《通玄真经》Vol. 2

Volume Six: Shangde (Superior De)

Laozi said: The ruler is the heart of the state. When the heart is settled, the limbs and joints are all at ease; when the heart is in turmoil, the limbs and joints fall into disorder as well. Thus, when the body is well governed, the limbs work together in harmony, and when the state is well governed, ruler and ministers each fulfill their duties without suspicion or mutual restraint.

Laozi once learned from Changchong. Seeing Changchong display his tongue, he grasped the principle of guarding softness. Looking up at the eaves and trees, then stepping back to observe rivers and their reflections, he came to understand that in all things one should remain behind and hold to humility. Therefore the sage does not rely on momentary force to contend for precedence, but often stays in the rear and does not rush ahead. This is like stacking firewood to make a fire: the logs placed on last end up on top.

Laozi said: Bells and chimes reveal themselves through their sound, and for this reason they may be broken; oil and candles illuminate others through their light, and for this reason they consume themselves. Tigers and leopards attract hunters because of their striped markings, and monkeys are caught because of their agility. Thus, those who rely on bravado and force may perish through their own strength, and those skilled in debate may fall into difficulty through their cleverness. What can be known through wisdom should be known through wisdom; what cannot be known through wisdom should be acknowledged as unknown. If one excels in only a single skill and masters only a single doctrine, one can respond only to limited matters and cannot meet every circumstance broadly.

Laozi says: the Dao takes wuwei (non-action) as its essence. It has no visible form and no audible sound, and this state is called youming (deep and subtle obscurity). Youming is only a manner of speaking about the Dao and is not the Dao itself. To truly realize the Dao, one must turn inward to observe and examine oneself. Therefore, one should not cling to trivial details or fall into great confusion, nor should one show off petty cleverness or become ignorant and foolish.

A mirror is not as clear as flowing water, and flowing water does not reflect things as well as still water. This is because still water stays level and does not ripple outward. When the moon is full, the sunlight wanes, for yin cannot bear the force of yang. When the sun rises, the stars can still be seen, but they cannot compete with the sun's brilliance. Minor branches must not overpower the root, and twigs must not grow thicker than the trunk. When the top is heavy and the base is weak, the tree easily topples.

A deep pool cannot hold two dragons, and a female cannot have two males. With only one, order is secure; with two, strife follows. Jade hidden in the mountains makes the surrounding plants lush, and pearls born in the depths keep the shore from withering. The earthworm has no strong sinews and no sharp claws, yet it can eat the soil above and drink the water below, because it is single-minded.

Clarity makes things distinct: when a cup of water is clear, one can see the reflection of one's own eyes. Turbidity obstructs observation: when a river is muddy, even Mount Tai cannot be seen. Orchids and angelica do not lose their fragrance for lack of someone to wear them, and a boat does not sink for lack of passengers. The gentleman who practices the Great Dao does not resent going unrecognized, because this is simply the natural course of his nature.

A person of purity who enters a defiled environment will surely be trapped and humiliated, and a defiled person who enters a pure environment will surely be overturned. When the two qi of heaven meet, a rainbow forms; when the two qi of earth meet, things are hidden and scattered; when the two qi of humanity collide, illness arises. Yin-Yang cannot remain in one fixed state forever. The sun has the difference between winter and summer, the moon has no daylight, and the sun has no night.

Broad rivers allow fish to grow large, and lofty mountains allow trees to grow tall. Vast land allows De (Virtue) to be deep. Therefore, one cannot fish without bait, and one cannot summon wild beasts while carrying an empty vessel.

In the mountains, where fierce beasts live, people do not cut down the timber, and in gardens, where poisonous insects lurk, people do not pick the mallow and bean leaves. When a state has worthy ministers, enemies can be held off a thousand li away. One who understands the Dao (Way) is like a wheel turning on its axle. The wheel does not drive the cart itself, yet it carries the vehicle a thousand li, turning round and round without end.

Therefore, appointing crooked men to assist the upright will never succeed, however it is done. But when upright men are appointed to correct the crooked, they must not be allowed to give up halfway. When birds are about to come, one sets out a net and waits. What catches a bird is the mesh, and a net woven from a single opening would never catch one. For this reason, affairs cannot always be arranged in advance by the methods of the past, and things cannot always be foreseen. The sage nourishes his De (Virtue) and waits for the right moment.

To draw fish, one first clears the waterways. To draw birds, one first plants trees. When the water is deep, the fish gather of their own accord, and when the trees are lush, the birds come to roost. Catching fish does not mean hauling them into the depths, and obtaining apes does not mean carrying them up a tree. One simply follows what suits their natural environment. The places a foot can tread are few, yet one must learn the ground not yet walked before advancing. The mind may already hold much knowledge, yet one must come to recognize what it does not yet know before truly understanding.

When rivers run dry, the valleys grow hollow, and when hills are leveled, the deep pools silt up. Lose the lips, and the teeth grow cold. A deep river has its source in high mountains. When water is still, it becomes clear. Clear water reflects evenly, and an even surface makes shapes easy to discern. Because different shapes cannot be mixed together, water can serve as a standard by which things are measured.

Fallen leaves are the result of the wind stirring them, and murky water is the result of something disturbing it. Jade discs and other vessels are shaped through patient grinding, and the Moye sword can cut through anything only through the work of the whetstone. A fine steed can run a thousand li in a day but cannot fly, and one who has no provisions set aside will go hungry. When the cunning hares are all caught, the hunting hounds are boiled in the pot. When the high-flying birds are all shot, the good bow is put away. Withdrawing once merit is achieved and fame secured is the regular pattern of the Way of Heaven.

Anger can arise from non-anger, and activity can manifest from Wuwei (non-action). One must look where there is no form in order to see, and listen where there is no sound in order to hear.

When the flying birds have all been caught, the hunter may be cooked in the pot; when the high-flying birds have all been shot, the fine bow is put away. Once merit is achieved and fame secured, one should withdraw, for this is the regularity of the Dao of Heaven (Tiandao).

Anger should arise from not becoming angry, and action should be realized through not acting rashly. By attending with the mind to what cannot be seen, one can perceive it; by quieting the mind to listen where there is no sound, one can hear it.

Birds return to their homeland, hares scurry back to their burrows, and foxes die with their heads turned toward the hill where they were born. Cicadas cling to trees. Each clings to the place where it grew up.

Water and fire overcome one another, yet the cauldron (ding) can harmonize them and cook the Five Flavors. Close kin such as bone and flesh love one another, yet if slander is introduced between them, father and son will suspect each other and fall into peril. Pigs and dogs eat without discrimination, so their bodies grow fat, and for this very reason they draw near to death. The phoenix soars to great heights, and no one can bring it down.

Even if one presses a hard object down upon oneself, it cannot thereby injure oneself, and the eye can see a hundred paces ahead yet cannot see its own outer corner. Building a mountain by following the high ground makes it stable and hard to topple; digging a pool along the low ground makes its waters deep and broad, so that fish and turtles gather of their own accord. Ditches overflow when flooded and dry up in drought, but the sources of rivers and seas are distant and deep, so their flow never runs dry.

The turtle has no ears, yet its eyes are not easily obscured, because it concentrates on sight. The blind have no eyes, yet their ears are not easily obscured, because they concentrate on hearing. Can murky water not be used to wash one's feet? Can clear, cool water not be used to wash one's hat-strings?

White silk may sometimes be made into a cap and sometimes into something else. Made into a cap, it is worn on the head, while the cuttings are trodden underfoot. Metal's power surpasses wood's, yet a single blade cannot fell an entire forest. Earth controls water, yet a single handful of earth cannot dam a river. Water overcomes fire, yet a single ladleful of water cannot extinguish a cartload of firewood.

Thunder may sound in winter and hail may fall in summer, yet cold and heat each still have their proper seasons. Thick frost and snow melt once the sun comes out. What leans easily tips over, what leans on something easily topples, what is shaken is easily swayed by outside forces, and damp places readily bring rain. Orchid and angelica, though fragrant, cannot withstand frost. A toad smeared on a weapon has a life that lasts only until the fifteenth day of the fifth month. A person whose essence (Jing) and vital energy (Qi) leak away is prone to harm partway through life, and flowers that bloom out of season should not be eaten.

Which wears down first, the tongue or the teeth? Of a rope and an arrow shaft, which becomes straight first? A shadow bends because the object casting it is bent; an echo is muddy because the sound that produced it is unclear. To share the same illness as a dying man makes it hard to be his good physician, and to walk the same road as a country about to perish leaves one unable to offer it loyal counsel.

If one has a musician blow the sheng reed-pipe, or a craftsman tune by the holes, the result may keep to the beat and still be discarded at any moment. If the ruler's fundamental form has already perished, even the finest skill is of no avail. The deaf cannot sing to amuse themselves, and the blind cannot look at outside things and engage with them. A person walking through a forest cannot keep to a straight path, and walking on dangerous ground, one cannot advance as steadily as one could along a rope. The world is vast precisely because it embraces all things, and so it can be broad.

The sun does not appear twice at once, a fox does not have two male heads, a divine dragon does not come in pairs, fierce beasts do not herd, and birds of prey do not go in twos. A carriage canopy without ribs cannot shade against the sun, and a wheel without spokes cannot turn swiftly. Yet ribs and wheels alone are not enough to accomplish anything. A bow can shoot arrows, but without a string it cannot release them, and the actual completion of a single shot is only a small part of the whole.

A hungry horse waits in its stable, quiet and still at first. Place fodder beside it, and its desire to compete arises. A tube three inches long and open at both ends can never be filled with all the water under heaven. If the tube is ten shi long (a unit of volume) and closed at one end, a hundred bamboo tubes would be enough.

Cut along the ink line, and the timber will not stray. Hang the balance beam to weigh, and the weight will not be wrong. Reasoning by analogy from ancient standards may sometimes succeed, and governing by means such as flogging or obstruction also has its occasions. If one does not distinguish circumstances and applies all of it uniformly, confusion will result. The farmer toils and the gentleman enjoys the harvest; the fool offers opinions and the wise make the choices. What is clearly seen should be handled with care, as one distinguishes jade from stone. What is not clearly seen should be set aside for the time being in deliberation.

The light of a hundred stars cannot match a single bright moon, and all ten windows thrown open cannot shine as brightly as the light entering through one door. A viper cannot be given feet, and a tiger cannot be given wings. Now suppose there is a six-foot-wide obstacle. Lying down, one can cross it, and this is not difficult even for a person of lesser ability. Crossing it standing up, even a person of great ability may find it hard. This is because the posture and the circumstances are different.

Those who act on behalf of a sacrificer may themselves taste the offerings, and those who mediate a quarrel may themselves be wounded. Sheltering beneath an unlucky tree invites being struck by lightning.

The sun and moon long to illuminate the sky, yet thick clouds cover them. The river longs to be clear, yet sand and silt foul it. The orchid longs to grow lush, yet autumn winds break it. Human nature longs to remain calm, yet fondness and desire harm it. To have one's body covered in dust and still hope that one's eyes will not be clouded is impossible.

A seal with a golden tortoise knob is regarded by the wise as an ornament, while the earth spreads across the whole world, and the capable can grow rich from it. Therefore, giving gold and jade to the weak is not as good as giving them a bolt of white silk (chi su, a white silk fabric about one chi in length).

The hub of a wheel is hollow, and thirty spokes converge upon it, each performing its own function. If only one spoke were joined to the hub while the rest were discarded, how could the wheel carry the cart toward distant places? Orange and pomelo trees each thrive in their own suitable places, and reeds grow in clusters. Animals with the same kind of feet travel together, and birds with the same kind of wings fly together.

One who wishes to survey the land of the Nine Provinces but has never walked a thousand li, or who does not understand the root of governance and moral transformation yet wishes to lead the myriad people, will find this very difficult to achieve. The fierce and ostentatious easily meet misfortune, while the humble and yielding are, on the contrary, easily attacked. Thus the purest white appears to be stained, and one of great virtue appears to be lacking.

The gentleman has wine, yet the petty man beats a clay basin (fou, a pottery percussion instrument). Though this is not worthy of praise, it may still be seen as a laughable contrast. Human nature delights in soft silk and cotton garments, yet at times, to meet necessity, one must don an ill-fitting suit of armor. The thirty spokes gather together at the hub, each aligned with its own hole and none pressing into another, much as ministers each keep to their proper duties. One who is skilled at employing people is like the many feet of [a creature whose name is missing from the source text]: though numerous, they do not obstruct one another. Likewise, the tongue and teeth touch one another, one soft and one hard, yet neither destroys the other.

Stone is hard by nature, and the fragrant herb (zhi, a sweet-scented plant) is fragrant by nature. Such qualities, present in youth, become more pronounced with age. Assisting and lifting up, declining and yielding, gaining and losing, assenting and ceasing: the differences among these courses of action may be vast. What has already sprouted again cannot be harvested, and a flower that blooms too early will wither before the frost arrives.

Corrupting the standard, daubing one's forehead, placing a rotting rat on the steps and burning incense to fumigate the hall: leaping into water only soaks you more thoroughly, and harboring a stench while hoping for fragrance is beyond even the most skillful person. Ice in winter can be chiseled open, and trees in summer can be climbed; opportunities are rare and vanish in an instant. When trees are flourishing, they will regrow even if cut all day, but when the autumn winds rise and the frost falls, they wither overnight.

Once the target is set up, arrows converge upon it; once the forest grows dense, axes cut into it. No one invites this deliberately; it arises naturally from the situation. A whelp dares to bite a tiger, and a brooding hen dares to pounce on a wildcat, because they are spurred by affection and forget their own strength. Those who approach danger in pursuit of gain will surely be harmed by it. A boat can float, yet it can also sink, but the foolish do not know when to stop. A fine horse that refuses to advance when urged and will not stop when led cannot be used by its lord to travel.

Though the surface of the water appears calm, waves are still hard to avoid; though a steelyard's beam looks true, it may still be off; though a ruler looks even, it may still contain error. Without compasses and carpenter's squares, one cannot determine squares and circles; without the plumb line, one cannot straighten the crooked. Those who use the compass and the square must also carry within themselves the principle of following them.

Though Mount Tai is lofty, doubling its height would hardly be perceptible, yet the tip of an autumn hair is so fine that it can be seen clearly. Fire lies within bamboo and wood, but it cannot appear unless one drills and kindles it; water lies within the earth, but it will not well up unless one digs. An arrow may fly swiftly, yet it travels no more than two li; but a lame turtle, so long as it keeps advancing step by step without pause, can reach a thousand li. By piling up earth without ceasing, even hills and high mountains can be built. Standing by the river wishing to catch fish is not as good as going home to weave a net. A bow must first be tuned before one can seek its strength; a horse must first be broken in before one can seek its excellence; a person must first be trustworthy before one can seek their ability.

Even the most skilled smelter cannot melt wood, and the finest carpenter cannot carve ice. Every thing has what it cannot do; how can the gentleman fail to examine this carefully? One can keep a person from crossing the river, but one cannot keep the river from rippling. Without the moon, blame has nowhere to fall; with a steaming pot at hand, one will not in the end tumble into the well. Those who attack me then demand that I have ability.

Even the most skilled smelter cannot melt wood, and the finest carpenter cannot carve ice. Every thing has what it cannot do; how can the gentleman fail to examine this carefully?

Men can be kept from crossing a river, but the river cannot be kept from rippling. Without the moon, what was never guilty is not blamed for it, and a zeng (an ancient cooking vessel) will never fall into a well. Those who criticize my travels wish to make friends with me; those who mock my possessions wish to trade with me. One game of chess is not enough to reveal a person's skill, and plucking a single string is not enough to express sorrow.

Now a live coal is here: pick it up and it will scald you, but draw near and ten thousand stones will be blackened by its smoke, while stand ten paces away and it still burns you. They share the same Qi (vital energy), yet the way they gather differs. Where there is glory and wealth, sorrow and hardship necessarily follow; where there is fine silk above, coarse hemp must lie below. Trees grow tall, and their roots must bend; mountains rise high, and their foothills are broad and firm.

