《唐玄宗御製道德真經疏(一)》

This is Emperor Xuanzong of Tang's commentary on the first chapter of the Daode Jing, expressed in modern terms:

The first chapter reveals the mystery of the cosmic origin and the root of all transformations. It begins by using "Dao" (the Way) as a provisional name to describe the principle governing all phenomena. The "Dao that can be spoken" and the "name that can be named" illustrate the functioning of the original essence; "nameless" and "named" reveal substance and manifestation; "desireless" and "desiring" represent two perspectives of observation; "issuing from the same source though bearing different names" describes how primordial chaos differentiates into concrete things; "both may be called profound" indicates how particulars return to their source; "profound upon profound" emphasizes transcending dualistic distinctions; while the "gateway of all marvels" points to the path of truth and the essential method of cultivation.

Specifically:

"Dao" is a provisional term for that mysterious, formless cosmic origin—the very first character establishes this central theme. The "Dao that can be spoken" refers to how this source generates all things, serving as their generative pathway. Yet the "eternal Dao" denotes the ever-changing manner of this generative process—no provisional name can fully encompass it. Thus it is sometimes called "Great," sometimes "Receding," sometimes "Far-reaching," demonstrating Dao's fluid, unfixed nature.

"Name" denotes the functional designation of things—here too the first character establishes the theme. The "name that can be named" indicates how designations arise from specific functions. The "eternal name" shows how in heaven it's called "Clarity" and on earth "Tranquility"—while sharing the same essence, differing functions yield different names, proving names likewise aren't fixed.

"Nameless" describes the state before forms emerge, like Zhuangzi's "In the beginning there was only 'non-being,' without names." Yet the mysterious source releases Qi (vital energy), creating heaven and earth. As heaven and earth interact to form beginnings, this is called "the origin of heaven and earth," paralleling the Yijing's "Taiji (Supreme Ultimate) generates the two modes." The term "commencement" (quanyu) is glossed in the Erya dictionary as "beginning."

"Named" denotes the state when the source functions to produce all things. Once forms emerge, the mysterious source nurtures them through various means, like a mother nourishing children—hence called "mother." The character "mother" inherently contains this nourishing meaning. Thus "nameless" and "named," though differently termed, ultimately stem from the same origin.

This passage discusses the distinct roles of "names" and "desires" in Daoist cultivation. The sage (one who has attained the Dao) uses the concept of "names" to illustrate the relationship between essence and appearance, yet the true Dao transcends all distinctions between the named and nameless.

Regarding "desirelessness" (wuyu) and "having desires" (youyu):

When one maintains a desireless state, the original nature remains pure and tranquil, allowing one to contemplate the source of the Dao and perceive its profound mysteries. Here, "desire" refers to the fluctuations of mind caused by external influences. When desires arise, the mind becomes disturbed, perceiving only superficial appearances (where "jiao" signifies boundaries or surface phenomena). An alternative interpretation suggests "desire" may also denote the intentionality maintained for teaching sentient beings. Constant desirelessness means preserving the pure original nature without attachment to words or thoughts, while constant desire refers to following the fundamental Dao to teach beings and guide all under heaven toward transformation.

The two aspects of "non-being" (wu) and "being" (you):

Though sharing the same origin in the Dao, they manifest with different names (expressible Dao and nameable things, nameless and named, desireless and desirous). While appearing distinct, both spring from the same mysterious source. Viewed separately, they represent manifestations emerging from the root; viewed unitedly, they return to the profound and mysterious Dao.

On the meaning of "mystery upon mystery" (xuan zhi you xuan):

Returning appearances to their source is called "mysterious." Yet fixation on this mystery causes appearances to reemerge. Thus "mystery upon mystery" dissolves attachment to "mystery" itself, arriving at a state free from fixation on either source or manifestation. As the Western Ascension Scripture states: though phenomena differ, no discriminating mind arises. True desirelessness means not even maintaining the thought of "seeking desirelessness." Through this progressive shedding of attachments—reaching complete self-forgetfulness in proper contemplation (zhengguan)—one accesses the gateway to all mysterious methods.

Note: The term "jiao" refers to the boundaries or surface aspects of phenomena; "chonghe" denotes the harmonious equilibrium of the Dao; "proper contemplation" indicates correct meditative observation. These are all essential concepts in Daoist practice.

