《道德经注》

The Dao that can be followed as a road refers to visible principles such as the classics, scholarship, governance, and moral teaching. It is not the eternal, unchanging Dao. The eternal Dao is the way of following nature so that life endures long. Cultivators should nourish the spirit through wuwei (non-action), keep the people at peace through non-interference, dim their brilliance, conceal their traces, and reveal no sign of themselves. For this reason it cannot be put into words.

A name that can be spoken refers to wealth, honor, and fame that surpass ordinary people. It is not the constant, natural name. A constant name should be like an infant who cannot yet speak, or an egg before the yolk and white have separated: bright within, yet outwardly appearing dull and ignorant. It is also like a pearl hidden in its shell or jade buried in stone.

"Nameless" refers to the Dao. The Dao has no form, so it cannot be named. "Beginning" means the root. The Dao breathes forth primordial qi (yuanqi) out of emptiness and carries out transformation and nurturing, and it is the source of heaven and earth.

"Named" refers to heaven and earth. Heaven and earth have form and position, and they possess yin and yang and firmness and softness, so they can be named. Heaven and earth embrace primordial qi and give birth to the myriad things, causing them to grow and mature, just as a mother raises her children.

Therefore, one who is constantly free of desire can observe the subtle mysteries of the Dao. "Miao" (subtle wonder) refers to the essential meaning. If a person can always be free of desire, they can observe the essential meaning of the Dao, which is the "One." From the One, things become manifest, and names and categories are then laid out, so that people can distinguish and explain right and wrong.

The scripture continues: "Constantly harboring desire, one can observe..."

Therefore, by constantly remaining free of desire, one can observe the miao (the subtle essentials of the Dao). The commentators explain that miao means yao, the crux or key point of the Dao. If a person can remain constantly without desire, they can perceive the root of the Dao. The Dao (the Way) unfolds from the One and manifests the names and distinctions of the myriad things, and these distinctions make it possible to discern right from wrong.

By constantly existing in a state of desire, one can observe where things ultimately lead. The commentators explain that jiao means the destination or final outcome, and that a person with desires can discern the results toward which worldly affairs tend.

The states of having desire and being free of desire both arise from the human heart, yet they bear different names. The commentators say that both originate in the heart, differing only in how they are called: freedom from desire allows one to endure over the long term, while desire harms the self.

Both having desire and being free of desire are called xuan (profound and hard to fathom). The commentators explain that xuan refers to Heaven, and that people with and without desire alike receive the Qi (vital energy) of Heaven and Earth.

Within the profound there is yet another profound. The Qi that people receive varies in density. Those who receive Qi that is balanced and nourishing may become worthies and sages; those who receive Qi that is disordered and turbid may become greedy and dissolute.

This is the gateway to the many profound principles. To understand that within the profound there is still the profound, to recognize that the density of the received Qi differs, and to be able to remove emotional desires and preserve balance and harmony is to grasp the gateway to the essentials of the Dao.

Chapter Two: Nourishing the Body

When everyone under Heaven recognizes beauty as beauty, the notion of beauty takes shape, and yet once people deliberately display their own beauty and make it stand out, its opposite, ugliness (e), appears in turn. Here e refers to ugliness, the counterpart of mei (beauty). [The Jijie edition writes shi as bian.]

When everyone under Heaven recognizes goodness as goodness, the notion of goodness takes shape, and yet once goodness becomes a contested prize of fame and merit, its opposite, non-goodness, appears alongside it.

Thus you (being) and wu (non-being) arise through their mutual dependence: only by seeing being does one think of non-being. Difficulty and ease complete each other: only once there is difficulty does ease become evident. Long and short are compared to give shape to each. High and low stand in mutual contrast. Sound and voice answer each other: when one sings above, the other responds below. Front and back follow one another: when one walks ahead, the other follows behind.

Therefore the sage (shengren) manages affairs through wuwei (non-action), which means governing in accordance with the Dao (the Way). He carries out teaching without relying on words, guiding through his own conduct. As the myriad things rise and grow, the sage does not refuse them or hold them back. [In the Yingsong edition this word, dongzuo (activity), reads dong ye (also moving); the Daozang edition reads dongzuo.]

He nurtures the myriad things yet does not claim them as his own. Here the text illustrates this with yuanqi (primordial qi, the fundamental vital breath that generates all things): yuanqi nourishes and sustains the myriad things without possessing them. [The Yilin, Qiangben editions have this sentence as "yuanqi wan wu er bu you ye."] He acts, yet does not rely on his deeds, and he does not expect the myriad things to repay him. [The Qiangben edition reads "bu heng qi bao" (does not rely on their return), the Daozang edition reads "bu wang qi bao" (does not look for their return), and the Yilin edition reads "bu qiu qi bao" (does not seek their return).]

Accomplish the work, and then do not dwell in it: once an affair succeeds, one withdraws and does not claim the merit or hold on to the position one has gained.

It is precisely because one does not dwell in it that the merit remains, so that one's accumulated virtue (de) stays with oneself and does not depart.

These lines teach that conduct should not follow deviant or crooked paths, and that words should not be trusted carelessly. The first six lines of the chapter are paired in high and low, long and short tones. Once a ruler sets a single beginning, countless affairs arise beneath him, and every such change gives rise to disorder.

Chapter Three: Pacifying the People (Anmin)

Do not exalt the worthy: here "worthy" refers to those the world esteems, who are skilled in eloquence and ornamentation, who turn away from the Dao to employ cunning stratagems, and who abandon simplicity for showy display. To "not exalt the worthy" means not rewarding them with generous stipends and not granting them honored offices.

Keep the people free from contention: this means that the people should not compete for fame and profit, and should return to their natural, unadorned state.

Do not prize goods that are hard to obtain: the ruler does not cherish or chase after treasures. Gold is cast away in the mountains, and pearls and jade are tossed into the abyss.

Keep the people from becoming thieves: when those above govern through quietude and non-action (wuwei), transforming the people by example, no covetous persons will arise below.

Do not display what might arouse desire: one does not show off things that would stir longing. One keeps far from the licentious music of the state of Zheng, a traditional byword for decadent entertainment, and distances oneself from flatterers.

Keep the heart from being disordered: this means that one is not seduced by corrupt affairs, and the mind and spirit (shen) are not confused.

Therefore, in the governance of the sage: here the sage's governance of the state is also a discourse on cultivating the self.

Empty the heart: remove craving and desire, and dispel the vexations and confusion of the mind.

Fill the belly: hold the Dao and embrace the One in the heart, that is, keep to undivided focus, and guard the Five Spirits within (the inner spirits).

Weaken the will: soften and humble the mind so that it does not strive for power.

Strengthen the bones: cherish one's essence (jing) and vital energy (qi), and be circumspect in its expenditure, so that the marrow is full and the sinews and bones are strong.

Keep the people always without knowledge and without desire: keep the people simple and sincere, so that cleverness and excessive desire do not take root.

Ensure that the knowing ones do not embrace the One: even those who consider themselves clever should not hold onto private cunning, but should instead embrace the One, guard the Dao, and preserve the Five Spirits.

Chapter Four: Wuyuan (Without Source)

The Dao (the Way) is empty, yet its functioning is inexhaustible. "Chong" means emptiness and harmony. The Dao does not display its name or boast of its achievements, for its function lies in harmonizing.

It is often not brimming over. "Huo" here means "constant." The Dao is always humble and never lets itself become full.

Deep and remote, it seems to be the ancestor of all things. The Dao is so profound that it is hard to fathom, as though it were the source of the myriad things.

It blunts the sharpness. "Rui" refers to an eagerness to advance. If a person single-mindedly pursues fame and position, they should restrain this edge in accordance with the principles of the Dao.

It untangles the knots. "Fen" refers to roots that are tangled and intertwined. One should embody the non-action (Wuwei) of the Dao and use it to dissolve entanglements.

It softens the light. Even when a person has distinctive insight, they should know how to restrain it, neither flaunting their edge nor disturbing others.

It merges with the dust of the world. One dwells constantly among ordinary people and should not regard oneself as special or set apart from them.

Deep and still, it seems to exist yet does not show itself. By keeping quiet and at peace, one can endure over a long time and avoid perishing.

I do not know whose offspring it is. Laozi says that he does not know from what the Dao arose.

It precedes the Heavenly Emperor (Tiandi). The Dao existed before the Heavenly Emperor, that is, it came into being before Heaven and Earth. It has endured to this day because it is still and at ease, untroubled by desire. A person should cultivate the self and emulate the state of the Dao.

Chapter Five: Xuyong (Emptiness in Use)

Heaven and Earth show no partiality. Heaven and Earth nourish and give life not out of biased benevolence but by following what is natural.

Chapter Six: Forming Images

Heaven and earth regard the myriad things as straw dogs (sacrificial dogs made of grass in ancient rites, which were no longer treasured once the ceremony ended). Heaven and earth give birth to and nourish the myriad things, yet although humans are the most honored among them, heaven and earth still regard all things as they would straw and dogs, expecting no repayment.

The sage does not practice partial, biased benevolence. The sage cherishes and nurtures the people, yet does not act with the mind of bestowing favors. Instead, the sage emulates heaven and earth and follows what is natural.

The sage regards the common people as straw dogs too, expecting no return of respect or courtesy from them.

Between heaven and earth there is emptiness through which harmonious qi (vital energy) circulates, and so the myriad things are able to grow of their own accord. If a person can remove emotional desires and restrain indulgence in the flavors of food, so that the five viscera are quiet and pure, then shen (spirit) can dwell in peace within.

Is not the space between heaven and earth like a bellows or a blowpipe (tuoyue, an ancient blowing device)? Its interior is empty, yet it is able to set the air in motion.

Emptiness does not become exhausted. The more it is stirred, the more qi comes forth.

Speaking too much readily brings on distress. Excessive activity harms the spirit, and excessive speech injures the self, so that opening the mouth often brings calamity. It is better to hold fast to inner De (virtue), nourish the spirit, cherish the primordial qi, and speak little.

The Valley Spirit (gushen, a spirit that is still and empty like a mountain valley and able to nurture the vital force) does not die. If a person can nurture the spirit, they can remain vigorous for a long time. The "spirit" here refers to the spirits of the five viscera: the liver stores the hun (ethereal soul), the lungs store the po (corporeal soul), the heart stores the shen, the kidneys store the jing (essence), and the spleen stores the zhi (will). When all five viscera are damaged, the five spirits will depart.

This is called the Mysterious Female (xuanpin, the profound and deep root from which the myriad things are born). If a person can nurture the spirit, they can remain vigorous for a long time. The "spirit" here refers to the spirits of the five viscera: the liver stores the hun, the lungs store the po, the heart stores the shen, the kidneys store the jing, and the spleen stores the zhi. When all five viscera are damaged, the five spirits will depart.

This is called the "mysterious female" (xuanpin). The text says that the key to long life lies in the mysterious female. The "mysterious" (xuan) refers to Heaven, and in the human body it corresponds to the nose. Breath enters through the nose, is stored in the heart, and its five clear and subtle qualities transform into spirit (shen) and intelligence. The spirits and ghosts corresponding to sound and the Five Natures are called the "hun" soul. The hun belongs to Yang and governs movement in and out through the nose, connecting with Heaven, so the nose is called "mysterious." The earth nourishes people with the Five Flavors. People take in food through the mouth, and it is stored in the stomach. The Five Natures become turbid and mixed, forming bones, muscles, blood vessels, and the Six Emotions. The spirits and ghosts corresponding to these are called the "po" soul. The po belongs to Yin and governs movement in and out through the mouth, connecting with Heaven and Earth, so the mouth is called "female." The text uses the nose and mouth of the human body to explain how people's breath connects with Heaven and Earth.