Laozi says: Within a drum there is a drumming sound, which is why it produces a note when struck. A mirror does not obscure the shapes of things, which is why it can reflect images. Metal and stone can ring, but they stay silent unless struck. Pipes and flutes can make music, but they are silent unless played. For this reason, the sage keeps their inner cultivation hidden in the heart and does not court external things. When affairs arrive, they deal with them according to their principles, and when external things appear, they respond appropriately.

The movements of the heavenly bodies never cease. They return in cycles, which is why they endure. A wheel turns without pause, which is why it can travel far. The Dao of Heaven operates constantly and without error, and so it never strays from its proper course. Heavenly Qi (vital energy) descends and earthly Qi rises, and Yin-Yang interact, so that the myriad things can grow together. When the gentleman is entrusted with office and the petty person loses power, this is the principle by which Heaven and earth operate. If heavenly Qi did not descend and earthly Qi did not rise, Yin and Yang could not connect, and the myriad things could not flourish. When petty people hold power and gentlemen lose it, the five grains cannot be planted and De (Virtue/Power) is buried. This too is the principle by which Heaven and earth operate.

The Dao of Heaven diminishes what is overfull and augments what is deficient. The Dao of Earth lowers what is high and fills what is low. The Dao of ghosts and spirits brings setbacks to the self-satisfied and benefit to the humble. The ordinary inclination of people, however, is to be unwilling to share profit with those who already hold much. The Dao of the sage lies in dwelling in humility, and for this reason no one can rise above them.

When Heaven is bright and the sun is bright, they illuminate the four quarters. When the ruler is clear-sighted and the ministers are clear-sighted, the state can be settled. Only when all four of these kinds of clarity are present can the state endure. To understand how illumination is practiced is to understand the function of moral teaching.

The Dao of Heaven is the standard of the myriad things, and the Dao of Earth is their pattern and order. Joining them in harmony through the One (the fundamental force that unifies and harmonizes the myriad things), and advancing them through the succession of the seasons so that they are fulfilled, is what is called Dao. The Great Dao is level and open and not far from people. When it is cultivated within oneself, De becomes genuine, and when it is practiced upon external things, De does not come to an end.

Heaven covers the myriad things, bestows its grace and nourishes them, gives them vitality, and yet does not govern them. Joining the myriad things in harmony through the One, and advancing them through the succession of the seasons so that they are fulfilled, is what is called Dao. The Great Dao is level and open and not far from people. When it is cultivated within oneself, De becomes genuine, and when it is practiced upon external things, De does not come to an end.

Heaven covers all things and nourishes them with its bounty. It gives without asking in return, so the spirits of all things turn toward Heaven. To give without taking is the highest kind of virtue, and this is why Heaven has De (dé, Virtue). Nothing is higher than Heaven, and nothing is lower than the marsh and the earth. Because Heaven is high and the marsh and earth are low, the sage imitates this ordering of high and low, so that each rank of noble and humble keeps its proper sequence, and the world is settled.

The earth bears all things and enables them to grow, yet it also takes something from them, so the bones of all things finally return to the earth. To give and also to take is a lower grade of virtue. The line "The lower De does not lose its De, and therefore has no De" means that a person at the level of lower De, even though they have not lost their virtue, still cannot be called truly virtuous. The earth receives the breath of Heaven and so is steady, and once the earth is steady, all things can take form. The earth is vast and deep, so all things can gather upon it. It is stable and able to carry everything, and broad enough to embrace everything. Where the land is deep, springs gather in it, and because the earth is wide, it endures for a long time. The sage imitates the earth, and so the sage's De can embrace all things.

When Yin Qi (yīn qì, the receptive, dark breath) overcomes Yang Qi (yáng qì, the active, bright breath), all things flourish. When Yang Qi overwhelms Yin Qi, all things stagnate. When all things flourish, none goes without nourishment. When all things are settled, none fails to find joy. When all things rejoice, there is no realm of the world that cannot be well governed. Yin Qi overcoming Yang Qi, and all things flourishing, is like springs gathering and the earth being broad, and so the Way endures. The sage imitates the earth, and the sage's De holds nothing outside its embrace.

When Yin Qi harms the myriad things, Yang Qi withdraws of its own accord. When Yin rises and Yang recedes, petty people gain power and the noble person avoids disaster. This is the regular movement of the Dao of Heaven. When Yang Qi is set in motion, all things unfold in gentleness and each finds its place. For this reason the sage follows the pattern of Yang. To accord with things is to have things accord with you, and to oppose things is to have things turn against you. Acting in this way, one does not violate the natural character of things.

Low marshes hold abundant water, so that the myriad things can grow and ripen in their seasons. When the marshes dry up, the things cannot receive nourishment at the right time. Therefore, when rain and marsh water no longer spread through the land, the world falls into ruin and decay.

Yang Qi rises above and then falls back, and for this reason it can govern all things. It does not remain forever in one place, so it can end and then begin again. Cycling without cease is how it endures, and because it endures, it becomes the root of the myriad things under Heaven. Yang that has accumulated can still be released, and Yin that has gathered can still give birth to new things. Without accumulation there can be no generation, and so the sage is careful with what has been stored up.

When Yang grows and Yin recedes, the myriad things thrive and flourish. When Yin grows and Yang recedes, the myriad things wither. Therefore, when dukes and lords honor the way of Yang, the myriad things prosper, and when they honor the way of Yin, the world perishes.

If Yang qi (vital energy) cannot descend to join with Yin qi, the myriad things cannot grow and take form. If a ruler does not humble himself to hear the views of his ministers, virtuous governance (De) and moral transformation cannot be carried out. When the Dao (the Way) of Yang declines, the myriad things wither. Therefore, when nobles and lords honor the Dao of Yang, the myriad things flourish, and when they honor the Dao of Yin, the realm falls into decline.

Yang qi that does not join with Yin qi cannot bring forth the myriad things, and a ruler who does not humbly seek counsel from his ministers cannot put virtuous governance into practice. A ruler who is willing to seek counsel from his ministers keeps his ears and eyes sharp. One who refuses to seek counsel grows confused and closed off.

When the sun rises from the ground, the myriad things flourish and grow. A ruler who stands above the common people should make his virtue shine. When the sun sinks into the ground, the myriad things rest and recover. If petty people are allowed to occupy high positions, the myriad things will hide and withdraw.

When thunder stirs, the myriad things sprout, and when rain falls, they unfold. Great officials who issue commands should likewise follow the flow of the times. The transformations of Yin-Yang have fixed measures, and great officials should not act in ways that force things to their extremes.

When thunder shakes the earth, the myriad things grow slowly and gently. When fierce winds shake the trees, the grasses and trees are harmed. Great officials should abandon wrongdoing and follow what is good, so that the common people need not flee far from their homes. When the people leave some things behind, they also come to attach themselves to others. The fewer who leave, the more who will come to attach themselves.

When the wind does not blow, fire does not appear, and when great officials do not speak, petty people have nothing to pass on. For fire to ignite, it must rely on firewood, and for a great official's words to be believed, they must rest on trustworthiness. Those whose words are faithful and whose conduct is reliable will succeed in whatever they undertake.

Deep rivers and earth piled upon mountains, and high hills, all ultimately flow downward into the abyss. When Yang grows strong, it turns into Yin, and when Yin grows strong, it turns back into Yang. Therefore, desires must not be satisfied to excess, and pleasure must not be pushed to its peak. When angry, one does not speak words that wound others or show anger on one's face. This is what is called being skilled at planning and handling matters appropriately.

Fire rises upward, and water flows downward. The way of the sage is to act in accordance with the categories and patterns of things, so that corresponding things respond to one another. When the sage follows the Dao of Yang, the realm is harmonious and unified. If one goes against the Dao of Yang and inclines toward the Dao of Yin, the realm will sink into decline.

Laozi said: Thin soil that keeps accumulating becomes thick; low ground that keeps accumulating becomes high. The junzi (the noble person) strives diligently each day and gradually achieves fine De (Virtue/Power). The xiaoren (the petty person), by contrast, seeks only momentary pleasure each day and ultimately brings shame upon themselves. Because these transformations are hard to notice at their beginning, when one sees a good deed, one should act on it as urgently as one who chases after something that is about to escape; and when one encounters an unwholesome deed one has committed in the past, one should be wary of it as one would be of an ominous portent.

So long as one's heart is set on goodness, even when one makes mistakes there is no need to resent Heaven or blame others. If one is unwilling to turn toward goodness, then even acts done out of loyalty may bring calamity. Rather than resenting others, one should examine oneself; rather than forcing others, one should make demands of oneself. Sound calls forth its echo, like things attract their own kind, reputation is drawn by one's own words and deeds, and a person's circumstances are bound up with their own conduct; there is nothing that is not, in the end, of one's own making. If one thrusts a sharp object at another, or strikes someone with a blade, how could one then blame the other person? For this reason, the junzi is careful even with the smallest details.

All things turn their backs to yin and face toward yang; when yin and yang Qi (vital energy) blend, they form a harmonious Qi, and this harmonious Qi dwells at the center. Thus, the fruit of a tree grows at the place where it forms at the heart of the tree, the fruit of grasses and herbs grows on the flower spike, and creatures born from eggs or the womb are likewise nurtured within. Without such nurturing, nothing can grow; and at the birth of all things, each must also wait for the proper moment. When the ground is level, water does not flow; when weights are balanced, the scale beam does not tilt. The growth and transformation of things all arise because of mutual responsiveness.

Laozi said: When mountains are lofty, clouds and rain gather; when water reaches a certain depth, the jiaolong (scaled dragon) comes to grow within it. When the junzi cultivates the Dao (the Way) to its depths, their De (Virtue/Power) spreads outward. Those who accumulate yin De (hidden virtue, good deeds not sought to be known by others) will surely receive manifest blessings, and those who do good in secret will surely attain a renowned reputation. Sowing millet does not yield jì (a different grain); planting resentment does not reap gratitude.

Laozi said: "The Dao (the Way) can appear soft and weak, or strong and mighty; it can be gentle, or it can be hard; it can be hidden, or it can be manifest. It embraces Heaven and Earth and can respond to all circumstances.

To know only a little is not yet to know deeply; to grasp only the outer is not yet to grasp the inner; to understand only the coarse is not yet to understand the subtle. To think oneself knowing often shows that one does not yet know; to admit ignorance may in fact bring one closer to true understanding. Who can see that what is called 'knowing' is sometimes not knowing, and that what is called 'not knowing' is sometimes true knowing?

The Dao cannot be heard by the ears; what is heard is not the Dao. The Dao cannot be seen by the eyes; what is seen is not the Dao. The Dao cannot be fully explained in words; what is spoken is not the Dao. Who can understand that within the formed there is still the formless? Therefore the Daodejing says: 'When everyone in the world recognizes beauty as beauty, ugliness has already arisen. When everyone recognizes goodness as goodness, evil has already arisen.' Those who truly understand do not speak lightly, and those who love to talk at length often do not understand."

Wenzi asked: "Can a person express the Dao through subtle and implicit words?"

Laozi said: "Why not? The key lies in knowing what it truly means to speak well. One who truly understands speech does not rely on words alone to convey meaning. Those who compete to catch fish get their bodies wet, and those who chase wild beasts must run. They do not do these things for enjoyment but to reach their aim. Thus the highest discourse does not cling to words, and the highest action does not strain after artifice. Those of shallow vision contend only over branches and tips. Discourse has its roots, and affairs have their governing principles. If you believe you already know everything, you will never truly understand what I mean by the Dao."

Wenzi asked: "Does governing a state also have its methods?"

Laozi said: "When people pull a cart, the one in front calls out and those behind answer in chorus; this is a work song meant to encourage effort. Even the music of Zheng, Wei, Hu, and Chu cannot match the practical power of such a chant. To govern a state, one must have laws and ritual norms, but the essential thing is not elegant rhetoric or endless debate. The Daodejing says: 'The more numerous and exacting the laws and decrees, the more thieves and robbers there will be.'"

Laozi further said: "The Dao itself has no fixed standard, yet it can serve as a standard. It is like a mountain forest that supplies timber, yet the timber cannot encompass the whole forest; the forest, in turn, cannot match the way clouds and rain nourish all things. The Dao's function is vast, and it cannot be grasped through ornate rhetoric or dense, intricate laws. The more numerous and exacting the laws and decrees, the more thieves and robbers there will be."

Laozi said: The Dao (the Way) has no fixed standard, yet it can serve as a standard. Mountain forests supply timber, but a single piece of timber is not as great as the whole forest; the forest is not as great as clouds and rain, clouds and rain are not as great as Yin-Yang, Yin-Yang is not as great as harmony, and harmony still falls short of the Dao. The Dao is "a shape without form, an image without substance." It cannot be fully grasped by penetrating thought, yet all things between heaven and earth are shaped, transformed, and brought into being through it.

Laozi said: When sages establish teachings and implement governance, they necessarily examine affairs from beginning to end, observing how those affairs produce benefit. Therefore, when the people come to depend too heavily on written contracts, their De (Virtue) declines; when they fixate on numbers, benevolence declines; when they rely on bonds and tallies, trustworthiness declines; and when they trust in mechanical devices, the spirit of simplicity and sincerity declines.

The se zither has no one plucking it, yet its twenty-five strings each sound their own notes. A carriage axle does not turn by itself, yet its thirty spokes revolve by relying on its force. The strings must be neither too loose nor too tight before they can form a melody, and a carriage must alternate between labor and rest before it can travel far. What produces sound depends on the silent part, and what drives the wheel depends on the axle that does not itself turn.

If superiors and inferiors each go their own way, a state that would be easy to govern will fall into chaos. Those in high positions must bear greater responsibility for righteousness if the people are to follow them, and the greater the affairs they undertake, the narrower the principles they hold, which invites disaster. Clinging to minor virtue harms great righteousness, fixating on petty goodness obstructs the great Dao, indulging in clever debate for the moment damages governance, and exacting, minute demands injure De. Only when one is impartial, generous, and even-handed can the people be readily guided. When governance reaches its ideal, orders are relaxed and gentle, and subordinates do not harm one another. When loyalty returns to simplicity, the people do not deceive or conceal the truth.

Laozi said: Enforcing collective punishment, where one person's crime implicates others, breeds resentment among the people, and issuing orders that strip rank causes meritorious ministers to rebel. Therefore, one who knows only the details of penal codes and documents does not understand the roots of order and disorder, and one who is skilled in military formations does not grasp the balance of court strategy in warfare.

Sages guard against disaster before it appears, erecting successive barriers in advance, and they consider future dangers even in subtle places that are hard to detect. The foolish, however, are blinded by small immediate gains and forget greater harms. Thus some things are advantageous now but harmful in the long run, and in gaining the benefit on one side, people forget the loss on the other.

Therefore, the greatest benevolence is to care for others, and the greatest wisdom is to understand others. Caring for others means one does not abuse punishments and provoke resentment, and understanding others means that affairs of state do not fall into disorder.

Laozi said: however great the force of a river's flood, it does not last beyond three days, and a violent storm, even at midday, soon subsides. One who does not accumulate De (Virtue) yet feels no concern stands close to ruin. Hardship can make a person flourish, while ease and pleasure can lead to decline. Therefore, one who responds skillfully turns softness into strength and calamity into blessing. The Dao (the Way) appears empty, yet no matter how it is used, it is never exhausted.

Laozi said: stillness, tranquility, and peace are the natural disposition of human beings, while ritual norms and codes of conduct are the institutions for managing affairs. One who understands human nature can cultivate the self without going against its essential character, and one who understands the institutions for handling affairs will not fall into disorder in action. Issuing a single command so that the multitude no longer contend, and governing all matters so that they return to unity, is called xin (the mind-heart, the function of unifying and coordinating). Seeing the root allows one to infer the branches, and grasping a single principle allows one to respond to all affairs; this is called shu (technique, the method of handling affairs). Knowing what to do when at rest, knowing where to go when acting, knowing what to rely on when handling affairs, and knowing when to stop in action is called Dao (the Way, the principle by which affairs are conducted).

