, whether Jiran also left Chu and traveled by way of Yue cannot now be determined.

Du Jun of Nanggu was widely learned and eloquent, yet also earnest, tranquil, open-minded, and perceptive. He had the abilities to govern the world, but his ambition lay in withdrawal. Though he once held a post at the Leisure Terrace and Precious Pavilion, he later left and built Piyun Hermitage on Jichou Mountain, where he lived in peace. He gathered the book Wenzi together with related material scattered through other works, compiled it, and had it printed. That traces of ancient books from the Three Dynasties could reappear after vanishing from sight is truly a remarkable event in the life of the mountains and forests.

I have observed that, since ancient times, few ministers in charge of finance have managed to preserve themselves. Fan Li applied Jiran’s strategies in broad outline to the state of Yue. After ten years of building its strength, Yue finally avenged itself on Wu. Fan Li then withdrew from the world and, in the end, escaped the fate of Wen Zhong, who was given poisoned wine by the king of Yue. As for whether Jiran’s plans accorded with Fan Li’s, and whether Jiran was an immortal who had attained the Dao, missing characters in the original make this impossible to determine. It is, however, indeed said that Jiran studied under Laozi.

A skilled planner need not rely on an abacus or counting rods. Is this really just the technique of merchants who hoard goods, manipulate trade, and busy themselves with petty details? One who does not prize rare and precious goods, does not abandon a frugal and simple life, and does not use what is lacking to nourish those who already have plenty; who creates wealth without claiming it, and accomplishes things without taking credit—such a person is already close to the Dao and can stand beyond gain and loss, fortune and misfortune.

Those in the world who hoard wealth and seek only to monopolize profit often go against the seasons and exhaust the land’s resources. They imagine their minds are subtle and their calculations meticulous, unaware that this is precisely the conduct Daoists deeply warn against. It can only bring calamity upon them. The mistakes of those before them are repeated again and again, yet they never see it. This is truly lamentable.

Nanggu once commented on the Laozi and grasped its essential meaning. Now he has gathered the Wenzi as well, so that it may be passed down alongside the teachings of the master. His purpose in awakening the world is deeply sincere. Scholars should read the two books together.

Yet if reading goes no further than the surface of the words, it is like gathering up dregs and scraps. If one can let the imagination roam through distant and profound realms, allowing the burdens within the heart to disperse like clouds and mist, would that not be a joy? How could one then fail to wish to climb Jichou Peak with Lord Nanggu, gaze far toward the Dark Ruins, and seek out the place where Chiyizi—the name given to Fan Li when he sailed away—once journeyed by boat across the lake? Written by Mou Yin of Lingyang.

The Wenzi quotes Laozi as saying: “There is a whole and undivided existence that came into being before Heaven and Earth. It has an image, but no concrete form; it is deep and still, calm and silent. I can only give it a name by force, and call it the Dao.”

The Dao is so lofty that it has no attainable limit, and so profound that it cannot be measured. It contains Heaven and Earth, yet has no fixed shape of its own. Its source and course extend without end; it is empty and open, never filled. Even when turbid, once it grows still it gradually clears. The Dao’s workings are inexhaustible and are not limited by day or night. It seems small, yet can expand; it is hidden from view, yet can illuminate; it is gentle, yet can also be strong. It holds Yin energy and exhales and draws in Yang energy, bringing the sun, moon, and stars into view. Mountains are high through it, abysses deep through it, beasts run through it, and birds fly through it. Through it, qilin roam, phoenixes soar, and the stars move.

The Dao’s workings often bring success through what seems opposite: preservation through nonbeing, honor through lowliness, and leadership through yielding. When the Three Sovereigns of antiquity grasped the Dao’s guiding principles, they occupied the center and their spirits aligned with the transformations of nature; thus they were able to bring peace to the four quarters. They followed the movements of Heaven and Earth, allowing them to cycle without end. They followed flowing water, rising winds, gathering clouds, rumbling thunder, and falling rain, changing along with all things without limit.

What has been carved and adorned should ultimately return to simplicity. Acting through Wuwei (non-action) allows one to follow the course of life and death; refraining from deliberate speech allows one to embody De; and a calm, joyful, unassuming state of mind accords with harmony. Though all things differ in countless ways, each can grow in the way suited to it. The Dao harmonizes Yin-Yang, orders the seasons, and regulates the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, and Water). It nourishes plants and trees and permeates metal and stone; it allows birds and beasts to thrive, their fur and feathers to flourish, their eggs to remain unharmed, and their unborn young to be preserved. Fathers need not fear losing their sons, and elder brothers need not grieve for the deaths of younger ones. 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 containing De and following the Dao.

The constant way of Heaven is to bring forth and nurture the myriad things without claiming them as its own, and to bring about change without ruling over them. All things depend on it to live, yet do not know to feel gratitude for its De. They also follow it in dying, yet none can resent it for this. It gathers all things without becoming rich, and gives and provides for them without becoming poor.

The Dao is elusive and obscure, beyond depiction in concrete images, yet its workings never run out. It is deep and mysterious, responding as things change without revealing any fixed form. It flows freely and smoothly, without acting recklessly. It expands and contracts with changes in hardness and softness, rising and falling in motion together with Yin-Yang.

Laozi also said: “A great man of De is quiet, free of thought, and calm, free of worry. He takes Heaven for a canopy, Earth for a carriage, the four seasons for horses, and Yin-Yang for the driver. He travels as though there were no road, roams without fatigue, and enters and leaves without being bound by gates. With Heaven as his canopy, nothing lies beyond its shelter; with Earth as his carriage, nothing lies beyond its capacity to bear; with the four seasons as his horses, no moment is beyond his command; with Yin-Yang as his driver, no condition is lacking. Thus he moves swiftly without being shaken, travels far without growing weary, and need not exert his limbs or wear down his ears, eyes, or mind.

“One who can do this and thereby illuminate the world has grasped the essentials of the Dao and observed its unending transformations. The affairs of the world cannot be forced into action; they should be guided in accordance with their natural tendencies. Nor can the transformations of all things be rescued one by one; one should grasp what is essential and bring them back to a fitting state. Therefore, the sage cultivates the root within rather than adorning the branches without. He tempers his spirit and restrains clever, calculating knowledge. Thus, though he seems to act without action, nothing is left undone; though he seems not to govern, nothing is left poorly governed.

“Wuwei means not forcing action ahead of events. ‘No governing’ means not altering things’ natural state. ‘Nothing left unguided’ means dealing with all things in accordance with how they are by nature.”

Laozi says: Those who grasp the Great Dao in governing the people respond to events according to their own principles. When things change, they act in accord with those changes. Thus, there is nothing among the transformations of the myriad things to which they cannot respond, and no change in affairs that they cannot bring into harmony with the others.

The Dao has five forms and expressions: emptiness, simplicity, stillness, softness, and purity and plainness. Emptiness is where the Dao resides; simplicity is the Dao’s essence; stillness is the Dao’s clear mirror; softness is the Dao’s function; purity and plainness are the Dao’s foundation. The Dao’s constant state is simplicity. Softness can reveal strength, and weakness can become strength.

Emptiness means that the heart-mind carries no distracting thoughts; simplicity means that the heart-mind bears no burdens. To have no greed is emptiness brought to its utmost; to have neither partiality nor aversion is simplicity brought to its utmost; to remain single-minded and unchanged is stillness brought to its utmost; to be unmixed with external things is purity brought to its utmost; to feel neither sorrow nor joy is virtue brought to its culmination.

The perfected person, whose cultivation has reached a high level, governs the affairs of the world without relying on cleverness or displaying artifice. Instead, they follow the Great Dao, showing neither partiality nor aversion. They remain single-minded and unchanged, keeping the heart-mind still and unmixed with external things, feeling neither sorrow nor joy. They set aside cunning and schemes, and follow what is fair together with the people. They reduce the rules they insist upon and the things they pursue; they free themselves from temptation and admiration, cast off greed for status and desire, and let go of anxious thought. When the rules one upholds are simple, one can see clearly; when one seeks little, it is easier to attain. Thus, by regulating outward conduct through inner cultivation, one can handle all affairs well. When the heart-mind is grounded, external affairs can be governed well.

When inner cultivation is complete, the five organs are at peace, thoughts are calm, the sinews and bones are strong, and the ears and eyes are keen. The Great Dao is broad and level, and is not far from oneself. Those who seek it in distant places will, in the end, return to themselves.

Laozi says: The sage does not devote himself to governing others, but to tending himself. He does not prize power and status, but values contentment with himself. When one is content with oneself, the world is thereby gained. One does not take pleasure in wealth and rank, but in a peaceful state of mind. Knowing the importance of oneself, one does not regard the world as more valuable than oneself; this is to draw near to the Dao. Thus it is said: reach the utmost emptiness and firmly hold to stillness. The myriad things grow together, and from this I observe how they return to their roots.

The Dao shapes the myriad things, giving them beginnings and endings, yet has no fixed form. Silent and still, it reaches everywhere; profound and vast, it has no bounds, so one cannot say it is outside. Fine as the tiniest speck, it cannot be said to be inside. It is not a space enclosed by four walls, yet it is the source of all that is and is not.

The realized person, who has awakened to the Great Dao and united with it, cultivates emptiness, simplicity, stillness, softness, and purity and plainness. Unmixed with external things, they embody the highest virtue of the Great Dao of Heaven and Earth. They understand their own root and do not regard the world as more important than themselves. They value cultivating themselves and care little for governing others. They do not let external things harm the peace of their heart-mind, nor let desire disturb their nature. They conceal their name: when the age is clear and guided by the Dao, they live in seclusion; only when the age lacks the Dao do they appear. Their actions accord with nature, without deliberate interference. They handle affairs without artifice and know what they do not know. They embrace the Way of Heaven and contain the heart of Heaven. They breathe in the Qi of Yin-Yang, exhaling the stale and inhaling the fresh. They close with Yin and open with Yang; they extend and contract as firmness and softness change, and rise and descend with the ascent and descent of Yin-Yang. Their heart-mind is one with Heaven, and their body is one with the Dao. They have no special joy, pain, delight, or anger. They see all things as returning to mysterious unity, beyond distinctions, and do not cling to right or wrong.

The human body is harmed by cold and heat, dryness and dampness, and other conditions. As the body declines, the spirit becomes obstructed. The spirit is troubled by joy, anger, thought, and worry; when it is depleted, the body loses its vitality even if it still exists. Therefore, the realized person carefully nurtures their nature and relies on the spirit and body to support one another, preserving their integrity from beginning to end. For this reason, they dream not while asleep, and are free of worry when awake.

Confucius sought instruction from Laozi about the Dao. He said, “Make your body upright and focus your gaze, and the harmonious Qi of Heaven—the natural, peaceful breath—will come. Gather your spirit and compose your bearing, and your spirit will return and settle. De will become your countenance, and the Dao your dwelling. Let your gaze be as clear as that of a newborn calf, without asking how things were originally. Let your body be like a withered tree and your mind like dead ashes. Truly understand how things are, yet do not rely on cleverness or fixed opinions to insist on your own views. Keep your heart open, free of private schemes. You see clearly in every direction and understand how things work—can you do so without taking pride in your cleverness?”

Laozi said, “Anyone who deals with worldly affairs must act in response to change. Change arises with the times; those who understand the times do not cling to a single, unchanging method. Thus, a Dao that can be clearly expressed is not the eternal, unchanging Dao; a name that can be precisely defined is not an eternal, unchanging name. Books are made from words, and words arise from cleverness. But what cleverness can know is not the constant Dao. A name that can be spoken is not the hidden depth of the Dao. The more you hear, the more readily you reach an impasse; better to hold fast to inner emptiness and stillness. Set aside contrived learning, and there will be no troubles. Abandon thoughts of being wise or clever, and the people will benefit more.

“People are born still: this is their nature. When things outside them stir them into action, this is the desire of their nature. When external things arrive and people respond, this is the activity of the intellect. When the intellect engages with external things, likes and dislikes arise. Once these likes and dislikes take shape, the mind races outward and cannot return to itself; the natural principles inherent in us then disappear. Therefore, the sage does not let human contrivance replace natural nature. Outwardly, he changes with things, but inwardly he does not lose what is true. Those who understand the Dao return to stillness. Those who investigate the myriad things ultimately return to Wuwei (non-action). Nurture the intellect with calm detachment and harmonize the spirit through emptiness and stillness: this brings one close to a state free of all obstruction. Those who follow the Way of Heaven walk with the Dao; those who follow human desires become entangled in worldly affairs.

“Therefore, the sage does not let affairs disturb his nature or desires disturb his heart. He does not scheme, yet handles things well; he speaks little, yet earns people’s trust; he does not toil in thought, yet gains results; he does not force action, yet accomplishes things. Thus, when he occupies a high position, the people do not feel burdened; when he leads the way, they are not harmed. People throughout the world willingly turn to him, and the wicked stand in awe of him. Because he does not contend with the myriad things, no one dares contend with him.”

Laozi said, “When people act in accordance with their desires, they lose their nature, and their actions often stray from the right path. Govern a state this way, and the state will fall into disorder; cultivate yourself this way, and body and mind will be ruined. Thus, those who do not understand the Dao cannot return to what is true within them.”

Laozi said: If people simply follow their desires, they lose their original nature, and their actions become difficult to keep upright. Governing a state in this condition brings disorder to the state; cultivating oneself in this way ruins both body and mind. Those who do not understand the Dao (the Way) cannot return to their original nature; those who cannot grasp the workings of things cannot remain tranquil.

Human nature is originally free of evil and impurity. But when people immerse themselves in external things for a long time, they are easily changed by them. Once changed, they forget their roots and come to accept this state of departure from their original nature. Water is naturally clear, but mud and sand make it turbid. Human nature is originally peaceful, but cravings and desires damage it. Only sages can cast off the burdens of external things and return to themselves. Thus, sages do not use cleverness to control things, nor allow desire to disturb the peace of their hearts. When they encounter joy, they do not become so delighted that they lose themselves; when they face hardship, they do not grieve until they can no longer compose themselves. Thus, even at the highest rank they are not in danger, and even in a secure position they do not fall.

When people hear beneficial words and sound plans, even the foolish know to praise them. When they see noble De (Virtue/Power), even those of poor character know to admire it. Yet many praise it, and few truly put it into practice; many admire it, and few follow its example. This is because people are constrained by external things and bound by worldly habits.

Thus it is said: “When I practice Wuwei (non-action), the people transform themselves naturally; when I refrain from meddling, the people become prosperous naturally; when I cherish stillness, the people become upright naturally; when I have no desires, the people become simple and sincere naturally.”

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. When these three are applied to cultivation, they merge into the formless. The formless is what is called “the One.” “The One” means a state free of partiality and in harmony with all under Heaven. It spreads its bounty without deliberately watering anything, and its use costs no effort. Though unseen and unheard, it enables visible things to come into being. From the formless, form arises; from silence, the Five Tones sound; from tastelessness, the Five Flavors take shape; from colorlessness, the Five Colors appear.

All things arise from “nothing”; concrete forms arise from emptiness. The kinds of musical notes number no more than five, yet their combinations and variations are endless, and their sounds cannot be heard to the end. The kinds of taste number no more than five, yet the variations of the Five Flavors are endless, and they cannot all be tasted. The kinds of color number no more than five, yet the variations of the Five Colors are endless, and they cannot all be seen. The musical scale rests on the note gong, from which the Five Tones emerge; taste rests on sweetness, from which the Five Flavors are defined; color rests on white, from which the Five Colors take shape. The Dao is the same: when it is established in “the One,” all things arise from it.

Thus, the principle of “the One” extends throughout the Four Seas, and its vastness reaches up to encompass Heaven and Earth. Whole, it is substantial like uncarved wood; when dispersed, it is indistinct like turbid water. In its turbidity, left to settle for a while, it gradually clears; in its emptiness, it gradually fills. It is calm like the sea, broad and drifting like clouds, seeming not to exist yet truly existing, seeming to have vanished yet still remaining.

Laozi says: The overall framework of the myriad things can be seen through a single aperture, and the source of all affairs issues from a single gateway. Therefore, the sage establishes one guiding principle and follows the course of the Dao (the Way), changing nothing at the root and going against no constant principle. It is like using a straightedge to correct what is crooked and straight: the crooked is adjusted according to a straight line, while the straight, too, takes shape by following the proper measure.

Joy and anger cause the Dao to veer from its course; worry and sorrow damage De (Virtue/Power). Likes and dislikes are failings of the heart-mind, while cravings and desires burden life. Excessive anger injures Yin; excessive joy depletes Yang. When the breath is weak, a person loses their voice; when terror becomes extreme, a person goes mad. Worry, brooding, and grief leave the heart and spirit burning with distress, and illness accumulates over time. If people can remove the imbalances caused by these five emotions and desires, they can accord with the numinous spirit. Here, “numinous spirit” means an inner state of clarity and sensitivity. When the spirit is settled within, the five organs are at peace; thoughts are balanced, ears and eyes keen, and sinews and bones strong. One is open and free of distortion, sturdy and not depleted, with neither excess nor deficiency.