"The gate of the mysterious female" is the root of Heaven and Earth. "Root" means origin. The two gates of the nose and mouth are the passages through which the primordial qi of Heaven and Earth flows in and out.

The breath should be long and light, as if it both exists and does not exist.

When using the breath, one should be relaxed and unhurried, never hasty or forced.

Chapter Seven: Concealing the Brilliance (Taoguang)

"Heaven is long-lasting and Earth endures" teaches people through the image of Heaven and Earth's unceasing permanence.

The reason Heaven and Earth can endure is that they do not seek their own survival. They bestow quietly and expect no return. Unlike worldly people, who anxiously accumulate profit for themselves and even seize what belongs to others to satisfy their desires, they give without grasping.

Therefore, Heaven and Earth endure.

For this reason, the sage places himself behind and puts others before himself.

In this way, he ends up standing ahead of the crowd, and the people of the world respect him and elevate him as their leader.

The sage regards himself lightly and others weightily.

In this way, he is able to preserve his own self. The common people love him as they love their parents, and the spirits protect him as they protect an infant, so he is able to remain secure for a long time.

Is it not only by being impartial that one wins the love of others and the protection of the gods? This is because the sage is fair and free of self-interest.

Thus one in fact accomplishes one's own benefit. Self-interest (si), as people understand it, is the wish to gain more for oneself. The sage has no selfish intent, yet abundant returns come to him naturally, and so he is able to accomplish his own benefit.

Chapter Eight: Yi Xing (On Transforming the Nature)

The highest good is like water. The person of supreme virtue acts in the manner of water's nature.

Water excels at nourishing the myriad things, yet it does not contend with them, and it always rests in the low places that people dislike. People loathe damp, filthy lowlands, yet water flows quietly there.

Therefore water comes closest to the Dao (the Way). Water's nature is close to that of the Dao: in the heavens it becomes mist and dew, and on the earth it becomes springs and streams.

In dwelling, water is good at choosing low ground. Its nature is to seek the lower places, and when it flows above grass and trees it still follows its downward course, like yielding gently beneath others.

In the heart, water is good at keeping depth. It is deep and vast, clear and still like a deep pool.

In relations with others, water is good at bestowing kindness. The myriad things grow because water nourishes them, and water gives to them without self-satisfaction and without seeking to take.

In speech, water is good at keeping faith. It reflects objects so that their images appear without losing their truth.

In governance, water is good at bringing order. It washes all things clean, leaving them pure and level.

In affairs, water is good at making the most of its capacities. It is square in a square vessel and round in a round one, changing its shape with the terrain, bending or running straight as the case requires.

In action, water is good at seizing the right moment. In summer it evaporates, and in winter it freezes; it changes with the seasons and does not go against the timing of Heaven.

It is precisely because water does not contend that it is free of fault. Block it and it stops; open a channel and it flows, following the course that people set for it.

Therefore it meets with no resentment. Water's nature is such that no one under heaven resents or blames it.

Chapter Nine: Yunyi

Holding a vessel and filling it to the brim is not as good as stopping in time. Overflowing is caused by human action.

Keeping the hun and po well nourished allows the body to survive. "Yingpo" (yíng pò) refers to the hun and po of a person. The hun is lodged in the liver, and the po is lodged in the lungs. Capricious joy and anger disturb the hun and po, and fine wine and rich foods harm both body and mind. Therefore, when the hun is quiet, the mind-will can return to the Dao (the Way) without confusion, and when the po is steady, a person can be healthy and long-lived.

Embrace the "One" (yī) and do not let it leave. If a person can hold fast to the One within the body and keep it from scattering, they can preserve their life over the long term. The One is the harmonious essence-qi (jīngqì), in which jing (essence) and qi (vital energy) are unified, that arose when the Dao first came into being. To speak of the One is to speak of a mind-will that is focused and free of divided intentions. It appears throughout the myriad things of the world: when heaven attains the One, it becomes clear; when earth attains it, it becomes tranquil; and when feudal lords and kings attain it, they can govern fairly and with harmony. Within a person, it manifests as the heart-mind; outwardly, it manifests as action; and when it is applied to others, it becomes De (Virtue/Power).

Concentrate on guarding the essence-qi until it reaches softness. When the essence-qi is not allowed to disperse, the physical form will follow it and become supple.

Be able to be like an infant. Within, the heart-mind has no tangled thoughts; outwardly, it is not stirred by worldly affairs, and it maintains its simplicity and gentleness.

Concentrate on preserving the jing (essence) and qi (vital energy) so that they do not scatter, and the body will become supple in response.

Like an infant, the mind is free of distracting thoughts and the outer self is undisturbed by affairs, so the shen (spirit) does not disperse.

Cleanse the inner mind until it is clear and pure. A mind dwelling in profound mystery can observe and comprehend all things, and so it is called Xuanlan (profound observation).

To be free of flaws is to not indulge in deviant thoughts. Only when the mind is pure in its thoughts can one be without fault?

One who governs the self cherishes jing and qi, and so the body is preserved. One who governs the state cherishes the people, and so the state is secure.

To be able to not display one's cleverness: in cultivating the self, one concentrates the spirit and regulates the breath, not letting the ears and eyes be drawn away by external things. In governing the state, one dispenses kindness without letting the people feel it is deliberately bestowed.

"Heavenly Gate" refers to the Purple Subtlety Palace (Ziwei Gong) at the North Pole, the dwelling of the Heavenly Emperor in Daoist belief. "Opening and closing" refers to the beginning and end, and to the Five Junctures (the stages of the movement of Heaven and Earth). Applied to self-cultivation, the "Heavenly Gate" refers to the nostrils, where opening is exhalation and closing is inhalation.

To be able to remain quiet and yielding, like a female. In cultivating the self, one must be still and gentle. In governing the state, one must respond to events with adaptability and handle affairs calmly, not striving to be the first to issue commands.

Clear and penetrating, the Dao makes all things understood, like the light of sun and moon shining across the world to the farthest corners of the four directions. Therefore it is said that the Dao cannot be seen or heard, yet it manifests throughout the ten directions, its brightness vast and great.

The Dao makes all things understood, like the light of sun and moon shining across the world to the farthest corners of the four directions. Therefore it is said that the Dao cannot be seen or heard, yet it manifests throughout the ten directions, its brightness vast and great.

No one can fully comprehend the Dao, which pervades the world.

The Dao gives birth to the myriad things and nourishes them.

The Dao gives birth to the myriad things, yet does not claim them as its own.

The Dao acts upon things, yet does not rely on merit or expect return.

The Dao nurtures the myriad things, yet does not govern them, nor does it carve them into implements to be used.

This is called Xuande (profound virtue), meaning that the operation of the Dao and the subtle workings of its De (Virtue/Power) are hidden and difficult to see, and that people should emulate the Dao.

Wuyong (Useless), Chapter Eleven

Thirty spokes converge on a single hub. The ancient cartwheel had thirty spokes to correspond to the number of months in the year. The spokes gather at the hub because there is an empty hole at its center. One who cultivates the self should set aside emotion and desire, keeping the five viscera (wuzang) quiet and empty, so that the spirit (shen) can return. One who governs the state should reduce activity and busy-work, letting each person fully exert their own strength, so that even the weak can contribute together.

The center of the wheel's hub is empty, and only because of this can the cart move. What is meant here by "non-being" (wu) is emptiness: because the hub is hollow, the cart can travel, and because the body of the carriage is hollow, a person can ride in it and carry goods.

Clay is kneaded to make vessels. Only because the inside of a vessel is empty can it hold things.

Doors and windows are cut out and walls are raised to build a house. Because the house has the empty spaces of doors and windows, people can enter, exit, and look out; because the interior is empty, people can dwell there. This is the function of a house.

Therefore, the existence of things with form brings convenience to people, but it is the formless, empty part that allows them to function. When a vessel holds things and a house holds people, people worry that the objects will be damaged and the house will fall into disrepair. Those who cultivate body and mind likewise worry that the physical form will perish and the inner spirit will be harmed. Empty space can contain all things, and so it is said that non-being can master what has form. The Dao (Dao) itself is empty and formless.

Chapter Twelve: Restraining Desire

The five colors (wuse) dazzle the eyes and dizzy the sight. Indulgence in beautiful colors damages one's essential energy (jing) and qi, and can even impair eyesight.

The five tones (wuyin) dull the sense of hearing. Excessive attachment to music drives away inner tranquility, and one can no longer hear the sound of no sound.

The five flavors (wuwei) disorder the palate. Excessive craving for rich tastes causes a person to lose the ability to appreciate plain flavor, and it also leads one away from the purport of the Dao.

Racing horses and hunting in pursuit stir the mind into frenzy. The human spirit ought to be still; if one constantly gallops in pursuit and dissipates one's breath, the spirit scatters, and the mind becomes deranged.

Goods that are hard to obtain hinder a person's conduct. What is meant by "rare treasures" are precious items such as gold, silver, pearls, and jade. When greed and desire are never satisfied, they corrupt one's moral character.

Chapter Thirteen: Loathing Shame (Yanchi)

Both favor and disgrace unsettle a person. Those who stand in favor live in alarm, and those who suffer disgrace are alarmed as well. One should regard great calamity as seriously as one regards one's own self. In this sentence, "gui" (fear) means dread, and "ruo" (to arrive) means to come upon someone. The point is that because a person fears great calamity arriving, both favor and disgrace provoke alarm.

What are favor and disgrace? The text asks this question directly: what is favor, and what is disgrace? Favor is being esteemed and honored. Disgrace is suffering shame and having it fall upon oneself. The author raises the question again so that the reader will understand this distinction clearly.

Disgrace means being placed in a lowly position.

Receiving favor and glory is like being startled. A person who is favored stands in a high place and should be as cautious as someone standing near an abyss. When honored, they should not become proud, and when wealthy, they should not become extravagant.

Losing favor and falling into humiliation is also like being startled. What causes alarm is the fear that misfortune will return.

This is the meaning of "chong ru ruo jing" (favor and disgrace, as if startled): one is alarmed by receiving favor, and equally alarmed by losing it.

Why should one regard great calamity as seriously as one's own self? The text asks this again: why should great calamity be treated as a matter as weighty as one's own safety?

The reason I have great calamity is that I have this body. Having a body means being subject to worry, exhaustion, hunger, and cold. If one is led by desire and indulges one's appetites without restraint, misfortune may follow.

If I had no body, what calamity could I face? This means that if one cultivates the Dao until one reaches a state of natural freedom without obstruction, the body can become light and rise like a cloud, passing in and out without hindrance, aligning with the Dao and merging with the spirits. What calamity could such a person face then?

Therefore, if someone cherishes their own self more than the whole world, yet wishes to rule the world, they may be able to stand in the world for a time, but they will not endure.

Chapter 14: Praising the Mysterious

Those who cherish their bodies and are willing to bear the burdens of the world can be entrusted with the world. This means that a ruler who cherishes their own person does so not for personal sake, but because they wish to become the parent of the myriad people. Even if such a person becomes the master of all under Heaven, they can be placed above the myriad people and remain free of fault for a long time.

Those who can support and accomplish the affairs of the world can be entrusted with the world. This means that a ruler who cherishes their own person does so not for personal sake, but because they wish to become the parent of the myriad people. Even if such a person becomes the master of all under Heaven, they can be placed above the myriad people and remain free of fault for a long time.

