《唐玄宗御製道德真經疏(一)》Vol. 4

In his commentary on Chapter 27 of the Dao De Jing, Emperor Xuanzong of Tang elucidates five supreme states of worldly wisdom:

The first is "perfect action leaves no tracks." This speaks to how the nature of reality (Dharma-nature) is originally pure and untainted. While genuine cultivation requires diligence, one must not become attached to forms. Like wheels rolling without leaving traces, the most sublime actions harmonize with the Dao without fixation, achieving a state of luminous mental clarity where self and objects are both forgotten.

The second is "perfect speech bears no reproach." Those skilled in cultivation are not constrained by verbal doctrines. "Flaws" refer to faults, while "reproach" indicates blame. The truly enlightened understand language is merely a tool, able to grasp meaning while forgetting words. Such discourse naturally leaves no openings for criticism.

The third is "perfect calculation needs no counting." When one no longer clings to verbal disputes over right and wrong, they avoid futile calculations. Understanding all methods are merely expedient means, maintaining the original pure mind allows spontaneous realization of ultimate truth—utterly beyond the need for complicated computations.

The fourth is "perfect closure needs no latch." The horizontal bar is called "guan," the vertical "jian." When one achieves the first three perfections, covetous desires naturally shut down. With inner purity undisturbed by external dust, it's like a door without bolts that can never be opened.

The fifth is "perfect binding needs no cords." Those skilled in binding require no ropes. This means those whose mental state aligns with the Dao maintain their original mind without external constraints. Just as the Dao sustains all things, what appears unbound is actually unbreakable.

These five "perfections" reveal the highest realm of Daoist cultivation: leaving no traces, transcending language, seeking nothing externally, and naturally harmonizing with the Dao's worldly wisdom. Emperor Xuanzong emphasizes achieving this unimpeded state of saving and aiding others through the practice of "valuing stillness" (maintaining emptiness and tranquility).

This passage explains how Daoist practitioners comprehend the Great Dao through "sitting in forgetfulness" (zuowang, a meditative practice of stillness and self-forgetfulness). Using the metaphor of a knotted rope: ordinary knots come undone when untied, but when the mind is restrained by the Dao, it naturally merges with the Dao in stillness. Even without physical bindings, this connection with the Dao never dissipates.

The sages (those who have attained the Dao) are always skilled at saving and liberating all beings, therefore never abandoning anyone. Though their inner state is profoundly tranquil, their teachings flow unimpeded, guiding all with equal compassion. They treat all things in this manner, allowing every living being to grow naturally without harm. This state is called "hidden illumination" (ximing, the subtle yet penetrating enlightenment), whose essence lies in not clinging to teaching forms while maintaining a completely unobstructed mind.

The virtuous (accomplished practitioners) serve as teachers for the unvirtuous (those yet to attain the Dao), just as clear water reflects all things without retaining traces. The unvirtuous in turn become aids for the virtuous, like those who seek warmth must approach fire. In the initial stages of cultivation, the teacher-disciple relationship is necessary, but ultimately one must transcend such distinctions—neither deliberately exalting the teacher nor clinging to the disciple's role. This seemingly paradoxical yet profoundly subtle state constitutes the true key to enlightenment.

During cultivation, beginners often remain at the stage of mutual learning through teaching, not yet fully forgetting the forms of instruction. This reminds us that spiritual practice should progress gradually, ultimately arriving at the natural state beyond both teaching and learning.

This scripture primarily discusses how practitioners should properly handle the master-disciple relationship and cultivation methods.

The text first clarifies that those who truly understand the Dao of cultivation do not cling to conceptual distinctions between "master" and "disciple." When one reaches the highest state of practice, even these notions must be relinquished. The earlier mention of "being a teacher or a student" serves to guide beginners, while the later teaching of "neither valuing nor loving" reveals the true gateway to enlightenment. Respect for a master exists because there are still things to learn; when nothing remains to be learned, the question of reverence naturally dissolves. Similarly, caring for disciples exists because there is teaching to be done; when both teaching and being taught are forgotten—like fish in rivers and lakes forgetting about each other, no longer needing to moisten one another—true understanding emerges. Ordinary people might find this principle confusing, yet herein lies the profound subtlety of the great Dao.