Nothing under heaven is softer or weaker than water. The Dao embodied by water is so vast that it cannot be exhausted, so deep and distant that it cannot be measured, and so unending that its flow toward the far reaches has no bounds. Its waxing and waning, increase and decrease, cannot be calculated. In the heavens it becomes rain and dew; on earth it nourishes the myriad things. Through it, the myriad things are born, and through it, all affairs are brought to completion. It nourishes all beings widely, favoring none; it moistens even the tiniest creatures and asks nothing in return. It makes the world abundant without being exhausted, and benefits the people without depleting itself. Its course cannot be traced to an end, and its subtle form cannot be grasped. Striking it cannot injure it; piercing it leaves no wound; cutting it cannot sever it; fire cannot scorch it to destruction. It is soft and flowing, yet cannot be broken. It can penetrate metal and stone, and its power can reach throughout the world. It supplies all under heaven, filling what is lacking from what is abundant. It receives what the myriad things give and take, yet makes no distinction of precedence and shows no partiality. Its vastness is like that of Heaven and Earth. This is called the highest De.

Water can embody this highest De because it is soft and flowing, and nourishes the myriad things. As the saying goes: “The softest thing under heaven can move through the hardest things under heaven; what has no form can enter where there is no gap.” The formless is the ancestor of the myriad things; the soundless is the root and sovereign of all kinds of things.

The True Person, one who embodies the Dao and accords with it, penetrates the inner numinous chamber, the depths of the heart and spirit, and responds to the transformations of creation. They hold the mysterious De within and move through change in ways as unfathomable as the spirit. Thus the Dao, formless and soundless, beyond the reach of words, is vast and boundless. It need issue no commands, yet it can transform customs and alter ways of life; what matters is that thoughts and actions accord with the Dao. Each thing has its own source of life, but the sage alone grasps the root; each affair has its own point of departure, but the sage alone keeps the gateway. Thus the sage can exhaust the inexhaustible and reach the limitless, perceive things without becoming confused, and respond to change without becoming attached to the response itself.

Laozi says: The principles of cultivating De are to keep one’s resolve soft and yield strength in one’s actions, to remain inwardly empty and still while responding appropriately. Keeping one’s resolve soft means being gentle and calm, neither competing nor showing off one’s strength. One acts in accord with nature, without forcing things, and moves without missing the right moment. Thus the exalted take the lowly as their foundation, and those in high positions rest upon what is low. By relying on what is small, one can encompass what is vast; by dwelling within, one can master what is without. One’s conduct is gentle, yet one’s strength can be firm: nothing cannot be overcome, and no opponent cannot be faced. By adapting to change and seizing the right moment, one avoids harm.

To be firm, one must be sustained by softness; to be strong, one must be preserved by weakness. When softness accumulates to a certain point, it can become firmness; when weakness accumulates, it can become strength. By observing the direction in which things accumulate, one can judge whether they will endure or perish. The strong can prevail over those weaker than themselves, but may not prevail over those their equal. The soft can prevail over those stronger than themselves, and their power is beyond measure. Thus, a weapon that is too strong is easily destroyed; a tree that is too hard is easily broken; leather stretched too tightly will split. Teeth are harder than the tongue, yet they often wear out first. Weakness is the root of life; firmness belongs to death.

Those who step forward first easily reach a dead end, while those who act later are more likely to find a way through. When responding to change by following the Dao, acting first can constrain those who come later, while acting later can also constrain those who act first. Why? Because if one does not lose the root of one’s ability to govern things, others cannot turn around and govern oneself. “Acting later” means adjusting the measure of things so that one’s actions accord with the right moment. Circumstances change rapidly, with scarcely a pause between them. Those who rush ahead are likely to go too far; those who lag behind will fall short. The sun and moon do not wait for anyone. Therefore, the sage does not prize a jade disk a foot across, but cherishes every inch of time. The right moment is hard to find and easily lost. Thus, the sage acts in accordance with the times and establishes achievements according to circumstances. They uphold the way of quiet stillness and maintain the principle of yielding softness, adapting to change without rushing ahead. They often remain behind without striving to be first, and accomplish their work through softness, quiet, composure, and calm. In this way, even the greatest force cannot contend with them.

Laozi said: When a calculating mind is hidden in the heart, a person’s natural innocence can no longer remain pure, and spirit and De cannot be fully expressed in that person. If the heart holds neither greed nor the intent to harm others, one could lead even a hungry tiger by its tail—how much more, then, could one live among other people?

One who follows the Dao is at ease and never constrained. One who acts through calculation wears oneself out to no effect. Harsh laws and severe punishments are not the right way for a ruler to govern; constantly whipping and driving a horse is no way to travel far. When likes and dislikes multiply, troubles follow one after another. The former kings established standards not by inventing them from nothing, but by following principles already present. They set prohibitions and punishments not arbitrarily, but according to established guidance. By following the way things are, one can accomplish great things; by forcing everything, one achieves only trivial results. Hold fast to the root, and affairs remain secure; act recklessly, and failure comes easily.

If one relies only on the ears and eyes to hear and see, the mind and spirit grow weary, while judgment may still be unclear. If one relies only on schemes and clever plans to govern, even the greatest exertion may accomplish nothing. A single person’s talents cannot bring the whole world to order; one person’s abilities may not even suffice to manage a three-acre homestead. Follow the constant principles of the Dao and accord with the natural movement of Heaven and Earth, and governing the world will not seem difficult to keep in balance.

Trusting false praise and blame distorts judgment; becoming absorbed in bright colors and alluring sounds unsettles the mind and spirit. Ritual propriety cannot take the place of sincere love, yet a sincere heart can make a person care for those far away. Among weapons, none is more deadly than human hostility; even the Moye, an ancient sword, ranks below it. The greatest calamity is to go against the natural Dao of Yin-Yang; by comparison, beating drums to send an army into battle is a small matter. The so-called “great bandit” lies hidden in the heart, silent and motionless like a corpse. Lesser calamities lurk in the mountains, while the smallest are scattered among the people.

Thus, when the people possess too much cleverness and cunning, strange things arise; the denser the laws and decrees, the more thieves there are. Abandon one course and take up the other, and Heaven’s calamities will not arise. Governing a state through cleverness is a calamity for the state; governing without relying on cleverness is its blessing.

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 outcomes that have already taken shape; the formless is the source from which things begin to arise. What has taken shape is a finished vessel, while the state of coming into being is the plain, natural state. What has form has sound; what is formless has no sound. Formed things arise from the formless, so the formless is the beginning of the formed.

Those who are richly endowed and hold high rank prize the preservation of their own lives. Those who are austere and unassuming, seeking no rank or renown, may hold a low position, yet move through life lightly. The wealthy and powerful are well known and receive honor and favor; the poor and those with little have no renown and remain in low station. The strong and vigorous show themselves outwardly, while the yielding and hidden remain unseen. Those who have more than enough readily gain a reputation for wisdom and virtue; those who lack something often go without renown and remain in a lower place. Achievement brings fame; without accomplishment, there is no fame.

Fame arises from obscurity, and obscurity is the source of fame. In the Dao, being and nonbeing give rise to one another, just as difficulty and ease bring one another to completion. Therefore, the sage holds to the Great Dao, remaining empty, still, and subtle in order to fulfill De. Where there is Dao, there is De; where there is De, there is achievement; where there is achievement, there is fame. After fame comes a return to the Dao. In this way, achievement and fame can endure, and a person can pass through life without calamity.

Dukes and rulers have achievements and fame, but sages call themselves “orphaned” and “unworthy,” thereby returning to the root. When their work is done, they do not claim it as their own: achievement can be used to bring benefit, while namelessness and Wuwei (non-action) allow the root to work.

In ancient times, the people were simple as children. They did not understand distinctions between things; their expressions stayed true to their hearts, and their words did not go beyond their actions. They did not make a show of how they acted or embellish their speech. Their clothes were meant only to keep them warm, not to display colors and patterns; their weapons were blunt and had no edges. People walked slowly and gazed with unfocused eyes. They dug wells for water and tilled the fields for grain. They did not bestow favors in expectation of repayment or pursue a reputation for virtue. Those above and below did not contend with one another, and people did not compare what was long with what was short. Customs were harmonious and orderly, so the people could live peacefully according to them. Tasks were assigned according to people’s abilities and were therefore easy to accomplish. The sage does not make a worldly standard of boasting and deception that mislead people, or strange conduct that confuses them.

Laozi says: Heaven fully reveals its vast height, and Earth fully reveals its deep solidity. The sun and moon shine, the stars gleam, and Yin-Yang is in harmony. None of this is done deliberately. When Heaven and Earth keep faithfully to the Dao, all things naturally follow their own natures. Yin-Yang and the seasons do not deliberately create the myriad things, and rain and dew do not fall at appointed times solely to nourish plants and trees. When Yin-Yang comes together in harmony, the myriad things grow from it.

The Dao, the fundamental pattern governing the movement of all things, stores Jing-Qi within and allows Shen to dwell peacefully in the heart. The heart is quiet and calm, even and open; the mind is clear and empty, with no trace to be seen and no sound to be heard. The offices seem to have nothing to do, and the court seems to have no one directing it. No one is left in seclusion, away from public service, and no one is idle without purpose. There are no burdensome labor duties or unjust punishments. All under Heaven look up to the ruler’s De and accept the sovereign’s will. Even distant lands with different customs come to submit after many rounds of translation. This does not mean the ruler visits the people household by household; it means only that sincerity is extended throughout the realm.

Rewarding the good and punishing violent acts are the work of government orders. For such orders to be truly carried out, they depend on sincerity: an inward resolve that is genuine and single-minded. Even when an order is sufficiently clear, it cannot be carried out by itself; it must still be supported by sincerity. Thus, when someone governs the people by embracing the Great Dao but they do not obey, it is because sincerity has not yet truly reached them.

Du Daojian explains: The sages of antiquity took Heaven and Earth as their offices and the myriad things as their storehouse. They gathered Jing-Qi, remained sincere, and revealed no trace or display of sound and color. Keeping faithfully to the Dao, they let the myriad things follow their natural course. In those times, the court had no favored ministers who obstructed government, the countryside had no worthy people left overlooked, and the realm had no idlers. There was no warfare, no forced labor, and people in every occupation could pursue their livelihoods in peace. Thus, peace and order could be achieved with ease, without having to instruct the people household by household.

Laozi says: Heaven arranges the sun, moon, and stars, establishes the course of the four seasons, and harmonizes Yin-Yang. By day, sunlight shines upon all things; at night, it lets them rest. Wind dries them, while rain and dew moisten them. As things grow, people cannot see exactly what nourishes them, yet they watch them continue to flourish. As things decline, people cannot see how they lose their vitality, yet they watch them gradually perish. This subtle, natural working is called “divine power” (shenming): the unseen, wondrous power of nature.

Thus, the sage follows this way. When good fortune arises, people cannot see where it came from, yet it has already arrived. When calamity is dispelled, they cannot see how it was dispelled, yet it has already passed. Search carefully, and no clear trace can be found; look closely, and there are signs after all. Measured over a short time, the results seem slight; viewed over many years, the gains are abundant. The sage is silent and still, yet a single word from him can shake the world. This is because he does not act from selfish motives, but responds to the changes of nature.

When the heart is utterly sincere and undivided, it resonates with Heaven and brings the Qi of Heaven and Earth into motion. Then auspicious signs appear: the Stellar Sign of Good Fortune, the Yellow Dragon, and the phoenix; sweet springs gush forth, and fine grains grow. Rivers do not overflow, and the seas are not stirred by great waves.

The Zuan Yi says: The sun, moon, and stars are the wondrous workings of Heaven; water, fire, earth, and stone are the wondrous workings of Earth. Wind, rain, dew, and thunder, as well as heat, cold, day, and night, each have their own natural workings. Human nature is the most perceptive, so people are better able than other beings to apprehend and use this awareness. Heaven gives life to and nourishes all things without revealing the specific process, yet allows them to grow day by day. The sage, too, should care for the people, remove calamities, and undertake what benefits them in this way. All of this arises from deep sincerity of heart, which resonates with the Qi of Heaven and Earth. Yin-Yang thereby comes into harmony, divine powers offer their protection, and auspicious signs arrive.

When people defy the Dao of Heaven and harm all things, the sun and moon may be obscured, the five planets may stray from their proper courses, and the seasons may fall into disorder. Other anomalies may appear: daylight may grow dim, light may shine at night, mountains may collapse, rivers may run dry, thunder may sound in winter, or frost may fall in summer. Heaven and humanity resonate with one another. Thus, when a state is on the verge of ruin, the celestial signs change; when the age is in turmoil, rainbows appear. All things are interconnected, and their vital essences respond to and stir one another. The workings of divine power, therefore, cannot be attained through clever schemes or force.

Those who truly possess De (Virtue/Power) accord with the virtue of Heaven and Earth, answer to the radiance of the sun and moon, resonate with the wondrous workings of spirits in the unseen realm, and align with the cycles of the four seasons. They hold the Dao of Heaven in their hearts, receive the Qi of Earth, and maintain the way of emptiness, stillness, and balance. Without even leaving their hall, they can transform the lands within the four seas and improve their customs. The people turn toward goodness of their own accord, as though these changes arose from within themselves. This is governing the world through the wondrous power of moral influence.

Heaven and humanity are originally one Qi, and changes in what is hidden and what is manifest in each resonate with one another. Harmonious and gentle Qi brings good fortune; discordant and violent Qi invites calamity. None of this is separate from the ruler’s actions. Thus, going against the order of Heaven, harming all things, abandoning what is right, and corrupting one’s De all provoke Heaven’s wrath, and calamity follows. After King Cheng of Zhou repented, the wind changed direction and the flattened grain stalks rose again. When the ruler of Song spoke a single sentence, a fiery star withdrew. These events were regarded as signs that sincere devotion can move Heaven and turn misfortune into good fortune.

Laozi says: To act according to the proper way for human beings is to preserve one’s nature, remain pure, and do oneself no harm; even amid danger and hardship, one can still reach the Way of Heaven. If one never departs from the root, what can one fail to accomplish? Such a person regards life and death as one state and is not intimidated or bullied. All the more so, this person can govern Heaven and Earth and order the myriad things, returning to the source of creation and containing the Qi of perfect harmony. Thus, life and death never constrain them. When inner sincerity becomes manifest, others can sense it outwardly: this is the Dao that is not lightly transmitted. Zuanyi, the commentator on this book, says: All people receive the same mandate from Heaven at birth, so no one’s nature is not good. Preserve one’s nature, remain pure, and do oneself no harm, and one can reach the Way of Heaven. What could one fail to accomplish? Those who return to the source of creation, contain the Qi of perfect harmony, and are no longer confined by life and death are called perfected beings.

When a sage occupies the highest position, they hold the Great Dao in their heart and say little, yet their beneficence reaches the people. This is the boundless teaching that needs no words. When ruler and ministers turn against one another and resort to deception, signs appear in the heavens. The Qi of the spirits of humanity and Heaven and Earth also resonate, revealing corresponding signs. This is argument without speech and the Dao without words. If people from distant lands are to submit, let them follow their own nature and do not impose artificial action. If those nearby are to live in peace, do not stir up trouble and disturb the people. Only those who travel at night can appreciate the principle of acting through Wuwei (non-action). Thus, let warhorses be put to pasture and used for farming, and let carts serve agricultural work; their tracks need not reach the distant frontiers. This is called acting while seated at ease, living in the world without letting its cares burden the heart. The Way of Heaven neither favors nor rejects anyone. Those with ability naturally have more; those who do not know how to respond naturally have less. Following the Way of Heaven brings good fortune; going against it brings danger. Therefore, a state governed by clever schemes alone can scarcely endure. Only by aligning with great harmony—the balanced and gentle state between Heaven and Earth—and holding to the way of nature can one govern in response to things.

Zuanyi says: When a sage holds the Great Dao in their heart and their beneficence reaches the people, auspicious signs appear; when ruler and ministers turn against one another, signs of calamity appear. Those who govern distant lands should allow their people to submit naturally; those who govern those nearby should avoid stirring up trouble without cause. The Qi of the spirits of humanity and Heaven and Earth resonate, and signs arrive without being summoned. The Way of Heaven does not favor or reject the myriad things; each thing has its own conditions of abundance or deficiency. The so-called teaching without words is simply letting things follow their natural course.