Look for it and cannot see it; it is called Yi (colorless, invisible). To be without color is called Yi. This means that the One, the unified substance of the Dao, has no color and cannot be seen by the eye.

Listen for it and cannot hear it; it is called Xi (soundless, inaudible). To be without sound is called Xi. This means that the One has no sound and cannot be heard by the ear.

Reach for it and cannot grasp it; it is called Wei (formless, elusive). To be without form is called Wei. This means that the One has no shape and cannot be held in the hand.

These three cannot be pursued to the end. The three refer to Yi, Xi, and Wei. That they cannot be pursued to the end means that they are colorless, soundless, and formless, so that words cannot explain them and writing cannot convey them. One can only receive them with a tranquil heart and comprehend them with the spirit; they cannot be attained through questioning.

Therefore they blend together and become a single whole. Hun (blended) means mixed. Thus the contents indicated by these three names are combined and called the One.

Its upper part is not manifest. This means that the One is not bright or dazzling within the world.

Its lower part is not dark. This means that the One is also not obscure or shadowy within the world.

It stretches on without end and cannot be named. Shensheng (unending) describes motion that never ceases and has no limit. "Cannot be named" means that it has no fixed color, so it cannot be distinguished as green, yellow, white, or black; it has no fixed sound, so it cannot be discerned by the five notes of gong, shang, jue, zhi, and yu; and it has no fixed form, so it cannot be measured by length, breadth, or size.

Ultimately, it returns to non-being. Here wu (things) refers to concrete, material substance; that is to say, in the end it returns to a state without any concrete material form.

Chapter Fifteen: Manifesting Virtue (Xian De)

This is the "shape without shape": the Dao itself has no bodily form, yet it enables all things to take on their own forms. This is the "image without a concrete thing": the Dao has no material substance, yet it establishes the images of all things. This is what is called huanghu (hazy, elusive). The Dao is faint and hard to discern, seeming to exist and yet seeming not to, so that one cannot see it.

Facing it, one cannot see its beginning. It has no start and no end, and cannot be measured in advance. Eliminate private affections and rid yourself of desires, and the mind-spirit will naturally return to the Dao. Following it, one also cannot see its end. It leaves no trace and cannot be sought out.

To grasp the Dao of antiquity is to govern the things of the present with it. The sage holds fast to the ancient Way and brings forth the One (the common source of all things) from the Dao, then uses it to master all things. Therefore the sage knows that the things of the present all originate in the One. To be able to know the source of all things of remote antiquity is called having understood the guiding thread of the Dao.

In ancient times, the masters skilled at cultivating the Dao were those who had attained the Dao. They were subtle and mysterious, and penetrating and profound. Xuan (profound, mysterious) refers here to Heaven, meaning that their aspirations and integrity were refined and profound, in accord with the Way of Heaven. Their attainment was deep and difficult to recognize. Their De (Virtue) was so profound that it could not be fathomed. Looking inward, they seemed invisible; listening outward, they seemed inaudible. No one knew where their abilities lay.

Precisely because they were hard to recognize, the text forcibly describes them with the following words. They were cautious, like someone crossing a river in winter. In every action they were deliberate, as if finding things difficult. They hesitated and were wary, as if fearing that their neighbors would notice. Advancing and retreating, they were careful, as if bound, fearing that others would learn they had done wrong. They were solemn and grave, like a guest facing a host, not daring to act carelessly. They were also like ice about to melt, loosening and opening. Huan means to scatter, and shi means to dissolve. Here the text says that the cultivator, by dispelling private affections and ridding themselves of desires, gradually becomes empty and clear in mind.

Dispersing and loosening, like ice about to melt. Here "huan" (dispersing) means to dissolve away, and "shi" (melting away) means to be absorbed and dissolved. The meaning is to remove emotional attachment and desire, so that the heart grows ever more empty, clear, and still.

Sincere and simple, like unworked wood. "Dun" (sincere, solid) means plain and weighty, and "pu" (uncarved block) refers to the original state before differentiation and shaping. Inwardly one guards the Shen (spirit), and outwardly one adds no ornament.

Broad and open, like an empty valley. The heart is spacious, empty, and still. It does not regard itself as virtuous, meritorious, or famous, and therefore it is able to embrace all things.

Undivided and murky, like something muddy. One holds fast to the authentic and does not deliberately display brilliance. One gets along harmoniously with the crowd and does not regard oneself as noble.

Who can make muddy water become still, so that it slowly clears? Who can remain steadfast in tranquility over a long time, so that all things gradually grow? "Xu sheng" (slowly giving birth) refers to gently emerging and growing.

Those who hold to this Dao (the Way) do not seek fullness, and do not pursue extravagance or excess.

Precisely because they do not seek fullness, they are able to conceal themselves, not displaying their brilliance and not claiming fame or merit. "Bi" (to conceal) means to hide one's light, and "xin cheng" (newly accomplished) refers to distinguished achievements and reputation.

Chapter Sixteen: Returning to the Root

Reaching the utmost vacuity and stillness. The one who attains the Dao (the Way) sets aside emotional attachment and desire, purifies body and mind, and reaches a state of extreme emptiness and stillness.

Firmly holding to tranquility, one maintains a state of purity and sincere solidity.

All things grow together. "Zuo" (to arise) means to grow.

Through this I observe their cycles of return: all things ultimately come back to their own root, and so people should value the root.

All things flourish and thrive. "Yunyun" (luxuriant) describes the abundant growth of plants, leaves, and flowers.

Each returns to its root. All things wither and fall, returning to their origin, and then grow anew.

Once the myriad things wither and fall, each returns to its root and begins to grow anew from there.

Returning to the root is called stillness (jìng). Here "stillness" refers to what is fundamental. The root is quiet, yielding, and humble, and it rests in a low position, which is why it can sustain life and not wither.

This is called restoring one's destiny (fù mìng), that is, returning to one's original state of life so that life can continue.

Returning to one's original life-allotment is called constancy (cháng), because sustaining life is precisely the way the Dao (Dào, the Way) operates constantly.

To understand this constant pattern is called discernment (míng).

Not understanding this pattern, acting recklessly, and playing with cleverness and deception will cause one to lose the capacity for clear insight and bring calamity.

To understand constancy is to be able to embrace all things. To embrace all things is to be impartial and selfless, and not to be moved by crooked and deviant affairs.

Being impartial and selfless, one can become a king over all under Heaven. When one cultivates the person and rectifies one's conduct, and form and spirit (shén) are unified, countless spirits will gather within oneself.

Becoming a king, one can join with Heaven. When one's De (Dé, Virtue) communicates with Heaven, one can join with the Dao.

Joining with the Dao, one can endure long. If one achieves impartiality, accord with Heaven, communication with Heaven, and union with the Dao, and one's De is pure and complete and vast, then one can share the same end as Heaven and Earth without falling into peril.

Chapter Seventeen: Pure Customs (Chún Fēng)

In the most ancient times, the best rulers were known to the people only as existing. The people did not perceive that they bestowed favors deliberately or interfered in governance. The people were simple and unpretentious, and did not regard the ruler as someone to be served.

Next came rulers whose De could be seen by the people, who felt their kindness, and therefore drew near to them and praised them.

Next after these were rulers who governed the people through punishments and laws, so that the people feared them.

The lowest type of ruler is the one whom the people despise and deceive. Too many prohibitions and tangled decrees keep the people from sincerely submitting, so they come to insult the ruler.

When the ruler's good faith is insufficient, he does not trust his subjects, and they answer with distrust, deceiving him in turn.

How cautious he is, how he values his words! This refers to the best ruler, who acts with care and does not issue commands lightly, fearing that his words and deeds might go against the Dao (dào) and lose their naturalness.

When the work is accomplished and affairs are settled, the world is at peace.

The people all say, "We did this ourselves." The people do not realize that the ruler's De (dé) is deep and sincere, and instead assume that everything was naturally so.

Chapter 18: The Thinning of Customs

When the Great Dao falls into decline, benevolence and righteousness arise. When the Great Dao prevails, every household has filial sons and every door has people of loyalty and good faith, so benevolence and righteousness need not be singled out for praise. Only after the Great Dao has fallen into ruin and acts of wickedness and rebellion have appeared do benevolence and righteousness become principles that can be proclaimed and taught.

When intelligence and cleverness are put on display, great deception arises. When cleverness is esteemed, rulers come to look down on virtue and prize eloquence, to despise simplicity and prize ornament, and the subjects respond in kind with cunning and fraud.

When kinsmen are at odds, filial piety and kindness become visible. Only after family ties have been severed and relatives have turned against one another is there a need for filial devotion and compassion to bind them together and care for one another.

When the state is in chaos, loyal ministers appear. When edicts cannot be carried out, superiors and inferiors resent one another, and crooked men struggle for power, so loyal ministers rise up to rectify the ruler.

The point of this passage is that when the world is at peace, people do not feel that the virtuous stand out in particular. Since no one harbors greed, there is no need to single out integrity, and since everyone is upright, there is no need to praise uprightness specifically. Under a ruler who governs by the Great Dao, names such as benevolence, righteousness, filial piety, and kindness lie hidden and unremarked, just as at noon, when the sun is at its height, the light of the stars cannot be seen.

Chapter 19: Returning to Simplicity

Abandon sagacity and wisdom. This means setting aside the showy display of sagacity and cleverness, returning to the origin, and holding fast to the root. The Five Emperors once used images to display their teaching, and Cang Jie created writing. Commentators hold that all of these fall short of the simple state of the Three Sovereigns, when people knotted cords to keep records and had no writing at all.

Discard the wisdom of contrivance. This means letting go of clever schemes and returning to Wuwei (wúwéi), or non-action.

The people's profit increases a hundredfold. This means ordering agricultural affairs so that public business runs smoothly, and not pursuing private gain.

Abandon the custom of advertising benevolence and righteousness, and the practice of prizing the names of righteousness. "Cutting off benevolence" means no longer using the bestowing of favors to display oneself. "Discarding righteousness" means no longer esteeming a showy fidelity to one's word that lacks substance.

Abandon the display of sagely wisdom and return to the original state of simplicity, guarding the root. The Five Emperors left behind a variety of institutions and emblems, and Cangjie created writing, but none of these was as unadorned and plain as the knotted-cord method of record-keeping of the Three Sovereigns.

Abandon cleverness and scheming, and return to non-action (wuwei). In this way the people's livelihood will grow more abundant: agriculture will be well managed, affairs will be handled impartially, and no one will seek private gain.

When the advertising of benevolence and righteousness is abandoned, the people will be able to recover the customs of genuine devotion, with children filial to their parents and parents loving to their children.

Abandon deceit and the pursuit of profit. "Cutting off cleverness" means removing deceptive and hypocritical conduct that disrupts what is real. "Discarding profit" means blocking the paths along which greed grows and closing the avenues by which people use their power to seek gain.

In this way, thieves will not arise. When those in high positions govern with fairness, the people will have no crooked or selfish hearts.

These three measures refer to the three customs described above that should be abandoned.

If these teachings are treated merely as ornamentation, they will not be sufficient to transform the people, and so they must be put into concrete practice. To reveal simplicity and embrace the uncarved block means to keep to what is genuine and refrain from prizing embellishment. To guard plainness means to let one's own sincerity and honesty become a model that subordinates can follow.

Reduce selfish intent and lower desire. Reducing selfish intent means being impartial and free of private motives. Lowering desire means knowing contentment.

Chapter Twenty: Differing from Custom

Cut off the study of showy and hollow learning, and the mind will be free of anxiety. Remove the superficial and ornamental, and one will be spared from calamity.