When all people under Heaven recognize beauty as beauty, the concept of ugliness arises. When all recognize goodness as goodness, the concept of badness emerges. Here "under Heaven" refers broadly to all beings living between heaven and earth. "Beauty" denotes the desirable things one inwardly yearns for, while "goodness" refers to virtuous actions one practices. People universally regard what pleases their hearts as beautiful and what they actively do as good. Just as in discussing flavors one prefers sweetness over pungency, or favors red while rejecting plain colors—these mutual competitions and debates over right and wrong stem from desires stirring within, giving rise to the opposition between beauty and ugliness.

The sage understands that beauty and ugliness have no absolute standards—they are merely artificial distinctions born of delusion. Such illusory distinctions cannot endure, hence the saying "the concept of ugliness arises." Here, "已" (yǐ) functions as a modal particle. As Zhuangzi said: What people praise they deem miraculous, what they detest they consider foul.

Being (you) and non-being (wu) depend on each other. This illustrates how both "being" and "non-being" are essentially empty in nature. "Being" cannot exist independently—it relies on "non-being" to manifest; yet ordinary people assume "non-being" gives birth to "being." Likewise, "non-being" cannot stand alone—it depends on "being" to appear; yet ordinary people believe "being" produces "non-being." Hence they are said to generate each other. In truth, being and non-being are merely relative concepts, not truly capable of mutual generation. This notion of mutual production is like clinging to illusion. Beauty and ugliness are not inherently fixed—their essence is empty. To dispel worldly confusion, the sage specifically enumerates six pairs of relative concepts to reveal their illusory nature.

Difficulty and ease complete each other. This demonstrates how these concepts too are empty. When one task is hard, another appears easy; when one is simple, another seems difficult. A carpenter finds woodworking easy but pottery challenging, while a potter considers ceramics simple and carpentry arduous. Thus difficulty and ease mutually define each other. If all tasks were equally hard, there would be no ease; if equally simple, no difficulty. Difficulty and ease have no true existence—they are merely names assigned by people. Understanding this principle allows one to transcend distinctions of skill and clumsiness, whereupon the concepts of difficulty and ease vanish. This mirrors how beauty and ugliness lack fixed standards.

Long and short manifest only through mutual comparison.

This passage elucidates the core Daoist concept of "mutual relativity and interdependence." It begins by demonstrating how notions like long/short, high/low, sound/silence, and front/back are all interdependent and ultimately illusory. A wild duck's legs appear short only in comparison to a crane's long legs—artificially lengthening the duck's legs would cause it suffering. Conversely, the crane's legs seem long because of the duck's short legs, and cutting the crane's legs would bring it grief. What the world calls beauty/ugliness or superiority/inferiority are all artificially constructed illusions.

Hierarchical positions are equally relative: someone appears "high" only because others are "lower," while those above them render them "low" in turn. Official rankings constantly shift like the tides—their essence remains illusory. Music operates similarly: though notes combine to form melodies, upon examination there exists no substantial "melody" as an independent entity.

Temporal concepts like before/after are likewise empty. When walking, which foot leads constantly alternates. Past, present, and future—these three temporal states are fundamentally void, with every thought perpetually transforming.

Thus, the sage (one who realizes the Dao) handles affairs with wuwei (non-action) and teaches through "wordless instruction." Here wuwei doesn't mean inactivity, but rather non-forced action; "wordless" doesn't imply total silence, but abstaining from dogmatic speech. Understanding all things' intrinsically empty nature, the sage remains free from rigid opinions. Governing should discard artificiality, instead influencing people through pure De (Virtue), letting all find their natural place—this is true wuwei. Speech aligns with the people's hearts, so even constant talking becomes like "wordless" teaching.

When all things operate spontaneously, the sage never interferes ("no refusal"). Just as heaven and earth nurture all creation without claiming merit, the sage transforms beings without seeking reward, eternally maintaining a mindset of serene detachment.

This passage explores Emperor Xuanzong of Tang's commentary on the Daode Jing, focusing on the governing philosophy of "non-action" (Wuwei). When Laozi states "They produce but do not possess, act but do not rely, achieve but do not dwell," it describes how the sage ruler nurtures all beings without claiming ownership, accomplishes without boasting, and achieves greatness without arrogance.

