《道德宝章》

The Daode Baozhang (Precious Chapters on the Dao and De) is a single-fascicle work by Ge Changgeng of the Song dynasty. Ge, whose courtesy name was Bai Sou, was a native of Minqing in Fujian. He became a Daoist priest and lived on Mount Wuyi. The older edition bears the title "composed by the Perfected Lord of Purple Clarity, Bai Yuchan." Bai Yuchan was another name Ge Changgeng used, and "Perfected Lord of Purple Clarity" (Zi Qing Zhenren) was the title he received in the Jiading era when he was summoned to the court.

The book marks its key points only within the text. It does not explain individual words or expand on them with extensive citations. The commentary is briefer than the original and often resembles Chan Buddhist gathas, probably because Buddhism and Daoism were considered to share a common origin.

This edition is said to have been written in the hand of Zhao Mengfu of the Yuan dynasty, then carved for printing. Its calligraphy is very neat. In the Ming dynasty, Chen Jiru also included it in the Bijihuibian (Compendium of Secret Texts) and retitled it Chan Xian Jie Lao (The Immortal Chan's Explanation of Laozi). That retitling was not the book's original name. Before the text are two colophons, dated to the guiwei year of the Wanli era (1583), by a scholar named Shiyuan Jushi. The first quotes Dong You's Cangshu Zhi (Treatise on Collected Books), which says that Zhang Daoxiang compiled commentaries on the Laozi from ancient and modern times, numbering more than forty authors, yet did not include this book. The Catalogue's editors judge this claim to be probably hearsay. According to Chao Gongwu's Junzhai Dushu Zhi (Annotated Catalogue from the Junzhai Studio), Zhang Daoxiang lived after the Tianbao era of the Tang, so he could not have recorded this book during the reign of Emperor Ningzong of the Southern Song. Moreover, the commentary collection Zhang compiled includes only twenty-nine authors. Adding his own commentary makes thirty, not "more than forty."

People commonly say that Ge Changgeng was an immortal. However, Liu Kezhuang, a contemporary of Ge, wrote in his Preface to Wang Yinju's Six Studies and Nine Writings that among the four cultivators of the Dan path he had personally known, Zou Ziyi died before the age of seventy, Zeng Jingjian and Huang Tiangu lived only to sixty, and Bai Yuchan died young. When Chen Zhenxun recorded the Qunxian Zhuyu Ji (Collection of Pearls and Jade from the Assembly of Immortals) in his Zhizhai Shulu Jieti (Annotated Bibliography from the Zhizhai Studio), he also said that Bai Yuchan was originally surnamed Ge, was a native of Minqing in Fujian, had fled after committing an offense, and was probably a treacherous and deceitful man. Chen further recorded that while he served as magistrate of Nancheng County, a man living locally claimed to know Bai Yuchan and asked whether Chen was acquainted with him. Chen replied that a man like that could not be admitted through his door.

The Catalogue's editors hold that these two accounts, written by people who were contemporaries of Ge Changgeng, are more credible. The popular stories of Ge as an immortal were probably embellishments added later. Still, Daoism tends to venerate its own tradition and often produces legends of this kind. Since this book still has merit, there is no need to press too hard on the author's personal history.

Respectfully collated in the tenth month of the forty-sixth year of the Qianlong era (1781). Chief Compilers: Ji Yun, Lu Xixiong, and Sun Shiyi. Chief Collator: Lu Fubi.

The Dao that can be explained in words, however imperfectly, is once spoken no longer the constant Dao. A name, once given, cannot fully equal what it names. (Dao: the Way.)

Wu (non-being, nothingness), which has no name, is the beginning of heaven and earth. You (being), which has a name, is the root from which the ten thousand things are produced. The Dao gives birth to One (yi), One gives birth to Two (er), Two gives birth to Three (san), and from these the ten thousand things arise. In the end, the ten thousand things return to wu.

Therefore, by constantly keeping the mind empty, still, and free of thought (xu jing wu nian), one can perceive the subtlety of the Dao. By constantly guarding the center and embracing the One (shou zhong bao yi), one can observe the boundaries and transformations of things as they appear. The ten thousand things are born and die, and the human body too has its birth and death, but the mind-nature (xinxing) is not judged by the life and death of the physical form.

You and wu both issue from the same Dao and differ only in name, and both may be called mysterious (xuanmiao). The Dao is not revealed through deliberately seeking emptiness; when a person empties and stills the mind, the Dao appears of its own accord. Within the mysterious there is a still deeper mystery: within wu there is genuine substance, and from wu being can arise. This is the gateway to all subtle wonders. Understanding begins here, and its application has no end.

When everyone in the world pursues beauty as beauty, ugliness comes to light; when everyone pursues goodness as goodness, what is not good comes to light. Being and non-being give rise to each other, difficult and easy complete each other, long and short set each other off, high and low depend on each other, sound and voice respond to each other, and front and back follow one another.

Therefore the sage conducts affairs through Wuwei (non-action), valuing the course of things as they naturally are, and teaches without words, because the Dao (the Way) dwells within all things. When the myriad things arise, he does not refuse them, nor does he claim them as his own. He gives them life without possessing them, acts without relying on his own merit, and, once the work is accomplished, does not dwell on it. It is precisely because he does not dwell on his achievements that they never leave him.

He does not deliberately exalt the worthy, so the people do not compete for fame. He does not treasure rare goods, so the people do not steal. He does not stir up desire, so their hearts do not become scattered. Therefore, in governing the people, the sage keeps their minds simple and their lives full, weakens their urge to contend, and strengthens their bodies. He keeps the people free of cunning knowledge and excessive desire, so that even those skilled at scheming dare not act rashly. When the sage governs through Wuwei, the realm is brought into order.

The Dao (the Way, the fundamental force that drives all things) is empty yet can be put to use, and so it is never full. It is deep and subtle, seemingly the source of all things. It dulls its sharpness, untangles what is tangled, softens its glare without showing it, and blends the heart with the dust of the world. It is clear and profound, seeming to exist yet impossible to grasp. I do not know whose offspring it is; I only know that it seems to have come before the Lord on High (Di).

Empty the heart and soften the light, not displaying one's own intentions; merge with the myriad things of the world. It is clear and profound, seeming to exist. I do not know whose offspring it is; I only know that it seems to have come before the Lord on High.

Heaven and earth show no partiality. They regard the myriad things as straw dogs used in sacrifice, leaving them to follow their own natural course. The sage (Shengren) likewise shows no partiality, taking the heart of Heaven and Earth as his own heart. Having forgotten even himself, how could he have any other aim? Between heaven and earth, it is like a bellows, ceaselessly moving. It seems empty, yet it never runs dry; the more it moves, the more power it produces. Speak too much and one easily reaches an end; it is better to guard the heart within.

The Valley Spirit (Gushen, the spirit that, like a valley, is empty and tranquil yet able to nourish all things) does not die; this is called the Mysterious Female (Xuanpin, the profound source of motherhood). The gate of the Mysterious Female, that is, the place where a thought first stirs, is the root of Heaven and Earth, and that root lies in the heart. It flows on unbroken, seeming to exist; using it requires no forcing, only following what is natural.

Heaven and earth endure for a long time because they are tranquil and practice non-action (Wuwei). They last long because they do not live for themselves. The heart should be likewise, so that it can endure like the source of Heaven and Earth. It flows on unbroken, seeming to exist; using it requires no forcing, only following what is natural.

Chapter on Changing One's Nature (Yixing zhang)

Heaven and earth endure for a long time. The reason they can endure is that they are serene and practice wuwei (non-action, acting without contrivance). The human mind should be the same. Heaven and earth do not live for themselves, and so they last. A mind that stays constant has never been subject to birth or death. For this reason the sage, here meaning one who cultivates the Dao, puts the self behind and yet finds itself in front. By setting the self aside, they remain. Because they hold no private aims, heaven and earth share a root with them, and all things share one body with them. Thus they fulfill themselves. They are heaven and earth, and heaven and earth are them.

Chapter on Yunyi (Yunyi zhang)

The highest good is like water, and human nature is like water too. Water nourishes all things without contending with them. It flows to the low places that people despise, and so it comes close to the Dao. The human mind should be like this. One chooses a dwelling suited to one's needs without being fussy. The heart is deep and calm and cultivates its inner reserves. One treats others with generosity and makes no divisions between them and oneself. One speaks honestly and is trustworthy. One conducts affairs with rectitude, so that each thing is set in its proper place. One acts with ability, responds to the principles of things in a spirit of wuwei, and so accomplishes everything. One's actions follow the proper timing and change along with the shifting circumstances. Only by refraining from contention is one free of fault, and one does not regard even this as a personal merit.

Chapter on Capacity (Nengwei zhang)

When a vessel is already full, it is better to set it down in time. A blade ground too sharp cannot keep its edge for long. Only by acting with caution can one preserve what one has. When gold and jade fill the hall, no one can keep them forever, so one should remain humble and plain every day. If one grows proud after wealth and honor, one invites calamity. If one can quiet the mind, restrain oneself, and refrain from reckless action, calamity has no way to arise. When achievement and fame have been secured, to withdraw and retire from view is to accord with the Way of Heaven. Yielding leaves room to maneuver.

Can one keep the body and the spirit (yingpo, the bodily form and the vital soul) in unity, and embrace the one undivided mind, so that the two never separate?

Chapter on Uselessness (Wuyong Zhang)

Can one settle body and mind so that they become one with the Dao (the Way) without any separation? Can one keep the breath concentrated and gentle, so that it is pure and soft like an infant's? Can one wash away the stray thoughts in the heart so that the mind is clear and free of flaw? Can one govern the people and the state by letting things take their natural course without acting presumptuously? Can one keep the heart open and gentle, without clinging to one-sidedness? Can one, while penetrating all things with clear understanding, refrain from relying on one's own cleverness and appear as one who is simple and unpolished?

To let things grow and to nurture them, holding all phenomena within one's heart; to nourish the myriad beings without claiming them as one's own, to act without boasting of one's merit, and to help things flourish without presiding over them: this is called Xuande (profound and natural De, or Virtue).