"Wei" and "a" are both replies to others, yet how much difference is there between them? The commentator holds that people of that time looked down on simplicity and valued ornament.

And between goodness and evil, how much difference is there? The good person is accommodating and offers praise, while the wicked person remonstrates and argues. Yet how great is the difference between them? The commentator holds that people of that time loathed loyal and upright men and instead employed treacherous flatterers.

What people fear must not be left unguarded against. Here, "people" refers to those who cultivate the Dao. What people fear is a ruler who will not abandon showy learning. One must not fail to be vigilant against this, for such a ruler will draw close to those skilled at flattery and will even kill the benevolent and virtuous worthies.

My mind is vast and aimless, as if it had no end. Here someone explains that ordinary people's thoughts are scattered, always striving to keep studying and writing, and never knowing when they will finally stop.

The crowd is elated and indulges its desires, like hungry people longing for a lavish sacrificial feast and always feeling it is not enough. It is also like climbing a terrace in spring to view the scenery: the mind rises and falls with the mingling of Yin-Yang and the stirring of all things, full of longing.

Only I am cautious and still. The signs of desire have not yet appeared, like an infant who cannot yet respond or engage with others. I am lost and have nothing to rely on, like a poor person in a remote place who does not know where to turn.

Everyone feels they have more than enough. Those with surplus wealth use it for extravagance, and those with surplus cleverness use it for deceit. Only I seem to be lacking, as if I have been left behind.

My mind is truly like that of a fool! I do not move with the vulgar crowd. I hold fast to unity and do not change, and so I appear muddled and make no distinctions. Ordinary people seem clear and penetrating, while only I seem dim. Ordinary people are shrewd and eager, while only I am calm and unhurried, making no choices or distinctions.

I am as vast as the sea, seemingly without boundary. I drift without ever settling anywhere, and my mind seems to be entrusted to a wondrous realm.

Everyone displays themselves through purposeful deeds. Only I appear dull and non-acting, seeming shallow and inferior to ordinary people. I alone am different.

Those of exalted virtue (De) can embrace all things, contain what is turbid, and dwell in humility. They do not follow the customs of the mundane world; they follow only the Dao (the Way).

The Dao, as a mode of being, is elusive and hard to grasp, having no fixed form. Within its elusiveness appear the images of all things; within its obscurity lies the substance that gives rise to all things. The Dao is profound and subtle, and within it is contained jing (essence) and qi (vital energy). The yin-yang qi interact and converge, causing all things to take on bodily form. This qi is genuine and subtle, not an artificial adornment. Although the Dao conceals its merit and does not display its fame, it possesses an inner reality.

From antiquity to the present, the Dao has always existed and has never vanished. All things receive breath from the Dao and begin to grow. How do I know that all things obtain their vitality from the Dao? I know it from the things before my eyes: they grow, move, and rest by virtue of the essential qi of the Dao, and without the Dao they could not be so.

Chapter 21: Xuxin (Emptying the Heart)

"Xuxin" means to make the mind empty and still, without clinging to preconceived views.

Chapter 22: Yiqian (Increasing Through Humility)

By yielding oneself, going along with others, and not acting on one's own assumptions, one can preserve oneself and receive and accord with the vital qi (qì) that the Dao (Dào) bestows.

Therefore the phrase "by this" means that all things in the present age obtain their essence (jīng) and qi (qì) from the Dao, and by this they grow, move, and rest. Without the Dao, things could not be so.

Increase and Humility, Chapter Twenty-Two

Yielding oneself is how one preserves the self. Bending oneself and completing others, one will in the long run also be extended.

Low-lying places can gather water. If a person is humble, his De (Dé) will gather to him.

One who is willing to dwell in decline and meagerness, and to place himself behind others, will be respected by all under heaven. Over time, he will also flourish again.

Taking little, one instead gains more. The Dao protects the humble, and the spirits (shén) also rely on places of emptiness and stillness.

Excess wealth tends to confuse people, who then do not know how to keep it. Learning too much also tends to bewilder one with the many claims one hears.

Therefore the sage holds fast to the One, the fundamental principle of the Dao, as the standard for all under heaven.

The sage does not observe only with his own eyes. He borrows the eyes of all under heaven to observe, and so he sees clearly and penetrates the four directions.

The sage does not regard himself as right, nor does he hastily negate others. Therefore his fame shines forth, sufficient to serve as the standard for all under heaven.

The sage does not claim merit for himself, and therefore he is able to establish achievements for all under heaven.

The sage does not boast of his nobility or strength, and therefore he can endure long without falling into danger.

Precisely because he does not contend, no one under heaven can contend with him.

When the ancients said "yielding, one is preserved," was it an empty word? This old saying means that yielding and deferring allow one to preserve oneself. It is not a false claim.

Being able to yield and comply, one's body can be preserved and can return to one's parents unharmed.

Xuwu (Emptiness and Nothingness), Chapter Twenty-Three

Speaking little accords with the natural Dao (the Way). "Xi yan" (rare speech) means speaking sparingly and with caution. Those who speak little speak truthfully and do not utter empty or false words.

Being able to yield and comply, one's body can be preserved and can return to one's parents unharmed.

A violent wind does not blow through an entire morning, and a sudden downpour does not fall all day. "Kuang feng" (violent wind) is a fierce wind, and "zhou yu" (sudden downpour) is a fierce rain. The meaning is that violent things cannot endure, and extreme states cannot last long.

Who causes such violent winds and rains? Heaven and Earth do. If the power of Heaven and Earth cannot sustain whirlwinds and sudden rains for long, how much less can a human being?

Therefore, in acting, one should model oneself on the Dao, keeping still and calm, and not be hasty and fierce like violent winds and sudden rains.

Those who love the Dao align themselves with the Dao. Those who possess De (Virtue/Power) align themselves with De. Those who act willfully and lose the constant Dao also align themselves with the loss of the Dao.

Those who align with the Dao are welcomed by the Dao, and those who align with De are welcomed by De.

Chapter 24: Kuen (Bitter Grace)

Those who share the nature of "loss" will also be willing to lose it. A ruler who lacks sincerity toward his ministers will find that his ministers answer him with insincerity in return. There are cases of this kind of mistrust. Things of the same kind gather together, and like sounds answer one another: clouds follow the dragon, winds follow the tiger, water flows toward what is damp, and fire draws near what is dry. This is the natural correspondence among things.

Those who rise on their toes cannot stand firmly. Here "qi" (striving forward) means reaching eagerly for power, admiring fame, and pursuing merit and glory without restraint. People like this cannot stand for long and carry out the Dao (the Way). Those who take long strides cannot go far. Regarding themselves as noble and placing themselves above others, they are rejected by the crowd, which prevents their advance. Those who display themselves cannot see clearly. They believe their appearance is outstanding and their conduct accords with the Dao, yet they do not realize that their looks are not fine and their character is base. Those who insist they are right and blame others are hidden by the crowd, so they cannot make themselves known. Those who boast of their achievements have no merit. By constantly praising their own accomplishments, they lose the merit they hold in the minds of others. Those who are proud and self-important cannot maintain their standing for long, since they keep praising themselves and raising their own status.

From the standpoint of the Dao, such conduct is like surplus food and superfluous flesh. Here "zhui" (superfluous flesh) means craving. If a person of this self-boasting and arrogant kind were placed in charge of governing a state, he would seize surplus stipends and provisions and become a burden on the realm. All things detest such a person. While in office, he harms others at every turn, so people everywhere fear and loathe him. Therefore, one who possesses the Dao does not place himself in such a situation. That is to say, a person of the Dao will not remain in a state like this.

Chapter 25: Xiang Yuan (The Image of the Origin)

Seizing surplus stipends and provisions is an act of craving.

All things detest such a person. While in office, he harms others at every turn, so people everywhere fear and loathe him. Therefore, one who possesses the Dao does not place himself in such a situation. That is to say, a person of the Dao will not remain in a state like this.

Dao is a mysterious, all-encompassing existence, one that already was before Heaven and Earth took form. It is silent and empty, without shape, standing alone and unchanging.

The Dao moves through Heaven and Earth, reaching everywhere without obstruction, never stagnating or being harmed. It is not burned by the Yang qi, nor does it decay in the Yin qi; it pervades all things and is present everywhere.

The Dao may be called the mother of all things under Heaven, for all things are born and nourished through it, just as a mother nurtures her children.

I cannot see the form of the Dao, nor do I know how it should be named. Seeing that all things arise from the Dao, I provisionally call it "Dao." Forcing a name upon it, I call it "Great" (da). To say "Great" is to say that it is lofty beyond reach, vast without boundary, and able to embrace everything.

Although the Dao is great, it constantly moves and changes, without any fixed place, and so after calling it "Great" we say that it "flows onward" (shi). It travels to every distance and its breath fills Heaven and Earth, reaching everywhere without fail, and so after "flows onward" we say that it is "far" (yuan). Yet although the Dao is vast and profound, it ultimately returns to the human person and is not separated from people, and so after "far" we say that it "returns" (fan).

Therefore, the Dao is great, Heaven is great, Earth is great, and the king is great. The Dao embraces everything without exception, Heaven covers everything without exception, and Earth bears everything without exception; the king's duty is to govern and order all things. Within Heaven and Earth there are four great things: the Dao, Heaven, Earth, and the king.

There are four great things in the world: the Dao, Heaven, Earth, and the King. Whatever can be spoken of and named is not the ultimate existence. To speak of "Dao" already points to something, and once something is pointed to and called "Dao," this "greatness" of the named Dao falls short of the "greatness" that cannot be spoken of. What cannot be spoken of may be called, for lack of a better word, the "realm" (yu). Heaven, Earth, and the King are all contained within this unspeakable realm, which is why the text says there are four great things in the world.

The King is one of them. Within the range reached by the eight directions there are four great things, and the King occupies one of these places. Some editions write "ju" (dwelling) as "chu" (abiding).

Humans should model themselves on Earth. Earth is still and gentle: plant seed and it yields grain, dig and it gives sweet springs. It labors without complaint, and its merit is never claimed as mastery over the myriad things.

Earth should model itself on Heaven. Heaven is calm, serene, and free of agitation. It bestows on the myriad things without seeking repayment, lets them grow without possessing them.

Heaven should model itself on the Dao. The Dao is pure, quiet, and wordless. It moves the essence of qi (jing qi) in secret, so that the myriad things arise of their own accord.

The Dao models itself on what is so of itself. The nature of the Dao is simply to be what it naturally is; it does not model itself on anything else.

Chapter Twenty-Six: Valuing Heaviness

Heaviness is the root of lightness. If a ruler is not steady, he will not be respected; if one cultivates oneself without steadiness, the spirit (shen) easily scatters. Flowers of grass and trees are light, and so they wither quickly; roots that run deep and bear weight endure for a long time.

Stillness is the master of restlessness. If a ruler is not composed, he loses his dignity; if one cultivates oneself without composure, body and mind fall into peril. The dragon, when still, can transform at will, while the tiger, when agitated, easily dies young or is injured.

Therefore the sage, traveling all day, never leaves his baggage carts behind. "Zi" (baggage cart) refers to stillness and steadiness: the sage, walking the Dao throughout the day, never departs from stillness and heaviness.

Even when there are splendid lookout towers and palaces, the sage keeps his distance and does not settle himself there. "Rong guan" (splendid lookout) refers to a lavish observation tower; "yan chu" (leisure dwelling) refers to the place where consorts reside.

How could it be so, that a sovereign who commands ten thousand chariots…? "Naihe" (how could it be) expresses grief and a reproach directed at the rulers of that time; "the lord of ten thousand chariots" refers to the King.