Emperor Xuanzong elaborates: The sage allows all things to flourish naturally without appropriating their growth, and enables people to find their rightful place without taking credit. Like the wise rulers of ancient golden ages who remained vigilant despite peace—as the Book of Documents advises "growing more cautious each day"—their refusal to claim merit ensures their achievements endure eternally.

The commentary then examines the chapter on "not exalting the worthy." Laozi's dictum "Not valuing rare goods prevents theft" receives this interpretation: When rulers excessively praise talent, people counterfeit virtues to gain favor, losing authenticity and breeding contention. Instead, aligning with natural patterns through Wuwei allows worthy individuals to emerge organically—like clouds following dragons or winds accompanying tigers. In the eras of Yao and Shun, virtuous ministers like Yuan and Kai appeared spontaneously; when all fulfill their innate roles as Yi Yin or Lü Shang did, no one covets what isn't theirs.

Regarding "not treasuring rare goods," the commentary explains: Each person possesses innate gifts. Those who abandon their true nature to chase external treasures become thieves of their own authenticity. But when all—wise and simple alike—abide in their inherent nature like Zhuangzi's ideal, who would steal? Contentment in one's destined role eliminates covetousness.

This passage elucidates the shared principles between governing a state and cultivating one's person. If rulers refrain from coveting treasures like pearls and rhinoceros horns, their governance will naturally become tranquil and wuwei (non-action). The people will follow this example, free from insatiable greed, and when all are content, theft will cease. The key lies in preventing temptations from arising, thus keeping human hearts undisturbed.

The methods sages employ for statecraft and self-cultivation are identical. They advocate: the mind should remain xu (empty, meaning free from distracting thoughts), while the belly should be shi (substantial, indicating abundant moral cultivation); one must weaken competitive ambitions while strengthening bones and physique (symbolizing inner fortitude). As Zhuangzi said, "An empty chamber generates brightness"—only when the mind is purified can the light of wisdom emerge.

Specifically: "Emptying the mind" means avoiding delusion by external objects to maintain mental clarity; "filling the belly" signifies that sufficient moral cultivation prevents greed, just as satiety eliminates gluttony; "weakening the will" keeps thoughts gentle and yielding; "strengthening the bones" manifests as robust vitality when inner virtue becomes substantial.

The sage's teaching aims to ensure the people possess neither the cunning to compete for fame nor the desire for insatiable acquisition. Even if clever individuals remain, they will be transformed by this ethos, daring not to act recklessly. This embodies the essence of "governing through wuwei"—aligning with human nature to administer, appearing to take no action yet leaving nothing ungoverned.

This passage presents Emperor Xuanzong of Tang's commentary on Chapter 4 of the Daode Jing, explaining the void nature and operational principles of the Dao (the Way).

Though the Dao is formless and void, its function never exhausts itself. It resembles an abyss—the source of all things. The phrase "seems like" is used because the Dao isn't a concrete entity and thus cannot be directly described.

The Dao blunts sharp edges and resolves conflicts. Human aggression and worldly complexities naturally dissolve when one contemplates the Dao's peaceful essence. Conventional learning seeks to restore original nature but instead entangles people further in desires.

The Dao's function permeates everywhere: merging with light when encountering brightness, uniting with dust when meeting impurity. Though it blends with all things, its essence remains pure and undistinguished.

Laozi states: I don't know who created the Dao—it appears to have existed before the Celestial Emperor. The Dao generates all things yet leaves no trace of its origin, like a parentless creator. Thus none can tell where the Dao comes from. All beings depend on it for existence.

This passage elucidates Chapter 5 of the Daode Jing, focusing on the concept of "non-benevolence" (不仁) in the Way of Heaven, Earth, and sages.

Regarding the concept of "Divine Ruler" (帝), the text explains it as the sovereign of all things (生物之主), akin to the Yijing's statement "The Divine Ruler emerges from Zhen (the Thunder trigram)." This sovereign of creation manifests through all phenomena, hence being called "Image-Sovereign" (象帝).

The chapter begins: "Heaven and Earth are not benevolent (不仁), treating all things as straw dogs; sages are not benevolent, treating people as straw dogs." Here, "benevolence" refers to universal affection. "Straw dogs" were ritual objects made of grass, used in ancient sacrifices. Zhuangzi mentions how these straw dogs were elaborately adorned before rituals but discarded afterward. Though Heaven and Earth nurture all beings, they demand no gratitude nor consider this nurturing as special favor—hence "non-benevolence." Similarly, sages govern the world with this impartiality, treating all people equally like straw dogs.