Thirty spokes converge on a single hub, the central part of the wheel that joins the spokes together. It is because the hub is hollow that the wheel is useful. Clay is kneaded into vessels, and it is because their interior is hollow that they can hold things. Doors and windows are cut to build a house, and it is because the interior leaves room that the house serves for dwelling.

Thus, what has visible form provides convenience, while what is empty and formless performs the actual function. The commentary attached to the scripture extends these analogies to self-cultivation. The transformation of Heaven and Earth does not depend solely on deliberate action, and the sage does not presume to be capable of everything. If one loses the guardianship of the mind-spirit and is pulled outward by the five sense organs, one forgets one's original nature and chases after external things. To preserve the body received from one's parents allows one to act; to hold fast to one's original nature is to be unbound by things both within and without.

Chapter on Aversion to Disgrace

The five colors of blue-green, yellow, red, white, and black easily dazzle the eyes and blind the sight. The mechanism lies in the eyes being drawn outward by external things, so that the mind's intention shifts along with them. The five tones of gong, shang, jue, zhi, and yu easily dull the sense of hearing. When one is absorbed in external sounds, one obstructs the preservation of the inner heart-mind (xin). The five flavors of sweet, pungent, salty, sour, and bitter disturb the sense of taste and make people forget the natural and authentic experience of things.

Galloping horses and hunting in the fields scatter the spirit and leave a person restless like a monkey and racing like a horse. Body and mind cannot settle, and one finds no place to rest. What use are rare goods? Gold and jade are not truly precious. Craving them impedes one's conduct. What is truly worth valuing is guarding the inner heart-mind and keeping it focused and undisturbed.

For this reason, the sage values inner fullness and stability and is not led about by external sounds and colors. Hearing a sound, people chase after it; seeing a color, they are blinded by it. Both cause the mind to scatter and leave body and mind without anywhere to settle. The sage therefore sets aside external enticements and chooses to guard the inner heart-mind. Seeing forms, they are able to recognize their original mind; hearing sounds, they are able to comprehend the Dao (the Way).

Being affected by favor or by disgrace is like being startled; to regard the world as more important than oneself is to be burdened with anxiety.

What is meant by favor and disgrace? It refers to the gains and losses that come with noble or lowly status, with abundance or poverty. Disgrace is what people despise; whether one obtains or loses, it is like being startled. What does not belong to me, one does not covet even when one could obtain it; even when it is only a hair's breadth away, one does not seize it by force. Viewed in this way, what do favor and disgrace have to do with me?

What is meant by regarding the world as more important than oneself? Concern for safety and peril troubles the heart and denies one peace. The reason people suffer great calamity is that the mind-spirit and the body are unsettled; and all of this arises from clinging to the "self" and to one's own body. If one can reach a state of forgetting the self, with a mind as clear and unclouded as heaven and earth, and no longer clings even to the "self," what calamity could remain? By forgetting the self and the entanglements of the mundane world, one returns to natural authenticity.

Therefore, one who values the self and regards the world as one regards the self may be entrusted with the world. Such a person sees a hundred years of life as a fleeting passage and all things as temporary lodgings. One who cherishes the self and cultivates body and mind can also govern the self as one governs a state; therefore the world may be entrusted to them, so that they may bear its responsibilities for a long time without losing their position.

This is a chapter in praise of the mysterious Dao.

It cannot be seen, so it is called Yi (the invisible; the commentary says this is the heart within the body). It cannot be heard, so it is called Xi (the inaudible; the commentary says this is the nature within the heart). When one reaches for it, one cannot grasp it, so it is called Wei (the elusive; the commentary says this is the spirit within the nature). These three cannot be pursued and explained in words and can only be realized with the heart, so they are said to merge into one.

Above, it does not appear bright, because nature (xing) has no concrete form. Below, it does not appear dark, because spirit (shen) has no fixed location. It stretches on without end and cannot be described by any name. Nature and spirit cannot be made clear through words and can only be realized with the heart, so they are merged into one body.

It ultimately returns to "non-thing." To see all things is to see the heart. This is called "a shape without shape," and also "an image without concrete things." This is huhuang (hazy and indistinct): spirit has no coming or going. Facing it, one cannot see its beginning; following it, one cannot see its end, because its coming does not begin today and its going does not end in antiquity.

Grasping the Dao (the Way) from time immemorial and using it to govern the myriad things of the present, one can understand the original source. Past and present are connected, and one lets the Dao pass through both. This is called daoji (the governing thread of the Way).

Chapter on Manifest Virtue (Xiande Zhang)

In antiquity, those skilled at cultivating the Dao (the Way) could clarify the heart and see their nature, reaching a state that is subtle, profound, and penetrating, so deep that it cannot be fathomed. They grasp the root of the Dao and hold to centrality and rectitude. This is the governing thread of the Dao, and that is all.

The ancient adepts who were skilled at cultivating the Dao (shì) had clear, luminous minds and could apprehend their own original nature. Their cultivation was subtle and profound. It penetrated the Great Dao and enabled them to hold fast to the Central Way (zhōng). Their depth was unfathomable, so that others could never fully understand them. Because they were so hard to grasp, one can only attempt to describe their appearance: they were cautious, like someone crossing a winter stream; hesitant, like someone fearful that others are watching from all sides; dignified, like a guest who dares not commit any breach of decorum; open-hearted and relaxed, like ice about to melt; sincere and unadorned, like uncarved wood; expansive, like an empty valley; and murky, like water mixed with silt.

Who can let muddy water settle and gradually become clear? Who can set a state of stillness in motion and slowly bring forth vitality? Those who hold to this Way keep their minds whole and undivided, like water that is turbid but not yet clear. They do not seek completeness or take pride in their attainments, for the Dao is boundless and the mind has no end. They do not regard themselves as having newly reached a fixed and settled state, for once they declare it "rúrú bú dòng" (immovable, unchanging suchness), they have already fallen into the flow of change.

Míng xīn jiàn xìng (illuminating the mind and seeing one's nature) means making the mind clear and apprehending one's original nature. Yǔn zhí jué zhōng (holding fast to the Central Way) means maintaining the balanced and correct middle. Jūnzǐ shèn qí dú (the noble person is careful when alone) means remaining cautious and self-restrained even in solitude. Wú bù jìng (never failing to be reverent) means maintaining respect at all times. The passage uses the clarity and stillness, or the turbulence, of water as a metaphor to show that one who guards the Way does not forcibly alter the state of the mind but allows it to change naturally.

As for the ultimate of emptiness and non-being [forgetting both mind and form], one maintains a deep stillness [forgetting even the body]. The myriad things grow side by side [mind and external things both forgotten], and I thereby observe how they return to their source [gathering in the spirit, turning inward to examine oneself, perceiving Heaven and Earth]. The myriad things flourish abundantly [the mind no longer clings to things outside the self], and at last each returns to its root [seeing one's original face, with its numinous light shining alone].

Returning to the root is called stillness (jing) [the light of clarity appears and rests in non-birth]. Stillness is called returning to one's destiny (fuming) [without birth or death, one transcends attachment to life and death]. Returning to one's destiny is called the constant (chang) [without birth or death, the light of constant illumination appears]. To recognize the constant is called clarity (ming) [the mind does not stir wildly, as if the mind were dead, and so the spirit-consciousness can manifest, while the hun and po souls each rest in their proper place]. Not recognizing the constant, one stirs wildly and invites danger [if deluded thoughts can be extinguished, the spirit-soul flourishes; in cultivating the Dao one must not leave right mindfulness even for a moment, and what the mind dwells upon must be especially guarded].

Recognizing the constant allows one to embrace all things [understanding that the form is nothing but illusion]. Embracing all things allows one to be impartial [form is like a phantasm, and the mind's capacity is vast and free of attachment]. Being impartial allows one to become the master of the myriad things [transcending the distinctions of inner and outer, large and small, and able to be the lord of all phenomena]. Becoming the master of the myriad things means uniting with Heaven [not being drawn along by the changes of the four seasons]. Uniting with Heaven means uniting with the Dao [returning to the Heaven that is one's original endowment and embodying the single qi]. Uniting with the Dao means one can endure long [the Dao is the root of all phenomena]. Living this way throughout one's life, one will not fall into peril [the mind is itself the Dao, and within the mind there is no attachment to birth].

Chapter on the Decline of Customs (Subo Zhang)

The Chapter Returning to Simplicity (Huan Chun Zhang)

Only after the Great Dao (Dao, the Way) declined and fell into neglect did benevolence and righteousness appear. Only after wisdom came to the fore did hypocrisy arise. Only when relatives fail to live in harmony do people stress filial piety and compassion. Only when the state falls into chaos, and people are bewildered in body and mind at the edge of life and death, do loyal ministers stand out. And only at such times does one come to know what to rely upon.

Abandon sagely wisdom and let people follow their natural course. Discard clever schemes so that the mind is calm and free of delusive thoughts, and the people's benefit will increase a hundredfold. Abandon deliberately displayed benevolence and let things develop on their own. Set aside consciously pursued righteousness, and one can dwell in the world at ease, and the people will recover their natural filial piety and compassion. Abandon cleverness and discard the heart that craves profit, and thieves will have no cause to arise. With a quiet mind, the world will be at peace.

These three admonitions, however, are not enough if taken merely as surface pronouncements. Therefore, cultivation must have a foundation: manifest the plain, original nature, preserve simplicity and sincerity, and reduce private intentions and desires. In practice, one emphasizes forgetting the form to nourish qi (vital energy), forgetting qi to nourish shen (spirit), and forgetting shen to nourish emptiness. In this way, one can respond to things without clinging to them, and the mind becomes clear and free of self.

The Chapter on Diverging from Customs (Yi Su Zhang)

If one does not cling to surface knowledge and distinctions, worry can be reduced. [Without artificial contrivance or stray thoughts, what is left to ponder?] How great is the difference between a respectful reply and a casual one? [Both arise from the gathering and dispersing of the same qi (qì).] How far apart are goodness and evil? [Only in the stirring and stillness of a single thought.] What truly matters is what the heart nourishes within. [What is stored in the heart determines what the spirit, or shen (shén), reveals.]