Chapter Twenty-Seven: The Skillful Use

To regard oneself as lighter than the whole world might seem to refer to a sovereign who holds the highest position yet acts carelessly and restlessly. This passage criticizes the rulers of the time for their extravagance, indulgence, and frivolous dissipation.

Acting carelessly leads to losing the loyalty of one's ministers. The passage means that a ruler who is careless and restless will lose his officials. In cultivating the self, indulgence in desire likewise drains jing (essence) and qi (vital energy).

Acting hastily leads to losing the throne. A ruler who moves impulsively may lose his hold on power. In cultivating the self, haste also injures shen (spirit).

The skillful traveler leaves no wheel tracks or footprints. The skillful practitioner of the Dao cultivates the Dao within the self and need not leave home, so he leaves no outward trace.

The skillful speaker says nothing with flaws or faults. This means that by choosing words carefully, one avoids inviting error.

The skillful planner does not need counters or calculating tools. One who plans according to the Dao holds fast to unity and does not change lightly. Since the matters he plans are few, he understands them without needing to calculate.

The skillful closer uses no bolt or lock, yet the door cannot be opened. One who guards shen and restrains desire according to the Dao can secure the heart at its root, unlike a door that depends on bolts and locks to stay shut.

The skillful knotter uses no cord or binding, yet the knot cannot be undone. One who handles affairs according to the Dao can bring people's hearts into harmony, and such a bond, unlike a cord, cannot be untied.

Therefore the sage is always skillful at saving people. He teaches loyalty and filial piety so that he may bestow his aid upon people's lives.

Thus the sage abandons no one, and enables both the noble and the humble to each attain their proper place.

The sage is also always skillful at saving all things. He teaches the common people to follow the changing of the seasons, so that the myriad things are not harmed.

Thus the sage abandons no thing. He does not disdain stone, nor does he especially prize jade, but treats all things equally.

This is called "Xi Ming" (inheriting illumination), meaning that the sage is skilled at saving people and all things, receiving and embodying the wisdom of the Great Dao.

Chapter 28: Returning to the Uncarved Block (Fanpu)

Therefore, the good person can serve as a teacher to the person who is not good, and the person who is not good can serve as a lesson and a resource for the good person. Even when a good person encounters someone whose conduct is poor, they will teach that person to turn toward goodness, so that the person can also become useful.

Those who do not respect their teachers will lose their guidance, and those who do not value the people from whom they could learn will have nothing to use. Such a person may think themselves clever, but is in truth still deeply confused.

To understand this principle is to grasp the subtle and essential Dao (the Way).

Know what is strong, yet hold to what is weak, like the streams that run through the world. Here "xiong" (the male, the strong) stands for what is honored and forceful, and "ci" (the female, the yielding) stands for what is lowly and gentle. Even when a person knows they are honored and prominent, they should keep to humility, set aside rigidity, and embrace gentleness. In this way, all under heaven will turn toward them, as water flows into a deep valley.

To be humble like the streams of the world is to keep the constant De (Virtue/Power) from ever leaving oneself. If a person can be this modest, they can return to the state of an infant, with a mind that is simple and genuine and does not presume to know everything.

Know what is bright and visible, yet hold to what is dark and quiet, and you can become the model for all under heaven. Here "bai" (white) stands for what is bright and conspicuous, and "hei" (black) stands for what is still and unseen. Even when a person understands their own talents and insight, they should keep to a quiet and low profile, as though hidden in the dark. In this way they become a standard the world can follow, and the constant De remains with them without deviation.

Return to the realm of endlessness. When virtue (De) does not deviate, life can be long, and one's lifespan returns to infinity.

Know what glory is, yet keep to the position of humility, willing to become the valley of the world. "Glory" stands for nobility, and "humility" stands for defilement. Though one knows one's own noble glory, one still abides in lowliness. In this way, the people of the world will turn toward such a person as streams flow into a deep valley.

Becoming the valley of the world, the constant virtue will be sufficient. "Sufficient" (zu) means to rest and settle. If a person becomes the valley of the world, their virtue will settle within themselves.

Return to simplicity (pu). One should let oneself return to genuine plainness and stop pursuing ornamentation.

When the uncarved block (pu) is scattered, it becomes the various vessels. When the plain qi (Qi) of all things disperses, it takes shape as implements. When the Dao divides, it becomes numinous qi, which circulates as the sun and moon and is distributed as the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water).

The sage who employs the way of the uncarved block becomes the head of all officials. When the sage is entrusted with office, the sage becomes the chief of the officials.

Thus, the greatest governance does not injure or divide. The sage governs the realm by the Great Dao and does not harm the common people. In cultivating the self, the sage regulates desire by the Way of Heaven and does not impair the spirit (Shen).

Wuwei (the chapter title text here may be corrupted). When a person is entrusted with office, they become the head of the officials. When the sage is entrusted with office, the sage becomes the chief of the officials.

Thus, the greatest governance does not injure or divide. The sage governs the realm by the Great Dao and does not harm the common people. In cultivating the self, the sage regulates desire by the Way of Heaven and does not impair the spirit (Shen).

Wuwei (Non-Action), Chapter Twenty-Nine

Wanting to take hold of the world. This means wanting to be master of the world.

Yet wishing to govern through human contrivance (youwei). This means wishing to rule the people through deliberate, purposive means.

I see that this will not work. I hold that it goes against the Way of Heaven and the human heart. Heaven dislikes turbulence and murkiness, and the human heart dislikes excessive desire.

The world is a numinous vessel (qi) that cannot be forced into order by human effort. "Vessel" (qi) means an implement. Human beings are the spiritually endowed beings of the world, who love stillness and cannot be governed through forceful action.

Forcing action spoils things. Governing through contrived action injures the nature of the people.

Grasping by force loses it. Forcibly controlling and instructing people causes them to lose their true condition, so that they instead develop deception and falsehood.

Thus, among things, some lead and some follow. What those above do, those below tend to imitate.

Chapter Thirty: Frugality and Restraint in War (Jian Wu)

Things sometimes grow warm and sometimes grow cold. Xu (warming) is warmth, and chui (blowing) is cold. Things have a warm side, and they necessarily have a cold side as well.

Things sometimes grow strong and sometimes grow weak. Things have a flourishing side, and they necessarily have a declining side.

Things sometimes remain stable and sometimes tip into peril. Zai (supporting) is stability, and hui (toppling) is peril. Things have a stable side, and they necessarily have a perilous side. This shows that a ruler should not govern the state through deliberate action, and that the cultivation of the self should follow the same principle.

Therefore the sage (sheng ren) removes excess, extravagance, and indulgence. What is called shen (excess) refers to indulgence in sound and beauty; she (extravagance) refers to fastidiousness about clothing and food; and tai (luxury) refers to lavish dwellings such as palaces and terraces. By removing these three excesses, keeping to harmony, and practicing wuwei (non-action), the world will be naturally transformed and nourished.

One who assists a ruler with the Dao (the Way) does not use military force to display strength across the world. To assist a ruler with the Dao means not relying on warfare and armed force, but following the Way of Heaven and practicing virtuous governance, so that enemies naturally submit.

Launching warfare often brings corresponding consequences, so one who acts should reflect on oneself rather than blame others.

Where an army has camped, brambles grow thick. This means that farming is abandoned and the fields lie untilled.

After a great battle, a year of famine is sure to follow. Heaven sends a malignant qi (vital energy) that harms the five grains, and when the grains are harmed, the people too suffer.

One skilled in using armies stops once the aim has been achieved. Such a person is resolute but does not use this resolve to display strength or seek fame; resolute but does not boast; resolute but humble, not claiming all the merit for oneself; and resolute but does not arrogantly bully others. Taking decisive action should also come only out of necessity.

Once the task is accomplished, do not boast about it. After acting resolutely, one should be humble. To credit the achievement to oneself is to boast.

Once the task is accomplished, do not become arrogant. Here, "arrogance" (jiao) means bullying others. Even when acting decisively, do not rely on your power to oppress people.

Once the task is accomplished, it should be done only because there is no other choice. Action should be resolute and sincere, and one should not drive matters to the point where they must be done.

Once the task is accomplished, do not show off strength. When acting resolutely, one should not rely on sturdy armor and weapons to harm or humiliate others.

Things that reach the height of strength will turn toward decline. Plants that grow too luxuriantly wither, and people who reach the peak of vigor also grow old. This means that strength should not be treated as a state worth pursuing.

This is called not being in accord with the Dao (the Way). Things that have grown old and withered can no longer move smoothly, and those who are not in accord with the Dao will also die early.

Chapter Thirty-One: Ceasing Weapons (Yan Wu)

Fine weapons are inauspicious objects. "Auspicious" (xiang) here means good. Weapons disturb the spirit and corrupt harmonious Qi (vital energy). They are unwholesome things, and so one should not deliberately adorn or esteem them.

All things in the world detest weapons, because once they are used, injury follows.

For this reason, one who possesses the Dao does not wish to dwell in places that esteem weapons.

The gentleman honors the left in ordinary times, because the left symbolizes softness and weakness.

In warfare, however, the right is honored, because the right symbolizes firmness and strength. This means that the way of war is opposite to the way of the gentleman, and what each honors is different.

Weapons are inauspicious objects, and they are not implements that the gentleman values.

Weapons are used only when there is no alternative. This refers to taking up arms for self-defense only when decline, rebellion, and calamity are about to endanger the common people.

Maintaining tranquility (quiet detachment, without craving) is best. Do not covet land, profit, other people's possessions, or treasures.

Even after winning a battle, do not treat victory as something to boast of or to use for self-gain.

If someone praises victory, such a person takes delight in killing people. A ruler who takes delight in killing cannot realize his aspirations across the realm. A sovereign who arbitrarily holds the power of life and death and imposes punishments at will will not succeed.

Auspicious matters honor the left, for the left symbolizes vitality. Inauspicious matters, such as funerals, honor the right, because the right belongs to the Yin side, and Yin governs killing.

The deputy general is placed on the left. The commentator explains that the deputy general holds a lower rank and is placed on the side that symbolizes life because he does not independently control killing and warfare. The rule that auspicious affairs honor the left and inauspicious affairs honor the right rests on the same reasoning.

The supreme general is placed on the right. Because he holds a higher rank, placing him on the right indicates that he is in charge of killing and warfare. He should be treated with funeral rites, which express grief through mourning ceremonies, because funeral rites honor the right and the dead also return to Yin.

When many people have been killed, one should weep for them with sorrow. One should grieve that one's own virtue (De) is shallow and that one cannot use the Dao to nurture the common people, but instead harms innocent people.

After a victory, one should conduct the affairs in accordance with funeral rites. In ancient times, the general who had won a battle stood in the position of the chief mourner and wore plain mourning clothes to lament the dead. This shows that the gentleman values virtue and regards weapons of war with disdain. If he must eliminate a calamity by force, he takes no pleasure in it, and so he treats victory as a funeral. The commentator, knowing that warfare in later ages was unceasing, grieved over this.

Chapter 32: Sacred Virtue (Shengde)

The Dao (the Way) is constant and nameless. The Dao can dwell in Yin and also in Yang; it can act and it can unfold; it can preserve and it can perish. For this reason it has no fixed name.

Pu (the uncarved block, referring to the Dao's original state of simplicity and formlessness), though small, cannot be employed or governed by the world. The Dao in its original state is subtle and mysterious and has no form, and the world cannot treat it as a subordinate to be commanded.

If marquises and kings are able to hold fast to the Dao, the myriad things will naturally submit to them and comply with their De (Virtue/Power).