Laozi says: The relationship between the Dao and De is like that between tanned hide and raw hide: they are connected from the beginning, yet each is distinct. At a distance, they can seem closer; brought too close, they can easily grow apart. Try to grasp them, and they slip away; try to examine them closely, and they remain unclear. The sage’s mind is therefore like a mirror: it neither anticipates things nor actively sends them away, but reflects them as they come. It keeps nothing stored in the mind and does no harm to the myriad things. To attain it can seem like losing it; to lose it can seem like attaining it.

One who has reached great harmony—the state in which the myriad things are in accord and Yin-Yang is balanced—has a mind that is dark and still, as if peacefully asleep after becoming drunk. Within this state, one wanders freely, as though never having left the source of the Dao. This is called “great communion,” joining with the Great Dao. It is the seeming absence of action that nonetheless brings things to completion.

The Zanyi explains: The Dao is revered, and De is treasured. Though their names differ, they arise from the same source; their roots lie in one’s own mind and are not sought from outside. The Dao gives life to and nurtures the myriad things, without deliberately rejecting them or insisting on possessing them. The sage’s mind is like a bright mirror: when things come, it reflects them; when they depart, it returns to stillness. Within, it holds sincerity and is wholly in accord with the Dao and De. By not forcing action, one brings no ruin upon oneself; by not clinging to possession, one has nothing to lose. If one never departs from the source of the Dao, even spirits and gods cannot see through one.

Laozi says: In ancient times, when the Yellow Emperor governed the realm, he regulated the courses of the sun and moon, harmonized the Yin and Yang energies, ordered the seasons, and corrected the measures of musical tones and the calculations of the calendar. He distinguished the responsibilities of men and women and established the order of rank between those above and those below. The strong did not oppress the weak, and the many did not bully the few. The people were able to preserve their lives and avoid dying young; harvests were abundant, and there was no famine. The officials were upright and impartial, those above and below lived in harmony without resentment, laws and commands were clear, and those who assisted in governing were fair and unbiased. Farmers yielded to one another over field boundaries, no one picked up things lost along the road, and merchants did not raise prices in advance at the markets.

Thus, the sun, moon, and stars followed their proper courses; wind and rain arrived in season; the five grains flourished; phoenixes flew in the palace courtyards, and qilin roamed the countryside.

Zan Yi explains that Huangdi brought stability to the realm by observing the Dao of Heaven and acting in accordance with it. Later, Huangdi yielded the realm and went to Mount Kongtong, where he respectfully visited Guangchengzi to ask how to cultivate the body and live a long life. Guangchengzi said, “The subtlety of the utmost Dao is profound and elusive; its highest expression is deep and still. Do not look or listen. Guard your spirit and quiet your mind, and your body will naturally become upright. Be sure to remain still and clear. Do not tire your body or disturb your Jing and Qi; only then can you live long.”

When Fuxi, the legendary ancient ruler, governed the realm, he lived simply, sleeping with a stone for a pillow and ropes for a mat. He gathered himself in autumn and withdrew into concealment in winter. He understood the utmost Dao: he was still and practiced Wuwei, neither looking nor listening. He gathered his spirit and remained quiet, allowing his body to become upright naturally. By keeping still and clear, without tiring his body or disturbing his Jing and Qi, he was able to live long.

In governing the realm, Fuxi adapted to the terrain of the four directions and the roundness of Heaven, following the currents of Yin-Yang. Where things had stagnated and ceased to flow, he opened the way and brought them into balance. He put a stop to disordered currents of Qi, to conduct that ran against the natural order and harmed the people, and to deep-rooted abuses. People at that time were simple and unknowing. They could not distinguish east from west; their gaze was hazy and their steps unsteady, yet they lived freely and did not know where that way of life came from. They followed nature and dwelt at ease, unaware of their own beginnings and of where they were headed. Though birds and beasts, insects and snakes had claws, fangs, and venomous stings, they kept them in check and harmed no one. Fuxi’s achievements were commensurate with Heaven and Earth. Even of Huangdi, it could still be said that he deeply understood the subtle wonders of the Great Ancestor’s Dao. Yet Fuxi did not display his achievements or proclaim his fame. He dwelt in the Dao of the True Person and followed the natural workings of Heaven and Earth. Why? Because when Dao and De prevail above, cleverness and schemes recede and disappear.

Zan Yi says that after the Six Cycles had run their course and the Two Sovereigns no longer appeared, the Heavenly Sovereign came into being. By then, the simple and uncarved way of life had already faded, affairs among people had begun to flourish, and people throughout the realm had begun to take action. They observed natural forms and made implements; they also knotted cords and wove nets to catch livestock. This is the origin of the name “Fuxi.” Later, they smelted metal to make pots and cauldrons, and cooked raw food; for this reason he was also called “Pao Xi.” At that time, Fuxi did not claim these things as his own achievements. Though birds and beasts, insects and snakes had claws and fangs, they did not harm people. As for his achievements in creating written tallies and establishing the proper relationships among people, though they were commensurate with Heaven and Earth, he still did not consider himself to have earned merit. It was indeed fitting to honor him as “Taihao.”

Laozi says that if Heaven were not stable, the sun and moon would have nowhere to rest. The text then praises Taihao: though his achievements were commensurate with Heaven and Earth, he did not claim credit for them; though birds and beasts, insects and snakes had claws and fangs, they did not harm people. In particular, he did not take credit for achievements such as creating written tallies and establishing the proper relationships among people. It was therefore indeed fitting to honor him as “Taihao.”

Laozi says: If the celestial bodies had no fixed order, the sun and moon would have nowhere to travel; if the earth had no stable foundation, plants and trees would have nowhere to grow. If the human mind and spirit could not be settled, right and wrong could not be discerned. Thus, only after a person has cultivated what is genuine can true understanding arise. If you do not even understand the principles on which you rely, how can you know that the “knowing” I speak of is not ignorance?

Accumulating kindness and gathering wealth, bringing joy to the people and making them glad to live: this is benevolence. Accomplishing great deeds and earning a distinguished reputation; using ritual to settle relations between ruler and minister, put the order between high and low in proper form, and distinguish degrees of kinship; preserving states in danger of collapse, continuing lineages on the verge of extinction, and establishing clans without heirs: this is righteousness. Closing off the senses—the nine apertures being the two eyes, two ears, two nostrils, the mouth, and the body’s other openings—gathering the will inward, setting aside clever contrivances, and returning to an undivided state of unknowing; wandering at ease beyond the dusty world, in a realm of Wuwei (non-action) and freedom from affairs; harmonizing the Qi of Yin-Yang and living in harmony with all things: this is De (Virtue/Power). Thus, when the Dao disperses, it becomes De; when De is full, it appears as benevolence and righteousness. Once benevolence and righteousness are established as outward labels, the Dao and De have already declined.

The Zan Yi says: Dao and De are related to the Five Constants—benevolence, righteousness, propriety, wisdom, and trustworthiness, as understood in Confucianism—in the same way that Yin-Yang and the Five Phases are related. Only when we understand the alternating light of the sun and moon and the successive passage of the seasons can we grasp the complete year. From this we can also understand human affairs: the Dao, De, and the Five Constants can coexist, and none can be dispensed with. If so, why does Laozi also say, “Cut off sageliness and abandon wisdom,” and “Cut off benevolence and abandon righteousness”? What he rejects is acting under these labels without genuine virtue. If he truly meant that sageliness, wisdom, benevolence, and righteousness should all be discarded, the upper and lower sections of the Dao De Jing would not speak of sages or benevolence and righteousness. Thus, only after a person has cultivated what is genuine can true understanding arise.

Laozi says: A mind and spirit that drift beyond themselves produce speech that is ornate but empty; scattered virtue produces false conduct. When the inner essence is unclear, yet speech and behavior are deliberately displayed outwardly, a person is bound to be driven by external things. The mind and spirit become exhausted, while outward dealings and actions seem to have no end. Without a firm inner center, one is pulled along by worldly customs. Therefore, sages cultivate Dao and De inwardly (the printed edition reads “the arts of the Dao”) rather than adorning themselves outwardly with benevolence and righteousness. Knowing that the senses and limbs each have their proper use, they can rest calmly in a state of spiritual harmony. This is the realm in which sages wander.

The Dao De Jing is the foundation of the Five Constant Virtues—benevolence, righteousness, propriety, wisdom, and trustworthiness—and the Five Spirits, the mental functions corresponding to these virtues. Having roots without branches and leaves will not do; but how can there be branches and leaves without knowing the roots? When the Dao is preserved within the heart, the spirit does not scatter outward. Once this inner steadiness is lost, the spirit strays beyond, speech becomes showy, De (Virtue/Power) deteriorates, and conduct becomes false. Few escape being driven and misled by external things. Only the sage understands what is fitting for the nine apertures—the sensory openings of the eyes, ears, nose, mouth, and so on—and the four limbs, and can let body and mind dwell at ease in spiritual calm. If the roots are preserved, how could the branches and leaves fail to be preserved too?

Laozi says: When the sage dwells at ease, his actions accord with utmost emptiness. His mind and spirit roam through the Great Nonbeing, that vast and vacant realm; they range beyond the bounds of every region and walk where there are no gates. He hears no sounds and sees no forms. He is not constrained by worldly ways or bound by custom. Thus, among those who can transform the world, no True Person—one who embodies the Dao and is free of falsehood—surpasses the sage; and among those who can correct worldly ways, no sage surpasses the True Person. Consider those constrained by worldly ways: their bodies are inevitably held in check, and their spirits consumed outwardly, so they cannot avoid being burdened by external things. If anything can bind me, it must be that I have entrusted my life and nature to something outside myself.

The Zan Yi says: When my body and mind are not bound by custom, others will not reject me; when my heart is not constrained by worldly affairs, I will not reject others. This is called roaming together with the Creator, the natural Dao that brings all things into being. Thus, among those who can transform the world, no True Person surpasses the sage; and among those who can correct worldly ways, no sage surpasses the True Person. Those whose intentions are driven by external things, whose bodies are held in check, and whose spirits are consumed outwardly cannot escape being burdened, even if they are worthy people. How much less can ordinary people escape?

Laozi says: When a ruler deliberates, his spirit does not race about aimlessly within his chest, and his wisdom does not reach beyond the bounds of the four directions to make reckless conjectures. He holds a heart of benevolence and sincerity. Rain falls in season, and the grains grow lushly: they sprout in spring, grow in summer, are harvested in autumn, and stored in winter. Each month he examines the people’s circumstances; each season he reviews affairs; at year’s end he totals the contributions, using them to support the people. All is done for the common good. The ruler governs with authority, without needing to issue repeated admonitions. His laws are clear and simple, not cumbersome; his instruction transforms people as if by divine influence. Punishments are lenient, prisons stand empty, and customs throughout the world become harmonious and unified. People harbor no deceitful intentions. This is the grace the sage bestows upon the people.

If a ruler is insatiable in his desires, those below will compete for credit and refuse to yield to one another. The people will suffer poverty, and disputes will arise. People will labor without achieving results, and deceitful intentions will follow; thieves and bandits will multiply. When those above and below resent one another, government orders can no longer be carried out.

Unify the width of chariot tracks, written characters, and social customs; do not give excessive rewards or impose punishments indiscriminately. Then people throughout the realm will share a common purpose. When this is achieved, the ruler need not worry over affairs in every direction, and moral instruction will take effect as swiftly and effectively as the work of spirits. If the ruler’s desires are insatiable, ministers and subjects will compete for merit and profit, each refusing to yield. Deception will arise, and the people’s strength will be spent. When those above and below resent one another, the Qi of Heaven and Earth cannot mingle, and the growth of all things will be obstructed.

When water grows murky, fish rise to the surface to gasp for breath. When government orders are harsh, the people rebel. This is inevitable. If the ruler has many desires, the people will resort to deception; if the ruler is restless and troubled, they will not know what to do; if the ruler demands too much, they will compete with one another. To leave the root untreated and merely patch the branches is as useless as digging a channel while trying to stop the water from flowing, or carrying firewood to put out a fire.

When the sage reduces the burden of government, the state can be well ordered. Desires are few, yet provisions are sufficient. The sage does not deliberately bestow kindness, yet the people still feel its benevolence; makes few promises, yet people still trust him; does not demand things, yet what is needed comes of itself; and does not act recklessly, yet things are accomplished. The sage keeps the natural Dao in his heart and safeguards his true nature. He follows the Great Dao and treats others with sincerity, and the people of the realm submit to him like an echo answering a sound or a shadow reflecting a form. What he cultivates and governs is the root.

Signs appear in the heavens to reveal good fortune and misfortune, and everyone can see them. The ruler issues orders and makes rewards and punishments clear, and the people believe in them. Should the ruler not be just and discerning, as Heaven is? When water is murky, fish rise to the surface to gasp for breath; when orders are harsh, the people rebel. Both are inevitable. Therefore, when the ruler has many desires, deception flourishes among the people; when the ruler is tranquil and undisturbed, they do not contend. The sage keeps to the Dao and treats the realm with sincerity, winning the people’s allegiance. This may be called understanding the root of governance.

Laozi said, “Those who dissipate their spirit outward and let their thoughts and concerns become confused within cannot govern themselves.” When the mind and spirit reach too far afield, they neglect what is close at hand. Thus, one can know the realm without leaving one’s doorway, and understand the Dao of Heaven without peering out through a window. The farther one travels, the less one knows. This means that inner sincerity can resonate outward, and a person’s spirit and Qi can move the Dao of Heaven.

When the Qi of Heaven and Earth mingle, all things grow and flourish. When a sage arises, the vitality of all things becomes manifest. This is the natural Dao at work through resonance. The human heart can communicate with Heaven because the human body and life were originally received from Heaven. When the heart is sincere, the spirit and Qi can move the Dao of Heaven. When the heart is empty, tranquil, and clear, the light of Heaven appears, reflecting forms like a mirror and allowing beauty and ugliness to show themselves naturally. How, then, could one fail to be careful with one’s own heart?

Laozi said: All things naturally turn toward the winter sun and the shade of summer; no one drives them to do so. The subtlest responses work in the same way: they need no summons, for they arrive of their own accord; they need no urging, for they proceed on their own. Their workings are deep and hard to fathom. We do not know how they begin, yet things are accomplished naturally. If people must wait until they see something with their own eyes before they will understand, or until someone speaks before they will act, governance becomes difficult. Gao Yao, the legendary worthy minister of high antiquity, could not speak, yet he served as the official in charge of criminal justice, and punishments were never imposed unjustly throughout the realm. Why, then, place such importance on words? Shi Kuang, the musician of Jin during the Spring and Autumn period, was blind, yet he served as Jin’s chief minister, and affairs of state in Jin did not fall into disorder. Why, then, place such importance on seeing with one’s own eyes? To issue commands without words and discern affairs clearly without relying on sight: this is precisely what makes the sage worthy of emulation.

The Zuanyi explains: The yangsui, a bronze mirror used to kindle fire, needs the sun to do so; the fangzhu, an ancient vessel for collecting dew, needs moonlight to condense water. In the same way, even if one has a way to govern, without the corresponding position, one cannot put policies into effect. And with position alone, but no way to govern, one cannot accomplish great deeds. In the time of Tang Yao and Yu Shun, ruler and ministers alike accorded with the Dao. Their instruction took effect, every official fulfilled his duties, and the people submitted willingly. Thus the sages became teachers for generations to come.

The people are influenced by those above them not by listening to what they say, but by observing what they do. So if a ruler delights in courage and violent rivalry, then even if he forbids his ministers and people to fight, calamities will still multiply in the state, eventually leading to robbery, murder, and rebellion. If a ruler is enamored of beauty, then even if he forbids people to speak of extravagance, the state will grow increasingly disordered, ending in the calamities of wantonness and debauchery. The sage, therefore, is sincere within and makes his likes and dislikes clear outwardly. His words accord with what he holds in his heart, and his commands clearly convey his intent. Punishments alone cannot change customs, and killing cannot put an end to wickedness. What matters is influencing people through De, so that sincerity reaches its utmost and brings forth a response. The effects of such sincerity are like spring Qi, which brings forth the growth of all things, and autumn Qi, which causes them to wither. A gentleman governs people as one shoots an arrow: a deviation of only a hair’s breadth here may become a difference of several fathoms there. Therefore, anyone who governs the people must carefully consider how they will influence them.

The Zuanyi explains: When the standard is upright, its shadow is naturally upright; when the source is clear, the downstream waters are naturally pure and flow far. This is the principle by which root and branch affect one another. Understand that the heart is the root of oneself, and one also understands that the ruler is the root of the people. Governing people is like shooting an arrow: a deviation of only a hair’s breadth here may become a difference of several fathoms there. Therefore, anyone who governs the people must carefully consider how they will influence them.