The text cites Confucius saying even tattered coverings shouldn't be discarded, as they can bury dogs; the Book of Rites also states "not only caring for one's own kin"—both emphasizing universal compassion.

The bellows (橐籥) metaphor follows: The space between Heaven and Earth resembles bellows—empty yet producing endless wind when pumped. This illustrates how Heaven and Earth's impartiality stems from their selfless emptiness. If rulers maintain this receptive, wuwei (无为) mindset and implement simple, equitable governance, they too can operate ceaselessly like bellows.

The conclusion states: "More words hasten exhaustion; better to hold fast to the Center (守中)." Excessive expressions of care become unsustainable—the balanced Middle Way (中道) proves superior. Here "Center" denotes the harmonious equilibrium of the Dao.

This passage elucidates two core concepts from the Daode Jing: "The valley spirit never dies" and "Heaven and Earth endure eternally."

The explanation of "the valley spirit never dies": The echo in a valley appears empty yet responds to sound, just as the Dao resonates with all things, answering every call in ways mysterious and unfathomable. "Never dying" refers to this ceaseless state of resonance. The "mysterious female" (Xuanpin, the profound feminine principle) metaphorically represents this nurturing responsiveness that, like a mother, fosters all beings as the source of Heaven and Earth. This subtle, continuous resonance is selfless and tireless, thus never exhausting itself.

Regarding "Heaven and Earth endure eternally": The reason Heaven and Earth can exist perpetually lies in their selfless nurturing of all things rather than selfish pursuit of their own survival. Heaven appears eternal through its meteorological transformations, while Earth seems enduring through its stable form. By nourishing the myriad beings, Heaven and Earth achieve their own longevity—this selflessness paradoxically fulfills their own existence.

Through natural phenomena, the text illustrates the characteristics of the Dao: emptiness that resonates with all things, and selflessness that accomplishes itself. Here, the "valley spirit" symbolizes the Dao's responsive capacity, while the "mysterious female" represents its nourishing function—both embodying the core Daoist principle of "Wuwei (non-action) yet nothing remains undone."

Heaven and Earth give birth to all things yet claim no merit—precisely because of this they endure eternally. Another interpretation suggests that "not generating for themselves" means although Heaven and Earth nurture all beings, they seek no additional benefit for themselves, thus achieving lasting existence.

The sage emulates Heaven and Earth's all-encompassing spirit, impartially nourishing all creatures without selfish motives. By willingly standing behind others, they are naturally placed ahead; appearing to remain detached, they are in fact preserved. Without boasting of nobility and treating themselves with indifference, all under heaven gravitate toward such benevolent virtue (De), thereby avoiding calamity. Is this not precisely because their lack of selfishness accomplishes the greatest "self-interest"? The reason Heaven and Earth endure and sages lead and preserve lies in their selflessness, which paradoxically achieves this enduring form of "self-interest."

Chapter Eight describes supreme goodness as being like water. The previous chapter explained how Heaven and Earth's selfless nurturing enables eternal existence, while this chapter illustrates how those embodying ultimate goodness, by emulating water's yielding nature, remain flawless. First, it employs water as a metaphor to reveal three qualities approximating the Dao; next, it enumerates seven benevolent acts that benefit all things; finally, it concludes with non-contention, advising people to embrace softness for complete victory.

Supreme goodness resembles water. "Supreme goodness" refers to the perfected person, while "like water" serves as the analogy. The perfected maintain inner emptiness and stillness, unattached to any fixed doctrine, forgetting goodness yet naturally embodying it—this is the highest good. Water's characteristics correspond to specific principles and metaphors in the text.

Water excels at nourishing all things without contention, willingly dwelling in low places others despise. Its cool, sweet nature moistens myriad beings, enabling their growth—this is its first virtue. Nothing under heaven is softer than water, yet we can emulate its clarity to reflect truth. Flowing along riverbeds, it adapts to uneven terrain without resistance, yielding to guidance without struggle—this is its second virtue. While people shun low-lying areas, water willingly settles in humble places, embracing impurity—this is its third virtue.

Thus water comes closest to the Dao. "Approaches" (ji) means nearing. Nourishing all things demonstrates its vast benefit; non-contention reveals its yielding strength; dwelling in low places shows its capacity to contain filth. Only the perfected can fully embody these three qualities of water. Such conduct is never far from the Dao, hence "approaching."