Among the things people fear, [birth and death are the great matters of life,] the affairs of life and death must not be treated lightly, for impermanence comes swiftly. [People drift through life and death, sunk in sensual pleasures, as if it will never end.]

The crowd is bustling, [their resolve to hold to their original true nature is not firm, and their hearts are easily swayed in pursuit of external things,] as if they were enjoying a lavish banquet [yet have no interest in the Dao (dào),] or climbing a height on a spring day to enjoy the scenery [and letting desire run unchecked]. Only I am calm and detached, as if my thoughts have not yet stirred. [I concentrate the qi and gentle the shen, reaching a state like that of an infant.] Like an infant not yet grown, [I am innocent, unknowing, quiet, and non-acting.] or like drifting without anchor and with no place to return to, [I follow the myriad things without clinging to any dwelling, letting the heart arise naturally.]

Everyone thinks they possess a great deal, [yet they do not know how to restrain themselves.] Only I seem to have nothing [and fear losing my true nature.] My heart is truly like that of a fool! [Only by leaving behind all distinctions and boundaries can one be said to have attained the wondrous Dao.] Undifferentiated and indistinct, [I contemplate emptiness, yet do not cling to emptiness.]

Worldly people appear sharp and perceptive, [absorbed in the pleasures of the ears and eyes, their inner true nature is instead obscured.] Only I seem dim and ignorant, [looking like a fool all day long.] Worldly people are everywhere shrewd and meticulous, [constantly applying their minds to calculation, their spirit wearied without rest.] Only I am still and unhurried, [seeming to deliberate, yet with no fixed attachments in my heart.]

I am vast, like the sea, [for the Dao has no boundary,] and I drift without fixed course, with nowhere to stop. [With a mind at ease, the myriad things hold no attachment.]

Everyone thinks they have methods and can accomplish things, [but one person's mental strength is limited, while worldly affairs are endless.] Only I appear dull and plain, [my body like withered wood and my mind like cold ash.] I am different from others, [for the Dao has always been near to people, and it is people who drift farther from the Dao.] What I treasure is the root that nourishes all things, the Dao. [In the end, the Dao is only one.]

The conduct of great De (Virtue) is so broad that nothing cannot be embraced, and so fine that nothing cannot enter, for it fully accords with the Dao (the Way). As for the Dao, it is elusive and hard to grasp. It cannot be known through ordinary cognition, nor distinguished through concepts. In a state of dimness, mind and Dao are in immediate correspondence and communion, and within this state images appear. Amid what seems to be and what seems not to be, mind and Dao are again in immediate correspondence and communion, and within this state there are substantial things. In the depths of obscurity and remoteness, mind and Dao become one, and within this unity lies a refined essence. This refined essence is most real, and it contains trustworthy evidence.

From antiquity to the present, the name of the Dao has never ceased to be passed down. That people can extend the Dao is not because the Dao extends people. How, then, do we know that the root of the myriad things is so? It is because, among the Five Phases (wuxing), humans are the most spiritually endowed, and it is from this that we know it. The term zhong fu (the root of the myriad things) refers to the foundation of all things, and the Dao is the most fundamental and most expansive of the myriad things.

Chapter on Benefit Through Humility (Yi Qian Zhang)

Yielding preserves wholeness, because the original nature cannot be exhausted. Being bent allows one to become straight, because the spirit is unfathomably deep. Hollowness allows fullness, because the intentions of the mind cannot be exhausted. What is worn out can be renewed, because one must attentively examine one's own mind. Taking little brings gain, because one must investigate nature (xing) through nature. Excess brings confusion, because one cannot measure spirit (shen) with spirit.

Therefore the sage holds fast to the Dao as the root and takes it as the standard for all under heaven. Mind is nature, nature is spirit, and spirit is Dao. By not displaying oneself, one becomes clear. By not regarding oneself as right, one becomes manifest. By not boasting, one achieves merit. By not glorifying oneself, one endures. What is called "non-contention" means forgetting the self. If one can forget even oneself, how much more so matters unrelated to oneself, and how could one contend with them?

The ancient saying "yielding preserves wholeness" is not empty talk but a true principle. As long as one truly preserves one's nature, one will ultimately return to the Dao. With a single upright thought, every action proceeds without going astray.

Chapter on Emptiness and Non-Being (Xu Wu Zhang)

Speak little and keep words few, and accord with what is natural. Desire and speech both grasp at nothing, because the original nature cannot be exhausted.

Chapter on Bitter Kindness (Kǔ'ēn Zhāng)

Not speaking much accords with nature. A gale cannot blow through a whole morning, and a violent rain cannot fall all day. Who makes them so? Heaven and earth do. If the wind and rain of heaven and earth cannot last long, how much less can human affairs? Everything between heaven and earth is illusory and impermanent. Only this mind is real; all else is not. What is called engaging in the Dao (the Way) is nothing more than understanding one's own mind.

One whose body embodies the Dao corresponds to the Dao. One whose body embodies De (Virtue/Power) corresponds to De. One who has lost something corresponds to loss. Corresponding to the Dao, one obtains the Dao; corresponding to De, one obtains De; corresponding to loss, one obtains loss. When faith is insufficient, doubt naturally arises. If one cannot trust oneself, it is difficult to practice wuwei (non-action). It is like trying to escape one's own shadow at noon: the harder one runs, the more surely one will die of thirst.

Chapter on the Image and the Origin (Xiàng Yuán Zhāng)

The one who stands on tiptoe cannot stand steadily. Only when the heart is as settled as a wall can one enter the Dao. The one who takes long strides cannot go far. Only when the nature is undefiled can the true and constant substance be revealed. Those who show off cannot see matters clearly, and those who cling to their own opinions cannot make themselves renowned. Those who boast have no merit, and those who are overly self-regarding cannot endure. When thoughts dissipate, the mind becomes still, like wind at rest. When the inner heart is cool and calm, it is like frost settling on dried-up waters. The state of mind becomes truly clear and wondrous, empty and penetrating.

These practices, with respect to the Dao, are like surplus food and burdensome conduct. The benevolent see them as benevolence, and the wise see them as wisdom, yet things tend to reject them. A thought as soon as it arises is a sickness; not allowing it to grow is the medicine. Therefore, one who possesses the Dao does not cling to these things. In cultivation, one need not fear the arising of thoughts. It is enough to be alert and notice them in time.

Something exists in undifferentiated wholeness, present before Heaven and Earth came into being. It is silent and formless, stands alone without changing, circulates without ceasing and never runs dry, and can serve as the root of all things under heaven. I do not know its true name, so I call it Dao (the Way). Forcing a name on it, I call it "Great." Being great and unobstructed, it is called "Passing On"; passing on without end, it is called "Far"; reaching the farthest point, it returns to its origin, and is called "Returning." Therefore it is said that the Dao is great, Heaven is great, Earth is great, and the ruler is great too. Among Heaven and Earth there are four great things, and the ruler is one of them. Here "ruler" may also refer to the human mind: the mind is the Dao. Humans take their model from Earth, Earth takes its model from Heaven, Heaven takes its model from the Dao, and the Dao takes its model from ziran (naturalness, self-so-ness). The Dao operates in just this way, of its own accord.

Gravity is the root of lightness; stillness is the master of agitation. Therefore one who has attained the Dao, through all the activities of the day, never leaves the root or lets go of the inner mind, fearing only to lose it. Even when faced with splendid sights, they do not covet them; dwelling in quiet retreat, the mind remains detached from external things. When one who rules a state of ten thousand chariots (here referring to the human mind) treats the empire lightly and indulges the body and life, how could such governance succeed? Lightness leads to losing one's ministers, which here means being governed by desire; agitation leads to losing one's mastery, meaning there is no holding fast within the heart.

A skilled person in action leaves no deliberate trace of contrivance, because they respond to one mind through another. A skilled speaker makes no faults in speech, because they perceive nature through their own original nature. A skilled planner needs no counting instruments, because they accord spirit (shen) with spirit. One skilled at closing can seal a door so that no one can open it even without a bolt, because spirit merges with emptiness. One skilled at tying can make knots that no one can untie even without rope, because emptiness merges with the Dao.

Therefore the sage concentrates the mind and is always skilled at rescuing others. They regard others as themselves, and so they abandon no one. All things receive the same original Qi (yuanqi) at their beginning and share one body. The sage is likewise always skilled at rescuing all things. Seeing things, they can perceive the mind within them, and perceiving the mind, they can grasp the Dao. For this reason they abandon no thing. The sage's mind transcends all things yet does not reject them. This is called inheriting Mingdao (Illuminating the Dao). A settled mind gives birth to wisdom, and clear wisdom that penetrates everything makes one a sage.

A good person can rectify themselves and treat all things appropriately, and so can serve as a teacher to those who are not good. The saying "wu zi wu, wo zi wo" (things are things, I am I) means that one is not moved by external things. Those who are not good serve as a mirror for the good. One cannot seek the original mind apart from life and death, nor speak of life and death apart from the original mind. Life and death have their own course, and the mind has its own course. If one does not honor a teacher, one will assume that the Dao needs no study and the original mind needs no use. If one does not value such a mirror, one falls into a state like cold ashes or withered wood, with a dead mind and a forgotten body. Even a clever person will fall into great delusion, feeling that a single thought has lasted ten thousand years. This is the crucial and profound principle, which is to say, uniting with the Dao and attaining authenticity (yudao hezhen).

Chapter on Returning to Simplicity (Fanpu Zhang)

Know the strong, active aspect (shen), keep to the yielding, receptive aspect (xing), and become the root of all things under heaven.

Knowing what is strong yet keeping to the yielding, one becomes like a stream flowing through the world, broad in embrace and at ease in body and mind. Becoming a stream for the world, one is deep and subtle, and the constant De (Virtue/Power) does not depart. Whether in hardship or in haste, one abides in this De and in the end returns to the state of an infant, which is to say, free of distracting thoughts.