The Zanyu says: This explains how root and branch depend on one another, like a straight shadow, a clear source, and a stream that naturally flows on. Once you understand that the mind is the root of the body, you will see that the ruler is the root of the people. The ruler’s desires must therefore be rightly ordered: a taste for displays of courage brings the disorder of raids and killings; a craving for beauty brings the harm of sexual excess and licentiousness. Only when the ruler sincerely and single-mindedly honors virtue within, and clearly distinguishes what is to be liked and disliked outwardly, can the wicked be brought to submit without punishment. When the root is firm, the state will naturally be at peace.

Laozi says: Laws may be proclaimed and rewards established, yet customs and habits will not change if the ruler lacks sincerity within. Music reveals the character of a place, while observing its dances reveals its customs; and from its customs one can know how effective its instruction has been. Those who are sincere in heart and honest in word and deed can move Heaven and Earth and resonate beyond the four quarters. Once their orders are issued, people carry them out; once something is forbidden, people stop doing it. Sincerity reaches the Dao and can also convey what is in the heart. Even without saying a word, the people of the world, birds and beasts, and spirits and ghosts will all be transformed. Thus, the highest form of governance transforms all things through virtue; the next makes people afraid to do wrong; the next rewards the worthy and punishes the violent.

The Zanyu says: Jade hidden in a mountain makes the mountain shine; pearls in the water make the deep pool glow. This is inner substance revealed outwardly. Water and stone do not speak, yet people trust them naturally. If a state cherishes benevolence and sincerity and follows the Way of trustworthiness—punishing without resentment and rewarding without favoritism—the people will be transformed without waiting for laws to be proclaimed or rewards to be established. Thus, when people hear of Boyi’s noble conduct, the greedy become upright, and the timid resolve to strengthen themselves. What did Boyi say? His own conduct transformed others. If one speaks without acting, the people will not obey.

Laozi says: The Great Dao is Wuwei (non-action), that is, not forcing things into being. Wuwei means having nothing; having nothing means not clinging to possession. Not clinging to possession is to dwell beyond form; dwelling beyond form is to refrain from rash action; refraining from rash action is to issue no commands or declarations; issuing no commands or declarations is to be quiet and soundless. Though one does not show oneself or act, one can still transform all things. If one merely speaks without putting words into practice, the people will not obey.

Laozi said, “The Great Dao—the fundamental pattern of the universe—acts through Wuwei (non-action). Wuwei means possessing nothing; possessing nothing means being attached to no place. Being attached to no place is to abide in the formless; the formless does not act rashly, and one who does not act rashly has nothing to say. Having nothing to say is stillness and silence. What is formless and silent cannot be seen or heard. This is called the subtle and also the supremely spiritual. It continues without interruption, seeming almost to exist; this is the root of Heaven and Earth. The Great Dao has neither form nor sound, so the sage reluctantly gives it a single name. The patterns by which Heaven and Earth operate take the small as their foundation and the few as their beginning. The Son of Heaven takes Heaven and Earth as his model and all things as his means. His De (Virtue/Power) is vast, and his authority and renown are supremely honored. The virtue he embodies accords with Heaven and Earth, so he must follow the Great Dao and take it as the foundation of all under Heaven.”

The Wenzi Zan Yi explains: “Dao, Heaven, Earth, and the king are the four great powers of the universe. The Dao acts through Wuwei, and so endures; Heaven does not speak, and so is lofty and clear; Earth makes no sound, and so is deep and expansive. The king embodies all these qualities. He is the son of Heaven, the master of the land, and the father and mother of the people. He cares for and nourishes all things, yet does not claim this as a personal favor. His De is therefore immense, and his prestige and reputation are supremely honored, beyond anyone else’s.”

Laozi also said, “When the poor are relieved and urgent needs are met, a reputation arises; when beneficial works are undertaken and calamities removed, achievements are made. When there are no disasters in the world, even a sage has no opportunity to put De into practice; when those above and below live in harmony, even a worthy person has no opportunity to establish achievements. Therefore, when the Perfected One governs all under Heaven, he cultivates De and holds fast to the Dao, treats people with sincerity, and delights in giving. Though his wisdom is boundless, he restrains his speech and arguments and does not proclaim himself. As a result, the people of the world do not recognize his worth. Once the Great Dao can be explained, it is no longer the constant Dao; once a name can be established, it is no longer a constant name. What is written on bamboo and silk, engraved on metal and stone, and passed down to others is only a shallow aspect of the Great Dao. The Three Sovereigns, the Five Emperors, and the Three Kings acted differently, yet their intentions were the same; their paths differed, yet they arrived at one destination. Scholars of later generations do not understand the foundations embodied in the Great Dao or the essentials gathered within De. They discuss only events that have already occurred; however learned and widely read they may be, they cannot avoid causing confusion.”

To align the heart with the Dao (the Way), preserve De (Virtue), treat others with sincerity, and gladly help them: these are the qualities of someone in a high position. To relieve hardship, address urgent needs, promote what benefits people, and remove what harms them: these are the qualities of someone in a middle position. To win through one’s own efforts without competing against others: these are the qualities of someone in a lower position. Those who can seize the right moment and understand change are not bound to serve as officials or live in seclusion. Their methods may differ, but their results are the same. Some need no bamboo or silk books, or inscriptions on bronze and stone—the materials used for writing in ancient times—to stand alongside the worthy sages of antiquity.

Laozi said: Those whose hearts are pure can commune with the spirits and nurture all things, yet this is difficult to explain in words. A sage can set the world right without leaving his seat—that is, without setting out in person. A person’s genuine feelings move others more deeply than an owl’s call. Thus, the same words can inspire trust when spoken by one person because that person’s integrity was evident before he spoke. The same command can be carried out when issued by one person because his sincerity already surpasses the command itself. When a sage occupies the highest position, the people are transformed as if by something wondrous. When genuine feeling precedes words and actions, yet those below fail to respond to the actions of someone above them, it is because the feelings and the commands do not accord. A three-month-old baby does not yet understand benefit and harm, yet its loving mother cherishes it all the more: this is genuine feeling. The power of spoken words to transform reaches only a narrow range, while the influence of wordless transformation is vast. A gentleman’s words are trustworthy and his intentions sincere. When loyalty and trust shine forth from within, they can move the world beyond; this is the teaching of the worthy and the sages.

The Book of the Yellow Emperor says: Heaven endows people with their nature, and the human heart is the pivot through which it takes effect. Is the ruler not the heart of Heaven and Earth? The heart is where the spirits gather. When intention stirs within the heart, words issue forth from outside. A good heart draws a response even from someone a thousand miles away; an ill heart drives away even someone a thousand miles away. Therefore, when a sage occupies the highest position, he transforms the people as if by something wondrous and can set the world right without leaving his seat.

Laozi said: When a son dies for his father or a minister for his ruler, they do not deliberately sacrifice their lives to seek a reputation. Rather, gratitude and duty run so deep in their hearts that they cannot bear to abandon their family or ruler in a time of danger. A gentleman’s grief and sorrow are not put on for effect; they flow naturally from within. One must also observe a person’s actual conduct. A sage does not fear his shadow falling in the sunlight—a metaphor for acting openly and without reproach—and a gentleman is careful about his words and deeds when alone. If one abandons those nearby and pursues only what is far away, relationships become blocked and fail to thrive. Therefore, when a sage occupies the highest position, the people willingly accept his rule; when he occupies a lower position, they still admire his aspirations. He never forgets his wish to bring people benefit.

When scholars encounter danger, they are willing to give up their lives; at crucial moments, they do not abandon their principles. Loyalty and filial devotion move them to act in this way. Chang Hong died for his ruler, for example, and Shensheng died for his father. They kept their gratitude deep in their hearts and did not betray their true feelings, even when this brought disaster upon them. Did they face death in order to win a reputation? When a sage king rules from above, the people willingly accept his governance, as they did under the sage kings Yao, Shun, Yu, Tang, King Wen, and King Wu. When a sage lives among the people, they admire his aspirations. So it is, too, with the Primordial Sage—a person of such outstanding virtue that he can serve as a model for later generations—and the Uncrowned King, who holds no royal title but possesses a king’s virtue.

Laozi said, “When a brave warrior cries out, the soldiers of an entire army will retreat. This is because his cry comes from sincerity. If someone puts forward a proposal and no one responds, or intends to act but does not, there must be something within that does not accord with others. To set the world right without leaving one’s seat, one must begin with oneself. Where words cannot reach, one’s expression can convey meaning; where one’s expression cannot reach, subtle resonance can convey it. What moves the heart appears in one’s outward bearing. When sincerity reaches its utmost, it can connect through physical presence, yet cannot be arranged in advance through exchanged glances.”

The Zanyu explains: “Words spoken from the mouth and actions arising from the heart are both expressions of sincerity. Words may be spoken nearby while actions influence those far away: this is the resonance produced by sincerity. A brave warrior cries out because his voice comes from sincerity; how could the entire army fail to retreat? Sun Wu trained soldiers with a commanding force born of sincerity. Yet when he executed the concubines favored by the King of Wu, he showed that the king’s words were insincere, and his subordinates suffered as a result. How can those who govern a state speak or act without sincerity?”

Laozi said, “Words have a root, and deeds have a basis. If you lose the root, then no matter how many skills you possess, you would do better to speak less. Chui, the legendary master craftsman, harmed people through his exceptional skill, so his fingers were cut off, showing that excessive pursuit of craft is unwise. The craftsman’s wisdom lies not in displaying his skill, but in knowing when to restrain it. If he does not know when to restrain himself, he must first put a stop to the matter; only then can he begin again.”

The Zanyu explains: “The sage warns against excessive speech and activity. Only when Dao is the root and De the basis can teachings be put into practice. Chui, the legendary master craftsman, harmed people through his exceptional skill, so his fingers were cut off, showing that excessive pursuit of craft is unwise. The craftsman’s wisdom lies not in displaying his skill, but in knowing when to restrain it. If he does not know when to restrain himself, he must first put a stop to the matter; only then can he begin again.”

The Zan Yi of the Wenzi holds that sages refrain from excessive speech and activity, devote themselves to the Dao and De, and teach without words; in this way, they do not fail. They handle affairs in accord with the Dao of Wuwei (non-action), and so come to no harm. Ordinary people may have many skills, yet are often driven by their own cleverness, and few escape injury from it. Artisans do their work without relying on contrivance to prevail. Without a latch, a door cannot be opened or closed; but if a closed door is protected only by a lock, a thief can still force it open. The key is to guard the root.

Laozi says that sages may follow different paths in their actions, yet ultimately arrive at the same end. Whether the matter concerns survival or danger, their minds remain fixed on benefiting the people. The songs of Qin, Chu, Yan, and Wei differ, but all express joy; the cries of the Nine Yi and Eight Di—ancient names for different peoples and distant regions—also differ, but all express sorrow. Song gives voice to joy, and crying reveals grief: feelings within the heart find expression in sounds without. Thus, because the sage is always thinking of how to benefit people, his kindness can reach them far and wide.

The Zan Yi of the Wenzi explains that sages are not without desires; they fulfill the people’s wishes in ways that serve their interests. Nor do they refrain from all action; they act when action is called for. Though paths in different places may diverge, their destination is the same. Whether facing survival or destruction, safety or danger, the sage’s intentions remain constant. He restrains himself to benefit others and never loses sight of the world. Customs and languages differ from place to place, but human feelings are shared: people sing when joyful and weep when sorrowful, giving natural expression to what stirs them. All the people under Heaven are within the sage’s care—how could he forget them? The Duke of Zhou, who labored day and night and sat waiting for dawn, is an example of someone who never forgot the people, by day or by night. In this way, kindness can reach even the farthest places.

Laozi also says that if someone governs the world according to Wuwei but then persists in deliberate action, that person harms Wuwei. “Acting through non-action” means following what is natural and refraining from undue interference. If those who act cannot practice Wuwei, they cannot truly accomplish anything. Laozi also says that a person expresses the spirit without speaking; deliberately using words in place of this wordless expression likewise damages the spirit.

The Zan Yi of the Wenzi explains that the body has form, while the spirit has none. What has form gives rise to speech; what has no form does not express itself in words. Once we understand that being and nonbeing give rise to one another, we will not let them harm each other. The body has its functions, but these do not obstruct the spirit; the spirit has its functions, but these do not obstruct the body. Thus, when sages govern the world through Wuwei, the body does not damage the spirit, and the spirit does not damage the body. Only by understanding that the spirit itself is not something to be grasped can one know how it functions. In this way, neither body nor spirit is harmed.

Wenzi said, “A reputation can be built through effort, and achievements can be accomplished through effort. In ancient times, Nan Rongchu felt ashamed that he had failed to grasp the wisdom of the sages, so he reflected alone on his own shortcomings. Later, he traveled south to visit Laozi. After hearing a single sentence from him, his spirit immediately became clear and his thoughts flowed freely. He studied and worked with great diligence, going ten days without food, yet feeling as though he had enjoyed a lavish feast. His wisdom then illuminated the world, and his name was handed down to later generations. His understanding encompassed Heaven and Earth, and he could discern details as fine as an autumn hair. Praise for him has continued to this day. This is an example of how a reputation can be built through effort.

Therefore, if farmers are unwilling to work hard, their granaries will not be full. If officials who conduct affairs do not discipline themselves and lack sincerity, and if ministers and generals do not give their utmost, achievements will be difficult to accomplish. If rulers grow idle, they will leave no name for later generations.

The people of highest attainment conceal their actions, like thunder hidden within the clouds, waiting for the right moment to break forth. They act in accord with the times and establish achievements by working with the conditions at hand. They advance and withdraw with ease, and nothing is beyond their reach.

The Commentary on the Meaning of the Continuation explains: “Striving to learn when in difficulty, exerting oneself in practice, and ultimately accomplishing great things are, in essence, one and the same. Was Nan Rongchu not someone who gained understanding through study and achieved results through practice? Ashamed that he had failed to grasp the sages’ Dao, he went to study under Gengsang Chu. Later, he traveled south to visit Laozi and heard the principles of nourishing life—the way of cultivating body and mind and preserving life. Through this, his wisdom came to encompass the world, and his name was handed down to later generations. This shows that a reputation can be built through effort and achievements can be accomplished through effort. The sages conceal their actions, act in accord with the times, and establish achievements by working with the conditions at hand. How, then, could they find it difficult to advance or withdraw?”

The Perfected Person (one whose cultivation of virtue has reached the highest level) is inwardly pure and sincere, and outwardly reveals virtue; the blessings of their De extend in every direction. When they see something that benefits the realm, they rejoice, yet do not forget the people. When they see something that harms the realm, they grieve and fear as though they had lost something.

They grieve over the people’s troubles, and the people grieve over their troubles in turn. They take joy in the people’s happiness, and the people take joy in theirs. There has never been anyone who, by taking the troubles of all under Heaven as their own and sharing in the joy of all under Heaven, failed to establish a kingly enterprise.

The Sage’s way of governing begins in concealment and ends beyond anyone’s reach. It rests on a position that is firm and secure, and builds up inexhaustible stores and treasuries. Its ordinances flow forth like water from an unceasing source, placing the people in an environment free from strife and opening for them paths by which their wishes can surely be fulfilled. It does not undertake what cannot be accomplished or seek what cannot be obtained. It does not occupy a position that cannot be sustained over time or put into practice a course of action that cannot be repeated.

The Great Person (one of high virtue and standing) carries out reasonable policies that inspire confidence, and the people all follow their commands. When ordinances accord with the people’s wishes, people can gradually achieve great things, starting from small ones. When ordinances run counter to the people’s wishes, even benevolent intentions are taken as harmful, and what was meant to succeed ends in failure.

The Zanyi explains: The Perfected Person, the Sage, and the Great Person should be distinguished from one another. The Perfected Person regards the people as they regard themselves, sharing both hardship and joy with them. When the people are happy, they are happy; when the people are troubled, they are troubled. Thus, they can always establish a kingly enterprise. The Sage’s way of governing is difficult to discern at first, yet ultimately beyond anyone’s reach; ordinances are issued like flowing water. The Great Person carries out reasonable policies and issues commands in keeping with the times. When commands accord with the people’s wishes, they obey; when commands run counter to their wishes, the people suffer.

A person of true greatness is inwardly strong and outwardly clear-sighted. Inwardly strong, they are like Heaven and Earth; outwardly clear-sighted, they are like the sun and moon. Heaven and Earth cover and sustain all things, while the sun and moon illuminate and reveal them all. A great person guides the people through the good Dao, holds fast to the roots, and does not depart from the constant Way. The people throughout the realm follow the government’s commands as grass bends before the wind.