[The sage] excels at choosing appropriate dwelling places (referring to water's willingness to occupy low positions).

This passage elucidates the profound meaning of "The highest virtue is like water" from the Daodejing, using water's characteristics as metaphors for the conduct of those who have attained the Dao.

When choosing their dwelling, those who embody the Dao skillfully select places beneficial to all beings, just as water naturally flows downward to nourish all things. This reflects their humble and yielding nature, akin to water's inherent softness—hence "dwelling in good places" (ju shan di).

Their mental state remains profoundly tranquil, like still water that becomes perfectly clear. When the mind maintains this serene leisure, it can thoroughly comprehend truth—thus "the heart is good at depth" (xin shan yuan).

In bestowing kindness, they act with unconditional benevolence, as water moistens all things without discrimination. This selfless giving aligns with virtuous power (De)—hence "giving with benevolence" (yu shan ren).

Their words are invariably truthful and trustworthy, never deceiving when instructing people. Like springs maintaining their essence whether flowing through plains or cliffs—as the Yijing's Kan hexagram states: "Moving through danger without losing faithfulness"—thus "speech is good at trust" (yan shan xin).

In governance, they act with impartial fairness, transforming others through upright conduct. Like water's power to cleanse all things and restore purity—hence "governing with good order" (zheng shan zhi).

Their actions demonstrate flexible adaptability, responding effortlessly to any circumstance. As water may become rivers, collect in ponds, or bear boats—possessing infinite potential—thus "affairs are good at capability" (shi shan neng).

Their movements perfectly align with timing, the mind responding like echoes in a valley or reflections in a mirror. Like water changing with seasons—melting in spring, freezing in winter—thus "action is good at timing" (dong shan shi).

Precisely because they never contend with the myriad things, they incur no faults. Those embodying the Dao maintain empty receptivity, yielding completely like flowing water that follows nature's course—neither opposing external things, they naturally remain blameless.

The subsequent Chapter Nine (continuing from the previous discussion about faultlessness through yielding) points out how ordinary people, indulging in desires and pride, inevitably invite misfortune. First using "holding fullness" and "grinding sharpness" to illustrate impermanence, then warning against the dangers of coveting wealth and jade, it concludes with "retiring when the work is done" to emphasize forgetting achievements without claiming merit.

The human mind is perpetually insatiable, clinging to acquisition and possession until overflowing. Yet amassing wealth ultimately becomes a burden, inevitably leading to regret. Therefore the sage warns us: better to know when enough is enough.

(Explaining "over-sharpening the blade") A state of constant scheming and ostentatious display cannot be maintained indefinitely. Ordinary people drown in craving wealth and status, forever calculating how to satisfy selfish desires. Such behavior inevitably invites misfortune, as if being targeted by demons or incurring others' hatred.

(Explaining "a house full of gold and jade") Even if one greedily accumulates rooms overflowing with treasures, ultimately they cannot be safeguarded. Like elephants slaughtered for their precious tusks, or sacrificial chickens killed for their splendid plumage. Losing the innate contentment of the heart only attracts thieves. How can such wealth-induced calamities be considered secure possessions?

(Explaining "wealth breeding arrogance") Arrogance during times of prosperity invites disaster upon oneself. Wealth makes one a target for envy, leading to oppression of others; high status invites flattery, breeding haughtiness. Once this prideful energy takes form, misfortune arrives uninvited. Such self-inflicted calamities stem entirely from inner arrogance.

(Explaining "achieving merit and fame") Knowing when to withdraw at the height of success and fame aligns with the Dao's natural principles. Complacency invites loss, while humility brings benefit. Just as the sun and moon never remain permanently full, achievement inevitably gives way to decline. To preserve oneself long-term, one must forget accomplishments and voluntarily step down from the peak, harmonizing with nature's cyclical rhythms of waxing and waning.

(Transition to Chapter 10) The previous chapter discussed how indulgence and arrogance invite disaster; this chapter presents methods for cultivating spirit and mind. From "nurturing the soul" to "purifying perception" concerns self-cultivation, while from "loving the people" to "attaining clarity" describes how perfected virtue can govern a nation. The chapter concludes with "producing and nurturing" to summarize the Dao's mysterious generative function.