Knowing what is bright yet keeping to the dim, one becomes the pattern for the world. Emptiness and stillness accord with the Dao (the Way) through wuwei (non-action). Concentrating the qi (vital energy) and jing (essence) until they are soft and harmonious is what it means to become the pattern for the world, which is to say, to let seeing, hearing, sensing, and knowing all return to emptiness and stillness. The constant De does not go astray, because the Dao is present within all things, and all things are the Dao. In the end one returns to Wuji (the Limitless).

Knowing what is honored yet keeping to disgrace, one becomes like a valley for the world. One should only regard all that already exists as empty, and not take what was never there to be substantial. When the mind is empty, the constant De becomes full. Body and mind become one, and nothing remains outside the self. In the end one returns to simplicity, the state of Taiyi (Supreme Simplicity) and Wuji.

When simplicity disperses, it forms particular things. The Taiji (Supreme Ultimate) spoken of in the Yijing (Book of Changes) gives rise to the two modes, liangyi. The sage applies this principle and so becomes the elder of the many. Regard this with reverence. Therefore, the truly great governance does not divide the myriad things. The mind is like empty space, yet empty space is not the mind.

Chapter on Wuwei

If one wishes to take the world through deliberate action, I see that it will never succeed, for the root of the Dao lies in wuwei (non-action). The world is a spiritual vessel, the dwelling place of the shen (spirit). It must not be forced, halted, grasped, or destroyed. Those who act willfully will fail, and those who cling will lose.

Some walk ahead and some follow; some exhale and some inhale; some are strong and some are weak; some carry and some tear down. Therefore the sage sets aside extremes, excess, and overindulgence. He does not let his actions go too far, keeps the Dao constantly natural, and knows that the Dao is originally lacking in nothing.

To assist a ruler by means of the Dao (dào) is to refrain from relying on military force to display strength or dominate the world. One who excels at winning prevails without contending. Whenever one forces matters too hard, the effort will bring about a backlash and return things to their original root.

Where armies have camped, thorns and brambles grow. This also refers to the struggles within the heart: when false thoughts arise, the spirit becomes disordered. After a great war, a year of famine is certain to follow. Allowing desires to chase after their objects and letting the mind gallop along with external things drains one's Jing (jīng) essence and leaves one's Qi (qì) vital energy dull and clouded.

Therefore, one who practices the Dao seeks only to reach the appropriate result and does not dare to use it as a means of showing off. When a task is accomplished, one does not boast but waits in stillness; one does not display merit but quietly maintains the achievement; one does not grow arrogant but preserves what has been gained with a calm heart. Even when action becomes unavoidable, one meets it with an empty and tranquil mind. Only in this way does one accomplish a goal without forcing it, and accord with the empty, natural way of the Dao.

When things reach their peak, they begin to decline. If the mind is drawn along by external objects, one's original nature becomes obscured, and this is to be out of accord with the Dao. Once one is out of accord with the Dao, the Shen (shén) spirit quickly becomes obstructed.

Fine weapons are, by nature, ill-omened objects. [To overcome external things with the mind is, in the end, not a true victory.] The myriad creatures at times loathe them. [People are seduced by external things.] Therefore one who possesses the Dao (the Way) does not dwell among such things. [Though one does not separate from life and death, one is able to transcend them.]

Therefore, the junzi (the exemplary person) in ordinary times honors the left. [Forget the mind that makes distinctions.] In employing soldiers, however, he honors the right. [Follow one's original nature.] Weapons are ill-omened objects. [They are used only when there is no alternative.] They are not implements the junzi uses habitually. [When affairs arrive, do not contend with them; when they have passed, the mind returns to clarity and tranquility.] When one is forced to take up arms, [if one deliberately seeks to accord with the Dao, one has already departed from it.] One should forget the mind that makes distinctions. In employing soldiers, honor the right. [Follow one's original nature.] Weapons are ill-omened objects. [They are used only when there is no alternative.] They are not implements the junzi uses habitually. [When affairs arrive, do not contend with them; when they have passed, the mind returns to clarity and tranquility.] When one is forced to take up arms, [if one deliberately seeks to accord with the Dao, one has already departed from it.]

Quietude and detachment are the best policy. [The mind rests in stillness.] Even in victory, one does not regard it as beautiful. [If one fixes the heart on winning and concentrates the spirit, the spirit cannot in fact settle.] If one regards victory as a fine thing, [focused without distraction, the spirit gathers.] this is equivalent to taking delight in killing people. [With the mind fixed on a single point, nothing cannot be discerned.] One who takes delight in killing people [should cut off desire] will ultimately not achieve his aims in the world. [In all matters, one should practice restraint and simplicity.]

Therefore, in auspicious rites the left is honored. [Do not presume to be right or act at will.] In funeral rites the right is honored. [One should take the mind as one's teacher.] The deputy general stands on the left. [Gather the mind together.] The general-in-chief stands on the right. [Make the spirit complete.] In conducting rites, one should be as careful as one would be to guard against any lapse in ritual propriety. [In speaking of this matter, be as cautious as when facing the death of one's parents.] When many are killed, [the six armies of desire that deplete the mind have ceased, and the three-foot fire no longer burns; the word zhong (many) in the original also carries the sense of multitude.] one should weep with a mournful heart. [In regarding the matter within the mind, treat it as one would the death of one's parents.] When many are killed, [the six armies of desire that deplete the mind have ceased, and the three-foot fire no longer burns; the word zhong (many) in the original also carries the sense of multitude.] one should weep with a mournful heart. [Though the heart is still, the spirit remains.] After victory, one should likewise treat the matter with the solemnity of funeral rites. [A solitary light of spirit shines alone.]

Chapter on Sagely Virtue (Shengde Zhang)

Chapter on Distinguishing De

Hmm, the translation should start with the body, so let me place the heading correctly. The text opens with its first section.

The Dao (the Way) has no fixed name. Like an uncarved block of wood, it may appear small, yet its function is great. Nothing under heaven can govern it, for the Dao is the master of all transformations. If kings and lords can hold fast to the Dao and maintain singleness of purpose, the myriad things will naturally submit to them.

When the Qi (vital energy) of Heaven and Earth interacts and combines, sweet dew descends. When a cultivator's body and mind become one, that person can comprehend the great Dao. No one needs to command the common people; they will settle naturally and each find their proper place. This is because when the mind is free of disorder, the body becomes peaceful, and when the heart harbors no reckless intent, the Shen (spirit) transforms of its own accord.

When the myriad things first begin to differentiate, names arise. Once names appear, desire also arises in the mind. Given this, one should understand the value of stopping at the proper measure. One who knows when to stop will not fall into danger. The presence of the Dao in the world is like the presence of the mind within my own body; the myriad things flowing into rivers and seas is like the myriad things ultimately returning to a single unity.

Chapter on Distinguishing De

To understand others is to be clever; to know oneself is true wisdom, because this is how the mind comes into accord with the Dao. To defeat others shows that one has strength; to defeat oneself is true firmness, because only by accumulating strength over a long time can one accomplish anything.

To know contentment is to be rich, because nothing in the world is not contained within the Dao. To practice steadfastly without wavering is to have true aspiration, and one who has aspiration will eventually bring things to completion. One who does not depart from one's root can preserve one's nature over the long term; and when the body dies yet the spirit does not perish, that may truly be called longevity. Here the De (Virtue/Power) of such a person is made manifest.

Chapter on Attaining Accomplishment

The Great Dao (Dao, the Way) flows everywhere, with no fixed place, and there is nowhere it cannot reach. Its existence and its workings exceed what human knowledge can exhaust. All things grow by relying on it, yet the Dao does not refuse them and does not claim credit. Although all things are transformed from the Dao, the Dao itself is not a living thing with form. Once things have come into being, the Dao claims no merit and does not take what it has produced as its own possession. It nourishes and raises all things without setting itself up as their master, and it clings to no desire.

The Dao seems subtle because it shows no outward form, yet it nurtures all things. All things ultimately return to it, and still the Dao does not present itself as their master. What it contains has no boundary, so it may also be called vast. The sage does not deliberately try to make himself great, and for this reason he is able to achieve true greatness. The scripture uses the images of "a world hidden within a grain of millet" and "a mustard seed containing Mount Sumeru" to show that when the mind's capacity is vast, the vast can be held even within the minute. It also says that the Dharma body of the buddhas is one with self-nature, which is used to explain this inner correspondence.

When one holds fast to the Dao, all things under heaven will turn toward it. Things return to it and are not harmed, each attaining peace and tranquility. When the heart is settled, the temperament becomes calm, and when the temperament is calm, the spirit is at ease. Fine food and music can make passersby stop in their tracks, but they do not match the deep flavor of the Dao. When the Dao is spoken, it seems plain and unremarkable, yet it carries a lingering resonance. It cannot be seen or heard, yet it functions, and it is never exhausted.

To gather something in, one must first let it expand; to weaken something, one must first strengthen it; to abolish something, one must first let it flourish; to seize something, one must first give to it. This is called subtle insight. Forgetting what one has gained, the soft and yielding overcomes the hard and strong. Though the mind-spirit (xin shen, Shen (spirit)) roams among the myriad things, it is not bound by them. Fish cannot leave the deep waters, just as the heart-mind cannot leave the Dao (the Way). The sharp instruments of the state (its essential means of governance) are the principle of Heaven, which must not be displayed before others; when private desires are left behind, they will naturally vanish.

Chapter on Governing

The Dao (the Way) always acts naturally and does not force action, yet nothing is left unaccomplished. If kings and lords can uphold the Dao, the myriad creatures will transform of their own accord. If desire arises within this transformation, I will settle it with the nameless uncarved block (wuming zhi pu, the original state free of artificial adornment). To embody true unity (zhenyi, the undivided, original body of the Dao), the activity of the six senses should be brought to rest. The nameless uncarved block also keeps people from generating desires. With the mind free of desire and at peace, the world will naturally return to rectitude. When body and mind are united, the root returns to correctness (another version reads "returns to stillness").