When government is misdirected, this is reflected in the seasons and celestial signs. If spring governance is misdirected, Jupiter, the Year Star, waxes and wanes in its course and loses its regular pattern. If summer governance is misdirected, Mars, the Blazing Planet, moves in reverse. If autumn governance is misdirected, Venus, the Great White Star, appears and disappears irregularly. If winter governance is misdirected, Mercury, the Hour Star, strays from its proper course. When governance in all four seasons is misdirected, Saturn, the Chastening Star, wavers in its course; the sun and moon issue warnings, the five planets fall into disorder, and comets appear.

When spring governance is proper, grain and millet flourish. When summer governance is proper, rain falls at the right time. When autumn governance is proper, the people grow prosperous and well supplied. When winter governance is proper, the state enjoys peace and well-being.

People receive the numinous Qi of Heaven and Earth, and the heart is the dwelling place of Shen, the spirit. Great people possess greater spiritual insight than ordinary people. The moment a thought arises, whether good or evil, Heaven knows it. Thus, gains and failures in governance appear as calamities or auspicious signs, with portents corresponding to events as they unfold, without error. The Book of Documents says, “If one neglects the spirits and harms the people, August Heaven will not protect them.” How, then, can those who hold office and bear responsibility fail to act with care?

Laozi said: Before Heaven and Earth took shape, the world was deep and dark, all was chaos, and everything formed an undivided whole. Later, heavy and turbid Qi (vital energy) condensed to form the earth, while pure and subtle Qi rose to form the sky. Heaven and Earth separated, giving rise to the four seasons—spring, summer, autumn, and winter—and then to Yin-Yang. Pure Qi transformed into human beings; coarse and mixed Qi transformed into creatures such as insects. As Yin and Yang, hardness and softness, worked together, the myriad things came into being.

A person’s spirit comes from Heaven, while the bones are rooted in Earth. If the spirit returns to Heaven, its source, and the bones return to Earth, their foundation, then where am I? Therefore, sages model themselves on the Dao of Heaven and follow the ways of Earth. They are not bound by worldly conventions or led astray by others. They take Heaven as their father and Earth as their mother, take Yin-Yang as their guiding principle, and the four seasons as their measure. Heaven is clear and tranquil; Earth is settled and still. The myriad things, too, should follow this order. If they defy the natural pattern, the bones will eventually return to Earth. At that point, where could “I” be?

For this reason, sages model themselves on the Dao of Heaven and follow the ways of Earth. They are not bound by worldly conventions or led astray by others. They take Heaven as their father and Earth as their mother, take Yin-Yang as their guiding principle, and the four seasons as their measure. Heaven is clear and tranquil; Earth is settled and still. When the myriad things defy the natural pattern, they die; when they follow it, they survive.

Stillness and detachment are where the spirit (a person’s inner spirit and clarity) finds rest; emptiness is where the Dao dwells. A person’s spirit is bestowed by Heaven, and the bones are received from Earth. The Dao De Jing says: “The Dao gives birth to One; One gives birth to Two; Two gives birth to Three; Three gives birth to the myriad things.” The myriad things carry Yin on their backs and embrace Yang; the two Qi mingle and surge, thereby reaching harmony.

Laozi says: Human beings are born through the transformations of Heaven and Earth. In the first month of pregnancy, fatty tissue forms; in the second, the channels and vessels take shape; in the third, the embryo forms; in the fourth, the fetal body develops; in the fifth, the sinews form; in the sixth, the bones form; in the seventh, the body takes shape; in the eighth, it begins to move; in the ninth, it becomes restless; and in the tenth, it is born. Once the body has taken shape, the five viscera each have their own function: 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 body’s exterior is its surface, and its interior is its inner region. The head is round, symbolizing Heaven; the feet are square, symbolizing Earth.

Heaven has four seasons, Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water), nine celestial bodies, and 360 days; human beings have four limbs, five viscera, nine apertures, and 360 joints. Heaven has wind, rain, cold, and heat; human beings have giving and taking, joy and anger. The gallbladder is like clouds, the lungs like Qi, the spleen like wind, the kidneys like rain, and the liver like thunder. Human beings resemble Heaven and Earth, but the heart is their ruler. The ears and eyes symbolize the sun and moon; blood and Qi symbolize wind and rain. When the sun and moon stray from their courses, eclipses occur and their light is lost. When wind and rain come out of season, they break and damage all things and bring disaster. When the five planets stray from their courses, calamities also befall lands throughout the world.

The principles governing Heaven and Earth are vast and boundless, yet they still follow measure and cherish light and spirit. How, then, could a person’s ears and eyes remain absorbed without rest? How could the spirit roam at will without growing weary? Therefore, the sage guards the inner self and does not let external things disturb it. Blood and Qi are the essence of a person; the five viscera are where a person’s vital energies reside. If blood and Qi are focused within and not dissipated outward, the chest and abdomen become full, and desires diminish. When desires diminish, the ears and eyes become clear: hearing becomes keen and sight becomes bright. This is called discernment.

If the five viscera can accord with the mind and remain undivided, strength and resolve grow, and one’s conduct does not stray into error. The spirit is abundant, and Qi does not become scattered. Then nothing goes unheard, nothing goes unseen, and nothing one undertakes remains undone. Calamity has no way to enter, and harmful influences cannot intrude. Thus, the more one seeks, the less one often gains; the broader one’s gaze, the less one truly understands.

The apertures, such as the ears and eyes, are gateways through which the spirit enters and leaves; blood and Qi are the messengers of the five viscera. When the ears and eyes become absorbed in sounds and sights, the five viscera are thrown into turmoil, blood and Qi surge without rest, and the spirit scatters in every direction, unable to remain within. At such a time, even if calamity or good fortune as vast as a mountain were to arrive, one would not notice it. Therefore, the sage cherishes the ears and eyes and does not let them indulge excessively. The sage keeps them keen and clear, free from the lure of external things; the mind and breath remain still, and desires are reduced. Then the five viscera are at peace, the spirit remains within, and the body is not drawn along by external things. In this way, one can discern the signs of good fortune and calamity even in matters beyond the past or in events yet to come.

Thus, the farther one looks, the less one knows. This means that the spirit must not be allowed to be lured away and dissipated by external things. The confusion of the five colors disorders the eyes and dims their sight; the clamor of the five tones disorders the ears and dulls their hearing; excessive variety in the five flavors harms the mouth and tongue. Confusion in what one accepts and rejects disorders the mind and makes one’s conduct rash and unrestrained. Desires scatter a person’s Qi; attachment and aversion weary the spirit. If these are not quickly cast off, one’s resolve is depleted day by day.

People fail to enjoy the full span of their natural lives because they overindulge in nourishment and chase the pleasures of living. Only by not making the pursuit of life’s pleasures one’s aim can one preserve life for a long time. The workings of Heaven and Earth are interconnected, and all things ultimately belong to a single whole. Whoever understands the One can understand everything; whoever does not understand the One understands nothing truly. I live among all things, and I too am just one thing among them; each of the myriad things is also a thing in its own right. By what means, then, could one thing rule over another?

There is no need to chase after life with greedy striving; neither can one escape death by avoiding it. There is no need to hate something simply because it is held in low regard, nor to rejoice excessively because something is honored. Settle into the conditions proper to each thing and do not dare go to extremes. By avoiding extremes, one can attain the greatest peace and contentment.

Preserving Emptiness

Laozi said: A sage is one who follows the times and settles in the place suited to him, living in the present age and content with his work. Sorrow and joy can lead Virtue away from its proper course; likes and dislikes can become burdens on the heart; anger and delight are expressions of going against the Dao. So there is no need to pursue happiness deliberately. One should instead live at ease in accordance with one’s nature, never daring to take any desire to its extreme. By not going to extremes, one can attain the greatest ease and joy.

Laozi said: A sage is one who follows the times and settles in the place suited to him, living in the present age and content with his work. Sorrow and joy can lead Virtue away from its proper course; likes and dislikes can become burdens on the heart; anger and delight are expressions of going against the Dao. Therefore, while alive, follow the natural course of things; in death, follow the transformations of all things. In stillness, accord with Yin; in action, move with Yang Qi. The body governs the heart, while the spirit is the heart’s treasure. If the body labors without rest, its vitality will decline; if the spirit is used without restraint, Jing and Qi will be exhausted. The sage follows these principles and dares not overstep them: responding to action with Wuwei (non-action), the sage is sure to discern its underlying principle; receiving actual things with emptiness and stillness, the sage is sure to grasp their limits. The sage maintains calm contentment and the peace of emptiness and stillness until life reaches its end; keeps no one at a distance and favors no one; cultivates Virtue, harmonizes body and mind, and follows the Way of Heaven. The sage joins with the Dao and accompanies De, never rushing to seek good fortune or to invite calamity. Neither death nor life can unsettle the sage; hence the name “the utmost spirit.” One who reaches this wondrous state can obtain whatever is sought and succeed in whatever is undertaken.

Preserving Nonbeing

Laozi said: If one regards the world as insignificant, the spirit will not be burdened; if one regards all things as minute, the heart will not be confused; if one sees life and death as equal, the will will not be shaken by fear. This is called “the utmost spirit.” One who reaches this wondrous state can obtain whatever is sought and succeed in whatever is undertaken.

Laozi said: If one regards the world as insignificant, the spirit will not be burdened; if one regards all things as minute, the heart will not be confused; if one sees life and death as equal, the will will not be shaken by fear; if one follows transformation, one’s understanding will not be thrown into confusion. The Perfected Person relies on an unshakable pillar and walks a road without obstruction, drawing on a treasure that never runs dry and learning from a teacher who never perishes. Wherever the Perfected Person goes, things go smoothly; whatever is encountered, it can be understood. Whether bending or straightening, lowering the head or raising it, the Perfected Person keeps to their original nature and is not misled. Fortune and calamity, benefit and harm are all insufficient to disturb the heart.

A person devoted to righteousness can be guided through benevolence, but cannot be coerced by force of arms; can be set straight through the Way of righteousness, but cannot be lured by profit. A gentleman will die for the Way of righteousness: riches and rank cannot hold him back, and death cannot frighten him. How much more so for one who cultivates Wuwei? Such a person has no entanglements. This person regards the world as a shadow, standing as if upon a pillar and observing it from the side. The Perfected Person probes the true meaning of the Dao and De, then examines conduct in the everyday world; this is enough to make worldly conduct seem shameful. Nothing in the world can make the Perfected Person cling or become attached. This is the foundation of learning the Dao.

Preserving Equilibrium

Laozi says: High status and power, and abundant wealth, are things people covet. Yet compared with one’s own person, they matter little. So the sage eats only enough to fill the stomach and replenish vital energy, and wears only what is enough to express the meaning of De (Virtue/Power) and accord with customary rites. In observing worldly conduct, the sage often finds some practices shameful. Those who do not treat the world as private property learn their Dao (the Way) as though raising a great drum so everyone can hear it.

Guarding Evenness

Laozi says: High status and power, and abundant wealth, are things people covet. Yet compared with one’s own person, they are of little worth. So the sage eats only to fill the stomach and replenish vital energy, and wears clothes only to cover the body and ward off the cold, according to need. The sage does not covet what is surplus or accumulate it in great quantities.

The sage clears the eyes so they are not drawn by external things, quiets the ears so they are not disturbed by distracting sounds, speaks with care and avoids rash judgments, and lets the heart follow its natural course without turning things over repeatedly. The sage casts aside cleverness and returns to an unadorned nature, settles the spirit, and dispenses with excessive ingenuity. In this way there is neither favoritism nor aversion. This is called “great penetration,” a state of unobstructed understanding.

To remove defilement and escape entanglements, nothing is better than never having left the source of the Great Dao. What, then, would remain impossible to accomplish? One who knows how to preserve the harmony of life cannot be constrained by profit. One who brings the inner and outer into accord and holds fast to inner principles cannot be tempted by power. When there are no outer boundaries, one reaches the utmost expanse; when there is no inner narrowness, one reaches the highest dignity. For one who knows what is truly worthy, where could things fail to go well?

Guarding Simplicity

Laozi says: Those who cultivated the Dao in ancient times regulated their dispositions and corrected their intentions, nurturing themselves through calm and moderation. They took delight in the Dao and were not troubled by low status; they rested content in De and were not distressed by poverty. They did not force themselves to do what their nature did not wish to do, nor did they do what their hearts were unwilling to do.

Whatever does not benefit one’s nature, they did not use to damage De; whatever harms life, they did not use to disturb the harmony of body and mind. They neither indulged every impulse nor departed from proper measure, and so could serve as a model for all under Heaven. They ate according to their appetite, dressed according to their bodily needs, chose a dwelling suited to themselves, and acted in accordance with reason. They possessed all under Heaven without claiming it as their own, and let the myriad things develop naturally without seeking gain from them.

How could such people lose their nature and life because of poverty or wealth, high rank or low? Only those who can do these things may be said to have truly understood the Dao.

Guarding Purity

Laozi says: People receive their original Qi from Heaven. Their ears and eyes perceive sounds and colors; their noses and mouths perceive fragrances and odors; their skin feels cold and warmth. These natural capacities are the same in everyone. Yet some die young and others live long; some become exemplary people and others petty ones. This is because each person uses a different way to regulate and govern these natural capacities.

Spirit is the depth of wisdom. When spirit is clear, wisdom shines brightly; wisdom is the dwelling place of the heart. When wisdom is impartial, the heart is at peace. People do not use murky, flowing water to see their reflection, but clear, still water, because the water is clear and calm. Only when a person’s spirit is clear and the heart is at peace can they grasp the true state of all things. Thus, what truly makes things work often depends on a state that appears to do nothing.

Dust and grime cannot obscure a bright mirror; when spirit is clear, desires and cravings cannot lead a person to judge wrongly. When the mind focuses on one thing, spirit gathers there completely. Then, when the mind returns to emptiness and stillness, agitation fades and the breath settles into calm. This is the state of ease and freedom enjoyed by the sage. Therefore, those who govern the world must understand the true nature of life if they are to govern it well.

Preserving the True

Laozi says: When the mind focuses on one thing, spirit gathers there completely. When the mind returns to emptiness and stillness, agitation fades and the breath settles into calm. This is the state of ease and freedom enjoyed by the sage. Therefore, those who govern the world must understand the true nature of life if they are to govern it well.

Preserving the True

Laozi says: A sage simply follows their nature and keeps their feelings and aspirations in proper measure. They eat according to their appetite and dress according to their bodily needs. When they restrain their desires, greedy and corrupt thoughts have no chance to arise. Thus, those who can truly possess the world do not make “possessing the world” their aim; those who can truly enjoy a good reputation do not seek fame by going beyond the bounds of convention or putting on an affected show.

Those who truly understand the nature of life will also embody benevolence and righteousness. If their spirit is unobstructed and their heart is not burdened by external things, they remain open, clear, calm, and free of concern. Power and profit cannot entice them; sights and sounds cannot enthrall them; eloquent speakers cannot persuade them; clever people cannot sway them; and the brave cannot frighten them. This is the state of ease and freedom enjoyed by the “Perfected Person,” one who has attained the Daoist ideal.

Those who bring life into being are themselves not bound by the changes of life and death. Those who govern the transformations of all things are themselves not bound by change. Without understanding this principle, even someone who commands Heaven and Earth, sees through the sun and moon, speaks eloquently, explains complex problems, and crafts words as fine as gold and stone will still be of no help in governing the world. Therefore, the sage never loses sight of the root they hold fast to.

Preserving Stillness

Laozi says that calm, unworldly simplicity and serene stillness are ways to nurture life; a balanced, joyful disposition and an empty, tranquil mind are the foundations for conducting oneself and preserving De (Virtue/Power). When the outer world does not disturb us, the heart can accord with its nature, and everything can find its proper place. When the heart is still and does not act rashly, harmony allows De to settle in its rightful place. To nurture life in response to worldly affairs, and to preserve De in order to pass through life in peace—this may be called understanding the Dao (the Way).

Such a person’s Qi (vital energy) and blood do not become knotted or stagnant, and the five viscera—the heart, liver, spleen, lungs, and kidneys in Chinese medicine—do not accumulate harmful influences. Good fortune and calamity cannot unsettle the heart, while praise and blame cannot stain the spirit. Yet without the circumstances suited to this way of life, who could attain it? Even a person of talent, if born into the wrong times, cannot escape hardship. How much less so someone without the Dao?

Someone who can see the tip of a fine hair newly grown in autumn may not be able to see something larger. Someone who listens only for sounds as pleasing as jade and gold may fail to hear a thunderous roar. Focusing solely on the small leads one to overlook the great. Today, the myriad things arrive in profusion, drawing out and tugging at people’s lives and vital energy like an ever-flowing spring. Even if one wished to refuse these drains, how could one manage it? Leave a basin of water undisturbed for a whole day, and once it clears, it can reflect one’s eyebrows and eyelashes. If the water is muddy, even a slight stir makes it impossible to see what is round or square. The human spirit is hard to keep clear, yet easily muddied, just like the water in a basin.