When others respect the worthy and praise oneself, this is the function of xin; when others despise oneself and slander oneself, this is the fault of xin. Once words leave the mouth, they cannot be prevented from reaching others, and conduct that begins nearby may have its influence carried far away. Affairs are difficult to accomplish but easy to ruin, and a reputation is difficult to establish but easy to destroy. Ordinary people always make light of small harms and overlook minute matters, and in the end they bring calamity upon themselves because of it.

Calamity descends because people bring it upon themselves, and blessings arrive because people bring them about. Misfortune and fortune issue from the same source, and profit and loss lie side by side, so without extremely fine discernment they are difficult to tell apart. Therefore, deliberation and planning are the gateways through which fortune and misfortune arise, and action and stillness are the pivots on which benefit and harm turn into one another. One must observe them with great caution.

Laozi said: Everyone knows the key to governing disorder, yet few understand how to preserve life. Therefore, the sage observes the state of the world to decide what must be done, weighs the actual circumstances of affairs, and then plans accordingly.

The sage is able to follow the changes of Yin-Yang, to be gentle yet also strong, to show weakness yet also exert force. They decide whether to act or to remain still according to the times, and they establish their achievements in accordance with their own conditions. They perceive the trend of change in the development of things, and even when dealing with the same matter, they can notice the differences within it. When things change, they take on corresponding forms; when the times move, they respond accordingly. For this reason, throughout their lives, they never fall into difficulty.

Some things can be spoken of but cannot be put into practice; some things can be practiced but are inconvenient to state openly; some things are easy to do yet hard to accomplish; and some things are difficult to achieve yet easily fail. What is meant by "able to be practiced but inconvenient to state openly" refers to choosing and renouncing. "Can be spoken of but cannot be put into practice" refers to deception and hypocrisy. "Easy to do but difficult to accomplish" refers to concrete affairs. "Difficult to achieve yet easy to fail" refers to reputation. The sage treats these four situations with caution, and the wise can likewise discern the principle behind them on their own.

Laozi said: Those who practice the Dao (the Way) must attend to subtle details, and their conduct must not stray from proper decorum. Even if one's arrows strike the mark every time, one must remain cautious and wary. Only then will calamity fail to grow. When planning for good fortune, do not look only at what lies immediately ahead; when considering calamity, think far into the future. Faced with the same circumstances, one who sees clearly will not be harmed, and one who is dull-witted but takes precautions can achieve the same results as the clever.

Accumulated affection brings good fortune, and accumulated hatred invites calamity. Everyone knows that once disaster has struck, one should seek a remedy, yet few understand how to prevent it before it arises. Preventing disaster before it takes shape is easy; repairing it after the fact is hard. Today's people do not strive to keep calamity from occurring but busy themselves with repairing it afterward. Even a spirit-person (shenren) would find it difficult to devise a way to recover from calamities already brought about.

The sources of calamity are infinitely varied and hard to foresee. The sage withdraws from view to avoid misfortune and stays quiet and taciturn to await the right moment. The petty person does not understand the threshold between fortune and misfortune; he acts rashly and falls into punishment. Even if he guards against every danger, this is not enough to preserve himself. Therefore, the farsighted first avoid calamity and only afterward seek gain, and first keep far from disgrace and only then seek fame. The sage always acts before matters become apparent and does not dwell on situations already formed. Thus calamity has no way to befall him, and praise and blame cannot touch him.

Laozi said: In dealing with the world, a person should be cautious in thought yet lofty in aspiration, wise and well-rounded yet upright in conduct, and possess many talents yet give rise to few disputes. To be "cautious in thought" means to deliberate before calamity has arisen, to be wary of misfortune in its subtlest beginnings, and to act with prudence.

Laozi said: In conducting oneself and dealing with the world, one should be cautious in mind yet lofty in aspiration, comprehensive in wisdom, upright in conduct, and versatile in ability, while taking on few tangled affairs.

As for "a mind that is small" (xin yu xiao), it means anticipating disaster before it appears, guarding carefully against even subtle risks, and not indulging one's desires. "Aspiration that is great" (zhi yu da) means a heart broad enough to embrace people from every region and the customs that differ among them, allowing many opinions and judgments to gather within the mind, with oneself standing at the pivot. "Wisdom that is round" (zhi yuan) means thinking thoroughly, so that one comprehends the beginning and end of things and all their aspects, drawing on it as inexhaustibly as a deep spring. "Conduct that is square" (xing fang) means standing upright and unyielding, with a pure character that is not stained; in distress one does not alter one's principles, and in success one does not let one's resolve run wild. "Ability that is manifold" (neng duo) means possessing the full range of skills, both civil and military, with action and stillness both conforming to proper norms, and handling every matter appropriately. "Affairs that are few" (shi shao) means grasping the essentials to meet numerous tasks, holding to simple principles to govern complex situations, and using stillness to master agitation.

Therefore, a person of cautious mind can guard against disaster while it is still small; a person of lofty aspiration has nothing their heart cannot embrace; a person of complete wisdom has no principle they cannot understand; a person of upright conduct will firmly refuse certain things even when they are within reach; a person of manifold ability can handle every kind of affair well; and a person who keeps affairs few grasps only the key principles.

Thus the sage does good without refusing it because the matter is minor, and corrects faults without delay because the fault is slight. Their conduct does not rely on shamans (wuxi, those who preside over divination, sacrifice, and other rituals), and ghosts and spirits dare not work mischief ahead of them. This may be called a position of supreme honor. Yet they remain cautious and wary, growing more careful each day; because of this they can refrain from rash action, bring affairs to unity, and bring them to completion.

The ignorant are already lacking in wisdom, yet they take on many affairs, so that every move easily falls into difficulty. Guiding people with proper decrees and teachings makes affairs easy to accomplish; teaching by crooked means makes the situation difficult, and ultimate failure is inevitable. To abandon the upright Way that makes success easy and insist on doing what is hard to accomplish is precisely the result of ignorant delusion.

Laozi said: The sprouting of good fortune is slow and long-drawn out, while the formation of calamity is intricate and manifold. The signs of how fortune and misfortune change are so subtle that they are hard to notice. The sage (shengren) can see these changes from their beginning to their end, and so cannot but examine them with care.

The wise ruler metes out rewards and punishments not for his own sake but for the sake of the state. Where an action benefits oneself but contributes nothing to the state, it should not be rewarded. Where an action runs counter to the ruler's personal wishes yet benefits the state, it should not be punished for that reason. One who puts righteousness into fitting practice in the right place is called a junzi (gentleman). One who discards the fitting course of righteousness is called a xiaoren (petty person).

Those who are penetrating and wise achieve results in their affairs without toil. Those of the next rank labor but suffer no harm. Those of still lower rank labor and are harmed.

The ancients knew how to savor the principles of things, and therefore did not lightly abandon them. People today discard things without understanding the principles within them. When King Zhou of Shang first began to use ivory chopsticks, the minister Jizi sighed. When the state of Lu used wooden figurines as burial objects, Confucius also lamented. Both of them saw, from the first signs of a matter, where it might ultimately lead.

Laozi said: Benevolence (ren) is what people admire, and righteousness (yi) is what people value. Yet some who are admired and valued still lose their lives and their states, because they do not understand how to follow the times. Therefore, one who knows only the principles of righteousness but does not adapt them to circumstances or weigh the situation has not yet attained the Great Dao (dadao).

The Five Emperors (wudi) prized De (Virtue), the Three Kings (sanwang) governed by righteousness, and the Five Hegemons (wubo) relied on force to dominate. If the governing methods of the sovereigns' age were applied in the age of the Five Hegemons, they would be out of step with the times. Good and evil, praise and blame, customary practices and conduct, compliance and opposition, left and right must all be discerned according to the situation. Only one who understands both the regularities of the Heavenly Way and the course of human affairs can act successfully in the world. One who knows the Heavenly Way but not human feelings cannot interact with secular society, and one who knows human feelings but not the Heavenly Way cannot roam with the Dao.

Clinging stubbornly to one's aims and indulging one's emotions invites harm from hard and violent forces, while letting oneself be driven by external things leads to depletion through the transformations of Yin-Yang (yinyang). The one who has attained the Dao responds to external change while keeping the heart unchanged. He responds to the outside in order to understand human feelings, and he keeps his inner heart steady in order to preserve himself. Thus, he holds firm integrity within while bending and extending outwardly, adjusting as things change, and so he does not fall into difficulty whatever he does. What the Dao treasures is precisely this capacity, like the dragon that appears and withdraws with transformation, responding freely.

If one keeps to a single principle and pursues only one method, then even after achieving something, one refuses to change, becomes bound by narrow preferences, and blocks the path to the Great Dao. The Dao is still and empty; it does not deliberately act upon external things or upon oneself. Therefore, when affairs accord with the Dao, they succeed not through artifice but through the Dao's own operation. Heaven and earth cover and bear all things, the sun and moon shine, Yin and Yang nourish, rain and dew moisten, and De and the Dao give support, all converging in harmony.

Only one who can bear the vast round of Heaven can stand firmly on the broad square of Earth. Only a heart as clear as a mirror can see things truly. Only when great peace is established can one dwell in a secure and expansive realm. One who can roam in the deep and mysterious realm can shine as brightly as the sun and moon. The Dao is formless, yet it gives birth to all that has form. Therefore, the zhenren (perfected person, one who has embodied the Dao) entrusts his spirit (shen) to the lingtai (spirit terrace, the seat of the mind) and returns to the origin of all things. He looks in darkness and listens in silence. In profound stillness he alone perceives, and in quiet he alone discerns. He uses the Dao without being bound to its traces, and precisely because he does not force its use, it truly takes effect. He has knowledge, yet does not regard himself as knowing everything. Precisely because he is not self-satisfied with knowledge, his understanding is genuine.

The Dao is the root through which all things flow; De is the power that sustains the growth of life; benevolence is the expression of accumulated kindness; and righteousness is the standard that accords with the inner heart and suits the multitude. When the Great Dao declines, De rises. People of the middle age upheld virtue but no longer cherished higher aspirations, while people of later ages clung repeatedly to benevolence, anxious lest they lose it.

Thus, the gentleman (junzi) cannot establish himself without righteousness, and to lose righteousness is to lose the root on which he stands. The petty person (xiaoren) cannot live without profit, and to lose profit is to lose the means by which he lives. Therefore, the gentleman fears losing righteousness, and the petty person fears losing profit. By observing what each fears to lose, one can see that the fortunes and misfortunes they face are not the same.

Laozi said: Some things, though intended to benefit, may in fact end up harming people, and others, though they seem harmful, may end up benefiting them. For example, when one has a warm febrile illness yet forces oneself to eat, or when thirsty one drinks cold water, ordinary people regard these as ways of nourishing life, but skilled physicians know they aggravate the illness.

Some things intended to benefit may in fact harm, and some things that appear harmful may in fact benefit. Forcing oneself to eat during a warm fever, or drinking cold things when thirsty, ordinary people think is nourishing the body, yet skilled physicians know it will worsen the illness. Whatever pleases the eyes and gladdens the heart, the path of foolishness considers advantageous, but a person of the Way (Dao) avoids it. The sage often acts against ordinary sentiment at first and only afterward comes into accord with the Way, while ordinary people at first follow ordinary sentiment and afterward stray from the right path. Therefore, the omens of fortune and misfortune and the shifts between gain and harm must all be examined with care.

Laozi said: One who has merit yet turns away from benevolence and righteousness (humane care and conduct that accords with what is right) will still be met with suspicion, while one who has faults yet acts in accord with benevolence and righteousness will readily win trust. Thus benevolence and righteousness are the principles one should generally follow in affairs, and they are the most honored "rank" under heaven. Even if one's plans are sound, one's counsel loyal, and one's strategies can keep the state intact, if the deeds one undertakes turn away from benevolence and righteousness, the achievement will ultimately be hard to accomplish. Conversely, even if one's words do not hit the essential point and one's strategies offer the state no help, so long as one's intent is loyal to the ruler and accords with benevolence and righteousness, one will preserve oneself. Hence it is said that devising a hundred schemes that often miss the mark is not as good as setting aside the pursuit of profit and earnestly examining benevolence and righteousness.

Laozi said: Transformation through teaching begins with the gentleman, and the petty person too receives its grace. Benefit is created by the petty person, and the gentleman too can enjoy its fruits. If gentlemen and petty persons each obtain what is fitting for them and exchange the fruits of their labor, so that every kind of person supplies what others lack, then the Way of society will flow smoothly. Excessive desire harms righteousness, and excessive worry harms wisdom. Therefore, one skilled at governing a state makes the common people content, and the state will endure, while a state that practices tyranny will eventually perish through its own cruelty. Water flows downward and so gathers into vast bodies of water. A ruler who humbles themselves beneath their ministers can hear more opinions and perceive affairs clearly. When the ruler does not contend with ministers for power, the way of governance prevails. The ruler is like the root, and the ministers are like the branches and leaves. If the root is not strong and yet the branches and leaves wish to flourish, there has never been such a principle.

Laozi said: When a ruler governs like a loving father, the affairs of the state will flow smoothly. Therefore, the ruler is the root of the state, and the ministers are its branches and leaves. When the root is not sturdy yet the branches and leaves flourish, such a thing has never existed.

Laozi said: A loving father cares for his children not to win their repayment, but because such love cannot be cut away from his heart. A sage ruler nurtures the common people not to make them serve his purposes, but out of his very nature, as if powerless to do otherwise. If a ruler relies on the strength of the people and leans on his own merit in governing, he will inevitably come to grief. Once he bestows favor with a mind that seeks return, the kindness can never truly reach the people. Therefore, governing by following what the multitude loves allows one to gain the multitude's strength, and carrying out what the multitude enjoys allows one to win their hearts. Observe where a matter begins, and you can foresee how it will end.

Laozi said: People draw close to one another through benevolence and righteousness, and groups grow strong through unity. Thus, the wider one extends kindness, the farther one's prestige and influence reach. The less benevolence and righteousness one practices, the smaller the sphere that force can control.

Laozi said: If one profits through unrighteousness and refuses to bestow kindness, calamity will fall upon oneself, and one will be unable to accomplish anything for others. If the reach of one's kindness is narrow, one's prestige will struggle to spread afar. With little benevolence practiced, the sphere that force can control is likewise small.

Laozi said: those who obtain wealth through improper means and refuse to share it will eventually bring calamity upon themselves. Unable to benefit others and unable to truly settle themselves, such a person may be called foolish, no different from the owl that dotes only on its own young.

Therefore it is said: "Gripping too tightly and guarding against everything is not as good as stopping at the appropriate point; a blade honed too sharp cannot stay sharp for long." De (Virtue) contains Dao (the Way), Dao also contains De, and their transformations are inexhaustible. Within yang there is yin, and within yin there is yang. This is so for all things in the world, and they cannot be fully explained one by one.

When good fortune is about to arrive, auspicious signs also appear; before calamity comes, it too shows its omens. Seeing an auspicious sign but failing to do good, one will not receive good fortune; seeing an ominous sign and doing good, one may avert calamity. Benefit and harm often accompany each other, and calamity and fortune lie side by side. Apart from the sage, no one can clearly discern the changes within them. Therefore it is said: "Calamity, fortune rests within it; fortune, calamity lurks within it. Who can know where their changes end?"

When a person is about to fall ill, they often first crave the taste of fish and meat intensely; when a state is about to perish, it often first despises the counsel of loyal ministers. When an illness is about to prove fatal, even a good physician is powerless; when a state is about to perish, the plans of loyal ministers cannot save it.

Only by cultivating oneself can one govern the common people; only by first ordering one's household can one extend the way of governance to the government offices. Therefore it is said: "When one cultivates oneself, one's De becomes genuine; when one orders one's family, one's De becomes sufficient; when one governs the state, one's De becomes abundant."