The person of highest De does not deliberately display their virtue, and so possesses true De. The person of lower De holds on to maintaining their virtue, with their heart bound by attachments, and so cannot be called virtuous.

The person of highest De practices Wuwei (wúwéi, non-action). They make no deliberate arrangements in their heart and have no particular aim to accomplish. The person of lower De acts purposefully, pursuing illusions and losing sight of what is real, and their every deed carries a clear intention. Yet the Dao (dào, the Way) cannot be obtained through deliberate action.

The person of highest benevolence acts in order to bring their mind and body into accord with the Dao, but holds no deliberate purpose, and so can remain perfectly still. The person of highest righteousness also acts, but places external things in their heart, so they can no longer see things as they originally are, drift along with the flow, and forget how to return. The person of highest propriety also acts. They ought to take the Dao as their model, following what is natural. But when they receive no response, they roll up their sleeves and stretch out their arms, forcing others to comply, and in doing so they obscure their own original nature.

Therefore, when the Dao is lost, De (dé, Virtue) becomes the thing to be emphasized. When De is lost, benevolence is emphasized. When benevolence is lost, righteousness is emphasized. When righteousness is lost, propriety is emphasized. Propriety has already strayed from what is genuine; it becomes a sign of thin loyalty and sincerity, and it also becomes the beginning of disorder. To presume in advance that one knows principles is the empty flourish of the Dao and also the beginning of ignorance. One who cannot use knowledge to grasp true knowing, but clings to knowledge, does not in fact possess true knowledge.

Thus the great person holds fast to the deep and simple side of things and does not dwell in what is shallow and ornate. They rest in what is real and do not chase after surface brilliance. In cultivating body and mind, they gather in sight and hearing, turn their gaze inward, discard the ornate and take the plain and substantial, and turn the light back upon themselves, returning to their original nature.

Removing Use

Returning is the way the Dao moves, and yielding and softness are the way the Dao functions. The myriad things of the world are born from Being (you), and Being is born from Non-being (wu).

Sameness and Difference

In ancient times, those things that attained the Dao (Dao, the Way) and conformed to the One (the original substance and root of the Dao) were these: Heaven obtained the One and so was clear; Earth obtained the One and so was at peace; spirit obtained the One and so was numinous and subtle; the valleys obtained the One and so were full; the myriad things obtained the One and so were born and grew; and lords and kings obtained the One and so became the rightful rulers of the realm. Each of them reached the same One.

If Heaven could not remain clear, it would likely crack apart. If Earth could not remain at peace, it would likely quake. If spirit could not remain numinous, it would likely lose its function. If the valleys could not remain full, they would likely run dry. If the myriad things could not grow, they would likely perish. If lords and kings could not uphold the correct way, but instead clung to noble and exalted status, they would likely fall.

Therefore, nobility must take lowliness as its root, and high station must take humility as its foundation. This is why lords and kings call themselves "gu" (orphan), "guaren" (the lacking one), and "bugu" (the one without virtue). These are all humble terms, signaling that one's virtue is insufficient or one's position is incomplete. Is this not precisely taking lowliness as the root? Were it otherwise, a carriage train that had reached its greatest magnificence would no longer be a carriage train.

Do not strive to be prized and dazzling like fine jade, nor to stand isolated and conspicuous like stone. Rather, hold fast to what is genuine, and naturally preserve yourself.

People of cultivated virtue, upon hearing of the Dao (the Way), earnestly strive to put it into practice. Those of ordinary cultivation half understand it and half forget it, as if they remember it and yet as if they have lost it. Those of shallow cultivation burst out laughing. The common people live every day within the workings of the Dao, yet they do not understand it. If the Dao were not ridiculed, it would not be worthy of being called the Dao. Therefore, the ancients who established teachings said:

The bright Dao appears dim. Advancing along the Dao appears to be retreating, because cultivating the Dao requires constantly diminishing one's selfish desires and attachments. The level Dao appears rugged, because it makes no distinctions. The highest De (Virtue) is like a deep valley that embraces all things. The purest white appears soiled, because its breadth encompasses everything. Vast De appears deficient. One who establishes De appears slack, yet holds the intention to cultivate the Dao constantly in the heart, observing it and acting on it at every moment. One who is simple and genuine appears to have changed, because they do not cling to the self.

The greatest square has no corners. The greatest vessel is completed last. The Dao generated the myriad things before they appeared, yet its accomplishment becomes manifest only after all things have taken form. The greatest sound seems almost soundless. The greatest image has no fixed shape and cannot be confined by name or form. The Dao lies deeply hidden and cannot be fully expressed by any name. Only the Dao excels at bestowing and accomplishing all things. It transforms the myriad things, yet does not change along with them.

Chapter on the Transformation of the Dao (Daohua zhang)

The Dao generates the One (the original state of unity). The One generates the Two (the two poles of Yin-Yang). The Two generates the Three (the harmonious qi formed by the union of Yin and Yang). The Three then generates the myriad things. The myriad things turn their backs to Yin and face Yang, and the qi of Yin and Yang blend and harmonize, forming a coordinated state.

The titles that people despise, "orphan," "widower," and "unworthy" (humble terms used by ancient rulers), are the very names that the kings and lords adopt for themselves. Therefore, some things are increased by being diminished, and others are diminished by being increased.

The teachings that people pass down, I also use to instruct others. The strong and violent (those who are obstinate, reckless, and willful) do not meet a good end, because their thoughts arise and change without cease, and they cannot reach the state of selflessness and return to the Dao. I will take this as the foundation of my teaching.

The softest thing in the world, the Dao (the Way), can master the hardest things in the world, both the myriad beings and the self. What has no form can enter where there is no gap. It is vast enough to embrace everything and fine enough to penetrate everywhere. For this reason I know that wuwei (non-action) is beneficial. In learning, knowledge grows each day; in cultivating the Dao, human contrivance and desire diminish each day. Few people in the world manage this, because the many appear clear-sighted and self-assured, while only I appear quiet and unpolished.

Chapter on Establishing Precepts (Lijie Zhang)

Which is closer to you, your reputation or your body? You should not let your reputation override your self. Which is more precious, your body or your possessions? You should not value possessions above yourself. Which is more harmful, gaining or losing? You should not let gain and loss become a burden. Therefore, excessive craving necessarily exacts a great price, and indulgence in desire means guarding against damage to your very foundation. The more you accumulate, the more severe the loss tends to be when it comes; burdened by greed, one ultimately loses one's authenticity. Knowing contentment means you will not be humiliated, and knowing when to stop means you will not fall into danger. Those who can do this may endure long.

Chapter on Great Virtue (Hongde Zhang)

The most perfect vessel appears to be incomplete, yet its function never fails, because it conceals its sharpness. The most full state appears empty, yet its function is inexhaustible, because it is clear and still. The most upright conduct seems to bend, the most skillful ability seems clumsy, and the most eloquent speaker seems inarticulate. Agitation can drive off cold, and stillness can overcome heat. Stillness is the correct Way of the world. When the mind no longer clings to a fixed "self-mind," it can reach the Great Unity (datong).

Chapter on Restraining Desire (Jianyu Zhang)

When the world follows the Dao, people no longer strive to race their horses and compete; instead, they put the horses to plowing and fertilizing the fields. When the world lacks the Dao, war horses breed in the outlying wilds, and warfare and slaughter never cease. Here the uses of horses serve as a comparison: the former symbolizes letting go of striving and returning to tranquility, while the latter symbolizes desire and strife waging war within.

When the world follows the Dao (Dào, the Way), people understand in their hearts what is proper, and horses in the fields can be used for plowing and hauling manure. When the world has lost the Dao, people no longer grasp this principle, and war horses are born in the wild countryside. The greatest fault lies in indulging desire, the greatest calamity in not knowing contentment, and the greatest error in craving what one can obtain. Whenever one wishes to add yet one more thing, calamity follows. Therefore, one who knows how to be content is naturally content at heart. Whether a thing has feeling or lacks it, all follow one and the same principle. Everyone is inherently complete, and each can attain fulfillment.

Chapter on Seeing Afar

Without leaving the house, one can know the world; without looking out through the window, one can perceive the Dao of Heaven (the natural order by which things spontaneously operate). This is because the mind can pervade all things once it sets aside reliance on the form of the body and the cleverness of the senses. The farther one travels outward, the less one knows within. When the heart-mind embraces what is vast, the spirit can roam through all the lands. Thus the sage can understand affairs without going out, like a bright mirror set on a stand, in which all things are reflected. The sage can distinguish things without seeing them with the eyes, like a sword held in hand that discerns clearly. Without deliberate effort, affairs are accomplished of their own accord.

Chapter on Forgetting Knowledge

Learning adds to one's knowledge day by day, while cultivating the Dao (Dào) requires reducing one's attachments day by day. It is like climbing to the top of a hundred-foot pole and then taking yet another step: one lets go of everything and returns to emptiness. Through continual diminishing, one arrives at wuwei (wúwéi, non-action, the absence of forced contrivance) and reaches a state of stillness and emptiness. Yet within non-action, all things are accomplished on their own. Therefore, in governing the world, one should take non-interference as the foundation: the mind does not cling to external things, and external things do not bind the mind. If one interferes through deliberate action, one is not sufficient to govern the world. For the sage, the world is like an old shoe, which can be set aside at any time.

Chapter on Trusting in De

The sage has nothing they cannot accomplish, because all things transform naturally. Therefore, in governing the world, one should take non-interference as the foundation: the mind does not cling to external things, and external things do not bind the mind. When external things arrive, one naturally perceives and responds to them. If one interferes through deliberate action, one is not sufficient to govern the world. For the sage, the world is like an old shoe, which can be set aside at any time.