Preserving the Way of Governance

Laozi says that the highest sages model themselves on the Way of Heaven; those beneath them esteem the worthy; and those at the lowest level entrust political affairs to their ministers. Depending on ministers for everything leads toward ruin; esteeming the worthy without reserve readily leads to confusion. Modeling oneself on the Way of Heaven is the principle for governing Heaven and Earth and bringing peace to the world.

Governance should be founded on emptiness and stillness: an empty, still heart can make room for all things, while an inwardly settled heart can hold them all in its care. Only by understanding the Way of emptiness and stillness can one grasp the beginning and end of things. Thus the sage governs through stillness, while rash action brings disorder. Do not disturb or intrude upon the myriad things, and they will naturally become clear; do not startle or agitate them, and each will naturally find its proper order. This is the Way of Heaven.

Laozi said: The Son of Heaven, dukes, and lords treat all under Heaven or their own states as their households, and all things as their possessions. Because they command vast lands and numerous things, they easily become full of force and arrogant in their ambitions. Great states therefore send out troops to invade and oppress small states, while small states, too, arrogantly bully those beneath them and act with extravagance and display. This is like a violent wind and driving rain: it cannot last.

So the sage governs all under Heaven by means of the Dao, holding to the root, refraining from reckless action, and not depleting the natural source of vitality. “Holding to the One” means keeping to the Dao as the root. “Balanced Qi” means Qi that is inwardly calm and unobstructed. The sage values what is subtle and holds to weakness, yielding and making no claim of possession. The sage takes the rivers and seas as a model: they do not vie for merit, yet all things naturally gather to them. They do not force things, yet can accomplish the work of kingship. The sage dwells in the low places of the world, like the female, and so can have far-reaching influence; the sage cherishes their own life and so can attain honor.

To occupy the position of ruler over ten thousand chariots and take charge of all things is to bear a very great responsibility; one cannot treat it lightly. Acting lightly makes it impossible to accomplish great deeds or earn a good name. The Dao seems vast, yet accomplishes its work through what is minute; it seems abundant, yet takes what is little as its root. Thus the sage governs all under Heaven through the Dao, remaining gentle and subtle because they can discern what is small; they are frugal and restrained, seeking no fullness, because they understand the worth of having little. Only by seeing what is subtle can one accomplish what is great; only by holding to simplicity and spareness can one bring about what is beautiful.

Heaven’s Dao restrains what is high and supports what is low; it reduces what is in excess and replenishes what is insufficient. The rivers and seas are in low places, so all things under Heaven turn toward them and sustain them. The sage is humble and still, yielding and not contending, because they are willing to dwell in a low position. They are openhearted and never self-satisfied because they know they are still lacking. Only by dwelling low can one reach high places; only by knowing one’s insufficiency can one cultivate De.

Those who boast cannot stand firm; those who live extravagantly cannot endure; those who force their strength and seek victory head toward death; those who are self-satisfied will eventually decline. A violent wind and driving rain cannot last a full day, and even a small valley cannot remain full for a moment. The wind and rain rage with force, so they cannot last and will eventually disperse. A small valley lies where it is exposed to powerful impacts, and so it cannot avoid being swept away by the current.

Therefore the sage holds to gentleness and humility, casting aside extravagance and arrogance and refusing to act through force. By holding to gentleness and humility, the sage can in turn become strong; by avoiding extravagance and arrogance, the sage can endure.

Laozi said: When the Dao of Heaven reaches its extreme, it turns back; when it is full to the extreme, it begins to diminish. The movements of the sun and moon follow this pattern. Thus, each day the sage reduces desire and keeps the heart-mind empty and still, never daring to be complacent. Each day, too, the sage gently advances in cultivation, so De does not decline. This is the result of following the Dao of Heaven.

Everyone’s nature favors what is high and dislikes what is low, favors gain and dislikes loss, favors good fortune and dislikes illness, and favors honor and dislikes low status. People act according to these likes and dislikes, and so they cannot achieve their aims. Clinging to what one seeks also makes it impossible to truly attain it. The sage, therefore, models the Dao of Heaven: without forcing action, the sage achieves; without clinging, the sage gains. The sage shares people’s feelings but follows a different path, and so can endure.

The Three Sovereigns and Five Emperors had a vessel used as a warning, called the “you zhi,” a wine vessel meant to remind people not to become complacent. When it held little water, it stood upright; when filled, it tipped over. When things flourish to their utmost, they decline. At noon, the sun begins to move west; once the moon is full, it wanes; and when joy comes to an end, sorrow often follows. Therefore, those who are wise and discerning should guard themselves with simplicity and unadornedness; those broad in learning and skilled in debate should restrain themselves through simplicity; those fierce and strong should guard themselves with reverence; those wealthy and eminent should restrain themselves with humility; and those who extend De to all under Heaven should make yielding their foundation. These five practices were how the sage kings of antiquity safeguarded the realm.

Those who follow this Dao do not seek fullness. Because they do not seek fullness, when things are depleted, there is no need to rush to replace them with something new.

Laozi also said: The sage closes with Yin and opens with Yang. One who can reach a state of impartiality can accept anything with equanimity. Those who can accept anything with equanimity can guard themselves with humility and extend De to all under Heaven through yielding. These were the ways the sage kings of antiquity safeguarded the realm. Those who follow this Dao do not seek fullness; because they do not seek fullness, when things are depleted, there is no need to rush to replace them with something new.

Laozi says that sages follow the Yin energy as it draws inward and the Yang energy as it unfolds, and so attain a state free from partiality. Free from partiality, they can meet anything with equanimity; this is the highest form of joy. This joy arises within and does not depend on pleasures from the outside to satisfy the heart. Thus they find contentment in themselves and can remain steadfast in their aspirations.

Sages are able to cherish all under Heaven because they govern in accordance with its underlying principles. The key lies not in external things but in oneself, not in other people but in one’s own person. When one cultivates oneself properly, the principles of all things are present within the heart. Those who understand the way of inner cultivation therefore set aside their preferences, desires, likes, and dislikes, and are not led by them. Nothing in particular then gives them cause for delight or anger, and nothing makes them lose themselves in pleasure or sink into sorrow. Within the Dao, all things merge in mysterious unity; one does not cling to distinctions such as this and that, right and wrong.

Thus, a person of resolve holds firmly to their convictions, and a woman keeps to her unchanging integrity. One can earn respect without relying on power, be wealthy without relying on riches, and be strong without relying on brute force. One does not covet possessions or pursue worldly fame, feel secure because of high status, or feel endangered because of low status. Body, vital energy, spirit, and will each remain in their proper place. The body is where life resides; Qi is the root of life; Shen is the force that governs life. If even one of these three loses its proper place, it suffers harm.

When Shen is given precedence, the body benefits; when bodily desires take precedence, Shen is harmed. Those who are greedy and full of desire are dazzled by power and profit, and lured by fame and status. They exhaust themselves trying to outdo others and rise above the world, and their spirit is gradually depleted. If they remain absorbed in these pursuits for a long time without turning back, the body becomes inwardly obstructed, shutting out harmonizing Qi, and life can no longer be restored with ease.

A person’s spirit, will, and breath therefore grow gradually fuller and stronger in stillness, but are gradually depleted and aged by agitation. Sages accordingly nourish Shen, keep their breath calm and yielding, and maintain the body in balance and harmony, rising and falling with the transformations of the Dao. In this way, they can accord with the transformations of all things and respond aptly to every change of circumstance.

Preserving Simplicity

Laozi says that a true person is one whose nature accords with the Dao. Though they possess things, it is as if they possess nothing; though they are genuine and full, they appear empty and still. They cultivate what is within without deliberately adorning what is outside. Their hearts are clear and pure; they follow Wuwei (non-action) and return to simplicity. Holding fast to the root and nourishing Shen, they roam freely in the source of Heaven and Earth, vast and boundless, able to accord with anything. No transformation among the many things is beyond their ability to meet.

Preserving Simplicity

Laozi said that the so-called “True Person”—one who has realized and united with the Dao—is someone whose nature accords with the Dao. Though they possess everything, they seem to possess nothing; inwardly full, they appear empty. They cultivate what is within without deliberately adorning what is outside. Understanding the original simplicity of Heaven and Earth, they do not act recklessly but return to their true nature. They hold fast to the root and nourish the spirit, roaming among the origins of all things under Heaven and Earth, wandering freely beyond the dusty world, at ease in a realm of doing nothing.

Clever schemes and calculated wisdom have no place in their minds. They perceive things without being drawn along by external influences; they witness change while holding to the root. Their attention is focused inward, allowing them to understand how fortune and misfortune are united in change. At rest, they do not know what they are meant to do; when they act, they do not decide in advance where they are going. Without learning, they know; without looking, they see; without deliberate action, they accomplish things; without governing, they discern. They respond when stirred and act when urged. They go forth only when there is no other choice, responding naturally, like light shining and a shadow following its form, and proceeding in accordance with the Dao.

Their minds are open and empty, quiet and Wuwei (non-action). They regard the myriad lives as one transformation and all differences as having a single source. They possess Jing (essence) and Qi (vital energy) without deliberately directing them; they possess Shen (spirit) and clarity without using them arbitrarily. They preserve an undivided, simple nature and abide in the subtlest realm. They sleep without dreaming, and no thoughts of wisdom arise. Their actions leave no fixed trace, and in stillness they do not cling to form. They seem to exist and yet to vanish, to live and yet to die. They pass in and out of transformation without hindrance and can even command ghosts and spirits. Such are the capacities of the spirit when it reaches the realm of the Dao.

Letting the spirit flow freely without losing its original source, and responding to all things without interruption, day and night, brings the heart into accord with the life-giving power. Thus the body may decay, while the spirit need not change with it. Responding to ten thousand changes from an unchanging ground, one’s transformations are inexhaustible. Things that change ultimately return to the formless; the unchanging root, meanwhile, endures with Heaven and Earth. The source that sustains life does not itself come into being. The life it brings forth is the result of generation and transformation. Nor does the source that brings about transformation itself transform; the transformations it brings forth are transformation itself. This is the realm in which the True Person roams, and it is the pure Dao.

The Chapter on Talismanic Sayings

Laozi said that the Dao is so high there is nothing higher, so deep there is nothing deeper. It is level like a measuring line, straight like an ink line, round like a compass, and square like a carpenter’s square. It contains Heaven and Earth, yet has no boundaries between within and without. It extends through and covers everything, meeting no obstruction. Therefore, one who has realized the Dao is neither angered nor pleased by external things. Sitting quietly, they have nothing on their mind; awake, they do not dream. When they see something, they understand its name; when something comes, they respond naturally.

“Token” originally meant a credential, something used to establish trust. “Words” are what express sincerity. The tokens of heavenly mandate, seals, golden tokens, and jade tokens spoken of in the world are all credentials used to establish trust and convey sincerity. Once a token is issued, the two sides can respond to one another in kind; hence the expression “token words.”

The Dao has no bounds; high and low, far and near all run through it. It has no form or fixed name, yet contains the true conditions and nature of things. The sage understands and follows the Dao, acting neither from personal anger nor from personal favor. The sage observes things and then names them; when events arise, the sage responds accordingly. Though the Dao is not expressed in words, it can serve as a reliable standard.

Laozi says: Those who seek to monopolize fame will inevitably stir up trouble. Once trouble begins, they abandon public-mindedness and pursue private gain, turn away from the Dao, and act recklessly. They feign goodness to win praise and pretend to be worthy in order to build their reputation. Governing in this way violates the natural order of things, and acting in this way misses the proper moment. Governance that violates the natural order draws increasing blame; actions that come at the wrong time achieve no results. Acting recklessly and demanding that things match one’s own expectations cannot make up for the responsibility one bears, even if one succeeds. If one fails, the result may be ruin.

The Zanyi explains: Fame can become a cause of mortal danger; this is what the sage warns against. Those who seek to monopolize fame will inevitably violate the Way of Heaven and abandon what is right. They forsake the public good for private gain, seeking praise and building their reputations; in doing so, they stir up trouble and harm others. Such governance does not accord with the natural order of things, and achievements cannot cover up mistakes. Failure may even bring ruin. These words are indeed true.

Laozi says: Do not become a puppet of fame, or let yourself become a storehouse of schemes, a bearer of burdens, or a master of cleverness. Hide your intentions where they cannot be seen, and act without slackening. Do not act ahead of good fortune, and do not become the beginning of calamity. Let things begin in what is unseen, and act only when action becomes necessary. To seek good fortune, first avoid calamity; to seek gain, first keep clear of harm. Thus, deliberately pursuing peace can instead cost you peace and lead to danger; deliberately pursuing order can instead undermine it and bring about disorder.

So do not insist on standing out, gleaming like polished jade, or deliberately set yourself apart, with sharp edges like a stone. Animals with beautiful markings are often skinned for them, and creatures with splendid horns are often hunted down. Sweet springs eventually run dry, and straight trees are eventually cut down. Fine, pleasing words may later become the source of faults. A mountain may be damaged because it holds beautiful jade within; the people’s troubles are often laid down long before a word is spoken.

The Commentary on the Inherited Meaning explains: Good and evil consequences follow one another like shadows. Good deeds bring good fortune, and evil deeds bring calamity. Since evil must not be done, how could one make oneself a sacrifice to fame? Deliberately seeking peace can instead cost you peace and lead to danger; deliberately seeking order can instead undermine it and bring about disorder. Beautifully patterned fur may lead to an animal being skinned; fine horns may lead to an animal being killed. Such misfortunes are often brought upon oneself.

Laozi also says: If you act in keeping with the times but do not follow the Dao (the fundamental principle governing the workings of all things), good fortune will turn into calamity. Heaven is like a canopy, and Earth like the floor of a carriage. Those skilled in using the Dao will never be brought to exhaustion or harmed. Consider the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water): each must restrain another. Beneath Heaven’s canopy, nothing escapes the corresponding patterns. Knowing what you do not know is wisdom; not knowing, yet thinking you know, is a fault.

The Commentary on the Collected Meanings of the Wenzi explains: Heaven is like a carriage canopy, covering all things without exception; Earth is like a carriage bed, bearing all things without exception. The blessings Heaven and Earth bestow on humankind are vast and boundless. The sage takes Heaven and Earth as models, acts in accord with the seasons, and always follows the natural patterns of things. The Five Phases generate and overcome one another in the same way. One who is skilled in using the Dao understands that some truths need not be spoken aloud; this is wisdom. To misunderstand the truth yet imagine oneself able to express it is a fault.

Laozi says: Metal and stone emerge from mountains, then in turn erode them; trees produce insects, which then gnaw at the trees; people bring calamities upon themselves, and these often turn back to harm them. Those who delight in stirring up trouble inevitably fall into misfortune; those who pursue profit relentlessly inevitably end in hardship. Even skilled swimmers can drown, and skilled horse riders can fall. People often bring harm upon themselves through the very things they desire.

The key to success or failure lies in whether one acts in accord with the right moment, not in competing to win. The key to governing lies in whether one follows the Dao, not in claiming to be wise. Earth rests in low places and does not contend with what is high, so it is stable and not in danger. Water flows toward low places and does not race, so it can keep moving without delay. Thus, because the sage does not cling to possession, nothing is lost; because the sage does not act recklessly, nothing fails.

The Commentary on the Collected Meanings of the Wenzi explains: Heaven and Earth, people and things, constantly make use of one another to sustain life. When this use is measured, they remain secure; when it goes too far, they are harmed. Food can nourish people, but it can also injure them. The people can support a ruler, but they can also abandon one. Those in high office make laws and establish undertakings, at first believing they are drawing on the people’s labor for their benefit; in the end, however, they often bring harm upon themselves. Understanding that success and failure depend on timing rather than contention, and that good governance depends on the Dao rather than claims of wisdom, makes it possible to avoid the harm caused by mutual exploitation.

Laozi says: A single saying can make people understand truths without end; two sayings can serve as the standard for all under Heaven; three sayings can make the feudal lords masters of their age; four sayings can bring all under Heaven into submission. By upholding integrity and trustworthiness, one grasps truths without end. With De, one becomes a leader for all under Heaven. By appointing people of virtue, the feudal lords grow powerful. By rejecting evil and caring for the people, one wins the allegiance of all under Heaven.

The Commentary on the Collected Meanings of the Wenzi explains: Few faults in speech and few regrets in one’s conduct depend on action, not words. When one grasps the Great Image—the fundamental form and principles of the Great Dao—all under Heaven will turn toward one; this depends on De, not on defensible terrain. Words can bring harmony, but they can also provoke conflict. How could one fail to be careful?

Laozi says: There are three ways people die that are not decreed by fate. When they eat without restraint and neglect their bodies, illness takes their lives. When they indulge in pleasure without limit and pursue desires without satisfaction, punishment takes their lives. When the few oppose the many, or the weak bully the strong, war takes their lives.