What the common people depend on for their livelihood is clothing and food. Work that meets the needs of clothing and food counts as merit; work that fails to meet them cannot be called meritorious. Work without merit cannot sustain De for long. Therefore, when one follows the circumstances but does not succeed, there is no need to change the laws; when one follows the circumstances but sees no result, there is no need to change the principles of governance. The opportune moment will come again. This is the guiding thread of Dao.

Rulers make the people prosperous, hegemons make their territories prosperous, while states in disorder and peril make only their officials prosperous. A well-governed state may appear to have no surplus, while a perishing state often has empty granaries. Therefore it is said: "Those in high position do not recklessly disturb the people, and the people naturally grow prosperous; those in high position do not forcibly intervene, and the people naturally transform."

Waging war is also the guiding thread of Dao.

Sovereigns make the common people prosperous, hegemons make their territories prosperous, and states in peril and disorder make only their officials prosperous. In governing a state, if the ruler always feels that goods and wealth are insufficient, the state will head toward ruin and the granaries will be empty. Therefore it is said: "When those who occupy high positions practice wuwei (non-action), the common people will naturally grow wealthy; when they do not force their actions, the people will naturally be transformed."

Mobilizing a hundred thousand troops consumes a thousand pieces of gold every day, and after the army returns in triumph, a year of famine is bound to follow. Therefore it is said: "Weapons are instruments of ill omen, not things a gentleman treasures." Even when deep resentment is dissolved, some lingering grievance is hard to avoid, so how can such a course be called proper? The ancients drew near to people without relying on words, and summoned those from afar without relying on words either. Instead, they delighted those nearby, and those far away came of their own accord.

Sharing the same aspirations as the people brings harmony, and guarding an enterprise together with them gives it firm foundations. Only when one's mind communicates with the people's can one be said to truly understand them. When the people are willing to exert their strength, the state is wealthy; when the people praise a ruler, his position is exalted. Improper conduct invites enemies, and improper speech invites disaster. Do not be the first to offer an opinion, for by the time others have finished speaking, the moment may have already passed. Words whispered into the ear can carry a thousand li away. Speech may bring calamity, for the tongue is like the trigger of a crossbow mechanism. Once words have been spoken improperly, even pursuing them with a team of four horses cannot bring them back.

Formerly, Master Zhonghuang said: Heaven has five directions, earth has the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water), sounds have five tones, things have five flavors, colors have five patterns, and people also have five grades. Therefore, the people between heaven and earth are divided into twenty-five categories. The top five are the divine person (Shenren), the perfected person (Zhenren), the Dao person (Daoren), the utmost person (Zhiren), and the sage (Shengren). Next are the virtuous person, the worthy person, the wise person, the good person, and the eloquent person. The middle five are the public-minded person, the loyal person, the trustworthy person, the righteous person, and the ritual-observing person. Next are the scholar, the artisan, the forester, the farmer, and the merchant. The lowest five are the common masses, the servile person, the foolish person, the fleshly person, and the petty person. The difference between the top five and the bottom five is like the difference between humans and oxen or horses.

The sage uses his eyes to see, his ears to hear, his mouth to speak, and his feet to walk. The perfected person (Zhenren, one who has attained the realm of true naturalness) can perceive clearly without looking, comprehend without listening, bring affairs into accord without acting, and handle matters fairly without speaking. Therefore, the methods by which the sage influences the world under heaven are never applied by the perfected person beyond their proper bounds, and the methods the worthy person uses to correct worldly customs are never even attended to by the sage.

Volume Eight: Naturalness (Ziran)

The so-called Dao (the Way) has no distinction of before and after, or of left and right. The myriad things are united and equal within the mysterious Dao, and so there is no absolute right and wrong.

Volume Eight: Naturalness (Ziran)

Laozi said: Stillness and emptiness are the manifestation of the clear brightness of Heaven's Dao. Wuwei (non-action) is the constant principle of good governance. When one sets aside artificially bestowed favors, does not cling to the wisdom of the sages, and does not regard oneself as worthy, then there is no contention over right and wrong. When one abandons the deliberate display of benevolence and righteousness, eliminates the troubles that human contrivance creates, sets aside clever speech and sophistry, and forbids deceit and falsehood, then the worthy and the unworthy are equal and undifferentiated within the Dao.

When the mind is calm, it can merge with the myriad things. When the heart-mind is clear and empty, it can penetrate everywhere without obstruction. The highest virtue (De) is non-action, and within it all things find their place. The Dao of emptiness and stillness endures without end. It is subtle and profound, pervades and fills all things, yet does not dominate them.

The twelve months circulate in turn, returning again and again. The forces of the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water) both overcome one another and depend upon one another. Extreme cold harms the myriad things, yet the world cannot do without cold; extreme heat harms them, yet the world cannot do without summer's heat. Therefore, the things that are acceptable and the things that are not each have their use. The great Dao leaves nothing outside its embrace; the only question is whether a thing accords with principle. When you see what is feasible, do not rush to chase after it; when you see what is not feasible, do not rush to reject it. What is acceptable and what is not depend upon each other, just as left and right, or outer and inner, do.

The root of every affair must be traced back to its initial beginning, and the order of the seasons is its guiding thread. From antiquity to the present this regularity has never changed; this is called the principle of Heaven. The ruler grasps the clear reason of the Dao, and the ministers apply its light. The Dao gives birth to the myriad things and brings Yin-Yang into their proper order. Its transformations form the four seasons and further divide into the Five Phases. Each of the myriad things rests in its proper place, moves in accordance with the seasons, and its laws remain constant. Even in matters where ability falls short, and even at the highest level of the Dao, nothing overturns. When the ministers are of one mind, the way of Heaven and Earth is completed through non-action, and one obtains even without seeking. From this it can be known that non-action also brings benefit.

Laozi said: Simplicity is a state so vast that it cannot be described by any shape. The Dao is the root of what is immeasurably broad and whose measures are constant. Even in matters where ability falls short, and even at the highest level of the Dao, nothing overturns. When the ministers are of one mind, the way of Heaven and Earth is completed through non-action, and one obtains even without seeking. From this it can be known that non-action also brings benefit.

Laozi said: Pu (the uncarved block, the original and unadorned state) is so vast that it has no fixed shape, and the Dao (the Way) is so vast that no measure can gauge it. Thus, Heaven is round but does not fully conform to the compass, and Earth is square but does not fully conform to the carpenter's square. The past, present, and future together are called zhou (cosmic time); the four directions and the above and below together are called yu (cosmic space). The Dao pervades Heaven and Earth, yet no one knows exactly where it is. Therefore, one whose insight is not far-reaching cannot be spoken to about vastness, and one whose knowledge is not broad cannot discuss the highest principles.

When the Dao is in accord with all things, it does not use one thing to negate another. The laws and institutions enacted by the Three Sovereigns and Five Emperors differed from one another, yet all were able to win the hearts of the people.

The compass, the carpenter's square, the L-square, and the ink line are tools with which craftsmen make objects, but they are not the craft itself. Without strings, even Shi Wen, a master of the qin (zither), could not produce a melody, and strings alone cannot produce a sorrowful sound on their own. Thus the strings are merely the means by which grief is expressed; they are not grief itself.

As for that marvelous and harmonious state, which flows between the mind's intention and the fingers, guiding the heart and entrusting the spirit to the strings to express feeling, a father cannot teach it to his son, and a son cannot learn it from his father. This is a principle that cannot be put into words. Therefore, stillness is the master of the body's form, and silent tranquility is the root of music.

The Laozi says: the regularities by which Heaven and Earth operate take De (Virtue/Power) as their foundation. Dao (the Way) governs the generation and transformation of the myriad things, and the myriad things are upright in their development according to their own natures. Dao is extremely subtle and lies hidden within. It does not take the prominence of particular things as its measure. Thus it is not established through merit, it is not made honorable through rank, it is not made famous through reputation, it does not need ritual propriety to appear dignified, and it does not use military force to display its strength.

When Dao is established, it does not deliberately teach, because it does not strip people of their own abilities. When its light shines on the myriad things, it does not examine them harshly, because it does not hinder the way each thing runs its course. If one deliberately teaches people to follow some fixed "Dao," one goes against the De that things inherently possess and harms the natural process by which the myriad things develop.

Yin-Yang, the four seasons, and the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water) all emerge from the same Dao, yet each follows its own regularity. The dispositions of the myriad things are interconnected, yet their forms differ. Those of great wisdom do not need to transmit their knowledge to one another, and those truly capable do not treat their abilities as something that can be handed over to others. Therefore the sage establishes standards to guide the minds of the common people, so that each person can accord with his or her own nature. In this way, the living do not feel that the sage bestows favors deliberately, and the dead hold no resentment.

Heaven and Earth do not treat the myriad things with partial benevolence; they regard them as one regards straw dogs (chugou) used in sacrifice and then discarded. The sage, too, does not treat the common people with partial benevolence and likewise leaves them to their natural course. Clinging to kindness and righteousness is a narrow Way. Those with narrow vision become lost when they enter a broad realm, and those with shallow understanding become confused when they travel far. The sage's Dao does not go astray when it enters a broad realm, and does not become confused when it proceeds over a long distance. He often maintains emptiness and stillness and guards his original mind; this may be called the highest attainment of cultivation, namely the De of Heaven (tiande).

Laozi said: The sage covers all things as Heaven does, bears all things as Earth does, and shines upon all things as the sun and moon do. They bring Yin and Yang into harmony and cause the four seasons to turn and change. They embrace all things without demanding that all things be alike, and they show no partiality toward things that are old or new, or toward relationships that are distant or close. For this reason, the sage is able to emulate nature.

Heavenly seasons are not of only one kind, the products of the earth are not of only one kind, and the affairs people undertake are not of only one kind. Therefore, there are many categories of undertaking and many paths of action. The same holds for the employment of soldiers: some are swift, others steady; some crave spoils, others keep themselves incorruptible. These traits differ from one another, and one cannot take only one of them. The swift wish to strike quickly, while the steady tend to hold their ground; the covetous want to seize, while the incorruptible refuse to take what does not belong to them.

Thus, a brave person may be sent to lead a charge, but should not be made to hold a position unmoving; a steady person may be sent to defend a fortress, but should not be made to press an advantage against the enemy; a covetous person may be sent to seize objectives, but should not be entrusted with distributing goods; an incorruptible person may be sent to guard their duty, but should not be made to advance on their own initiative; a trustworthy person may be sent to keep an agreement, but should not be asked to respond to changing circumstances. The sage makes use of all five kinds of people, assigning each duty according to that person's own talents.

Heaven and Earth do not contain only one kind of thing, and Yin and Yang do not produce only one kind of being. The great sea does not refuse the rivers and rains that flow into it, and this is why it is vast; the forest does not reject crooked and twisted trees, and this is why it is lofty; the sage does not reject the opinions of woodcutters and other ordinary people, and this is why the sage's reputation spreads far.

If one guards only a single corner and neglects the four directions, or takes only one thing and discards the rest, then one will gain little, and the reach of one's governance will be very limited.

Laozi said: Heaven covers all things, earth bears all things, and the sun and moon shine upon all things. Though the myriad things differ in form and in their innate natures, each has a way of life suited to it. What delights people may at times become the root of sorrow, and what brings a sense of security may also bring danger. Therefore, when the sage governs the people, he lets each person follow their own nature, dwell in the place that suits them, and take up tasks within their ability and fitting to their circumstances, arranging things appropriately for each. In this way, all things find their proper place and do not contend with one another.

Things under heaven have no absolute rank of noble or base. If people prize something, it appears precious; if they regard something lightly, it appears lowly. Therefore, one should not single out certain things for exaltation, and all things can each find their proper position without needing to compete for superiority. What is meant by "not exalting the worthy" (bu shang xian) is that one should not place unsuitable people in unsuitable positions: just as one does not place fish in trees, nor sink birds into deep water.

In the past, when Yao governed the realm, he appointed Shun as Minister of Instruction, Xie as Minister of War, Yu as Minister of Works, Houji to manage agriculture, and Xi Zhong as Master Craftsman. They guided the people to live according to their respective surroundings and conditions: those who lived by the water fished, those who lived in the forests gathered, those who lived in the valleys herded, and those who lived on the high ground farmed. Affairs were arranged according to the nature of the land, implements were chosen according to the affairs, and materials were then selected according to the implements. Those in the marshlands wove nets, and those on the hillsides tilled the fields. In this way, each region's people could exchange what they had in abundance for what they lacked, and exchange their own skills for those they did not possess.

Therefore, few people rebelled, and many were willing to follow. Such governance was like wind sweeping over mugwort, which responds at once. Each of the myriad things responded differently according to its own characteristics, and all moved toward what was beneficial and away from what was harmful. Thus neighboring states could see one another, and the crowing of roosters and barking of dogs could be heard across the border, yet the people's footprints did not cross the boundaries of the feudal states, and their cart tracks did not extend a thousand li away, because everyone was content in their own dwelling.

Thus, a disordered state may appear populous, while a well-governed state appears empty. A state on the verge of ruin always seems to be lacking, while a state that can endure long seems to have abundance everywhere. What is called "empty" is not the absence of people, but that everyone keeps to their duties. What is called "full" is not a large population, but that everyone craves what they have not yet obtained. What is called "abundance" is not a great quantity of goods, but that desires are restrained and affairs are simple; what is called "lack" is not a shortage of goods, but that the people are few while expenditures are great.

Therefore, the laws of the former kings were not created out of nothing, but accorded with existing principles and reason. Their prohibitions and punishments were not imposed arbitrarily, but followed and upheld proper standards. This is the Way of the highest De (shang de).

Laozi said: To govern the realm through the Dao (the Way) does not mean altering people's inborn nature. It means following that nature and guiding it so that it unfolds and flows freely. Therefore, when one acts in accordance with the flow of circumstances, one's undertakings can grow great; when one forces and contrives, affairs instead shrink.

The people of antiquity who dredged waterways followed the flow of the water in their management. Those who planted grain cultivated according to the conditions suited to the land. Those who waged campaigns acted in accordance with the wishes of the people. Whoever can accord with the nature of things will have no rival under heaven.

All things have their own natural patterns, and human affairs too require governance. For this reason, the sage-kings of antiquity established laws and standards based on the nature of the people, setting appropriate norms for conduct. Without the corresponding nature, it is difficult to make people submit to moral instruction; without the corresponding conditions, it is difficult to make people follow the Dao. Humans are endowed by nature with benevolence and righteousness, yet without sages who establish laws to guide people onto the right path, this endowment cannot be properly moderated and brought into full expression. By prohibiting treachery in line with what people already detest, punishments need not be applied frequently, and authority is established naturally, as though it were divine. Accord with people's nature, and the people will obey; go against it, and even numerous laws will be difficult to enforce in earnest.

De (Virtue/Power) is the foundation of achievement and reputation, and it is what the hearts of the people long for. Only when the people hold De in their hearts can achievement and reputation be established.

The rulers of antiquity who were skilled at governing the state took rivers and seas as their model. Rivers and seas do not strive to act, yet they gather vast waters; they lie in low places, and so they achieve breadth. Therefore they endure for a long time. They take their place in the lowlands below the valleys of the realm, and so their De is abundant. They practice Wuwei (non-action), yet they can receive all the hundred rivers; they do not seek to obtain, yet they are obtained; they do not force their way forward, yet they arrive. Therefore, taking the realm can be accomplished without bustling activity.

Not placing self-nourishment first, one becomes rich. Not deliberately displaying oneself, one comes to appear clear-sighted. Not boasting of oneself, one endures. Dwelling in an inconspicuous position, one can become the leader of all under heaven. Because one does not contend, no one can contend with them. Because one never regards oneself as great, one achieves true greatness. Rivers and seas come close to the Dao, and therefore they can endure long, existing alongside heaven and earth.

Cultivating the Dao with impartiality, one accomplishes great works without claiming them as one's own. Because one does not claim them, the foundation becomes firm and secure. With a secure foundation, one does not treat others with violence. When the realm of the Dao is deep, the De is profound; when the De is profound, achievement and reputation are brought to fruition with ease. This is called Xuan De (Profound De), meaning a virtue that is deep, far-reaching, and subtle. It is profound and enduring, and it may even appear to run contrary to ordinary worldly sentiment.