The sage has no fixed opinions of his own. He takes the hearts of the common people as his heart, because human nature is the same across all people. Those who are good, the sage meets with goodness, and those who are not good, the sage also meets with goodness, so that all people may return to their natural goodness. Those who are trustworthy, the sage trusts, and those who are not trustworthy, the sage also deals with in good faith, so that all people may come to have confidence. When the sage manages affairs under heaven, he is always cautious and reverent. For the sake of the world, he returns his own mind to primordial simplicity and does not cling to any particular reasons. The common people may use their own ears and eyes freely, while the sage treats them with a mind free of calculation and in a spirit of simplicity, as one would treat infants.

The transformations of life and death are like the moon moving from full to waning and from waning back to full. The scripture says that about three in ten people belong to the category of life, and about three in ten belong to the category of death, and human life is similar. Another three in ten, though alive, move toward the ground of death through their own activity. The scripture uses the waxing and waning of the moon to illustrate these changes of life and death: the moon gradually becomes full and also gradually wanes, and human life likewise has its flourishing and decline. Why is this so? It is because people excessively pursue the thick nourishing of life, or yangsheng (nourishing life). Life between heaven and earth is, at its root, nothing other than the gathering and transformation of one and the same Qi (vital energy).

It is said that one who is skilled at nourishing life holds no fixations in ordinary times and keeps a settled mind. Therefore, when he walks on land, he does not meet rhinoceros or tiger, and when he enters armed formations, weapons cannot harm him. The rhinoceros has no place to gore him with its horn, the tiger has no place to strike him with its claws, and the weapon has no place to pierce him. Why is this? Because he does not cling to life and death, and so he does not fall into the ground of death. His mind is at ease and self-possessed, understanding that life and death are merely the gathering and dispersal of Qi, and so there is no fixed life or death to cling to.

Chapter on the Proof of Benefit (Yi Zheng Zhang)

Dao gives birth to and completes the myriad things, and shenming (spirit-brightness) is its manifestation. De nourishes the myriad things, and each thing's inherent nature is its De. Things take form because they have a mind-heart (xin). Various circumstances bring them to growth and fulfillment, and from this arises the distinction of "I."

For this reason, none of the myriad things fails to honor Dao and to treasure De. To honor Dao is to forget attachment to external things. To treasure De is to forget the distinction of self and also to release attachment to the movements of the mind. Dao does not govern the myriad things by command, yet the myriad things always follow what is natural to them.

Thus Dao causes the myriad things to come into being, and their shen is preserved. De causes the myriad things to grow, and their inherent nature is preserved. Dao and De cause things to grow and be nurtured, and they allow mind-heart and self to gradually mature and ripen, and they also bring the myriad things protection and shelter. They bring things into existence yet do not possess their lives. They act, yet do not rely on their merit. They cause things to grow, yet do not dominate them. This is called Xuan De (profound De), the De that is deep, remote, and subtle.

If I have some understanding of the Dao, then when walking the great Way, the greatest fear is straying from correct principle. The great Way is level and broad, yet people are inclined to take the small paths.

When the court is neglected, it shows that the mind's intentions are not upright; when the fields lie waste, it shows that the original nature is not clear; when the granaries are empty, it shows that the spirit cannot be settled. To wear gorgeous clothing is to covet glory and splendor; to wear a sharp sword at the waist is to cling to desire and craving; to eat rich, delicious food is to fail to understand tranquil simplicity; to accumulate great stores of wealth is to abandon the Dao and pursue external things. This is called taking display as honor and letting human desire overwhelm Heavenly principle. How could this accord with the Dao?

One who is skilled at establishing a foundation does not depart from the great Way; one who is skilled at holding fast does not separate from the great Way. In this way, the ancestral sacrifices of descendants can also continue without end, and the Dao will remain forever in the world.

When one cultivates the Dao within oneself, one's De (Virtue/Power) becomes genuine; when one cultivates it within the family, one's De becomes abundant; when one cultivates it within the village, one's De grows; when one cultivates it within the state, one's De becomes rich; when one cultivates it throughout the world, one's De becomes universal.

Therefore, observe the self by means of the self, observe the family by means of the family, observe the village by means of the village, observe the state by means of the state, and observe the world by means of the world. How does one know the condition of the world? By means of such observation. The saying "emptiness within emptiness" means that within the void there still exists real principle.

The Chapter on Profound De (Xuande Zhang)

Someone whose De (Virtue) is deep and abundant is like an infant, pure and without deliberate mind. For this reason, venomous insects do not sting them, fierce beasts do not pounce on them, and birds of prey do not seize them. This is not because they are strong, but because they have no fear, no anxiety, and no distracting thoughts. An infant's bones are soft and its sinews pliant, yet it can clench its fist tightly, because its shen (spirit) and qi (vital energy) are whole. An infant does not yet know the matters of sexual union, yet its genitals can become erect, because its jing (essence) and qi are abundant and it dwells in a deep, undifferentiated state. An infant cries all day without its voice growing hoarse, because its natural endowment is complete, its body and mind are in perfect harmony, and it dwells in a state of absorbed, undifferentiated unity.

To understand harmony is to understand the constant Dao (the Way); to understand the constant Dao is to be truly clear-sighted. Nourishing life and sustaining its vitality is an auspicious sign, meaning that the wellspring of life is inexhaustible. When the mind drives the breath, however, this is forcing, and it means that the True Unity qi should be kept ever present. When things grow excessively strong, they move toward decline, and this is what it means to be out of accord with the Dao. One who turns away from the Dao will soon perish. The commentary further states that unless the true nature is established, deluded thoughts cannot be eliminated.

The Chapter on Profound De (Xuande Zhang)

Those who are truly wise do not speak lightly, while those who chatter endlessly do not necessarily understand. Close the orifices of the senses and gather the shen; blunt one's sharpness and dissolve one's tangles; soften one's brilliance and merge with the dust of the world. These are all methods of cultivation, by which one gradually lets go of attachment to distinctions through contemplating oneself, all things, and the heart-mind. Reaching this state is called xuantong (mysterious union), in which the sage and the ordinary person become one.

In the state of mysterious union, one cannot speak of closeness or distance, of benefit or harm, or of nobility or lowliness. Because the Dao is the substance of the heart-mind, and the heart-mind is the function of the Dao, it is honored by all under heaven. The commentary draws on the examples of Śākyamuni Buddha in meditation, Laozi studying the Dao, Fuxi studying the Yijing (Book of Changes), and Confucius at the end of his life, to show that even these sages each had limits in their cultivation and in their lives.

The Chapter on Pure Transformation (Chunhua Zhang)

Govern the state with correct measures, command armies with extraordinary tactics, and govern the world through wuwei (non-action), that is, without contriving or forcing interference. How do I know these principles? Because they manifest the function of the Dao. Concentrating the shen is governing the state through correctness, clarifying the mind is employing extraordinary troops, and awakening to one's true nature is governing through wuwei. At the opening of this chapter, the commentary also carries forward the preceding passage, stating that the Dao is the substance of the heart-mind and the heart-mind is the function of the Dao, and that for this reason the Dao is honored by all under heaven.

Chapter on Natural Transformation

Govern the state with uprightness, wage war with unorthodox strategy, and bring the world under control through Wuwei (non-action). How do I know this is so? I know it from these principles. The more prohibitions and taboos there are under heaven, the poorer the common people become. The more sharp implements people possess, the more chaotic the state grows. The more cleverness people display, the more strange things arise. The more intricate the laws, the more thieves there are.

Therefore the sage says: "When I practice non-action, the people transform themselves naturally. When I love stillness, the people become upright of their own accord. When I do not meddle, the people become prosperous of their own accord. When I have no desires, the people return of their own accord to simplicity."

Governing with a lenient and unhurried hand makes the people sincere and unpretentious. Governing with meticulous and exacting scrutiny leaves the people wanting and unable to find peace.

Misfortune hides within good fortune, and good fortune lurks within misfortune. Loss can sometimes bring gain. Who can know where this transformation ends? There is no fixed standard within it. The Dao has no fixed form, the upright may turn into the deviant, and the good may turn into the monstrous. People have lost their original nature for a very long time; since life first appeared, this loss has always been present.

Therefore the sage deals with others and affairs in an upright manner without harming anyone, is rigorous without piercing others, is straightforward without giving way to excess, and is bright without dazzling.

Governing the people and following the natural Way (Dao) is best begun with restraint and frugality: seeing less, hearing less, imagining less, and acting less. Being able to restrain oneself makes it easier to curb desire and return to one's original nature. This is called "early submission" (zaofu), that is, promptly comprehending and practicing this principle. Early practice allows one to accumulate virtue (De) continuously, and preserving and nurturing that virtue makes it possible to overcome selfish desire and bring one's conduct into accord with Heavenly Principle. In this way, the profound realm of the Dao cannot be exhausted.

The Dao is profound and boundless, as vast as empty space. A cultivator who brings their nature into harmony with the Dao can govern the state peacefully, and one who guards the "Mother," the root of the state (here meaning the inner spirit or fundamental essence), can sustain it over the long term. This principle is called deep-rooted and firmly grounded: even when heaven and earth crack apart, one's nature will not be destroyed, and even when empty space suffers loss, the spirit (Shen) will not perish. This is the Way of long life and enduring vision (changsheng jiushi), the cultivation that nourishes life over the long term and preserves the spirit.

In governing a large state, one should be like someone cooking a small fish: do not stir it often or intervene excessively. When the state is governed by the Dao, ghosts and spirits will not stir up trouble. This does not mean that ghosts and spirits have no efficacy at all. Rather, when illusory matters dissipate and enlightenment is complete, the power of ghosts and spirits cannot harm people. When the mind forgets both self and circumstance, and both self and things are emptied, mutual harm ceases. The sage likewise does not harm others, because he does not cling to the self. When neither side harms the other, virtue converges and returns to the Dao.

Great states lie downstream of rivers and seas, which is why they are able to gather all under Heaven. Small states rely on great states and can thereby also connect with the wider world. Whether large or small, all may be nourished within this relationship. The female often overcomes the male through stillness, and by remaining still in a lower position she does not contend. Therefore, when a great state treats small states with humility and does not contend with them, it can win their allegiance. When a small state treats a great state with humility and follows its lead, it too can be accepted by the great state. This principle has always existed.