(Explaining "embracing the soul") In life's initial stage, humans possess only fragile corporeal form. After birth, when yang energy fills this form, the ethereal soul gains mobility and becomes the hun-spirit. Like the moon which shines only by reflecting sunlight. As the Spring and Autumn period statesman Zichan observed: the foundational life force at birth is called po (corporeal soul), while the conscious activity emerging from this form is called hun (ethereal soul).

At the beginning of life, when the hunpo (referring to spiritual consciousness) remains in a floating and insubstantial state, one should nurture the yang qi (vital energy) within the body, maintaining its fullness to preserve the integrity of life. If one overexerts through excessive activity, causing the yang qi to dissipate, the hunpo will weaken again, ultimately leading to death. Zhuangzi said, "A mind nearing death finds it difficult to restore yang qi." Therefore, one must nurture the weakened hunpo, restoring its yang qi to preserve life. By maintaining inner purity and focus, undisturbed by external distractions and preventing the spirit from separating from the body, life remains whole. This teaches the cultivation of the heart-mind (shen).

"Concentrating qi to attain softness" refers to focusing the spirit and harmonizing the breath (referring to both respiration and vital energy) to achieve a state as gentle as an infant. Humans are born with chonghe zhi qi (harmonious vital energy), but when polluted by worldly distractions, this harmonious qi scatters, and the spirit cannot stabilize within the body. Thus, one must concentrate and regulate the qi, reaching a soft and desireless state like an infant. This teaches the regulation of breath and energy.

"Cleansing the profound mirror" means purging distracting thoughts from the mind. The profound mirror (referring to the mind's clarity) must be regularly cleansed, removing "blemishes" such as desires. When tainted by worldly cravings, one should wash the heart-mind, preserving inner purity so that no desires arise, ensuring the mind remains free of "afflictions." This teaches the purification of the heart.

In governing a state, one must care for the people, avoiding excessive force and ensuring that conscripted labor does not harm their innate nature. Governance should prioritize agriculture, keeping policies simple and unburdensome so that the people may live in peace and prosperity, achieving the wuwei (non-action) ideal of "transformation without words." This teaches that ruling a country must follow the Dao of non-action.

"The opening and closing of the celestial gate" refers to the emperor receiving the Mandate of Heaven (the celestial gate being the gateway to Heaven's decree). Opening signifies ascending the throne by receiving the Mandate, while closing denotes losing the Mandate and abdicating. Heaven bestows its decree upon virtuous rulers, and only by maintaining humility and yielding can great fortune be attained. It may also be understood that the sage educates the people by adapting to circumstances, neither contending nor striving for dominance but remaining soft and yielding, just as the celestial gate opens and closes naturally, waxing and waning like the moon.

When an emperor receives the Mandate to rule the world, if he remains tranquil and gentle, his virtue (de) will shine upon all directions like sunlight. His merit benefits all things without claiming credit, appearing as if he knows nothing. This teaches rulers to be wise yet humble.

"Generating and nourishing" speaks of the Dao (the cosmic origin) as the source that gives birth to and sustains all things.

The passage explains a section from the lower part of the Daodejing (Classic of the Way and Virtue): "The Dao gives them life; De nurtures them." Here, "giving life and nurturing" refers to the ruler emulating the Dao's clarity, stillness, and wuwei (non-action), allowing all things to grow naturally, while modeling De's vastness and inclusiveness, ensuring all beings receive nourishment. Hence the phrase "giving life and nurturing."

The lines "They give them life yet claim no possession; they act yet claim no merit; they guide yet exercise no control—this is called profound De" convey the following meaning: Though all things flourish smoothly, the sage forgets their own contribution. The flourishing occurs because the natural order is already complete, and forgetting one's merit allows virtue to remain eternally whole. This is the principle of achieving all without claiming ownership, of becoming the true sovereign without imposing control.

"Giving life yet claiming no possession" means allowing all things to grow naturally without the ruler appropriating them. "Acting yet claiming no merit" means enabling all things to function naturally without the ruler attributing the achievement to themselves. "Guiding yet exercising no control" means that though positioned above the people as their leader, one does not rely on personal accomplishments—hence "exercising no control." To embody this is to attain the most profound and mysterious De.

The concept of "profound De" (xuande) mentioned here is central to Daoist practice. It represents the highest form of virtue, transcending ordinary understanding, manifested through complete alignment with nature, non-claiming of merit, and a non-dominating approach to existence.