Everything in heaven and earth has an origin (benshi), but no one knows the principle underlying it; only the sage understands the reason behind it. This origin has no distinction of male and female, yet it generates things without ever being exhausted. Because of it, heaven and earth take form, Yin-Yang becomes manifest, and the myriad things grow.

Yin and yang each have their round and square, their long and short, and their existence and extinction, and their changes are governed by the Dao (the Way). The Dao is profound yet able to manifest its operation; it acts subtly upon the mind and accords with principle. Birth and death follow the same regularity, and the transformations of all things return to one Dao. To regard life lightly and forget death is to be at ease wherever one is and to endure for a long time. To set aside affairs and speech and cautiously accord with wuwei (non-action, not imposing one's own contrivances). To hold fast to the Dao thoroughly is not to dominate the myriad things.

The Dao is so subtle that it has no form, yet it can drive the transformations of the myriad things. It is the origin of heaven and earth: all things issue from the Dao, yet each takes a different form. The Dao is so minute that it seems to be nothing, and therefore it can comprehensively nurture all things; it is so vast that it has no boundary, and therefore it can cover all things; it is so refined that it has no interior to enter, and therefore it is the root that all things treasure.

The Dao allows life to exist, and De (Virtue/Power) allows form to be settled. To reach the standard of the Dao, one must remove preference and aversion and not let subjective prejudice obstruct understanding. Quiet the mind so that it is harmonious, and do not go against the Dao.

Heaven and earth first returned to oneness, then divided into the two sides of yin and yang. Yin and yang interact and merge so that above and below each occupy their proper place. From the one, moreover, come the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water), which in turn return and converge, so that their transformations always accord with rule and measure. The Dao is closest to humanity, yet one must not neglect it for that reason; the Dao is nearest to us, yet it is not distant. Seek the Dao in what is near, and when you go out, you will return to yourself.

Laozi said: Though rulers hold names and positions, people do not understand the true circumstances within them. The emperor esteems De (Dé, Virtue), the king values moral rightness, and the hegemon is driven by the realities of affairs.

The sage governs the world without making external things and contrived human devices the foundation. Only when the Dao (Dào, the Way) is obstructed must one rely on cunning schemes. Only when De has declined must one rely on laws and standards. Only when understanding is shallow must one examine every matter closely. Relying on cunning leaves the mind in confusion. Relying on punishments breeds resentment between superiors and inferiors. Relying on minute scrutiny makes subordinates concerned only with pleasing their superiors, and this is how corruption arises.

Therefore the sage follows the transformations of Heaven and Earth, so that his De is like Heaven covering and Earth supporting, broadly sheltering the myriad things. He guides the myriad things in accordance with the seasons, so that their nurturing and growth become more abundant. When nurturing is abundant, the world naturally settles. Even one with divine wisdom and sagely intelligence could not easily alter this way of governing.

Remove mechanical cleverness and calculating intelligence, and punishments can be reduced. Return to stillness and purity, and the myriad things will naturally be rectified. The Dao governing the world is like a ruler who sits composed and does not act rashly, solemn and still, profound and wordless, yet the whole world is able to receive its blessings. When one person receives its grace, it is not diminished. When ten thousand people receive its grace, it does not run short.

Therefore, excessive bestowal of favor and excessive violence both violate the Dao. Excessive favor means giving indiscriminately: heavy rewards without merit, and high rank without achievement. As a result, those in office grow lax, while idle people who do nothing hasten to seek advancement. Violence means punishing recklessly: the innocent are put to death, while those who act in accord with the right way are instead punished. As a result, those who cultivate themselves are no longer encouraged, while those who practice wickedness dare all the more to slight their ruler.

Thus, excessive favor breeds treachery, and reckless violence brings about disorder. When treachery and disorder become customary, this is the sign of a state's ruin.

Therefore, when the state carries out punishments, the ruler need not become angry; when the court bestows rewards, the ruler need not claim the merit for himself. Those who are punished do not resent the ruler, because the penalty matches their faults. Those who are rewarded do not credit the ruler with their favor, because the reward comes from their own accomplishments. The people understand that rewards and punishments both arise from their own conduct, and so they strive to achieve merit and cultivate their undertakings, never regarding a reward as a favor granted by others. In this way, the court is not burdened by trivial affairs, the fields are reclaimed, and no land lies wasted.

The Kingly Way (Wangdao) governs affairs through non-action (Wuwei) and transforms the people without relying on words. The ruler remains tranquil and steady, does not act rashly, upholds established laws, and does not alter them at whim. He follows the circumstances, entrusts affairs to his subordinates, and requires them to fulfill their duties without personally toiling over the details. His plans do not miscalculate, and his measures do not go astray; his speech is unadorned, and his conduct does not deliberately set up a display of dignity. He advances or withdraws in accordance with the proper moment, and both his action and his stillness accord with the Dao. He does not favor or disdain things on account of their beauty or ugliness, and his rewards and punishments are not swayed by his joy or anger.

Things each reveal their own names and fall into their proper categories, and affairs unfold naturally according to their own nature, not fashioned single-handedly by the ruler. To confine things too narrowly is to cause them to deviate from their nature; to force embellishment upon them is to harm them.

Heaven's qi forms the human hun (ethereal soul), and Earth's qi forms the human po (corporeal soul). To return the hun and po to the profound Dao, to let each rest in its proper place, and to guard them carefully so that they do not scatter, is to be able to ascend and communicate with Taiyi (the originating power of the Dao); the essential qi of Taiyi then also joins with Heaven. The Dao of Heaven is deep and silent, having no fixed form or standard: vast beyond any boundary, profound beyond measure, it ever changes along with the myriad things. Human wisdom cannot grasp it fully; it cycles without end, and its transformations are subtle and unfathomable. It is empty and still, yet it responds to all things, dwelling behind and never rushing ahead.

When the ruler hears the affairs of government, he should be receptive and restrain his private desires, keeping himself clear and undarkened. In this way, his ministers will gather before him like spokes converging on the axle of a wheel, each performing their duties; whether wise or foolish, capable or ordinary in conduct, each person will be able to exert their particular strengths. The ruler thereby knows how to command his officials, and the officials know how to assist the ruler. This is the fundamental basis for a clear and orderly governance of the state.

Laozi said: One who understands the principles and is fond of seeking instruction may be called a sage (shengren). One who is brave and fond of seeking instruction will find affairs easier to bring to success. One who is skilled at drawing on the wisdom of many people will have no undertaking that cannot be accomplished, and one who is skilled at employing the strength of many people will meet no difficulty that cannot be overcome. Relying on personal strength alone, even a man as powerful as Wuhuo (a legendary strongman), is not dependable. But one who is skilled at accommodating the strength of the multitude and the shape of circumstances will find nothing in the world that cannot be put to use. If one does not examine whether a course of action is feasible, nor follow the regularities of things, then even spirits and sages cannot thereby achieve merit and fame.

Therefore, when the sage manages affairs, he always employs people according to their individual qualifications. Those with a particular talent are placed in suitable positions, and those with a particular skill are assigned tasks that match it. When one's strength is sufficient for the task, carrying it does not feel heavy; when one's ability is sufficient for the matter, doing it does not feel difficult. The sage combines the strengths of all people, so he discards no one and wastes no material.

Laozi said: What is called "non-action" (wuwei) does not mean that when one pulls, people do not come, when one pushes, they do not go, when one coerces, they do not respond, or when one moves them, they do not act. Nor does it mean being rigid and stagnant, refusing to circulate, or clutching things and refusing to let go. What is called non-action means not letting private desires obstruct the impartial Way (Dao), and not letting likes and desires stray from the right path. It means following the principles of things in managing affairs, achieving merit according to each person's conditions, accommodating the natural shape of circumstances, and allowing no pretense or contrivance. When an affair is completed, one does not boast of oneself; when merit is established, one does not claim fame.

For example, one uses a boat to cross water, a [illegible character in the source] to wade through water, a lun (a vehicle used for travel on muddy ground in antiquity) to cross mud, and a lü (a tool used for walking in the mountains in antiquity) to climb mountains. In summer one dredges ditches and channels, and in winter one builds dikes and embankments. One builds up mountain-like forms where the land is high, and gathers water into ponds where it is low. These are not things I forcibly create. The sage does not feel shame at his own humble position; he only worries that the Great Way cannot be put into practice. He does not worry that his own life is short; he only worries that the common people are suffering. Therefore he constantly remains empty, tranquil, and non-acting, preserves simplicity and genuineness, and does not mix with external things.

Laozi said: In ancient times, rulers were established not to satisfy their own desires, and when sages ascended to the position of ruler, it was not so that they could enjoy ease and pleasure for themselves, but for the sake of the people of the world. The source text here mentions that the strong bully the weak, and that those who are many in number oppress those who are few and weak; afterward it repeats the phrases about being empty, tranquil, non-acting, and embracing simplicity.

Laozi said: In ancient times, rulers were established not to satisfy their personal desires, and when sages ascended the throne, it was not so that they could enjoy ease for themselves. In that age, among the people of the realm, the strong oppressed the weak, the many bullied the few, the cunning deceived the dull, and the bold attacked the timid. People harbored wisdom and deceitful stratagems but did not use them to instruct one another, and they accumulated goods but would not share them with each other. Therefore, the Son of Heaven was established to govern the realm in unity.

No single person's insight can attend to every corner of the realm, so the Three Dukes and Nine Ministers (senior officials of the central government) were established to assist the Son of Heaven. Moreover, because customs differ in distant regions and their people find it difficult to receive the favor of the central court, feudal lords were established to transform them through moral teaching. As a result, the movements of Heaven and Earth and the succession of the four seasons each keep their proper order, no affairs go unattended by the government, and no benefits are overlooked by the state. In this way, people have clothing to ward off the cold and food to stave off hunger, the elderly and the weak are cared for, and those weary and exhausted are able to rest. These are the things that governing the realm must accomplish.

Shennong's body became haggard from toil; Yao was lean and thin, Shun's complexion was dark from exposure, and Great Yu's labors left thick calluses on his hands and feet. Yi Yin carried a cauldron on his back to seek an audience with Tang of Shang; Lü Wang had once made his living as a butcher before later entering service in the Zhou dynasty; Baili Xi was himself sold from one master to another, and Guan Zhong was once bound and imprisoned. Confucius traveled from state to state, often without time to cook a meal; Mozi hurried about in all directions, leaving his mat before it had grown warm. They did not covet stipends or envy official rank, but wished to bring benefit to the people of the realm and to spare them from calamity. From the Son of Heaven down to the common people, if one's limbs refuse to labor and one's mind refuses to exert itself, yet one hopes to get things done and to have a prosperous life, such a thing has never been heard of.

Laozi said: The so-called Son of Heaven is one who governs the realm by the Way of Heaven. The fundamental principle of governing the realm is to hold fast to the One (referring to the root Dao), using it as the foundation of security; to return to the root, follow what is natural, and not act rashly; to maintain emptiness and stillness, and not cling to existence. The Dao is vague and profound, without boundary, so deep that it seems impossible to fathom.

Laozi said: The so-called Son of Heaven is one who governs the realm by the Way of Heaven. The fundamental principle of governing the realm is to hold fast to the One (referring to the root Dao), using it as the foundation of security; to return to the root, follow what is natural, and not act rashly; to maintain emptiness and stillness, and not cling to existence. The Dao is vague and profound, without boundary, so deep that it has no end; looking at it, one cannot see its form, listening to it, one cannot hear its sound. This is the constant pattern of the Dao.

Laozi said: The substance of the Dao is round and harmonious, while the principle it follows is square and upright. It turns its back on yin and embraces yang, is soft on the left and hard on the right, treads on darkness and rises toward light. The transformations of the Dao follow no fixed pattern. One who grasps the root by which the myriad things return to unity can respond to every change, and this is what is called Shenming (spiritual brilliance).

Heaven is round and without boundary, so it cannot be fully seen. Earth is broad and without end, so its limits are hard to fathom. The changes of Heaven have no fixed form, and the growth of Earth cannot be measured. Each of the myriad things has some quality by which it surpasses others, but nothing surpasses the Dao. The Dao is unmatched because it has no fixed disposition. It circulates and turns without settled form, like the movement of sun and moon, the succession of spring and autumn, and the alternation of day and night. It ends and begins again, and after brightness it returns to darkness. It brings forth bodily form without being limited by form, and it transforms the myriad things without being bound by them. Therefore it prevails without being defeated.

One who plans warfare well in the court can accomplish the work of an emperor. One who skillfully employs spiritual transformation can accomplish the work of a king. In planning war one should follow the Way of Heaven, and in employing spiritual transformation one should attend closely to the Four Seasons. When the realm within its borders is well governed, people far away will be moved by its De (Virtue). When an advantage is secured before any fighting breaks out, the feudal lords will naturally submit.

The ancient people who attained the Dao, when still, modeled themselves on Heaven and Earth, and when active they accorded with the movements of sun and moon. Their joy and anger also followed the rhythms of the Four Seasons. When they issued commands, their force was like thunder. Their words and breath did not contravene the winds of the eight directions. In advancing, retreating, bending, and extending, they did not deviate from the five standards. They followed the wishes of the people, relied on the strength of the people, and removed cruelty and calamity for the people. Those who share the same interests are willing to die for one another, those who share the same feelings can bring each other to completion, and those who share the same aspirations will help one another. If one acts in accord with one's own nature, the whole world will rise up together with one heart.

Therefore, one who is skilled at employing soldiers can cause people to exert themselves willingly. One who is unskilled at employing soldiers can only make people serve his own ends. When people can be made to serve willingly, no one in the world fails to be of use. Those who only wish to have others do their work for them will find that not a single person is truly available to them.

Scroll Nine: Lower De

Laozi said: In nourishing the body, the highest method is to cultivate the spirit (Shen), and the next is to cultivate the physical form. When the spirit is clear and the mind is at peace, every part of the body is at ease; this is the root of nourishing life. Making the skin glossy and the stomach and intestines full, and indulging the appetites of the mouth and belly, is merely the trivial branch of nourishing life.

In governing a state, the highest method is to cultivate and transform the people through moral education, and the next is to make the laws and ordinances upright. When the common people yield to one another and compete to stay in lowly positions; when it comes to goods and profit, they compete to take less; when it comes to work and effort, they compete to bear hardship, then the people are transformed day by day from above and gradually move toward goodness without knowing why they have become so. This is the root of governing a state. To encourage goodness through rewards and benefits, and to make people fear punishment so they dare not do evil, with upright laws above and obedient people below, this is the branch of governing a state. The ancients valued the root; later generations turned to managing the branches.

Laozi said: A ruler who excels at governing the state is rarely found in the world, and a minister capable of assisting him is one in ten thousand. To seek the rare ruler through the one-in-ten-thousand minister is why a state seldom achieves great order even once in a thousand years. Establishing the enterprise of a hegemon or king is not something that can be accomplished in every generation. To follow the people's inclination toward goodness, to prevent evil thoughts from arising, and to have ruler and people walk the same correct path is to let the people turn toward goodness and customs improve. What is precious about the sage is not that he establishes punishments after people have committed crimes, but that he understands where disorder begins. If one first opens the path of evil, allowing people to indulge in wayward excess, and then abandons them to the law and punishes them with penalties, then even if all under heaven are harmed, one will be unable to stop their treacherous conduct.

Laozi said: When the body dwells by rivers and seas but the mind is preoccupied with the court (wei que, "the palace gates," which also refers by extension to the court), this is valuing life. To value life is to think lightly of profit. Even so, if one still cannot restrain oneself and simply follows desire, the spirit will not be harmed. But if one cannot restrain oneself and forcibly suppresses desire without acting on it, this is called repeatedly harming oneself, and such a person will find it hard to live long. Therefore it is said: knowing how to harmonize is called the constant Dao, and knowing the constant Dao is called clarity and discernment. To keep increasing the desire for nourishment only invites calamity, and to drive Qi (vital energy) with the mind is called forcing things. This is called union with the profound Dao: having employed the light, one returns to inner stillness and clarity.