Thus, some humility aims at gaining something, while other humility arises from simply following what is natural. The great state wishes only to embrace and accept people, and the small state wishes only to enter the great state and serve it. Each obtains the result it desires, so the great state ought to be humble. The commentary here further extends the image of "great states and small states" to the cultivation of the Dao (the Way). The heart can contain the transformations of all things, and the heart can also become the root of the Great Dao. To remove distracting thoughts and quiet the mind in observation is the method of practice.

The Chapter on Practicing the Dao

The Dao is the hidden root of all things. For the good person, the Dao is a precious treasure; for the person who is not good, the Dao is still a foundation on which one can rely and preserve oneself. Fine words can win advantage, and respected conduct can influence others. Even if someone is not skilled at practicing the Dao, one should not abandon him, for the Dao still dwells within him.

Therefore, even when a ruler is established as Son of Heaven and the Three Dukes (high officials of ancient times who assisted the sovereign) are appointed, a presentation of priceless jade discs and carriages drawn by four horses is not as valuable as sitting in stillness and cultivating the Great Dao. Why did the ancients honor the Dao so highly? Because it already exists within oneself and need not be sought outside. So long as one does not depart from the original heart-mind, one can return to the pure unity of the beginning and be free from error. Therefore, all under Heaven should treasure the Dao, for the Dao is the hidden root of all things.

Approaching affairs with the mind of Wuwei (non-action), one neither acts recklessly nor forces outcomes. One deals with things without clinging to external objects, and with a serene spirit one experiences the flavor of all things. Whether an affair is great or small, few or many, all of it is contained within this. To answer resentment with De (Virtue) is to keep the heart from being pulled away by external things. To make plans while matters are still easy to handle is to embrace the Dao, and to begin with the subtle in order to accomplish the great is to hold to the Zhongzheng (centrality and rectitude).

The hardest things under heaven must begin with what is easy, and the greatest things under heaven must be undertaken from what is subtle. These principles must all be realized through one's own heart. Therefore the sage never regards himself as great, nor clings to distinguishing big from small, and so is able to accomplish great things. His nature is as broad and open as empty space.

Rash promises are often hard to keep. If the Dao is grasped too easily, doubt may arise quickly, and things obtained too easily are also prone to suspicion. Regarding matters as too simple often brings more difficulties, and after one has fallen deeply into confusion, a thorough awakening may still come. Therefore the sage continues to treat affairs with gravity rather than carelessness, and does not state principles outright, so that people may comprehend them on their own. In the end, there is nothing truly difficult to overcome.

The commentary attached to the chapter Shou Fang Zhang (Chapter on Guarding Against) emphasizes that the nature is like emptiness. Rash promises easily lose trust, and when many matters are seen as too easy, they instead become full of difficulties. The sage treats them with caution and leaves room for people to understand for themselves, and therefore in the end nothing is found to be difficult.

It is easy to keep things steady while they are still calm, and easy to plan before their signs appear. What is fragile is easy to break, and what has not yet formed is easy to guard against with care. [The Dao (the Way) can be relied upon, and it can also be contemplated and understood, so that it makes a person single-minded.]

Deal with things before they happen, and bring order before disorder sets in. A tree so large that two arms cannot encircle it grows from a tiny sprout. A nine-story terrace is built one basketful of earth at a time. A journey of a thousand li begins with the first step taken underfoot. All of this shows that great matters take shape gradually from what is small and subtle, and that cultivating the Dao must also begin with what one does right now, in oneself.

Forcing one's actions tends to ruin things, and clinging tightly to them tends to lose them. The sage follows wuwei (non-action) and accords with the Dao, so he does not fail. Because he does not cling to possessions, he does not lose them.

People in their affairs often fail to understand the principle of letting things take their natural course, and so they spoil matters just as they near completion. If one treats the ending with the same caution as the beginning, one will not ruin the work. Knowing this, one can perceive that this very mind is the Dao-heart (daoxin): the one who practices wuwei is not attached to success or failure.

Therefore the sage pursues what ordinary people do not pursue, and does not value goods that are hard to obtain. He studies what ordinary people do not study, and returns to what the crowd overlooks and what has strayed from the proper course. In this way he assists the myriad things in developing according to their own nature, and he does not dare to act presumptuously.

Chapter on Pure De (Chundezhang)

The ancient masters who were skilled in practicing the Dao did not seek to make the people clever and quick-witted. They sought to keep the people simple and unadorned, with few thoughts and few worries. The people are hard to govern because their minds are scattered and they have too much cleverness and calculation. When the mind is still, it tends to grow dull; when it is stirred, it tends to scatter. Therefore, governing a state through cleverness becomes a calamity for the state, while not governing through cleverness is instead its blessing. To understand the gains and losses of these two approaches is to understand the principles of governance. The Dao values appearing simple and unadorned, yet it is not foolishness. One who grasps this principle can bring order to a restless mind. When thoughts are too many, the mind still becomes either dull or scattered; governing through cleverness is a calamity, and not governing through cleverness is a blessing. Understanding the principles of these two approaches, one embraces emptiness and stillness and maintains humility, and this is called Xuan De (profound and subtle virtue). Xuan De is deep and vast, the source from which the transformations of all things arise. It dwells within all things, yet it is not identical to them. In this way, all things can attain the state of following their natural course and moving in harmony.

Rivers and seas become the place to which all the streams return because they excel at lying low. Their emptiness and receptivity allow them to gather the hundreds of rivers. If the sage wishes to stand above the people, he must lower himself in his words; if he wishes to lead the people, he must place himself behind them in his actions. Thus, when he occupies a high position, the people do not feel oppressed; when he goes before them, the people do not feel harmed. The people therefore delight in raising him up and never tire of him. Because he does not contend with others, no one under heaven is able to contend with him.

Chapter on Matching Heaven

Everyone under Heaven says that the Way (Dao) I teach is vast, yet it seems unlike ordinary wisdom and appears dull. It is precisely because it is vast that it does not look like the cleverness of the common world. If it displayed sharp brilliance as the world does, it would long since have become small.

I have three treasures, which I hold fast and cherish. The first is compassion. By concentrating one's jing (essence) and qi (vital energy) and keeping body and mind soft and yielding, one can be like an infant. The second is frugality, which means having few selfish intentions and few desires. The third is not daring to place oneself ahead of all under Heaven, which means forgetting the self and not hastening to compete for precedence.

Because of compassion, one can be courageous, and so one's strength becomes great. Because of frugality, one can be generous, and so one's capacity becomes deep. Because one does not dare to contend for first place, one can become the leader whom the multitude follows, and body and mind can also be at peace and at ease. Now, if one abandons compassion and seeks only boldness, abandons frugality and indulges only in expansion, or abandons standing behind and hastens to be first, one will surely come to ruin and be unable to embody the Great Dao.

To fight with a compassionate heart is to win, because body and mind do not act rashly. To guard with a compassionate heart is to be secure, because one knows how to stay still and wait. If Heaven wishes to protect a person, it protects him through compassion, bringing him into harmony with the Dao.

The skilled warrior does not rely on bluster. The skilled fighter does not give way to anger easily. The skilled victor does not engage in contention, and so can deal with affairs calmly. The skilled employer of people places himself below them and conducts himself with caution and humility. This is called the De (Virtue) of non-contention, and it accords with the principle of Heaven's Dao. This is called making use of the strength of others so that the natural order of Heaven becomes manifest. This is called matching Heaven, because the mind is vast. This is the highest attainment since antiquity, and through it the Dao is made clear.

Chapter on the Difficulty of Knowing

The military classics have a saying: "I dare not take the initiative in attack, but would rather remain in the defensive position; I dare not advance an inch, but would rather retreat a foot." This is not a matter of showing off strength or competing for victory, but of refraining from presumptuous action. To act, yet seem to take no action; to accomplish, yet seem to accomplish nothing; to reach out to seize, yet seem to have no arm; to handle affairs, yet seem to have no affairs; to face an enemy, yet seem to have no enemy; to hold fast, yet seem to have nothing to hold; to grasp a weapon, yet seem to have no weapon; to taste, yet seem to have no flavor.

No calamity is greater than underestimating the enemy. The cultivator should allow the thoughts arising from seeing, hearing, sensing, and knowing to subside, and perceive that all phenomena are fundamentally empty. When two armies face each other, each should hold its own position, and it is the side that possesses compassion that will prevail. Another view holds that the key to victory lies in love.

Chapter on the Difficulty of Knowing

My words are very easy to understand and very easy to practice, yet no one under heaven truly understands them, and no one truly practices them. Words have a root, and affairs have a master. The root is non-action (wuwei), and the master is non-thought (wunian). Because people cannot grasp this state of non-action and non-thought, they do not understand me. Few understand me, and therefore the Dao I speak of is precious.

Words have a root and affairs have a master, namely non-action and non-thought. Only when one reaches the subtle and quiet state will one understand the Dao I speak of. I am identical with the myriad things of the world, yet I cling to none of them; those who grasp this principle are few. The sage knows that the "self" has no fixed substance, and so outwardly wears coarse cloth while inwardly concealing jade, appearing all day like a dull-witted person.

Chapter on Knowing the Illness

To know that one does not know is superior; not to know that one in fact does not know is a fault. True knowing does not cling to "knowing" or "not knowing," but is not bound by either distinction. If one takes "knowing" as a fixed view, the matter is not yet complete.

Only by recognizing that clinging to views and perceptions is itself the illness can one cease to be troubled by it. When dusty thoughts are purified, the inner light appears. The sage does not hold thoughts to be real, for even a thought of no-thought is still a thought. When one sees that even this thought does not exist, the nature of mind manifests. The myriad phenomena of the three realms all have mind as their root, and all cognition and experience are inseparable from the consciousness-mind (shi xin).