When Heaven and Earth unite, sweet dew descends. If a marquis or king's conduct corresponds with the Dao of Heaven, the myriad things will naturally submit. If a sovereign keeps to the Dao and practices Wuwei (non-action), the myriad things will likewise submit and comply with his De.

Heaven and earth's yin-yang qi interact, and then sweet dew (auspicious rain) descends. If the measures of a ruling lord or king accord with the Dao (the Way) and harmonize with Heaven, Heaven will send down sweet dew, an auspicious sign of its favor.

No one commands the common people, yet things naturally become even and harmonious. Once Heaven has bestowed its auspicious signs, the myriad things need no decree; they will each keep to their proper place and move together in unison.

When the myriad things begin to take form, they acquire names. What is called "beginning" refers to the Dao (the Way); what is called "having a name" refers to the myriad things. The Dao has no name, yet it enables the named myriad things to come into being. The Dao has no form, yet it governs things that have form.

Once names are established, the myriad things also acquire forms and desires. If they turn away from the Dao and abandon De (Virtue/Power), they will ultimately be destroyed and disgraced.

Heaven also knows these things. If people abandon conduct that runs counter to the Dao and follow the path of De, Heaven will naturally know of it.

Since Heaven knows, it can grant the protection of spirits, and such people will no longer fall into peril.

The Dao moves through the world the way the flow of rivers and valleys reaches the rivers and seas. This means that the Dao pervades the whole world and corresponds to and communicates with human beings, just as the waters of rivers and valleys gather into the great rivers and seas.

Chapter Thirty-Three: Distinguishing De (Virtue/Power)

To understand others is called having wisdom.

To understand oneself is called having clarity. When a person can discern their own worth or unworthiness, they can turn their gaze inward and examine themselves; this is why it is called clarity.

To overcome others shows only that one has strength.

To conquer oneself is true strength. When a person can restrain their desires, no one can contend with them, and this is why it is called strength.

Only one who knows contentment is truly rich. When a person knows how to be content, they can preserve their blessings and emoluments over the long term.

One who exerts themselves in practice shows that they have set their aspiration on the Dao. When a person strives to do good, they are intentionally seeking the Dao, and the Dao will respond to such a person.

One who does not lose their fundamental root endures long. When a person can moderate and nourish themselves well, without wasting the vital essence Heaven has bestowed, they can attain longevity.

Chapter 34: Ren Cheng (Accomplishing Everything)

The Dao's "dying yet not perishing" is true longevity. If the eyes do not wander carelessly, the ears do not listen indiscriminately, and the mouth does not speak thoughtlessly, one will not provoke the resentment and hatred of others, and so one can endure.

The great Dao (Dao) flows everywhere, seeming to float and yet to sink, seeming to exist and yet not to exist. Looking at it, one cannot see it, and speaking of it, one cannot fully explain it.

The Dao functions on every side and is appropriate everywhere. All things come to life by relying on the Dao, which neither refuses nor hinders their growth. When things are accomplished, the Dao does not claim the merit for itself. It cherishes and nourishes all things without acting as their master.

The Dao often does not reveal its desires. It hides its De (Virtue) and its reputation, appearing small and inconspicuous. Yet all things return to it and receive their breath from it, and it does not rule over them as a human sovereign would. For this reason, the Dao may be called great.

Therefore, the sage never regards themselves as great. They follow the Dao, conceal their De and their fame, and do not seek prominence. By serving as a model through their own conduct, they bring order to the people without speaking a word, and so they achieve greatness through the very act of not seeking it.

Chapter 35: Ren De (Benevolent De)

"Hold fast to the Great Image, and the world will turn toward you." To "hold fast" means to keep and maintain; the "Great Image" refers to the great Dao. When the sage upholds the great Dao, the people's hearts naturally change and come to them. When this principle is applied to self-cultivation, the divine spirits descending from heaven will also come to the self.

The myriad things would all turn toward it without harming one another, the state would be secure, the common people would dwell in peace, and the realm would ultimately reach great peace. In governing the self, if one does not harm the inner shen (spirit), the body will be stable and life will be long. Here "shen" refers to the root of spirit and life.

Beautiful music and delicious food can make passersby stop in their tracks. Here "bait" refers to delicacies, and "passerby" refers to travelers. If people appreciate the beauty of the Dao (the Way), they will concentrate and linger in the Dao. But if one takes "the One" (yi) as the substance of the Dao, the Dao will depart, fill the void, and return to emptiness, changing without fixed form, like a traveler hurrying past.

The Dao, when spoken from the mouth, is bland and without flavor. The "Dao" here is not any particular taste such as sour, salty, bitter, sweet, or pungent.

Look at it, and it cannot be seen. Here "foot" (zu) is explained as De (Virtue). The Dao has no physical form, unlike qing, huang, chi, bai, and hei, the five colors, which can be seen.

Listen for it, and it cannot be heard. The Dao is not like gong, shang, jue, zhi, and yu, the five notes, which can be heard.

Use it, and it is never exhausted. Using the Dao to govern a state brings stability and prosperity to the people, and using it to cultivate the self prolongs life. Therefore its function has no end.

Weiming (Subtle Illumination), Chapter Thirty-Six

When one is about to contract something, one must first expand it. Expanding it first brings it to the extreme of extravagance and indulgence.

When one is about to weaken something, one must first strengthen it. Strengthening it first causes it to encounter calamity.

When one is about to abandon something, one must first let it flourish. Letting it flourish first makes it arrogant and leads it toward danger.

When one is about to seize something, one must first give to it. Giving to it first brings its greed to the extreme.

This is called "subtle illumination" (weiming): these principles are hidden and hard to perceive, yet their results are plainly visible.

Softness can overcome hardness. Soft things tend to endure, while hard things are prone to perish first.

Fish cannot leave the deep waters. Once a fish leaves the water, it loses what it depends on. The image of fish leaving the abyss illustrates that things cannot lose the root on which their existence depends.

The instruments of state power and its vital methods should not be readily displayed to others. Here "sharp instruments" (liqi) refers to the statecraft and power used to govern the realm.

Fish cannot leave deep water. If they do, they lose their firmness and grow weak, and this change cannot be reversed.

The authority and methods of a state should not be shown carelessly to others. "Sharp instruments" (liqi) refers to the techniques of power and the methods of governing a state. The techniques of statecraft should not be revealed to the ministers who carry out affairs, and the methods of cultivating oneself should not be passed on to those who are unsuited to them.

Chapter 37: Governing (Wei Zheng)

Dao (the Way) always takes wuwei (non-action) as its constant. If the lords and kings can hold fast to the Dao, the myriad things will transform on their own and take themselves as their model.

If, after the myriad things have been transformed, they then give rise to desires for cunning and deceit, I will settle them with the nameless uncarved block (wuming zhi pu), which is the Dao. "I" (wu) refers to oneself, and "the nameless uncarved block" refers to the Dao. When the myriad things take the self as their model and are transformed, yet still stir up schemes of cunning, the lords and kings should steady them through De (Virtue).

The nameless uncarved block also keeps people from making wild demands. When people no longer make such demands, they should be guided and taught through stillness and purity (qingjing).

The world will then settle of its own accord.

Laozi De Jing, Part Two

Chapter 38: On De (Lun De)

Highest De (shang de) refers to the rulers of remote antiquity who had no names. Their De was supreme. "Not De" (bu de) means that they did not teach the common people through virtuous display. Instead, they followed nature and nourished people's inborn nature and life. Because their De did not show itself, it is called "not De." For this reason, their De accorded with Heaven and Earth, the harmonious qi (vital energy) flowed through all things, and the common people were preserved.

Lower De (xia de) refers to rulers whose De fell short of Highest De and who held names and posthumous titles. "Not losing De" (bu shi de) means that their De could be seen and their achievements could be named. Because they had names, they had a De that could be pointed to, and so it could not be counted as the nameless, traceless De.

Highest De is wuwei. It means imitating the stillness of the Dao, not altering or acting on one's own initiative, and not using names as the basis for action.

Lower-grade "De" (Virtue) must be enacted by human effort, that is, governed through decrees and administrative measures. Doing so aims at winning fame and establishing a reputation.

Higher "Ren" (Benevolence) is the benevolence practiced by a ruler who possesses humane virtue. Once the affair is accomplished, the ruler does not claim the merit as his own, nor does he cling to what he has done.

Higher "Yi" (Righteousness) uses principles of rightness to adjudicate affairs. Yet in doing so, one still deliberately displays oneself, and may even establish authority through killing and punishment, then use the gains to nourish oneself.

Higher "Li" (Ritual) is when the ruler establishes ritual institutions and arranges demeanor and bearing. But rites grow cumbersome, outward form flourishes while inner sincerity declines, and everywhere there is ornamentation and pretense. Actions then drift away from the Dao, and people find it hard to respond with genuine feeling. Thus superiors and subordinates grow resentful and contend with one another, sometimes rolling up their sleeves and stretching out their arms to tug and pull.

Therefore, only when the Dao is lost does the teaching of De arise; only when De is lost does Ren come to be emphasized; only when Ren is lost does Yi come to be stressed; and only when Yi is lost are elaborate rites greatly promoted, along with the presentation of jade and silk.

Li is the product of loyalty and trustworthiness growing thin. It abandons the root and pursues the surface, valuing form over substance, and so the spirit of uprightness steadily diminishes while disorder and chaos grow in its place.

Chapter 39: Fa Ben (The Root of Standards)

What is called "foreknowledge" (qianshi) refers to those who, not understanding yet believing they do, rush ahead to speak baselessly. Such people lose the reality of the Dao and gain only its surface splendor, and this is the beginning of folly.

Therefore, one who would be a virtuous ruler should establish oneself in sincerity and simplicity and not dwell in shallow ostentation. One should hold fast to what is genuine and not chase after verbal embellishment. Thus one discards the flashy and superficial and chooses the sincere and substantial.

In ancient times, all things that attained the One were each able to find stability. "One" refers to the Dao of wuwei (non-action), the root on which all things depend. Heaven attained the One and became clear and orderly. Earth attained the One and became tranquil and able to bear all things. Spirit (shen) attained the One and could manifest subtle transformations. Valleys attained the One and could be full without running dry. The myriad things attained the One and could grow. Kings and lords attained the One and could bring justice and stability to the realm.

Here, "causing them to reach such a state" serves as a warning against the five circumstances described below.

If Heaven cannot maintain its clarity, it will likely crack apart. Heaven undergoes the transformations of yin-yang and the alternation of day and night. It cannot be clear and without change, for otherwise it would not be Heaven.

If Earth cannot maintain its tranquility, it will likely be stirred into turmoil. Earth has heights and depths, hardness and softness, seasonal cycles, and the changes of the Five Phases (wuxing: Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water). It cannot remain forever still, for otherwise it would not be Earth.

If Spirit cannot manifest subtle transformations, it will likely come to rest. Spirit too has states of flourishing, decline, restraint, extinction, and cessation. It cannot forever display only subtlety, for otherwise it would become empty and inert and would no longer be Spirit.

Valleys that are always full would soon run dry. A valley must alternate between fullness and emptiness, and to aim only at constant fullness is to lose the very function that makes it a valley. Things that grow without end will eventually perish. All beings should follow the seasons, with both life and death. To seek unceasing growth alone leads in the end to ruin and the loss of the natural transformations proper to all things. Kings and lords should not insist on nobility and lofty height, for they would then surely fall. A ruler should humble himself and honor the worthy and the learned. If he seeks only to stand above the multitude, he is likely to lose his position.