Laozi said: there is nothing easier in the world than doing good, and nothing harder than doing what is not good. To do good is to remain still and not act rashly, to follow what is reasonable and remove excess desires, to remain unswayed by external things, to preserve what is genuine by following one's original nature, and not to change oneself because of external circumstances. This is why doing good is said to be easy.

To do what is not good is hard, because it often requires usurpation, killing, pretense, and deception, and it also requires restlessness and excessive desire. None of these accord with human nature, which is why doing what is not good is said to be very difficult.

Today people treat many matters as great calamities, and the root of this lies in not having constant contentment and appropriate limits. Therefore, at the juncture where benefit and harm are intertwined and fortune and misfortune turn into one another, one must not fail to examine carefully.

The sage has no greed, and does not deliberately evade things. Some things, when one deliberately seeks them, are precisely the ones one loses; some things, when one deliberately avoids them, are precisely the ones one encounters. Once the mind becomes attached to what it seeks, it forgets what it originally set out to do. For this reason, the sage carefully observes the changes between action and stillness, grasps the proper measure of receiving and giving, and regulates the feelings of liking and disliking so that joy and anger are kept in check. When action and stillness are appropriate, calamity cannot invade; when receiving and giving are fitting, blame cannot implicate; when liking and disliking are regulated, worry cannot easily approach; when joy and anger are restrained, resentment will not be provoked.

Those who embody the Dao do not seek things carelessly, nor do they shirk calamity. What belongs to them they do not abandon; what does not belong to them they do not force. They are often full yet never overflowing, and by remaining empty they easily attain contentment. Therefore, when one arranges one's life according to the Dao-arts and proper measure, food is enough to satisfy hunger, clothing is enough to ward off cold, and this is sufficient to keep the seven-foot body warm and well fed. If one has no Dao-arts and no measure, yet single-mindedly pursues nobility, then even holding the power to rule a state of ten thousand chariots will not bring joy, and even possessing the wealth of all under Heaven will not bring delight. For this reason, the sage keeps a peaceful mind and a steady will, guards the spirit within, and is not confused by external things.

Laozi said: To overcome others shows strength; to overcome oneself is true power. One who would be strong must be skilled at borrowing the strength of others, and to borrow the strength of others one must win their hearts. To win their hearts, one must first establish oneself properly. No one who has not firmly established himself can win hearts, and no one whose own conduct is out of order can gain the people's support.

Therefore, the foundation of governing all under Heaven lies in bringing the common people to peace. To bring them peace, one must first meet their basic needs. To meet those needs, one must not miss the agricultural seasons. To not miss the seasons, one must reduce the burden of governmental affairs. To reduce that burden, one must economize on expenditure. To economize, one must remove extravagance and excess. Removing extravagance rests fundamentally on maintaining emptiness, stillness, and wuwei (non-action). Those who understand the nature of life do not pursue what life does not require; those who understand the limits of fate do not worry over what they cannot change.

When the eyes covet colors, the mouth craves delicacies, and the ears are absorbed in music, and the senses vie with one another, the original nature of a person is harmed. Improper desires grow day by day and exhaust one's innate peace. If one cannot even govern oneself, how can one govern all under Heaven?

To obtain all under Heaven does not mean occupying positions of power or enjoying lofty titles, but being able to employ the minds and strength of the people of the realm and to win their support. To hold the title of sovereign facing south, yet receive no praise from anyone, is to lose the realm. Thus, although Jie of the Xia and Zhou of the Shang held the title of king, they cannot truly be considered rightful kings; and although Tang of the Shang and King Wu of the Zhou once raised armies to punish tyrants, they cannot be regarded as usurpers.

When the realm is governed well, defenses are stationed at the distant borders of the four directions; when the realm loses the Dao (the Way), defense must rely on the feudal lords. When the feudal lords govern well, defenses are stationed at the borders of their domains; when the feudal lords lose the Dao, defense must depend on one's close confidants. Therefore, do not hope that others will never seize your position, but make yourself possess a foundation that cannot be taken away. If the Way one follows is itself easy to seize, then even without any act of usurpation or regicide, it will not help one hold on to the realm.

Laozi said: One who is skilled at governing a state does not alter the existing institutions, nor readily change consistent principles.

Anger runs counter to virtue (de), and weapons are ominous instruments; strife plunges people into disorder. To scheme in secret and act against virtue, and to be fond of employing weapons to pacify the disorder among people, is to push matters to their most extreme point. If no one brings about calamity, turmoil would not take shape. Therefore, it is better to blunt one's sharpness, resolve disputes, soften one's brilliance, and merge into the common world.

People's nature is to wish to be more capable than others and to dislike being inferior to them. Wanting to surpass others gives rise to the mind of contention; disliking being inferior to others produces resentment and strife. Once resentment and strife arise, people's minds fall into confusion, and calamity follows. Therefore, it is better to blunt one's sharpness, resolve disputes, soften one's brilliance, and merge into the common world.

The sage kings of antiquity eliminated the mind of contention and resentment. When contention and resentment do not arise, people's minds are settled and their vital energy (qi) flows smoothly. Therefore the scripture says: "Do not exalt the worthy, and the people will not vie for position."

Laozi said: To govern the myriad things, one cannot rely on the things themselves but must rely on harmony. To govern harmony, one cannot rely on harmony alone but must rely on people. To govern people, one cannot rely on people alone but must rely on the ruler. To govern the ruler, one cannot rely on the ruler alone but must rely on restraining desire. To govern desire, one cannot rely on desire alone but must rely on nature. To govern nature, one cannot rely on nature alone but must rely on De (Virtue/Power). To govern De, one must ultimately rely on the Dao (the Way).

Viewed through the Dao, the nature of a person is free of evil and defilement. If one remains long immersed in external things, one forgets one's root; only by according with one's nature can one return to authenticity. Clothing, food, and social customs are not human nature; they are received from the outside world. Thus the original nature of a person hopes for peace, while cravings and desires harm it. Only one who has attained the Dao can set aside external things and turn back to observe oneself.

When the mind engages in self-reflection, it does not lose its clear understanding of the true state of things; when it cannot reflect on itself, action becomes prone to confusion and agitation. Indulging desire causes one to lose one's nature, and one's conduct becomes difficult to keep upright. To govern oneself in this condition is to harm oneself; to govern the state with it is to disturb the people. Therefore, one who does not understand the Dao cannot return to nature.

The ancient sages could grasp principles from within themselves, and so their decrees were carried out and their prohibitions enforced. Whenever one is to act, one must first calm the mind and clarify the spirit; only once the mind-spirit is settled can affairs be handled properly. If the sense of hearing is swayed by improper speech, using it to cultivate oneself will harm oneself, and using it to govern the state will disturb the people. Therefore, one who does not understand the Dao cannot return to nature.

If the sense of hearing is swayed by false praise or slander, and the eyes are captivated by dazzling colors, then to still handle matters correctly is very difficult. Hence what is valued is emptiness and stillness, that is, letting the mind not be moved by external things. When water is struck violently it churns into waves, and when the breath is disordered the mind-wisdom becomes clouded; a clouded mind cannot make fair judgments, and churning water cannot remain calm. Therefore the sage holds fast to the One (the fundamental unity embodied by the Dao), and by this grasps the patterns and nature of the myriad things. The One is most honored and inclines toward no part of the world. The sage relies on this impartial foundation, and so is able to become the master of all under Heaven.

Laozi said: When the yin-yang qi (yīnyáng zhī qì, the two forces that together constitute and drive the transformations of all things) are in harmony and nurture the myriad things, all things come to life by relying on one and the same primordial qi. When those above and below drift apart and fall out of accord, the qi rises and steams upward. When ruler and minister are out of harmony, the five grains fail. When spring brings killing frost and autumn brings lush growth, when thunder sounds in winter and frost falls in summer, all of these are caused by disordered, perverse qi.

Heaven and earth may be regarded as a single human body, and the territory within the Six Directions (liùhé, the bounds of heaven and earth formed by above, below, and the four quarters) may be regarded as a single human form. Therefore, one who understands his own nature is not coerced by the changes of heaven and earth, and one who knows the signs of things is not confused by strange phenomena.

The sage infers the distant from the near and regards ten thousand li of land as a single whole. When the qi between heaven and earth steams in confusion and propriety, righteousness, integrity, and a sense of shame have not yet been established, the common people will harm one another and treat each other with cruelty, as if they were dwelling in primordial chaos and darkness.

When integrity and shame are trampled underfoot and the age declines, calamities multiply and wealth diminishes. Labor grows bitter and yet cannot sustain the people, who sink into poverty and suffering. Resentment and strife arise in their wake, and so people especially exalt benevolence (rén). When people's hearts are not united, they form factions and pursue private interests, each taking the side of their own companions, and they harbor cunning and deceit. Therefore people especially exalt righteousness (yì). When men and women live together without distinction, people especially exalt ritual propriety (lǐ). When human nature and desires for life indulge excessively and press upon one another, so that one can no longer govern oneself and relationships fall into discord, people especially exalt music (yuè), the ritual music that regulates human feeling and maintains harmony.

Benevolence, righteousness, ritual, and music are remedies for a crumbling order; they are not the fundamental way to govern the world. If the Way of spirit and illumination could truly be settled throughout the world and people's hearts returned to their original state, then the nature of the common people would be good. When the people's nature is good, the yin and yang of heaven and earth will harmonize with it. When goods are abundant and the people are prosperous, greed, baseness, and the minds of resentment and strife will have no means to arise. When benevolence and righteousness no longer become a burden, De (dé, Virtue) can keep the world at peace, and the people will not be drawn into the allure of gaudy colors.

Thus, only after De has declined is it necessary to raise up benevolence and righteousness; only after harmony is lost is it necessary to bring it back through music; only after ritual has become excessive is it necessary to deliberately adorn one's bearing. One who understands the root of De will recognize that promoting benevolence and righteousness alone is not enough. One who understands the meaning of benevolence and righteousness will recognize that adorning ritual and music is also not the root of good governance.

When the common people are not drawn to elaborate colors, it is only after virtue (De) (Virtue/Power) has declined that people deliberately advertise benevolence and righteousness. Only when harmony has been lost do they turn to music to restore it, and only when ritual has become excessive do they begin to attend to appearance and adornment. Therefore, those who truly understand the Way (Dao) and De know that benevolence and righteousness are not enough to lead people to practice the proper Way, and that once one understands benevolence and righteousness, one also sees that ritual and music are not enough to cultivate the self.

Laozi said: Governance through pure stillness (qingjing) takes gentleness and tranquility as its foundation, causing people to preserve their simplicity and sincerity, to remain at ease and calm, and to avoid haste. When the inner mind accords with the Dao and outward conduct accords with righteousness, speech is concise and fits the facts, and behavior is pleasing and follows human feeling. The inner mind is peaceful and free of pretense, and affairs are handled plainly without contrived embellishment. One does not plan in advance how things should begin, nor deliberately debate how they should end. One rests when at rest and acts when stirred. Body and mind connect with heaven and earth, join with Yin-Yang, and harmonize with the four seasons, shining clearly like the sun and moon. Such a person follows the transformations of the great Dao, and no cleverness, deceit, or falsehood can find a place in the heart.

Therefore, heaven covers all things with its De, and earth bears all things with its harmony. The four seasons run without disorder, wind and rain bring no calamity, the sun and moon shine with clarity and peace, and the five planets each follow their own courses. This is the effect that the Way of pure stillness makes manifest.

Laozi said that the duties of governing a state are easy to keep to, affairs are easy to carry out, ritual norms are easy to put into practice, and responsibilities and rewards are easy to make clear. Therefore, people need not hold several offices at once, and officials need not take on the duties of the scholar-gentry as well. Scholars, farmers, artisans, and merchants each have their own division of labor, and villages, districts, and prefectures likewise differ from one another. Farmers talk among themselves about farming and storage, scholars talk about conduct, artisans talk about their crafts, and merchants talk about trade and calculation. In this way, each group's norms are easy to practice, responsibilities are easy to distinguish, and rewards are easy to realize.

Accordingly, scholars do not neglect their conduct, artisans are not trapped by difficult tasks, farmers do not delay the work of the fields, and merchants do not suffer losses on their goods, so that each can act in accordance with his or her own nature. People of different appearances and kinds can carry out their tasks smoothly without conflict. Someone placed in an unsuitable position will be looked down upon, and only when placed in a suitable position does one's worth become evident.

Those who possess foresight and can anticipate the future stand out exceptionally, yet governing a state should not demand that everyone possess such ability. Those who are learned, possess strong memories, and are eloquent surpass ordinary people in knowledge and speech, yet a wise ruler should not demand that all his subordinates be like this. To look down on the world, to set no store by external things, and to refuse to follow popular custom are the principled stance of upright scholars of firm character, yet good governance should not take this stance as the common standard for teaching the common people.

Therefore, a standard so lofty that no one can reach it cannot be used to measure ordinary people, and conduct so lofty that no one can accomplish it cannot be established as the custom of the state. Talent cannot rely solely on a few outstanding individuals, but standards and methods of governance can be transmitted from generation to generation. Thus, when a state is governed well, it can be maintained even by ordinary people who merely keep what has been established, and an army can be commanded according to shared rules. Governing a state need not wait for the eminent figures of antiquity; rather, one should rely on the abilities people already have and let each kind of person make full use of their capacities.

The laws of a degenerate age tend to set standards too high without regard to whether people can meet them, to impose responsibilities too heavy to bear and punishments too severe to endure, and to make affairs so perilous and arduous that they then hold accountable those who dare not undertake them. When the people are driven by these three kinds of harshness, they will conceal their cleverness, deceive those above them, and engage in depraved and dangerous conduct. Even when the laws are harsh and punishments severe, they cannot stop them from doing wrong. Beasts driven into a corner will lash out, birds pressed too hard will peck, and when people are backed into a dead end, they too will resort to deception. This is what the saying means.

Laozi said: The rumble of thunder can be imitated with bells and drums, and the changes of wind and rain can be discerned through musical tones. Whatever is large enough to be seen can be measured, whatever is bright enough to be seen can be concealed, whatever sound can be heard can be harmonized, and whatever color can be distinguished can be differentiated.

The greatest thing is too vast for Heaven and Earth to contain, and the smallest thing is too minute for the spirits (Shen) to perceive. When people establish pitch pipes and calendars, distinguish the five colors, separate clear tones from turbid ones, and discriminate sweet flavors from bitter ones, the originally undifferentiated and unadorned Dao (the Way) scatters into countless particular things. When benevolence and righteousness are set up and ritual and music are cultivated, De (Virtue/Power) is transformed into artificial forms.

The common people adorn their wisdom with cleverness to astonish the ignorant, and they devise deceptions to use against their superiors. There are those in the world who can sustain such a state of affairs, but no one who can truly govern it well. The more cunning there is, the more De declines. Therefore, one who has attained the Dao maintains simplicity and does not allow the natural nature to be dispersed.

One who has attained the Dao governs the world by keeping the mind empty and tranquil and by not displaying things that provoke desire. He allows the spirit to rest in its place and brings the body into harmony with its original nature. In stillness he embodies De, and in action affairs naturally proceed smoothly. He follows the way of nature and responds to what must be done as something unavoidable. Through Wuwei (non-action), he is calm and the world is harmonious; through purity and freedom from desire, the people return to simplicity. Without contention, goods are sufficient. Those who seek and do not obtain do not forcibly take, and those who receive goods do not refuse them. De returns to this state, yet no one regards it as a favor.

That which cannot be expressed through wordy argument, and the Dao that cannot be conveyed through speech, if someone is able to comprehend it, is called the Heavenly Storehouse (Tianfu), like nature's own treasury. One may draw from it without diminishing it, and draw from it without exhausting it. No one knows where it comes from, and this is called Yaoguang (a star name, here referring to the root that nourishes the myriad things). Yaoguang is the sustenance on which the myriad things depend for nourishment.