Everyone who lives will eventually die; no one can avoid it. But it is deeply regrettable when death does not come at the end of a natural lifespan, but instead follows illness caused by excessive desire, execution brought on by greed for profit, or death in warfare after boasting of one’s strength and picking fights. Though these causes of death differ, none is a natural end to life.

Laozi says: Give generously, and what you receive in return will be good. The deeper the resentment you incur, the greater the calamity you invite. Those who pit a few against the many, or the weak against the strong, are often killed by the people acting together.

Laozi says: Give little but expect a great return; accumulate resentment yet suppose no calamity will follow—such things have never happened. Examine how events arise, and you will understand why they lead to their outcomes.

Zanyu explains that the principle of giving and receiving is like planting melons and harvesting melons, or planting fruit trees and gathering their fruit. The same principle applies to the return of kindness and resentment.

Laozi says: Investigate Heaven’s Mandate, set the heart-mind straight, bring your likes and dislikes into order, and bring your nature into harmony; then the Way of governance will be clear. To investigate Heaven’s Mandate is to remain undeluded by fortune and misfortune. To set the heart-mind straight is not to let joy or anger stir you recklessly. To bring likes and dislikes into order is not to crave what is useless. To bring your nature into harmony is to keep desire within bounds.

When you are not deluded by fortune or misfortune, you can act and remain still in accordance with the nature of things. When you do not act recklessly out of joy or anger, rewards and punishments will be impartial. When you do not crave what is useless, desire will not damage your nature. When desire stays within bounds, you can care for life and know contentment. None of these four things needs to be sought outside or depends on anyone else; you need only look within to find them.

Zanyu explains that Heaven’s Mandate, the heart-mind, likes and dislikes, and one’s nature are interconnected. Just as the moon’s image is reflected in water, and the waxing and waning shown on the water’s surface depends on the moon’s form, whether the heart-mind is upright or crooked also affects the arrival of fortune and misfortune.

Laozi says: Do not do things that easily invite criticism, and do not resent others for pointing out your faults. Cultivate De (Virtue) worthy of praise, but do not seek people’s praise. Even if you are sure you have not brought calamity upon yourself, that cannot ensure calamity will never come. Even if you are sure you have not turned fortune away, that cannot guarantee fortune will arrive. Since calamity does not come about through your actions alone, do not grieve when you find yourself in hardship. Since good fortune does not come about through your efforts alone, do not boast when things go well. Thus, you can be content in quiet solitude, and through Wuwei (non-action), bring peace to all under Heaven.

Follow the right Way. Knowing what to trust and what you already possess, what more is there to seek? Knowing what does not belong to you, what is there to hate? Virtue is cultivated by oneself, but reputation is judged by others. So praise does not make you strive harder, and slander does not make you despondent. Live at ease and contentment while continuing to attend to affairs.

Laozi said: The Dao is to hold fast to what you already possess and not pursue what you have yet to obtain. If you pursue what you lack single-mindedly, you may lose what you already have; if you follow what is present, what you desire may come of its own accord. Governance is not yet so secure that disorder is impossible. If you still assume everything is at peace, you may fall into danger. If your conduct is not yet free of fault but you rush to seek a good name, you will surely be frustrated.

Therefore, the greatest good fortune is to suffer no calamity, and the greatest benefit is to incur no harm. At times, things may seem to increase while in fact diminishing; what seems to diminish may instead be increasing. The Dao cannot be used to entice people to pursue profit, but it can quiet the mind and spirit and help one avoid calamity. Thus, being able to avoid calamity does not mean one will always enjoy good fortune; being free of blame does not mean one will always achieve merit.

The realm of the Dao is vast and deep. It accords with the force of nature and joins with the Qi of Heaven and Earth. It does not indulge in needless thought or make plans in advance. It does not welcome what comes or see off what goes. Wherever one finds oneself, east or west, north or south, one can stand firm and keep to oneself, rooted between Heaven and Earth and constantly effective.

Amid countless twists and distortions, one does not lose one’s integrity. Moving along with all things under Heaven, one does not stray beyond the bounds of the Dao. One does not flaunt goodness or shun what is ugly. One follows the Way of Heaven, neither acting ahead of its time nor clinging to one’s own views. One accords with the patterns of nature, making no plans in advance and never acting against the moment; one moves in step with Heaven’s timing. One neither forces what is to be gained nor rejects good fortune, but follows the laws of the Way of Heaven. In this way, the heart harbors no unwarranted wish for good fortune, and no unforeseen calamity arises from outside; neither calamity nor fortune can take root.

When someone harbors harmful intent, calamity follows. The highest Virtue is for words to accord with the Dao and actions to accord with good fortune, with those above and below united in purpose and not straying onto divergent paths. If someone strays into an evil way, guide them away from it and lead them toward the right path; then the people will turn toward what is right.

Greed for gain and forgetfulness of loss are failings common to all. When desire is absent, the mind is at peace; this is called being a Perfected Person. Not every matter in the world can be forced by human effort. Hold fast to what you already possess, and what you have yet to obtain may sometimes come to you; pursue what you lack, and you may lose what you already have. Thus, a person who follows the Dao harbors no unwarranted wish for good fortune and brings no unforeseen calamity upon themselves. They accompany the Way of Heaven—how, then, could others harm them?

Laozi says: “Doing good brings encouragement, while doing wrong brings blame. Encouragement can easily foster a desire for fame; blame can easily bring trouble. Therefore, the pursuit of the Dao cannot depend on striving to win a reputation. Instead, one should withdraw and cultivate oneself. The sage does not seek a name through action or praise through cleverness. In governing, one follows nature and does not deliberately interfere. In the world, there are those who seek but do not obtain, and those who find themselves in difficulty; the Dao, however, has nowhere it cannot go. To have wisdom without acting recklessly is as effective as wisdom that is never displayed. To have ability without deliberately putting it to use is as virtuous as ability that is never displayed. To have wisdom as though one had none, and ability as though one had none: when the Way is understood, deliberate self-display fades away. A person and the Dao cannot both shine at once. If a person covets fame, they abandon the Dao; when the Dao prevails, fame comes to rest. When the Dao’s influence fades and fame flourishes, danger follows.”

The Zuan Yi explains: “Do good without seeking blessings, and blessings will come; do evil without seeking calamity, and calamity will occur. A fine reputation that endures for generations is surely gratifying. But if one prizes reputation too highly, one’s mind cannot remain focused on the Dao. Those who cultivate the Dao deeply no longer seek fame for themselves. This is the difference between the Way of Heaven and the way of human effort.”

Laozi says: “When dividing property, it is better to set the shares in advance and draw lots than to have honest people distribute it. Why? Because a person with private motives, even when trying to be fair, is less fair than someone without such motives. When guarding property, it is better to shut the door and seal it away than to have a wary person keep watch. For someone with desires, even when trying to guard it carefully, is less reliable than someone without desire. When others point out our faults, we resent them; when a mirror shows us our ugliness, we correct ourselves. If we can engage with external things without claiming them as our own or letting them burden us, we can avoid many troubles.”

The Zuan Yi explains: “Drawing lots to divide property is preferable because someone with a bias is less fair than someone without one. Shutting the door when securing property is preferable because a person with desire is less honest than one without desire. When others point out our faults, they are the ones doing the blaming, so we dislike them. But when a mirror shows us our ugliness, we value it, because it helps us see the problem. Only by encountering external things without drawing them into our private concerns can we be free of such biases; then others will have no reason to criticize us.”

Laozi says: “Those who serve others do not do so for the sake of their treasures and possessions…”

Laozi says: Those who serve others by relying on costly goods will find their goods exhausted while the desires of others remain unsatisfied. Those who form ties with others through humble words will find their words spent, while the other party may be the first to break their agreement. Therefore, the noble person does not adorn himself with outward displays of benevolence and righteousness, but cultivates virtue within. He governs the affairs of his territory well, makes full use of its land, urges the people to swear to defend it to the death, strengthens its walls, and brings those above and below into unity so that they may protect the state together. Such a person will not wage war against the innocent to seek fame, nor attack places that are difficult to take in pursuit of profit. This is the way to preserve oneself and to attain benefit.

The Zanyi explains: If you serve others by relying on costly goods, the goods will be exhausted while their desires remain unsatisfied. If you form ties through humble words, the words will be spent, and the other party may break the agreement first. Only by cultivating virtue within and bringing those above and below into unity can one protect the state and preserve the people. This is what makes the state secure.

Laozi says: The sage can restrain the desires of the heart, but ordinary people cannot. The noble person acts in accordance with vital energy, while the petty person is driven by deviant energy. When the heart accords with one’s nature, one’s conduct accords with righteousness, and one acts according to circumstances without being constrained by external things, this is vital energy. Indulging in fine foods, becoming infatuated with sights and sounds, letting joy and anger rule, and disregarding future calamities—this is deviant energy. Deviant energy and vital energy harm each other; desire and nature obstruct each other. They cannot prevail at the same time: when one rises, the other declines. Therefore, the sage reduces desire in order to accord with nature. The eyes delight in beauty, the ears in sounds, the nose in fragrances, and the mouth in flavors. These sensory preferences are all bound up with gain, loss, and desire. The ears, eyes, nose, and mouth do not know for themselves what they should seek; they are all directed by the heart. This makes clear how difficult it is to satisfy desire.

The Zanyi explains: The terms “Dao mind” and “human mind” refer to the distinction between Heavenly principle and human desire. When Heavenly principle prevails, everything one does accords with it; when human desire prevails, everything one does springs from selfish desire. This is also the distinction between the noble person and the petty person. Heavenly principle and human desire contend, and deviant energy and vital energy harm one another. Even the noble person should not indulge selfish desire—how much less should the sage?

Laozi says: Those who care for the body and cultivate their nature should regulate their sleep and daily routine, eat appropriately, bring joy and anger into balance, and arrange periods of activity and rest. In this way, their body and mind will be settled within, leaving no opening for harmful influences to enter. If you only adapt yourself to the outer world, you will damage what is within; if you indulge every emotion, you will harm the mind and spirit; if you cling to outward refinement, you will obscure your original nature.

If you do not forget, even for a moment, that you wish to appear wise, your nature will surely be constrained. If you do not forget your appearance even as you walk a hundred paces, your body will surely be burdened. Thus, when feathers and wings are too splendid, they can damage the body; when branches and leaves grow too luxuriantly, they can harm the roots. There is no way in the world to make both sides perfect and unharmed.

The Zanyi explains: To accord with the true Dao is to cultivate the spirit; to follow the human way is to care for the body. When the inner self is nurtured, outer things seem insignificant. Turning away from sights and sounds and reducing the savor of food are ways to care for the body; putting an end to distracting thoughts and preserving Jing and Qi are ways to cultivate the spirit. In caring for the body and cultivating one’s nature, how could one attend to both inner and outer life merely through one’s voice, smile, and appearance?

Laozi says: Heaven has its brightness; there is no need to fear that the people will be left in darkness. Earth produces its resources; there is no need to fear that the people will be poor. The person who has attained the Dao is steady as a hill, calm and unmoving. Travelers take him as a standard to follow. By setting himself upright, he is content, and does not bestow favors on others. Those who make use of him do not feel that they owe him gratitude. Thus he can remain settled for a long time, and neither Heaven nor Earth can take away his composure. Since he does not consider himself benevolent, he has no resentment to bear.

Those who are quick to anger are sure to incur much resentment; those who give indiscriminately are also easily deprived of what they give. Only by following the natural course of Heaven and Earth can one accord with what is right. Thus, when praise arises, slander often follows; when a good name arises, ill will may follow in its wake. Gain can become the beginning of misfortune, and good fortune can be an omen of disaster. Seek no gain, and there will be no corresponding misfortune; seek no good fortune, and there will be no corresponding disaster. Preserving body and mind is the constant Way; wealth and rank are merely things entrusted to us from outside.

The Zanyi explains: The sage sees clearly all under Heaven, yet does not leave the people in darkness. He possesses the wealth of the realm, yet does not leave the people poor. Following the natural course of Heaven and Earth, he lets the myriad things grow of themselves and gives without favoritism. Thus no one can claim a right to take from him in the name of justice. He does not bestow rewards lightly, and therefore has no need to impose harsh punishments. Only by treating wealth and rank as floating clouds can one preserve one’s original nature.

Laozi says: The sage does not wear strange or unusual clothing, nor perform bizarre or unseemly acts. His dress is unadorned and his conduct draws no attention. He is accomplished without being showy. In hardship, he is not alarmed; in a place of honor, he does not flaunt himself. He differs from others without seeming strange, and lives as others do, yet cannot be defined by a single name. This is called “Great Comprehension”—understanding the Great Dao.

The Zhuanyi says: Deliberately concealing one’s tracks and making oneself stand out are not the ways of a gentleman. Would wearing strange clothes and performing bizarre acts befit a sage? The sage is bright without dazzling, upright without harming others, and lives as ordinary people do without deliberately seeking to be different. This is called “Great Comprehension.”

Laozi says: Those who cultivate the Dao set themselves in order and await the arrangements of fate and the times. When the moment arrives, they cannot force it to stay; when it passes, they cannot chase it down and bring it back. Thus the sage neither rushes ahead to seize what is coming nor steps aside and refuses it, but simply follows the times. If the times leave them three years behind, they go along with them; if the times fall three years behind them, they do not hurry to catch up. Neither departing nor clinging, they remain at ease in their place. The Way of Heaven favors no one; it assists those who possess De.

Good fortune arrives without being deliberately sought, so one does not boast of one’s merit. Misfortune comes without being deliberately invited, so one does not regret one’s actions. The heart remains calm and even, undisturbed by external things. Even a barking dog causes no alarm, because one trusts one’s own inner nature. Free of excessive desires, those who understand the Great Dao are not confused; those who understand their allotted fate are not troubled.

When an emperor dies, his bones are buried in the outskirts, while the rites of sacrifice take place in the Bright Hall, the ceremonial hall where ancient rituals were held. This is because spirit is more precious than the body. When spirit governs the body, the body follows; when the body overpowers spirit, a person falls into difficulty. Even when exercising intelligence and ability, one must bring them back under the guidance of spirit. This is called “Great Comprehension.”

The Zhuanyi says: The Great Dao is the path followed in common by all under Heaven. The sage sets himself in order and awaits the times; when they come, he does not court them, and when they depart, he does not pursue them. He rests at the center and responds to the four directions. One who can refrain from boasting of merit or regretting one’s actions, keep the heart calm, understand the Great Dao, and recognize one’s allotted fate will always bring intelligence and ability back under the guidance of spirit.

Laozi says: The ancients settled themselves and took joy in upholding De, without feeling ashamed of low status. Thus, fame could not shake their resolve. They took joy in following the Dao and did not fret over poverty, so gain could not disturb their hearts. They were humble yet joyful, quiet yet content. If they judged matters by the length of their lives, their worry over turmoil under Heaven would be like fearing that a river might run dry, then weeping as they poured water back into it. Only those who do not worry over turmoil under Heaven, but seek merely to live at ease themselves, can be spoken with about the Great Dao.

The Zanyì explains: When the Dao is held in reverence and De is valued, people’s hearts can be won over; one must also nurture Dao and De within oneself. Then one’s resolve will not waver in poverty or low status. If you govern yourself well, there is no need to worry about the world. Why spend a life of less than a hundred years worrying excessively about affairs under heaven?

Laozi says: There are three ways to invite resentment. High rank brings envy; high office brings a ruler’s displeasure; generous emoluments bring resentment. The higher your rank, the more humble your intentions should be; the greater your office, the more cautious you should be within; the richer your emoluments, the more generously you should give. If you do these three things, resentment will not arise. Thus, the noble should take the lowly as their root, and those in high positions should take low ground as their foundation.

The Zanyì explains: If a person of high rank is arrogant in their resolve, people will surely envy them; if someone in high office is overbearing, the ruler will surely resent them; if someone receives generous emoluments but refuses to give, people will surely hold a grudge. This is why high and low contend with one another. Only by being humble and lowly, and willing to give—by remembering the lowly while in a noble position and remembering low ground while standing high—can one avoid inviting resentment.

Laozi says: Speaking is how we convey our thoughts to others; listening is how we receive the thoughts of others. If we can neither see clearly nor take in what we hear, communication between people cannot flow freely. Thus, when someone is deaf or blind, it is difficult for them to understand things and communicate without hindrance. But are darkness and deafness confined to the body? The heart, too, can suffer in this way: when it is blocked, it does not know how to connect with the world outside. This, too, is a kind of blindness and deafness.

The Dao is the root of all things; everything with form is brought forth from it. All things are close to it, and it is truly like a kinsperson to them. Every living being that eats grain and breathes the Qi of Heaven and Earth depends on it to endure; it truly bestows care like a ruler. People of wisdom learn from it; it truly awakens the heart like a teacher.