Therefore, nobility takes lowliness as its root, and high station rests on humility as its foundation. Yu and Ji tilled the land with their own hands, Shun made pottery by the Yellow River, and the Duke of Zhou treated the poor with courtesy. These are all examples of humble conduct toward others.

What is high must have what is low as its base. To ascend a height, one must build from below. It is like raising a wall, where the upper courses rise layer by layer from the foundation. If the foundation is unsound, even a tall wall will eventually collapse.

For this reason, kings and lords call themselves "gu" (orphaned), "gua" (lonely), and "bu gu" (unworthy hub). "Gu" and "gua" express that one is alone and lacks virtue. The literal sense of "bu gu" is "not a fine wheel hub," which figuratively means that one cannot, like a hub, gather the many spokes around it.

Is this not taking lowliness as the root? That a ruler of the highest rank still calls himself "orphaned, lonely, and unworthy hub" surely shows that nobility is founded on humility. This sentence is meant to enlighten people. "Fei hu" is an exclamation meaning "Is it not so?"

If a cart is taken apart and its parts counted one by one, there are only spokes, rim, hub, shafts, and body, and no single part is itself called a "cart." Only when the parts are joined together does a cart come into being. Here the cart serves as a metaphor for the ruler: one who does not boast of noble titles is the one who truly achieves nobility.

Neither to strive for the rarity and prized status of fine jade, nor to resign oneself to the commonness and low regard of stone. Fine jade is scarce, and so it is valued; stone is plentiful, and so it is held cheap. The point is that one should not single-mindedly seek the esteem of the multitude, nor be content to be despised by them, but should dwell between the two.

Qu Yong, Chapter Forty

"Return" is the way the Dao (the Way) moves. To "return" is to go back to the root. All things are born from the root, the Dao, and if they turn away from it, they proceed toward decline and extinction.

Yielding and weakness are the way the Dao works. The Dao often operates through softness and weakness, and for this reason it endures.

All under heaven is born from Being. The myriad things are all generated between Heaven and Earth; Heaven and Earth have form and position, and so they are called Being.

Being in turn is born from Non-being. The spirits, the flying insects, and the crawling creatures between Heaven and Earth all arise from the Dao; the Dao has no form, and so it is called Non-being. This passage says that the root surpasses the surface, softness surpasses hardness, and humility surpasses fullness.

Tong Yi, Chapter Forty-One

Persons of superior capacity, on hearing the Way, diligently put it into practice and exert their utmost strength to realize it.

Persons of middling capacity, on hearing the Way, remember it at times and forget it at others. When they cultivate their persons, they hope to endure long; when they govern the state, they hope for peace under heaven. For this reason they may for a time accept the Way with delight, but later, when they encounter the lures of wealth, beauty, and honor, they may be drawn along by desire and forget it.

Persons of inferior capacity, on hearing the Way, burst out laughing. They are greedy and have many desires, and they take the softness of the Dao for timidity and its simplicity for crudeness, so they laugh without end.

If the Way is not laughed at by those of inferior capacity, it is not yet sufficient to be called the Dao.

Therefore, the ancients had this saying. "Jian" means "to establish." The ancients set down this saying because those who possess the Dao are often taken for timid, and because their simplicity is judged crude, so they come to be ridiculed.

If the Way is not laughed at by those of inferior capacity, it is not yet sufficient to be called the Dao.

Chapter Forty-Two: The Transformations of the Dao (Daohua)

As an ancient text says: the bright Way (Dao) appears dim; one who advances on the Dao seems to retreat; the level Dao appears rugged. Here "level" means smooth and broad: one who has attained the Dao does not deliberately appear distinctive but seems to resemble ordinary people.

The highest De (Virtue) is like a deep valley that embraces all things. The purest and most spotless things seem to be soiled, and they do not deliberately display themselves. One of abundant De seems dull and lacking, and one who diligently establishes De seems slack. A person of simple sincerity seems to have changed and no longer stands out.

The squarest thing has no visible corners, and the most precious vessels are often the last to be completed. Here the "nine tripods" and "hulian" (precious ritual vessels of ancient times) serve as metaphors for valuable vessels, showing that great vessels cannot be hastily made. The greatest sound cannot be heard, and the most prominent image has no fixed shape. The commentary likens the greatest sound to thunder, which waits for the right moment before it sounds, and uses this to argue that one should cherish jing (essence) and qi (vital energy) and speak sparingly.

The Dao is hidden and not manifest, so people cannot give it a definite name. Only the Dao is skilled at bestowing and nourishing the myriad things and at helping them fulfill their own natures.

The Dao gives birth to One. One gives birth to Two, which are Yin and Yang. Yin and Yang join and give birth to Three, the three qi of Heaven, Earth, and Humanity. Heaven, Earth, and Humanity together generate the myriad things: Heaven bestows, Earth transforms and nourishes, and Humanity enables the myriad things to grow and flourish.

Chapter Forty-Three: Pervasive Use

All things carry yin on their backs and embrace yang in their arms. That is to say, no being among the myriad things fails to turn its back to yin and face yang, orienting itself toward the sun. When the two qi (vital energies) of yin (yīn) and yang (yáng) blend and harmonize, the myriad things are thereby brought into balance. Within all things there is yuanqi (yuán qì, the primordial qi, the fundamental vital energy on which life depends), which keeps them supple and pliant. The human chest contains the viscera, bones hold marrow, and the interior of plants has hollows through which breath can flow. This is why they are able to endure for a long time.

Among the forms of address that people most dislike are "gu" (orphan), "gua" (one who is alone), and "bugu," humble terms that ancient sovereigns used to refer to themselves. Yet kings and dukes use these very words to name themselves, because they take humility, emptiness, and gentleness as the principles by which they conduct their affairs.

Thus, some things that appear to be diminished are in fact benefited by it. Pull on them and they will not be subdued; push them away and they will ultimately return. Other things that appear to be increased are in fact harmed by it. Whatever rises to its extreme tends to collapse, and those who covet abundance bring calamity upon themselves.

People commonly teach others to discard weakness and pursue strength, to discard softness and pursue hardness. I, however, teach people to discard strength and return to weakness, to discard hardness and return to softness.

Those who are domineering and rely on force do not die a good death. "Qiangliang" (the violent and overbearing) refers to those who do not believe in the mysterious Dao (Dào), who turn away from De (Dé, Virtue), and who do not follow the teachings of the scriptures (jīng), acting solely through power and military might. "Not dying their proper death" means that they will be rejected by the Way of Heaven and will die by the blade or suffer the punishment of royal law, unable to pass away peacefully. I take this saying as the beginning of my teaching. "Fu" (father) means beginning. Laozi uses the fate of the domineering as a warning in his instruction.

The softest thing in the world can pass through the hardest things in the world. The softest thing is water, and the hardest is metal and stone. Water can penetrate what is solid and enter what is firm, reaching almost everywhere.

Formless things can enter where there is no gap. "Wuyou" (non-existence) refers to the Dao. Because the Dao has no form, it can move in and out without hindrance, connecting spirits with the myriad things.

Therefore, I know that non-action (Wuwei) is beneficial. I see that the Way (Dao) operates through non-action, and that the myriad things are thereby naturally transformed, born, and grown. From this I know that non-action benefits people.

"The teaching without words" means emulating the Dao's refraining from many words, with the teacher serving as a model through their own conduct.

"The benefit of non-action" means emulating the non-action of the Dao. When applied to cultivating oneself, it benefits the spirit (Shen). When applied to governing the state, it benefits the common people, who need not be burdened with toil and disturbance. Non-action is beneficial to people.

"Few in the world can attain it" means that few rulers in the world can, like the Dao, cultivate themselves and govern the state through non-action.

"Establishing Precepts (Lijie), Chapter 44"

Which is closer, fame or life? Once fame is achieved, a person often wears down their own self.

Which is more important, life or wealth? Too many possessions will in fact harm life.

Which is more troubling, gain or loss? Blindly pursuing profit damages one's moral conduct.

Excessive attachment always exacts a great price. Excessive craving for beauty drains the spirit, and excessive craving for wealth brings calamity. What one obtains of what one loves is limited, while what one loses is greater, and so the price is great.

The more one hoards, the heavier the loss when it is gone. In life, one stores vast wealth in granaries; after death, one buries vast wealth in the tomb. In life there is the worry of having one's goods plundered; in death there is the calamity of the grave being robbed and the coffin opened.

Knowing contentment, one will not be disgraced. One who knows contentment sets aside profit and desire, and therefore does not bring shame upon oneself.

Knowing when to stop, one will not meet danger. Knowing when to cease, wealth and profit do not entangle oneself, sound and color do not disturb the eyes and ears, and the body does not fall into peril.

In this way one can endure long. If one knows contentment and when to stop, blessings and emoluments can be preserved. One who cultivates the self does not wear out the spirit, and one who governs the state does not disturb the people. Therefore one can endure long.

"Great Virtue (Hongde), Chapter 45"

The great accomplishment seems to be lacking. This means that a ruler whose Virtue (De) has truly reached completion does not display fame or honor. They appear to lack something, as though they were not complete.

Chapter 46: Restraining Desire

The functioning of the myriad things never runs dry. If a person can attend to the Dao (the Way) in this way, there will be no harm, and no point at which it is exhausted.

The greatest fullness appears, paradoxically, like emptiness. This refers to a ruler whose De (Virtue/Power) is abundant and whose heart is broad. He remains humble, as though lacking, and does not dare to be arrogant. Even when he is rich, he does not dare to be extravagant.

The greatest uprightness appears, paradoxically, like yielding. The truly upright person follows the standards of the Dao and remains steadfastly correct and unified. Yet he does not contend with worldly people, and outwardly seems willing to give way.

The greatest skill appears, paradoxically, like clumsiness. The truly talented and capable person does not display his abilities.

The greatest eloquence appears, paradoxically, like inarticulateness. He understands clearly and has no doubts, yet he does not argue forcefully, and may even seem slow of speech.

Agitation can overcome cold. The commentary holds that in spring and summer, yang qi (vital yang energy) rises upward, and when the myriad things reach their peak of growth, they turn toward decline, just as cold descends and grasses and trees wither. This means that a person should not be unyielding or rush ahead rashly.

Stillness can overcome heat. In autumn and winter, the myriad things lie quietly hidden beneath the earth, and when this extreme is reached, they turn back toward warmth. Warmth is the root from which life is generated.

Purity and stillness can serve as the standard for all under Heaven. One who is able to maintain purity and stillness can long preside over the right Way, without any end.

Chapter 46: Restraining Desire

When the Dao prevails under Heaven, it means that the ruler follows the right Way.

"Racing warhorses are sent back to till the fields." The commentary explains that the word for "dung" here means fertilizing and cultivating. When weapons and armor are no longer used and warhorses are retired to plow, the cultivator of the self gathers yang qi and jing (essence) to nourish his own body.

When the Dao does not prevail under Heaven, it means that the ruler does not follow the right Way.

"Warhorses foal in the wilds" shows that war is constant, and that warhorses remain at the frontiers for long periods, unable to return to their homeland.

No fault is greater than indulging desire, which here specifically refers to craving sexual pleasure. No calamity is greater than not knowing contentment, for people cannot restrain themselves when faced with wealth and rank. No transgression is greater than coveting possessions and gain.

Therefore, the contentment of one who knows contentment comes from preserving his original nature. One who often feels content has no craving in his heart.

Observing Afar, Chapter 47

"Knowing the world without leaving the house" refers to guarding stillness and not moving. The greatest calamity is a mind bent on acquisition; here it refers to craving fame, profit, and people. Knowing contentment is true wealth, for it preserves one's authenticity and holds fast to the root. One who is often content has no craving in the heart.