Lao Zi said: Heaven treasures its essence, Earth treasures its evenness, and people treasure their nature and disposition. The essence of Heaven is the sun, moon, stars, thunder, lightning, wind, and rain; the evenness of Earth is the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water); and the nature and disposition of people is their thinking, their cleverness, and their emotions such as joy and anger. Therefore, by closing the four gates and blocking the five passages, a person can become one with the Dao (the Way).

The divine spirit (the inner spirit) hides in the formless, and the vital essence (Jing) returns to its original purity. The eyes are bright, yet they do not cling to seeing; the ears are keen, yet they do not cling to hearing; the mouth speaks appropriately, yet does not speak carelessly; the mind is penetrating, yet does not fall into endless reflection. Following what is natural, one does not act recklessly; having knowledge, one does not boast of it. In this way one preserves the original disposition of life and does not let cunning and deliberate calculation harm oneself.

When Jing (essence) is abundant in the eyes, vision becomes clear; when abundant in the ears, hearing becomes keen; when it rests in the mouth, speech becomes fitting; when it gathers in the heart, thought becomes penetrating. Therefore, by closing the four gates, one will have few misfortunes throughout life. When the four limbs and the nine orifices (the two eyes, two ears, two nostrils, the mouth, and the front and rear lower orifices) do not fall into the distinctions that cling to life and death, such a person is called a "Perfected Person" (Zhenren).

The earth produces goods and wealth, and at root these do not go beyond the Five Phases. The sage regulates the use of the Five Phases, and so governance does not fall into disorder.

Laozi says: the balance, the instrument for weighing lightness and heaviness, treats both sides alike and favors neither, so it can weigh fairly. The ink line, the cord carpenters use to straighten wood, leans neither inward nor outward and neither crooked nor straight, so it can determine what is upright. A ruler who handles the laws without mixing in personal likes or dislikes allows the laws to be carried out. When virtue is not abandoned and resentment has nowhere to accumulate, this is the way of following the Dao (the Way) and according with the human heart.

Therefore, one who governs a state does not arbitrarily intervene through personal cleverness. When rushing water strikes a boat, it destroys the boat, and when a log collides with a cart, it breaks the axle. People do not blame the wood and stone. Instead, they examine whether the craftsmanship was skillful and whether the object was used properly, because cleverness cannot alter the regularities of things themselves. When personal scheming is mixed into the Dao (the Way), it becomes disordered. When private intent is mixed into De (Virtue/Power), it brings danger. When the mind clings to distinction and judgment, it is led into confusion.

The balance, the compass, and the carpenter's square each have fixed standards that do not change lightly. Holding to the One constantly, they do not incline; they operate when they should and do not stagnate. Once made, they can be passed down for generations. This is how accomplishment comes without reckless action. People say: "A state may lack a ruler, but the world will never lack the Dao (the Way). A person may fall into hardship, but reason always has a way through." Therefore, wuwei (non-action) is the root of the Dao (the Way). One who grasps this root can respond to endless change. One who does not follow reason, but relies only on personal ability, will ultimately fall into difficulty.

The ruler need not leave the doorway to know the realm. They understand things by observing things, and they understand others by relying on others. When the multitude pools its efforts, nothing cannot be won; when the wisdom of many is gathered, nothing cannot be accomplished. A force of a thousand does not run out of provisions, and a body of ten thousand does not neglect its affairs. Craftsmen need not each possess extraordinary skill, and officials need not hold many posts. Each person keeps to their own duty and does not overstep to take over another's work. Each does what suits them, and each thing finds its proper place, so tools are not crude and duties are not neglected.

Less demand makes satisfaction easy. Fewer duties make them easy to keep. A light burden makes it easy to win people's full effort. When superiors hold a simple and moderate division of labor, subordinates can accomplish what is easy to do, and so, even after working together for a long time, people do not grow weary of one another.

Laozi was able to arrange affairs appropriately, so vessels and tools were not treated with contempt, and official duties were not neglected. Where demands were few, they were easy to meet; where duties were not numerous, they were easy to keep in order; where assigned tasks were light, people were readily encouraged. When superiors held to a simple and sparse set of responsibilities, subordinates could accomplish what was easy to do, and so over long association, neither side grew weary of the other.

Laozi said: the emperor takes Taiyi (the Supreme One, the unified source of all things in the cosmos) as his root; the king emulates Yin-Yang (the two forces in Heaven and Earth that oppose, wax and wane, and transform into one another); the hegemon follows the Four Seasons (the regular sequence of spring, summer, autumn, and winter); and the lord of a state employs the Six Pitch-Pipes (six ancient tubes used to calibrate musical pitch, here a metaphor for the standards of governing affairs).

One who takes Taiyi as root can comprehend the reasons of Heaven and Earth and understand the measures of De (Virtue/Power) and Dao (the Way). Their wisdom shines like the sun and moon, and their spirit communicates with all things. In action and in stillness they harmonize Yin and Yang, and in joy and anger they accord with the Four Seasons. Whether their grace covers all or is bestowed on individuals, it accords with the Dao and spreads widely without partiality. Even small creatures, such as flying insects and crawling things, all depend on the nourishment of De to grow. Their virtue is transmitted to distant lands, and their fame reaches later generations.

One who emulates Yin-Yang receives the harmonious Qi (vital energy) of Heaven and Earth. Their De stands alongside Heaven and Earth, their brightness shines together with the sun and moon, and their spirit is subtle and numinous like gods and spirits. They are able to adapt flexibly to change while holding fast to rectitude; their outward conduct has standards, and their inner heart upholds discipline. Within, they cultivate themselves; without, they win the hearts of the people. When they issue commands, the realm moves like grass bending before the wind, and their fame passes to later generations.

One who governs by following the Four Seasons causes all things to sprout in spring, grow in summer, be harvested in autumn, and be stored in winter. Giving and receiving are both moderated, and outflow and inflow are both measured. Joy and anger, firmness and gentleness, do not deviate from constant principle: they are gentle without being weak, firm without breaking, generous without indulgence, and grave without perversity. They calmly accord with the course of affairs in order to nourish all beings. Their virtue is tolerant, able to embrace the ignorant and the unworthy, and they show partiality to no one.

One who governs by the Six Pitch-Pipes holds the powers of life and death, reward and punishment, bestowing and depriving. Governance cannot be carried out without these means: punishing disorder and halting violence, promoting the worthy and dismissing the unworthy, correcting deviance and returning it to rectitude, pacifying danger and chaos to bring stability, and straightening what is crooked. They understand the ways in which commands are issued and withheld, opened and blocked. They follow timing and act according to circumstance, so that the hearts of the people submit.

If the emperor takes Yin-Yang as his root, he will be secure; if the king merely emulates the Four Seasons, he may decline; if the hegemon merely employs the Six Pitch-Pipes, he will be humiliated; and if the lord of a state loses the standard (the measure by which governance is weighed and regulated), he will be discarded. Therefore, one of low station who undertakes great affairs will be obstructed and have no one close to them, while one of high station who attends only to small matters will appear cramped and narrow, unable to embrace the multitude.

Laozi said: A vast territory and a large population do not in themselves prove a state's strength. Sturdy armor and sharp weapons cannot guarantee victory on their own. High walls and deep moats do not necessarily make a defense secure. Severe punishments, too, are not enough to establish genuine authority.

A state that is well governed can endure for a long time even when it is small, while a state that is poorly governed will perish in the end, however powerful it may be. Therefore, one who is skilled at defense does not need to resist others head-on, and one who is skilled at war does not need to engage in direct confrontation. They follow the currents of the times and understand the aspirations of the people, so that all under heaven submit to them.

One who is skilled at governing accumulates De (Virtue/Power), and one who is skilled at warfare nurtures strength and might. When De accumulates, the people will follow direction, and when might is stored up, authority can be established. The deeper instruction and transformation reach, the more readily people obey the authority one holds. The wider the reach of De, the greater the range over which its might can exert restraint. As that range expands, one grows stronger, and the enemy appears comparatively weak.

One who is skilled in warfare first places the enemy in a weakened position before engaging in battle, so that with less than half the expenditure, the results are multiplied tenfold. A state with a thousand chariots that practices civil virtue may rule the realm as king, whereas a great state with ten thousand chariots that delights in the use of force will in fact perish. The troops of a true king first secure the advantage of position and only then fight, while the troops of a defeated lord rush into battle hastily and only afterward seek a way to win. This is because they do not understand the Dao (the Way).

Laozi said: The way of governing a state for the gentleman is to cultivate oneself through stillness and purity (qingjing), and to nourish life through frugality. When the ruler is still and undisturbed, the common people will not be harassed; when the people are not harassed, they will not resent. Disturbing the people leads to disorder in governance, and resentment among the people shows that the ruler's virtue (de) has declined. When governance is in disorder, the worthy and capable will not be willing to devise plans for him; when virtue has declined, even brave warriors will not be willing to fight for him.

The benighted ruler, however, is not like this. He possesses the wealth of all under Heaven and wields the power of a sovereign of the realm, exhausting the strength of the people merely to satisfy his sensory desires. He single-mindedly builds palaces and terraces, ditches and ponds, and gardens and parks, and gathers wild beasts and rare treasures. Commoners go hungry while tigers and wolves tire of fine meat; the people suffer from cold while those within the palace wear gorgeous silks and brocades. When the ruler accumulates these useless things, the people of all under Heaven cannot live in peace.

Laozi said: Without tranquil detachment, one cannot manifest De (Virtue). Without calm stillness, one cannot plan for the long term. Without broad magnanimity, one cannot embrace the myriad things. Without fairness and equanimity, one cannot make sound judgments. One must observe with the eyes of all under Heaven, listen with their ears, think with their minds, and act with their strength. In this way, commands can reach the grassroots, and the true circumstances of subordinates can ascend to the ruler. The hundred officials will each fulfill their duties, with superiors and inferiors in free communication, and the assembled ministers will unite like spokes converging on the hub of a wheel.

One does not reward according to personal likes, nor punish according to personal anger. Laws are clear yet not harsh; the ears and eyes are sharp yet not obstructed. Good and bad conditions are laid out before one every day, and the ruler does not reject them. Thus the worthy can fully display their talents, and the unworthy can also exhaust their strength. Those close at hand remain content in their proper roles, and those far away are moved by gratitude for the ruler's kindness. This is the method of skillfully employing people.

One who rides in a carriage or on horseback need not labor personally to reach a thousand li away; one who travels by boat need not wade on foot to cross rivers and seas. So long as a statement is truly correct, even if it comes from a peddler or a woodcutter, it must not be discarded unheard. If a statement is incorrect, even if it comes from the ruler or a minister of high rank, it must not be adopted. In judging right and wrong, one must not rely on the nobility or lowliness of a person's status.

A plan that is truly workable should not be scorned because its proposer is of humble station, and a proposal that is truly feasible should not be rejected because its speaker is not skilled in eloquence. The muddled ruler, however, is not like this: when his ministers are sincere and fully loyal, few of them can preserve their own safety; when the ruler is close to and familiar with crooked and deceitful people, the worthy have no way of being discovered; and those who are distant, lowly in rank, yet strive to be loyal, the ruler cannot hear their voices. When someone offers counsel, he is pressed with words; when someone remonstrates, he is punished with charges of crime. To expect such a ruler to stabilize the realm and preserve the myriad people is to stray far from clear discernment and penetrating understanding.

Laozi said: Those who know how to treasure their lives, even when they are wealthy and honored, do not harm their bodies for the sake of enjoyment. Even when they are poor and lowly, they do not burden their bodies and minds for the sake of gain. Now, to inherit the titles bequeathed by one's ancestors, one should value all the more the origin of one's life. To lightly lose that life is surely foolishness. One who governs the world with the attitude of cherishing oneself may be entrusted with the realm, and one who governs with the attitude of caring for oneself may be given the world in peace.

Wenzi asked what the root of governing a state is.

Laozi said: The root lies in cultivating oneself. I have never heard of a state falling into disorder when the self is well governed, nor of a state being well governed when the self is in disorder. Therefore it is said that when one cultivates oneself, one's De (Virtue) becomes genuine. The mystery of the Dao (the Way) cannot be passed from father to son, nor can a son receive it directly from his father. Thus the Dao that can be spoken is not the constant Dao, and the name that can be named is not the constant name.

Wenzi asked: What must one do so that the common people will feel close to their ruler?

Laozi said: Employ the people according to the seasons, and treat them with caution and reverence, as if standing at the edge of an abyss or walking on thin ice. Between heaven and earth, those who treat me well are the ones I nourish and draw near, and those who do not treat me well are my enemies. In the past, the subjects of Xia and Shang turned their backs on Jie and Zhou and submitted to Tang and Wu. The people of the Susha clan attacked their own lord and gave their allegiance to Shennong. Therefore it is said: "What people fear, one must not fail to fear."

Laozi said: In governing great affairs, the principles relied upon must not be narrow. Where the territory is vast, the institutions of governance must not be confined. Where one's position is high, the handling of affairs must not be petty. Where the people are numerous, one must be all the more careful in treating them, for "what people fear, one must not fail to fear."

Laozi said: When the realm to be governed is vast, the principles one follows cannot be narrow. When the territory is broad, the system of governance cannot be cramped. When one's position is high, the handling of affairs cannot be fussy. When the people are numerous, teaching them through transformation cannot be harsh. When affairs are tangled, they are hard to govern. When laws are harsh, they are hard to enforce. When demands are excessive, they are hard to supply.

Measuring with an inch, one who measures up to a zhang (ten feet) is prone to error. Weighing with a zhu (a very small unit of weight in ancient times), one who weighs up to a shi (a unit of weight in ancient times) easily loses accuracy. Measuring with the zhang and weighing with the shi is direct, and errors are few. Grasping the essentials makes affairs easy to manage and also displays wisdom. Becoming entangled in trivial details, by contrast, makes one hard to call wise. Therefore, the sage does not do what fails to benefit governance and only fosters disorder. The wise person does not pursue what gives no help to practical use and only adds to expense.

Therefore, achievements need not be complex, affairs need not be many, and needs need not be excessive. Simple achievements are easy to accomplish, streamlined affairs are easy to govern, and few needs are easy to supply. When matters are entrusted to the many to bear together, governance becomes easy. Petty disputation harms great righteousness, and partial, minor principles destroy the great Dao (the Way). When principles are too narrow, they cannot be made to pass through. Principles that truly penetrate must be simple.

Rivers wind and stretch, and so they can flow to distant places. Mountain ranges rise in layers, and so they appear lofty. The Dao is broad and unhurried, and so it can nurture and transform the myriad things. Someone who has mastered only one craft, is familiar with only one matter, or possesses only one talent can use these abilities to handle concrete problems. But they cannot, on that basis alone, respond to every kind of affair.

When tuning a instrument, the fine strings are tightened somewhat and the coarse strings loosened somewhat. In arranging affairs, those of lower standing bear more of the labor, while those of higher standing enjoy more ease. The teaching on the Dao holds that it is vast, profound, and beyond measure. It follows the momentum of Heaven and shares the same qi (vital energy) with Heaven. Only by sharing qi with Heaven can one respond broadly to all things.

One who shares qi with Heaven is called Di (emperor). One who accords in meaning with Heaven is called Wang (king). One who shares merit with Heaven is called Ba (hegemon). Failing to attain any of these means ruin. Therefore, one can convince people without speaking, show benevolence without deliberately bestowing favors, and command awe without anger. This is the result of Heaven's mind transforming the myriad things. If one must bestow favors in order to appear benevolent, rely on words to win trust, and rely on anger to establish authority, then one is acting with deliberate intent. And if, even after bestowing favors, one is still not benevolent, one's words are still not trusted, and one's anger still carries no authority, then one is merely making a show on the surface.

Thus, when one who possesses the Dao governs, the laws may be few, yet they are enough to keep society stable. When one who lacks the Dao governs, the laws may be many, yet they are enough to bring about chaos.