People often spend their time on things that bring no benefit, neglecting the learning that would benefit them. As a result, their understanding remains limited, yet they feel pressed for time all day long. Rather than spend time playing chess, it is better to ask questions and investigate the principles of the Dao. Without listening or asking, one is like a deaf or blind person, unable to understand things fully.

Commentary: When people receive bodily form and are born, they owe this to the loving care of their parents. They owe their longevity to the ruler’s provision of the five grains, and their understanding of the principles of the Dao to the merits of their teachers. Once grown, a person’s body becomes precious. Speech is the voice that issues from the heart: through it, we can communicate with others. Without speech, we cannot convey our thoughts or understand other people. How wondrous is the power of speech! If we do not reject just words for the sake of private opinions, or let useless things damage what is useful, this shows a deep understanding of principle. Such a person will not stand alone and helpless, and can become a leader.

Laozi says: People’s hearts are won over by De (Virtue/Power), but they do not truly submit to force. The key to De lies in putting it into practice. So, if the sage wishes to be esteemed by others, the sage first shows them respect; if the sage wishes to be honored, the sage first honors others; if the sage wishes to surpass others, the sage first overcomes the self; if the sage wishes others to be below, the sage first lowers the self. Rank and status, honor and humility—all are to be brought into balance through the Dao (the Way). The sage kings of antiquity spoke humbly to others and willingly placed themselves last in action. That is why people throughout the realm gladly chose them and never tired of them, and supported them without feeling burdened. This was because their De was abundant and their Qi (vital energy) was calm. Thus, knowing how to give is to gain; knowing how to remain behind is to take the lead. This is close to the Dao. [Editorial note: The Ming edition has “of” in place of “in.”]

Commentary: The value of ritual lies in yielding to others; the value of speech lies in humility. People throughout the realm gladly choose such a person and never tire of them, supporting them without feeling burdened, because their De is abundant and their Qi is calm. Thus, knowing how to give is to gain; knowing how to remain behind is to take the lead. This is close to the Dao. [Editorial note: The Ming edition has “of” in place of “in.”]

Commentary: Ritual values yielding, and speech values humility. These are ordinary human feelings. People can be won over by De, but they cannot be truly won over by force. The sage knows the proper measure in advancing and withdrawing, and the proper order in going first and last. That is why people throughout the realm gladly choose and support the sage.

Laozi says: When De is slight but favor is excessive, ridicule follows. When ability is poor but one holds a high position, danger follows. When one has achieved little but enjoys great wealth, disaster follows. Thus, sometimes an increase brings loss, while giving something up brings benefit. Everyone knows to pursue gain, but not that gain may bring disaster. Only the sage understands that disaster may become a benefit, and benefit may turn into disaster. When a tree bears fruit twice in one year, its roots are bound to suffer. When a household stores too much, calamity will surely come later. Excessive gain brings harm: this is a law of Heaven.

Commentary: De need not be limited, but one’s status must not exceed its proper bounds. When the water is shallow and the boat is large, the boat runs aground; when a tree is tall and its roots are shallow, it is uprooted. A person whose De is slight and whose ability is insufficient, who lacks benevolence yet occupies a high position, rarely escapes ruin. Only by understanding that benefit and disaster transform into one another, resisting excessive attachment, and knowing how to limit one’s stores can one bring duty and profit into balance. What disaster could then arise?

Laozi said: “When a young tree grows tall and broad but its roots are shallow and weak, it is easily pulled up. A person whose De is shallow and whose knowledge and abilities are limited, yet who occupies a high position with an unkind heart, is seldom spared a fall. If one sees clearly the gains and losses at stake, weighs them carefully, does not place too much importance on private gain, and does not accumulate excessive wealth—bringing duty and profit into balance—what is there to worry about?”

Laozi said: “A petty person acts only to ‘get something’; a noble person acts only to accord with what is right. Those who do good do not seek fame, yet fame follows them. They do not deliberately pursue profit, yet profit comes to them. The two seek the same things, but ultimately arrive at different ends. Thus an action that brings benefit may also bring loss. Someone whose words have no guiding principles and whose conduct follows no constant way is a petty person. Someone who sees clearly in one area and masters one skill is a person of middling ability. Only a sage can attend to all sides, possess many skills, and make good use of talented people.”

The Zanyu Yi says: People all have round heads and square feet, teeth and hair, and are therefore human; yet their endowments of temperament differ, giving rise to distinctions between the wise and the foolish. A petty person seeks only to get something, showing that ability outweighs De. A noble person seeks only what is right, showing that De outweighs ability. Those who can advance and also withdraw, and can occupy either high or low positions, are people of middling ability. Those endowed with many kinds of talent are probably sages.

Laozi said: “Life is a temporary charge; death is the final destination. When the world is at peace, use what is right to preserve yourself. When the world is in turmoil, use yourself to uphold what is right. The day of death marks the end of a lifetime’s conduct, so a noble person need only be careful about this. Life is received from Heaven, while one’s fate is determined by the age one lives in. Even if a person has ability but does not encounter the right age, that too is Heaven’s will. One may seek in accordance with the right way, but whether one obtains what one seeks depends on fate. A noble person need only be careful about this. Life is received from Heaven, and fate is determined by the age; to have ability yet be born at the wrong time is also Heaven’s will. A noble person can do good, but cannot guarantee a reward of good fortune; unwilling to do wrong, they may still be unable to escape misfortune. So when the time is right, a noble person presses forward. If what they gain accords with what is right, what is there to celebrate? When the time is wrong, they withdraw. If their withdrawal accords with proper conduct, what is there to lament? Even in poverty and low status, they have no regrets, because they have already obtained what they truly value.”

The Zanyu Yi says: People receive their charge from Heaven and are endowed with form and substance, thereby becoming human. Life is something one receives; death is somewhere one returns. The age one encounters may bring hardship or opportunity—none of this is outside the workings of fate. To have ability but fail to encounter the right age is also Heaven’s will. Therefore, when a noble person does good, a reward of good fortune is not guaranteed; when they refrain from wrongdoing, misfortune is not necessarily avoided. When the time is right, they advance with the current; when it is wrong, they go with its movement, like tumbleweed carried by the wind. What truly matters is to hold fast to what is right.

Laozi says: Within the human heart are two kinds of Qi, one harmonious and one discordant, and both arise from the heart. When the heart is calm and clear, Qi flows harmoniously; when the heart is troubled and unsettled, Qi becomes discordant. Whether the heart is calm or troubled depends on whether it accords with the Dao. Attain the Dao, and the heart is calm; lose the Dao, and the heart is troubled. When the heart is calm, people yield to one another; when it is troubled, they fight among themselves. Yielding cultivates De, while fighting invites calamity. When there is De, Qi flows harmoniously; when calamity takes root, Qi becomes discordant. Those whose Qi is harmonious are willing to restrain themselves and help others; those whose Qi is discordant harm others to satisfy themselves.

Qi can be regulated through the Dao. The Way of Heaven responds like an echo to a sound: accumulate De, and blessings will come; accumulate misfortune, and resentment will follow. Learning may be neglected when official success brings satisfaction, and filial devotion may wane when one has a wife and children. Trouble may arise just as worry is lifted, and an illness may worsen just when one thinks it is about to pass. Therefore, if one remains cautious from beginning to end, things will not go awry.

The Zanyi commentary explains: The Yinfu Jing says, “The Five Thieves are in the heart; their action is in Heaven.” This means that the many desires within the heart affect a person’s conduct and the circumstances in which they find themselves. When Qi is harmonious, things are orderly; when it is discordant, things become confused. Order brings mutual yielding, while confusion gives rise to fighting. Qi discordant within the heart harms the self; Qi discordant with the times endangers the state. Only by regulating Qi through the Dao can one restrain oneself and help others. Then even success in office cannot cause one to neglect one’s studies, and even having a wife and children cannot diminish filial devotion. The troubles that arise when worry is relieved, and the relapse that comes just as illness is about to pass, will then have no chance to occur. Remain cautious at all times, and there will be no mistakes.

Laozi says: If upright people are promoted and crooked people appointed, how could there be no drawbacks? If crooked people are promoted and upright people appointed, this practice too should not be allowed to continue. The phrase “soiled by the same filth, yet sunk in the mud to different degrees” means that although people are stained by the same impurity, the extent to which they sink into the mire differs.

The Zhuanyi explains: “‘Promoting the crooked and setting aside the straight’ means placing upright people above crooked ones. But here, ‘promoting the crooked and bringing them together with the straight’ means raising up crooked people so that they will attach themselves to the noble. What is wrong with that? If, instead, the noble are pushed into the company of petty people, they will not go. The noble can live alongside petty people without being tainted by them. They can be in harmony with others without following the crowd.”

Laozi says: The sage and the fool alike face life and death. The sage can do so because he understands how things are divided and what principles govern them. The fool does so as well, but does not know where benefit and harm truly lie. The Dao hangs high in Heaven, while the myriad things are spread across Earth. Harmonious Qi exists in everyone’s heart. If a ruler cannot preserve harmony within himself, the Qi of Heaven cannot descend, and the Qi of Earth cannot rise. Yin and Yang fall out of balance, and wind and rain no longer come in season. The people then suffer widespread illness, hunger, and cold.

The Zhuanyi explains: The influence of harmonious Qi is of the utmost importance. When Heaven receives harmony, the sun, moon, stars, and other celestial signs become clear and bright; when Earth receives harmony, the myriad things can grow; when people receive harmony, all kinds of affairs can be carried out. How could a ruler’s heart lose its harmony? Once harmony is lost, the Qi of Heaven and Earth cannot mingle, and the people suffer disease and famine. The sage and the fool face life and death in the same way; the difference lies in whether they understand the relationship between righteousness and benefit. When benefit accords with righteousness, it can itself be righteous. The sage understands how things are divided, and therefore also understands benefits that accord with the Way. The fool does not know where benefit and harm lie, and sees righteousness as something concerned only with benefit.

Laozi says: Gaining ten thousand soldiers is not as good as hearing one apt word. Gaining the Marquis of Sui’s pearl, a legendary treasure, is not as good as understanding the root of a matter. Gaining the jade of Bian He, a famed precious stone, is not as good as knowing how a matter should be handled. Though the world is vast, a state that delights in warfare will eventually perish. Even if a state is temporarily at peace, a fondness for war will bring it into danger. Thus, in a small state with few people, even when there are various kinds of implements, they are not readily put to use.

The Zhuanyi explains: Yu accepted beneficial counsel, drew back his troops, and the Miao people submitted. This shows that one apt word is worth more than ten thousand soldiers. Gaining the Marquis of Sui’s pearl or Bian He’s jade is no match for understanding the root of a matter and how best to handle it. That is why the sage values the Dao rather than treasures and honors De rather than military achievements. How could he rely on warfare and thereby bring himself into danger?

Laozi says: Those who achieve hegemony or kingship are always people whose virtue surpasses that of others.

Laozi says: Those who can establish themselves as overlords must surpass others in virtue. Those who can defeat their enemies must be strong. Those who can become strong must know how to draw on the strength of the people. Those who can draw on the people’s strength must win their hearts. And those who can win their hearts must first cultivate themselves. Those who cultivate themselves must be humble and yielding. One can defeat an opponent who is weaker; when the opponent becomes one’s equal, the two sides can only hold each other in check. To overcome an equal through softness and weakness is beyond measure. Thus, only a sage can ultimately achieve a great victory by relying on a situation in which the people have not yet prevailed.

Du Daojian explains: Surpassing others in virtue makes one an overlord, because it means winning the people’s hearts. Defeating enemies depends on strength, and strength comes from the people. But without winning their hearts, one cannot call on their strength; without that, there can be no defeating enemies, growing powerful, or becoming an overlord. True virtue comes from cultivating oneself. Once cultivation is achieved, the soft and weak can overcome the hard and strong. When one’s opponent is weaker, one can win; as the opponent gradually becomes one’s equal, the two sides hold each other in check. To overcome an equal through softness shows that one’s virtue surpasses the opponent’s, and such a situation is hard to fathom. Therefore, only a sage can rely on a situation in which the people have not yet prevailed and ultimately achieve a great victory.

Wenzi asked, “Laozi, my learning is not precise, and I have not listened deeply to the principles of the Dao. Do people listen to these principles to increase their wisdom, put them into practice, or gain fame and status? If learning is not precise, understanding unclear, and insight shallow, one cannot grasp how things work. Thus, the highest kind of learning takes things in through the spirit; the middle kind takes them in through the mind; the lowest kind merely listens with the ears. What is heard only with the ears remains at the skin. What is understood with the mind sinks into the muscles. Only what is grasped through the spirit reaches the marrow. If one listens without depth, one’s understanding will be unclear; if one’s understanding is unclear, one cannot grasp the essentials; and without grasping the essentials, it is hard to succeed in action.

“The essentials of listening to the Dao are to keep the mind open and still, gather in the breath, and prevent the mind and Qi from becoming agitated and excessive. Do not indulge in idle thoughts or worry. Do not let the eyes wander or the ears listen indiscriminately. Focus, make steady progress, and accumulate without pause, so that the inner self becomes full. Once you have understood, hold firmly to what you have learned and practice it over the long term.

“When the Dao gives rise to things, they are always weak at first and become strong later; at first they are few and small, and only later become numerous and enduring. A tree ten armspans around begins as a tiny sapling; a terrace a hundred fathoms high is built on low foundations. This is the pattern of Heaven. The sage follows Heaven’s way: by dwelling low, the sage makes the self humble; by staying behind others, the sage comes to the front; by practicing frugality, the sage builds reserves; by reducing what the self has, the sage gradually becomes full. Those of low status can thereby earn people’s respect; those who yield can thereby move ahead; those who are frugal can thereby become prosperous; those who reduce can thereby grow strong. These are all things accomplished by Heaven’s way.

“The Dao is the root of De, the source of Heaven, and the gate to good fortune. All things depend on it to grow, come to completion, and find stability. The Dao acts through Wuwei (non-action) and has no form. Inwardly, it can cultivate oneself; outwardly, it can govern others. When one’s work is accomplished and matters are settled, one is in accord with Heaven’s way. The Dao acts through non-action, yet nothing is left unaccomplished. People find it hard to see its appearance or fathom its reality, yet it contains sincerity.

“When the Son of Heaven follows the Dao, all under Heaven will submit, and the state will remain stable for a long time. When a duke or marquis follows the Dao, the people will live in harmony, and the state will not be lost. When scholars and commoners follow the Dao, they can preserve themselves and protect their families. The strong who follow the Dao can win without fighting; the weak who follow it can obtain what they need without contending. When affairs are conducted in accord with the Dao, achievements and blessings follow. When ruler and ministers follow the Dao, they are loyal and generous; when fathers and sons follow it, they are loving and filial; when scholars and commoners follow it, they care for one another. Thus, where there is the Dao, there is harmony; where there is no Dao, there is harshness. This shows that the Dao applies to everyone.

“When you follow the Dao, small efforts bring small blessings, and great efforts bring great blessings. Put the Dao fully into practice, and all under Heaven will submit. When all under Heaven submits, people draw near and give their allegiance. The title of Emperor belongs to the one toward whom all under Heaven turn; the title of King belongs to the one to whom all under Heaven come and submit. One cannot be called Emperor or King if all under Heaven neither turn toward nor submit to one. Therefore, if emperors and kings fail to win the people’s hearts, they cannot accomplish their undertakings; even if they win the people’s hearts, they cannot hold on to all under Heaven for long if they turn away from the Dao.

“Those who turn away from the Dao become extravagant and unrestrained, arrogant and lazy, proud and self-satisfied. They show themselves off and think themselves wise; they stubbornly impose their will, seek conflict, and act with force. They create calamities and enmities, becoming instigators of war and the source of disorder. When petty people behave this way, they bring great disaster upon themselves; when those in high positions behave this way, they bring down the state. The harm may fall lightly on the person, or more severely extend to their descendants. No wrongdoing is greater than turning away from the Dao, and no resentment runs deeper than the absence of De. This is the inevitable course of Heaven.”

Laozi says that those who practice the Dao can withstand a fierce person’s thrust with a blade, so that it cannot pierce them; even a skilled attacker cannot land a blow. Yet even then, they may still suffer humiliation. Better is to make fierce people afraid to stab, and skilled attackers afraid to strike. But fear does not mean they have no wish in their hearts to cause harm. Better still is to make people have no such wish at all. To do this, one must free people’s hearts of the desire to gain advantage by harming others. More broadly, if everyone in the world—men and women alike—could gladly wish to care for one another and bring one another benefit, then even without land on which to rule or an official post from which to command, all would willingly let him live in comfort and prosper, and would support him.