The sage does not leave the household, yet knows the world, because he infers others from himself and other households from his own, and so sees how things stand in the world. Without peering out through a window, he understands the Dao (the Way) of Heaven. The Way of Heaven and the way of humanity correspond, for the vital essences of Heaven and Earth flow through one another. When the ruler is still and free of desire, the seasons run regularly; when the ruler's desires are excessive, the seasons fall into disorder. Fortune and misfortune, gain and harm, are all bound up with the ruler's own conduct.

To leave one's own household to observe others, or to leave oneself to observe others, may seem to extend the range of observation, yet what is truly understood may be less. Therefore the sage does not hurry about, yet knows the affairs of Heaven and Earth. He does not ascend to the heavens or descend into the abyss, but examines things with the mind. Nor must the sage see with his own eyes to judge how things stand. When those above prize the Dao, those below prize De (Virtue/Power); when those above prize force, those below prize strength. The sage infers the large from the small and knows the outside from the inside.

When those above do nothing reckless, those below are seldom troubled. Every household is well supplied, the people dwell in peace, and the myriad things are naturally nourished and brought to completion.

Forgetting Knowledge, Chapter 48

In pursuing learning, knowledge and artificial embellishment increase day by day. The "learning" here refers to studies of governance, teaching, ritual, and music. Cultivating the Dao, by contrast, diminishes day by day. The "Dao" here refers to the Way of nature, and what is diminished is desire and artificial embellishment. Diminish and diminish again, gradually removing these desires and contrivances, until one reaches non-action (wuwei), the mind calm and unforced like that of an infant.

To reach non-action is not to take no action at all. When desires are removed and De accords with the Dao, one can act in accordance with reason and feeling in all things, and so accomplish everything.

Governing the realm generally calls for wu wei (non-action), without arbitrary undertakings that burden the people. When affairs are numerous and the ruler acts everywhere, the common people are troubled and cannot find peace in their lives, and in this way the realm cannot be well governed.

Chapter Forty-Nine: Entrusting to De (Virtue)

The sage, that is, the ruler who possesses De (Virtue), holds no fixed preconceptions. He does not lightly alter established practices, and he values following the natural condition of things, so that he appears to have no private intentions of his own.

He takes the wishes of the people as his guiding standard. Whatever the people find appropriate, he follows their desires. When the people do good, he affirms their good conduct; when some among them are not good, he also treats them with goodwill and guides them toward the good. In this way, the people are transformed by the power of De and likewise turn toward goodness.

When the people keep their word, he trusts them; when some among them do not keep their word, he still meets them with trust and guides them to keep faith. In this way, the people are transformed by the power of De and likewise become trustworthy.

When the sage governs the realm, he remains ever mindful and cautious, never daring to become arrogant or extravagant on account of wealth and rank. He returns his mind to its original simplicity and does not display cleverness or ingenuity. The people, for their part, entrust their eyes and ears to the sage, relying on him to observe and hear the affairs of the realm.

Chapter 50: Valuing Life (Guisheng)

Going forth into life, entering into death. The "going forth into life" means that the passions and desires radiate outward rather than accumulating within, so the hun (ethereal soul) is settled and the po (corporeal soul) and qi are calm, and thus one can live. The "entering into death" means that the passions and desires enter the chest, so the shen (spirit) becomes exhausted and confused by toil, and thus one moves toward death.

There are thirteen kinds of those belonging to life, and there are also thirteen kinds of those belonging to death. This refers to the thirteen categories relating to life and death, namely the nine orifices and the four limbs and joints. If a person can make these function with vitality, the eyes do not gaze wildly, the ears do not listen indiscriminately, the nose does not crave fragrance, the mouth and tongue neither speak carelessly nor seek after flavors, the hands do not grasp at random, the feet do not wander without purpose, and the spirit is not dissipated recklessly. The circumstances that lead these faculties toward death correspond to this in reverse.

Among human activities, thirteen kinds can bring a person into a deadly place. When people act in order to preserve their life, they instead fall into these thirteen circumstances that lead to death.

Why is this so?

Because people regard the preservation of life too highly. The cause that drives a person into a deadly place is an excessive pursuit of the enjoyments of life, which violates the Dao, offends the principle of Heaven, and results in conduct that lacks measure.

It is said that one who is skilled at nourishing life, when walking on land, does not encounter the rhinoceros (si, a beast of the rhinoceros type) or the tiger. When entering an army, he does not avoid armor or weapons. This means that he does not delight in strife and certainly does not take the initiative to kill.

The rhinoceros has no place to gore him with its horn, the tiger has no place to set its claws, and weapons have no means to injure him. For one who is skilled at nourishing life, he gives the tiger and rhinoceros no opportunity to harm him, and blades and weapons find no way to reach his body.

Why is this so?

Because he does not enter a deadly place. That is to say, he does not fall into the thirteen circumstances that lead to death, and therefore he receives the protection of the spirits, so that beasts and weapons cannot harm him.

Chapter 51: Nourishing De (Yangde)

The Dao gives birth to and nourishes all things. The Dao generates and brings into being the myriad things.

De stores and nurtures all things. De is the One. It governs the dispersal of qi, so that all things are nourished and sustained.

The ten thousand things are given their forms by the One, and the One shapes the momentum of cold and heat that allows them to grow. For this reason, there is none among the ten thousand things that does not honor the Dao (the Way) and prize the De (Virtue/Power). The workings of Dao and De always bring about a responsiveness in the myriad things and nourish them.

That the Dao is honored and the De is prized is not something anyone commands. Rather, the myriad things respond of their own accord, just as an echo answers a sound or a shadow follows a form.

Thus the Dao generates the myriad things, and the De nourishes them, causing them to grow, develop, and mature, and sheltering and covering them. The Dao does not merely bring things into being; it also allows each to grow and complete itself according to its own xingming (nature and life). The ruler who governs the state and cultivates the self should act in the same way.

The Dao gives birth to and nourishes the myriad things without claiming them as its own; it acts without expecting a return; it causes them to grow without treating them as objects to be controlled for gain. This is called xuan de (profound De), a virtue that is deep and does not show itself.

All under heaven has a beginning, and this beginning is the Dao, the root and mother of the myriad things. Once one knows the root, one must also recognize what it has brought forth. The "offspring" mentioned here, which commentators explain as the One, is the fundamental unity produced by the Dao. Having recognized this One, one must return to and hold fast to the Dao, maintaining wuwei (non-action). In this way, one will never fall into peril throughout one's life.

The openings of the senses should be sealed, meaning the eyes should not roam freely in looking, and the doors should be shut, meaning the mouth should not speak carelessly. In this way, a person's whole life will not be spent in the labor of chasing desires.

To open the apertures of the senses, letting the eyes chase after sensual desire, and to encourage such things, is to increase the activity of desire. This will eventually breed disorder that cannot be remedied.

To see the signs before disorder has sprouted or shown itself is what is called clear insight. To keep to softness and yielding is to become strong over time.

After using the light of the eyes to observe the advantages and dangers of worldly affairs, one should still withdraw that light and turn it back upon oneself, so that the spirit does not dissipate outward. Guarding the spirit through this inner observation prevents misfortune from coming upon oneself. This is called cultivating the constant Dao (the Way).

Chapter 53: Demonstrating Its Benefit

Suppose I had some clarity in governing, so that I could put the Great Dao (the Way) into practice. I would then personally carry out the teaching of Wuwei (non-action) in government. My only worry is that deliberate action would instead lead away from the Great Dao: if I wished to reward good conduct, I would fear that people would feign goodness; if I wished to trust loyalty, I would fear that people would pretend to be loyal.

The Great Dao is level and easy to follow, yet the common people are fond of crooked and unfair side paths.

The palaces and halls of the court are built with great splendor, while the fields lie overgrown and uncultivated.

The common people, however, are fond of taking crooked paths. The "jing" (path) mentioned here refers to a road that is deviant and not level. The Great Dao is originally flat and easy to travel, yet the common people prefer the crooked way.

The court's construction and maintenance are extremely ornate, and its high terraces and palaces are built and decorated with great refinement.

The fields, however, are overgrown with weeds, farming has been abandoned, and the land is neither cultivated nor tended.

The granaries are severely empty, the five grains are being wasted, and the state has no reserves.

The rulers wear splendid garments and pursue ornament and hollow outward show, prizing external magnificence.

They wear sharp treasure swords at their waists, esteem strength and martial prowess, and also pursue extravagant display.

They grow tired of fine foods, yet their household wealth remains in surplus, their desires are many, and they never feel satisfied.

This is called "dao kua" (plundering for display). The common people are impoverished and weary, while the ruler has more wealth than he needs. It is like relying on plunder to supply one's own clothing, travel, and boasting. The ruler does not consider that he may ultimately lose his life and his household, and that his kinsmen will suffer along with him.

Is this in accord with the Dao? If a ruler acts in this way, it is truly not in accord with the Dao. The character "zai" expresses grief and regret.

Chapter 54: Cultivating Observation (Xiuguan)

One who is skilled at establishing will not have what is established uprooted. One who is skilled at standing and governing the state in accordance with the Dao has a firm foundation that cannot be shaken.

One who is skilled at embracing will not lose what is held. One who is skilled at guarding the spirit in accordance with the Dao will not have the spirit drawn away or scattered.

The offerings of descendants will not be cut off. If later descendants cultivate the Dao in this way, they will endure for a long time, generation after generation making offerings to their ancestors, and the incense of the ancestral temple will never cease.

One who is skilled at embracing will not lose what is held. One who is skilled at guarding the spirit in accordance with the Dao will not have the spirit drawn away or scattered.

The offerings of descendants will not be cut off. If later descendants cultivate the Dao in this way, they will not die, will continue across generations, and will keep making offerings to their ancestors.

To cultivate the Dao in one's own person is to develop genuine De (virtue). Putting the Dao into practice within oneself means cherishing the primordial qi (yuanqi), nourishing the spirit, and thereby increasing one's lifespan and prolonging one's years. Attaining this kind of virtue is what makes one a zhenren (true person).

To cultivate the Dao in the family is to let one's virtue overflow. Governing the household in accordance with the Dao means that the father is loving and the children are filial, the elder brother is kind and the younger brother is respectful, the husband is trustworthy and the wife is faithful. Such virtue leaves a blessing that reaches down to later descendants.

To cultivate the Dao in the village is to let one's virtue endure. Governing the village in accordance with the Dao means respecting the elders, cherishing the young, and teaching those who are ignorant. Such virtue can then extend broadly to all people.

When the Dao (the Way) is cultivated and practiced throughout the state, De (Virtue) becomes ever more abundant. When the ruler cultivates the Dao and governs the state, his ministers become loyal, and benevolence and righteousness arise naturally. Sacrificial rites and music flourish, and governance is even and free of partiality. Such De may truly be called abundant.

When the Dao is cultivated and practiced throughout the world, De spreads everywhere. When the ruler governs the world by the Dao, people are transformed without many words, and the realm is well ordered without elaborate decrees. The people respond to their ruler as swiftly as an echo answers a sound or a shadow follows its form. Such De is widely disseminated.

Therefore, one should observe those who do not cultivate the Dao by means of the condition of one's own person who does, and see who can preserve their life over the long term and who will decline.

Observe households that do not cultivate the Dao by means of the condition of households that do.

Observe villages that do not cultivate the Dao by means of the condition of villages that do. In this way, the Dao may spread everywhere.

Therefore, one must still observe the personal condition of those who do not cultivate the Dao by means of the personal condition of those who do.