Laozi said: when a whale leaves the water, it will be subdued by ants and earthworms. When a ruler abandons the duties that are properly his and instead competes with his ministers in carrying out affairs, he will be subdued by the officials in charge. The ruler should hold his throne through wuwei (non-action), allowing each minister who has his own duties to follow orders and remain content in his post. If ministers hide their talents and refuse to display them, and the ruler ends up handling everything himself, he will be bound by trivial matters.

A ruler who does not employ capable people but delights in managing everything personally will find his wisdom growing ever more clouded, and the responsibility will fall upon himself. When ministers allow affairs to reach a state that is difficult to manage, the ruler cannot make his principles clear. When the ruler's conduct is improper and he loses his authority, he cannot control the situation. If his wisdom is insufficient to govern the state, and his power is insufficient to carry out punishments, then he will find it difficult to get along properly with his ministers.

When a ruler reveals his joy and anger on his face and displays his tastes and desires outwardly, the officials who hold their posts will deviate from fairness and curry favor with him, and the officials in charge will bend the law and guess at the ruler's intentions. When rewards do not match merit, and punishments do not correspond to offenses, superiors and subordinates will be estranged and ruler and minister will resent one another. When the hundred officials fall into disorder, the ruler's wisdom will also be unable to untangle it; when false praise and slander arise, the ruler will be unable to see clearly. If a ruler personally bears blame for faults that are not his own, he will grow ever more exhausted, while his ministers grow ever more at ease.

Therefore, one who stands in for a skilled carpenter in cutting wood will rarely fail to injure his own hand. One who chases a running horse on foot will exhaust himself and still not catch it; one who sits in the carriage but grips the reins and drives personally may see the horse collapse and die beside the shafts. Bole (a master at judging horses) is responsible for selecting the horses, and Wang Liang (a master charioteer) is responsible for driving them. A wise ruler knows how to employ such people, and without troubling himself to judge horses or drive carriages, he can still reach a destination a thousand li away. This speaks of the skill of employing worthy people.

The ruler's way of governing is to accomplish affairs without managing them himself, and to establish order without revealing preferences. Once a ruler personally intervenes, his ministers will debate; once he reveals a preference, his ministers will flatter. Debate easily shakes the ruler's authority, and flattery easily leads him to make biased decisions.

To establish a situation through personal force and ultimately be controlled by others is to be unable to preserve the state for long. Therefore, one who is skilled at establishing foundations makes foundations that cannot be shaken; this means that a true foundation is not forcibly erected through external forms. Only one who conforms to change and is skilled at transformation can have the myriad things unable to surpass him.

When inner desires are not revealed outwardly, this is called "concealment" (cang); when external evil thoughts do not invade the heart, this is called "closing" (bi). When one can guard both inside and outside, affairs will not lose their proper measure; when one defends against what is external and holds fast to the original mind within, affairs can be brought to completion. Therefore, the ruler does not personally intervene, yet affairs take effect; he does not personally act, yet governance achieves results. He does not boast of his own words, nor does he contend with his ministers for their tasks. Instead, he examines officials' actual performance according to their titles and assigns concrete tasks to the officials in charge. Taking not to rashly display one's own cleverness as the principle, and taking the prohibition of harshness and vexation as the essential task, all levels of officials will then have their work appropriately assessed.

Laozi said: Grain is the foundation on which people depend for survival, and the common people are the roots of the state. Therefore, when a ruler governs the realm, he must follow the seasons of Heaven, make use of the advantages of the land, and bring the strength of humanity into play. In this way, the myriad things will flourish and grow abundant, and resources will steadily increase. In spring, dead wood is cut; in summer, various fruits are gathered; in autumn, vegetables and grain are stored; in winter, firewood is gathered. These are used to nourish the people, so that the living lack nothing for daily needs and the dead are not left without a place to be buried.

The laws established by the former kings were as follows: One must not sweep up an entire herd in a single net, nor fish in the marshes when they have dried up, nor burn the forests in order to hunt. Before wolves begin to prey, no nets may be set out in the wilds to catch animals; before otters begin to fish, no fishing nets may be put into the water; before hawks and falcons begin to hunt, no nets may be strung along the water's edge. Before the grasses and trees have withered, no one may take an axe into the forests; before the insects have gone into hibernation, no one may set fire to the fields. Pregnant livestock are not to be slaughtered; fledglings and eggs are not to be taken; fish that have not grown to a foot in length are not to be caught; dogs and pigs under a year old are not to be killed for food.

Therefore the myriad things flourish and grow, rising like steam. The former kings followed the seasons and made provision in advance; this is the way to make the state rich and to benefit the common people. Such principles must not only be seen with one's own eyes and practiced with one's own hands; those who wish to bring profit to the people should also keep them firmly in mind. In this way, the people will naturally prepare for their livelihoods.

Laozi said: In ancient times, the wise rulers took from the people's goods with restraint, and they kept to measure in what they used for themselves. Each year they reckoned the harvest, estimated the people's stores, and determined the surplus and the shortfall before they levied tribute. In this way the ruler could accord with the conditions that Heaven and Earth had bestowed, and the people were spared the suffering of hunger and cold. The ruler pitied the people. When the realm suffered famine, he did not eat rich and varied dishes; when the people were cold, he did not wear fur in winter. He shared the bitterness and sweetness with the people, and so there was no resentment under Heaven.

The foolish rulers were not like this. They took the people's goods without regard for whether the people could bear it, and they demanded from the people without reckoning what they had stored. Men and women therefore had no leisure to attend to planting and weaving; they could only meet the ruler's demands, until their strength was exhausted and their goods were emptied, and their livelihood could no longer be sustained. Ruler and minister came to resent one another. One person might labor at farming, yet the yield could not feed ten people. A fields of middling quality produced no more than four shi of grain, and the wives, children, and the aged and infirm of the household had to live on that alone, and sometimes disaster struck besides. If the ruler still kept demanding without end, the wise ruler would grieve for the people. The greedy ruler and the cruel overlord stripped the people's resources bare to satisfy desires that had no limit, and so the people could not receive the harmonizing of the seasons of Heaven, nor could they enjoy the nourishment of the Earth.

Laozi said: Among the qi of Heaven and Earth, nothing is more important than harmony. What is called harmony is the coordination of Yin and Yang and the balance of day and night. Because of this, the myriad things can flourish and grow vigorously at the time of the Spring Equinox. If the people do not receive the harmonizing of the seasons of Heaven, nor enjoy the nourishment of the Earth, then the myriad things will find it difficult to grow smoothly.

Laozi said: Among the qi (vital energy) that fills heaven and earth, nothing is more vital than harmony (he). Harmony means the balancing of Yin-Yang, with night and day equally divided. For this reason, the myriad things sprout at the spring equinox and ripen at the autumn equinox. From growth to maturity, all depend on the essential quality of harmonious qi. If Yin qi accumulates excessively, the myriad things cannot grow; if Yang qi accumulates excessively, they cannot transform. Only when Yin and Yang unite can harmonious qi be formed.

Therefore, the way the sage conducts affairs is to be generous yet dignified, upright yet not lacking gentleness, yielding yet principled, courageous yet guided by benevolence. What is too hard breaks easily; what is too weak bends easily. The right course lies in the mean between firmness and softness. A cord can be coiled and held close to the breast, or stretched out and laid flat. When lengthened, it does not go askew; when shortened, it does not lose its usefulness. It keeps its straightness without becoming rigid, and so the sage takes it as a model.

When kindness goes too far, it becomes weakness, and weakness loses authority. When severity goes too far, it becomes ferocity, and ferocity loses harmony. When favor goes too far, it becomes indulgence, and indulgence makes control impossible. When punishment goes too far, it invites calamity, and calamity turns the people's hearts away. For this reason, the sage values moderation and balance above all.

Laozi said: a state survives because it follows the Dao (the Way), and it falls because the principles of governance become blocked. Therefore the sage observes how things change and discerns the omens within those changes. Governance by De (Virtue) rises and declines, and shifts in custom are often the first visible sign. A state that takes the path of growth will eventually become strong even if it begins weak, while a state already showing signs of ruin will eventually fail even if it flourishes for a time.

Whether a state can endure does not depend only on the size of its territory, and whether the Dao can be put into practice must not be dismissed as a matter of minor details. A state is preserved by following the Dao, regardless of its size, and it heads toward ruin by losing the Dao, which likewise does not depend on its size. Therefore, a benighted ruler single-mindedly pursues vast territory without devoting himself to benevolence and righteousness, and seeks high position without cultivating his De. This amounts to abandoning the foundation of a state's survival and creating the causes of its downfall. If a ruler above violates the heavenly Dao, symbolized by the sun, moon, and stars, and below loses the trust of the people, who will support him? Thus, one who is skilled at examining himself does not place all the blame on others.

The ancients cultivated the Dao and practiced it thoroughly, and this was called De. Practiced more shallowly, it was called benevolence and righteousness. Practiced more superficially still, it was called ritual propriety and wisdom. These six, namely Dao, De, benevolence, righteousness, ritual propriety, and wisdom, are the foundations that sustain a state. The more thoroughly one practices, the deeper the blessings one receives. The more shallow the practice, the thinner the blessings. If these can be implemented comprehensively, all under Heaven will submit.

In antiquity, cultivating De could rectify the empire, cultivating benevolence and righteousness could rectify a state, and cultivating ritual propriety and wisdom could rectify a village. Where De is deep, its influence is great, and where it is shallow, its influence is small. The Dao is not established through violence or martial display, nor does it prevail through hardness and domination, nor is it obtained through greed and contention. Its foundation lies in extending oneself to others and bringing all under Heaven onto the right Way. Its victory is the willing submission of all under Heaven, and its acquisition is given freely by all under Heaven rather than seized by force.

Therefore, like the female and the mother beast, who dwell low and hold to softness, one can establish oneself. Softness can overcome hardness, and practicing benevolence can win the hearts of the people. Because one does not contend with others, no one can contend with him. The working of the Dao in the world is like that of rivers and seas, which receive the waters of a hundred streams.

The regular way of Heaven is that deliberate action often ends in failure, and forceful possession often ends in loss. If one values great fame above all and seeks it through contention, I suspect it will be hard to obtain in the end, and even if it is seized for a time, it cannot be kept for long. Fame cannot be secured by force; it must be bestowed by all under Heaven. When people are willing to give it, they come to attach themselves, and the root of their attachment is De. Thus it is said that one of lofty De is joined by all under Heaven, one of deep benevolence is joined by all within the four seas, one who accords with righteousness is joined by all within a state, and one who upholds ritual propriety is joined by all within a village. If none of these qualities is present, the people will not turn to him. When the people do not turn to him and he compels them by force of arms, this is a perilous path.

Thus it is said: "Weapons are instruments of ill omen, to be used only when there is no alternative." When one has wounded or killed others, even if one has won, one should meet the outcome with grief and not treat it as a cause for celebration. Therefore it is said: "Where there is slaughter, thorns and brambles grow; one should weep with sorrow and meet the event with the bearing of mourning rites." For this reason, the gentleman (junzi) devotes himself to De and does not regard military force as an important means.

Wenzi asked: Why is it said that the places where soldiers died become overgrown with brambles, and that people must mourn them with grief and observe mourning rites for them? Therefore, the junzi (gentleman) should devote himself to Dao (the Way) and De (virtue) and not regard the use of armed force as important.

Wenzi asked again: Why are benevolence (ren), righteousness (yi), and ritual propriety (li) not as fundamental as Dao and De?

Laozi said: Those who speak of benevolence often express it through sorrow or joy. Those who speak of righteousness rely on giving or taking to make it manifest. Within the four seas, sorrow and joy cannot all be attended to, and even if the state exhausts its treasuries, they are not enough to nourish all the people. Therefore, it is better to cultivate the Dao and practice De, following the nature of Heaven and Earth. When the myriad things naturally return to rectitude, the people of the world will also be nourished, and the Way of benevolence and righteousness will rise along with them. Thus the great man (dazhangfu) establishes himself on deep roots and does not dwell on the shallow surface.

Ritual propriety is the outward expression of inner true feeling, and benevolence is the manifestation that follows the bestowing of kindness. Therefore, ritual should be fashioned in accordance with human feeling and should not exceed true sentiment, and benevolence should not go beyond actual kindness. Grief should arise from within, and funeral rites should accord with compassion. Nourishing life does not compel people to do what they cannot manage, nor does it forbid them to do what they cannot stop. When things are measured to their proper degree, one brings neither unwarranted praise nor blame. Music is composed so that people may be harmonious and joyful together, and joy does not overflow the bounds of peace. One must also understand the boundary between life and death, and know the proper measure of both extravagance and frugality.

In the degenerate age, however, this is not the case. Words and deeds contradict one another, and the heart and the outward countenance do not correspond. Ritual becomes cluttered with ornament, and music becomes excessively noisy. Customs sink into worldly concerns, and the praise and censure at court likewise degenerate into empty display. Therefore, the sage who has attained the Dao sets these practices aside and does not adopt them.

If a fine horse races a man, the man cannot outrun the horse, but if the man mounts a carriage, the horse can no longer outdo him. This shows that one skilled in using the Dao accomplishes affairs by relying on others' capacities. He brings out what others excel at and lets others rely on the parts where he himself is not skilled. When a ruler acts in accord with the times in undertaking affairs, the people repay him with their goods. When a ruler treats them with ritual courtesy, the people repay him with their lives. Thus a state may be endangered, yet there has never been a ruler who was forever secure. A ruler may be troubled with worry, yet there have never been ministers who were forever at ease.

When one's virtue exceeds what one's office requires, one's standing is naturally respected. When one's stipend exceeds what one's virtue merits, disaster follows. The worth of virtue does not lie in how high one's rank is, and the rightness of what one takes does not lie in how much one gains. One may not steal a post under the name of lofty virtue, nor plunder wealth in the name of righteousness. The sage is content in poverty and delights in the Dao. He does not let desire harm his life or let profit entangle his person, and therefore he will not violate righteousness to seek comfort.

In ancient times, standards for employing people and for rewards and punishments were clear. Those of virtuous conduct (de) were respected, the talented held office, the meritorious received rewards, and the guilty were punished. Promotions were to conform to ritual propriety, and dismissals were to conform to righteousness (dao). In an age when petty men held power, a person who was promoted was lifted up to the heavens, and when he was dismissed, he was cast down into the abyss. The author uses the past to criticize the present, censuring the prevailing practices of his time in choosing men.

If one judges a horse only by whether it is thin, or judges a scholar only by whether he is poor, one may miss a person of real talent. A fat pig is sent to the kitchen, while a weak and useless beast is not fit to be chosen at all. The gentleman should examine actual circumstances and not readily believe slanderous words. When a ruler commits a fault and his minister does not remonstrate, that minister is not a loyal subject. When a minister remonstrates and the ruler does not listen, this shows that the ruler lacks wisdom. If the common people fall into hardship and no one worries about them or urges relief, this too cannot be called words of sagely wisdom. Therefore, holding fast to integrity and dying for the nation in its time of peril is the duty of a minister, whereas allowing people to suffer from cold and hunger violates the kindness a loving father shows to his children.

When a large state uses its strength to bully a small one, this is called going against the moral order of humanity. When a weak party offends a strong one, this is called violating Heavenly principle. Those who act in such ways, even if they once sacrificed to Heaven, will ultimately bring calamity upon themselves. In the village, people treat one another according to age, and the aged and destitute are not abandoned. At court, however, the order of high and low is arranged according to rank. Honor is paid to those of noble station because they are close to the ruler; reverence is shown to the elderly because they are close to one's own senior kin; and respect is given to the older because they stand in the place of elder brothers.

Those born into exalted position tend to be arrogant, and those born into wealth tend to be extravagant. If people of wealth and rank do not reflect on themselves through clear principles, few of them will avoid error. Only through a insatiable desire to learn can one cultivate oneself, and only through untiring instruction of others can one govern the people. If one has wise teachers and good friends to assist him, fewer people will abandon the proper path and wander into byways. To know who is worthy is called wisdom; to cherish the worthy is called…