Chapter on Loving the Self

Those who do not take their power and authority to heart will have great power and authority come upon them [one cannot concentrate on investigating this principle]. Do not regard the place where you dwell as narrow [the wondrous Dao has no fixed location], and do not despise your life [your original nature cannot be destroyed]. Only by not despising it can one know that the Dao is inexhaustible, and so, by not despising it, the Dao will never be exhausted. The heart-mind has no form, so the sage understands his own original heart-mind but does not seek others' understanding by displaying himself [like someone drinking water, who alone knows whether it is cold or warm]. The sage cherishes himself but does not regard himself as honored [there is no principle that can be spoken, and no Dao that can be possessed], so he gives up the former and chooses the latter [knowing oneself without displaying oneself, and cherishing oneself without regarding oneself as honored].

Chapter on Ren Wei (Taking Action)

Those who recklessly act against the Dao will bring about their own death [they have the strength to cut away false thoughts]. Those who dare to refrain from false action will instead preserve their lives [they have the strength to guard softness and embrace the One]. Of these two courses, one harms a person and the other preserves him [my Dao is like a sword; one who cannot grasp it will be cut by its blade]. Some are beneficial and some are harmful. This is what Heaven detests [what matters most is not to exert force falsely], and who can understand the reason for it [the essential nature of the Dao is emptiness and stillness]? Therefore even the sage finds it difficult to grasp [the principle is easy to understand but hard to practice; the heart-mind is easy to awaken to but hard to fully clarify].

The Dao of Heaven (Tiandao) [that is, our own heart-mind] does not contend, yet it excels at winning [wuwei, or non-action]. It does not speak, yet it excels at responding [no thought]. It does not summon, yet the myriad things come of their own accord [no attachment]. It is level and at ease, yet it excels at planning [non-action, yet nothing is left undone]. The net of Heaven is vast and boundless [nothing lies outside the scope of the Dao]. It appears sparse, yet nothing slips through [the Dao is always present within all things].

Chapter on Greed and Loss

People ordinarily do not fear death. [If this thought cannot be stilled, the Dao (the Way) cannot be fulfilled.] Then why would one use death to frighten them? [Though the sea dries up and the bottom is at last revealed, once a person has died, their mind is hard to comprehend.] If people always fear death, [they only cling to life and do not realize that all must die.] Toward those who behave perversely, [life and death are also a great matter.] Even if I could seize them and put them to death, [how could I cut off their thoughts?] Who would dare to do such a thing? [Let their thoughts sever themselves.] In the world there is always a power that governs killing, and it carries out the killing. [The mind is the one that governs killing, able to cut off every kind of thought.] If one takes the place of the one who governs killing and kills people, [although my mind is the same as others' minds, I cannot substitute my mind for theirs.] This is called taking the place of the great carpenter in chopping wood. [When thoughts arise and one contemplates things, one falls into subjective conjecture.] Those who take the place of the great carpenter in chopping wood seldom fail to injure their own hands. [The cautious do not speak lightly; those who love to talk do not understand.]

Chapter on Greed and Loss

The people go hungry. [This is because people do not understand the Dao.] This is because those in high positions collect too many taxes. [It may also be said that it is because the mind's thoughts never cease.] Therefore the people go hungry. [For this reason they cannot understand the Dao.] The people are difficult to govern. [The cautious do not speak lightly; those who love to talk do not understand.]

Chapter on Greed and Loss

The people go hungry. [This is because people do not understand the Dao.] This is because those in high positions collect too many taxes. [It may also be said that it is because the mind's thoughts never cease.] Therefore the people go hungry. [For this reason they cannot understand the Dao.] The people are difficult to govern. [This is because people do not attain the Dao.] This is because those in high positions act and interfere too much. [It may also be said that it is because the affairs and thoughts within the mind never stop.] Therefore the people are difficult to govern. [For this reason they cannot attain the Dao.] The people make light of death. [This is because people do not accord with the Dao.] This is because they pursue nourishing life and enjoying it to excess. [It may also be said that it is because the passions in the heart never come to rest.] Therefore the people make light of death, [and so do not accord with the Dao.] Only those who do not regard their own lives as overly important, [and are able to bravely forget the self,] surpass those who treasure their lives, [and therefore are able to attain the Dao.]

People are soft and supple while alive and grow stiff at death. Water freezes into hard ice, and the ice melts back into water. Grasses and trees are tender and fragile while they grow, and when they wither they become dry and brittle. Rigidity thus belongs to the side of death, and softness to the side of life.

For this reason, an army that relies on force rarely wins. The commentary on the line "ben qiang ze gong" explains that when thoughts never stop, the mind becomes even more disordered. What is strong ends up in a lower position, and what is weak and yielding ends up in a higher one. The commentary then asks what causes thoughts to run without rest and the spirit to become scattered.

Tiandao Chapter (The Way of Heaven)

The Tiandao (Way of Heaven) is like drawing a bowstring. If the bow is drawn too high, it is pressed down; if drawn too low, it is raised. If the force is excessive, some is removed; if it is insufficient, some is added. The commentary compares this to cultivating the mind: reduce excessive thinking, invigorate the spirit, abstain from craving desires (shiyu), and nourish the inner chonghe zhi qi (harmonious qi), a state of balance free from extremes.

The regularity of Tiandao is to reduce what is in excess and supplement what is lacking. The commentary says that in cultivating body and mind, one should make what is unfamiliar become familiar, and let what has become familiar sprout anew. People do the opposite. They weaken those who lack and feed those who already have too much, indulging in what they love and forgetting the natural state of their original nature.

Who can take their own surplus and offer it to the world? Only one who possesses the Dao. The sage acts, yet does not rely on his own nature; he completes his work, yet does not take pride in it; he does not wish to appear wise. The commentary adds that these words point toward forgetting selfish intent and forgetting self-attachment, and even not clinging to the act of forgetting itself.

Renxin Chapter

Ren Qi Chapter

Nothing in the world is softer and weaker than water, yet nothing can surpass water in breaking through what is hard and unyielding. When the heart is not governed by thoughts of life and death, emotional attachments come to rest, and so nothing can take the place of water's function. The soft overcomes the hard because the heart has steadiness of purpose (dingli), so that emotional attachments naturally dissipate. The weak overcomes the strong because the heart harbors no reckless action, so that the Dao (the Way) of Heaven becomes manifest.

Everyone in the world knows this principle, yet few are able to put it into practice. Therefore the sage says: the soft overcomes the hard, and the weak overcomes the strong. Everyone in the world knows this principle, yet few are able to practice it. The sage, however, comprehends the reasoning within it. One who bears the filth of the state, hiding the heart within the heart without showing it, is worthy to be called lord of the altars of soil and grain. One who bears the misfortunes of the state, hiding the Shen (spirit) within the spirit without revealing it outwardly, is worthy to be called king of all under Heaven. Straightforward words often sound as if they were contrary: within the vault of Heaven, bitterness and injustice are still added.

Ren Qi Chapter

To calm deep resentment while still leaving behind resentful breath, or to let desire harm the body while emotional attachments cannot be cut off: how could this count as goodness? Therefore the sage holds the left tally (zuo qi, half of a contract token, used here figuratively to mean holding fast to right thoughts), yet does not demand anything from others, nor is moved by external things or contends with them.

Those of De (Virtue) hold the tally, verifying mind with mind and Dao with Dao, while those without virtue merely act according to the surface of the written terms. If one cannot observe in stillness, how could one penetrate all things? The Dao of Heaven shows no partiality. Numinous light shines forth alone, transcending the root of the mortal world, and it always responds to the good. The good person is not moved by external things, nor does the good person contend with them. Holding the tally, verifying mind with mind and Dao with Dao; without stillness and observation, one cannot penetrate. The Dao of Heaven shows no partiality, numinous light shines alone, transcending the root of the mortal world, and it always responds to good people. The good people spoken of here are those who have nothing to gain and nothing to lose.

Chapter on Manifesting Substance (Xianzhi Zhang)

The state is small and its people are few. [The "Great Round Mirror" (dayuan jing) is a metaphor for a clear mind that reflects all things.] Even when there are many implements, they are not used. [Shibai (literally "tens and hundreds") refers to a great quantity. The commentary explains that this is because the state is at peace.] The people are made to value their lives and not to venture lightly into danger. With their minds settled, they do not travel far or migrate. [Yi nian bu sheng (literally "not one thought arises") means that no deluded thought stirs in the mind. Nian zi zai zai (literally "holding thought on this") means that the mind dwells in the present moment.] Even when there are boats and carts, there is no occasion to ride them, and even when there are armor and weapons, there is no need to display them. [The commentary uses this to explain a state of non-engagement, with no contending and no desire to outdo others, and a body and mind kept pure.]

The people are returned to a simple life, like that of knotted cords used to record events. [Jie sheng ji shi, "recording by knotted cords," was an ancient method of keeping records by tying knots. The commentary holds that sincerity is the root of the Dao (the Way).] The people find their food sweet, their clothing agreeable, their dwellings secure, and their customs harmonious. [The commentary explains these in turn as "the flavor of the Dao," "dwelling at ease in the Dao," and "enjoying the harmony of the Dao."] Neighboring states can see one another, and the crowing of roosters and the barking of dogs can be heard across the border. Yet the people grow old and die without ever visiting one another. [The commentary extends these lines to mean that hearts illuminate one another, and that one sees through the Five Aggregates (wuyun) to attain serene contentment.]

True words are not ornate, and ornate words are often not true. [The commentary says one should not cling to the surface of words.] One who is skilled at doing good does not engage in glib debate, and one who loves debate is often not skilled. [The commentary says that the mouth one's parents gave them can never fully explain things on their behalf.] One who truly has wisdom does not flaunt their learning, and one with broad knowledge is not necessarily wise. [The commentary says that the principle lies right before our eyes.]

The sage (sheng ren) does not hoard possessions. The more they help others, the more abundant they themselves become, and the more they give, the richer they grow. [Here the sage is understood to fulfill the self through giving, not to accumulate for its own sake.] The Dao of Heaven benefits all things without harming them, and the sage acts purposefully without contending with others. [The commentary says this is the picture of a peaceful world in which all are benefited.]