Chapter 28 ("Knowing the Masculine") discusses maintaining the Middle Way in cultivation. While knowing what constitutes strength and agitation (the masculine), one should preserve softness and stillness (the feminine), remaining as humble as the valley streams under heaven. All things value maintaining harmony, and cultivation should pursue this balanced path. Neither excessive strength nor excessive weakness is appropriate. Knowing strength yet preserving softness constitutes true humility, like water naturally flowing to valley streams. Those who can practice this maintain their constant De (Virtue) undispersed, returning to the natural simplicity of an infant's state.

The Erya commentary explains that when water flows toward great rivers, it's called a "stream." Those who can emulate the humility of heaven's valley streams preserve their authentic De without dispersion, returning to the guileless purity of infancy. Such individuals have few selfish desires, remaining as naturally uncontrived as newborn children.

To know the light yet dwell in the darkness is the pattern of the world. Here "white" signifies brightness, while "black" represents obscurity, and "pattern" means the natural law. One who can maintain softness and tranquility will naturally radiate virtuous power (De). Though virtuous power shines brightly, one should not flaunt it but rather preserve pristine harmony as if dwelling in obscurity. Such a person becomes the model for all under heaven.

Those who serve as models for the world maintain constant virtue without deviation, ultimately returning to the boundless infinite. "Deviation" means error, while "boundless" signifies the limitless. To know illumination yet abide in darkness is called perfect virtue. Those with perfect virtue become exemplars for the world to follow. Then the eternal Dao (Way) manifests according to circumstances, functioning without error in its application, its efficacy inexhaustible. Hence it is said "returns to the boundless infinite."

To know honor yet dwell in humility is the valley of the world. "Honor" denotes nobility, while "humility" represents lowliness. As a model for the world, one's virtuous power is indeed honorable and glorious, yet one constantly maintains a humble attitude, using harmony as the measure to contain all things. Like the empty valley that receives all things that come to it, thus it is called "the valley of the world."

As the valley that contains all under heaven, constant virtue becomes complete, ultimately returning to the uncarved block of Dao. The "uncarved block" is Dao itself. With a mind open as the valley spirit to receive all things, true constant virtue becomes complete. In completion, one returns to the pristine state of Dao. Dao is the substance of virtue, while virtue is the function of Dao. Speaking of its function we say "constant virtue becomes complete," while discussing its substance we say "returns to the uncarved block." Returning to the uncarved block means the mysterious origin remains pure and unstained, while constant virtue functions without exhaustion. Who but the most profound sage under heaven could attain this state?

When the uncarved block of Dao disperses, it becomes vessels. The sage employs these vessels to become the official. "Vessels" here mean concrete things. Previously, beginning from "knowing the masculine," we discussed cultivating one's nature to return to virtue and ultimately to Dao. Here "the uncarved block disperses to become vessels" shows that when virtue is complete and united with Dao, it can respond to and function with all things. In this functioning, it inevitably involves concrete forms, hence "the uncarved block disperses to become vessels." Once involved with concrete forms, materials inevitably have refined and coarse distinctions. Ordinary people using them can only maintain simplicity individually, while sages who broadly benefit the world become leaders of all materials.

Therefore the great governing does not cut or injure. This illustrates the sage's application of Dao. With perfect virtue, the sage governs all things by emulating heaven and earth's operation, universally bestowing favor like rain and dew, enabling all things to find their proper place without sensing external force, allowing all living beings to grow naturally without ever being cut or harmed.

This scripture passage expounds the principles of governing the world. Emperor Xuanzong of Tang, in his commentary on the Daode Jing (Classic of the Way and Virtue), pointed out that the world is a sacred vessel (shenqi) that cannot be seized and controlled through brute force.

The scripture states that those who attempt to seize the world by military force will never achieve their goal. The supreme position of rulership (dabao zhi wei) is bestowed by Heaven upon virtuous rulers—only those who align with the Mandate of Heaven can govern the people. Those who resort to violence not only fail to gain the world but instead invite calamity.

The sacred vessel of the world cannot be forcibly possessed; those who try will inevitably fail. This serves as a warning to treacherous ministers who seek to usurp power through rebellion. Likewise, if a ruler persists in delusion and abuses authority, they too will lose this position. History shows that foolish and tyrannical rulers, due to their cruelty and lack of virtue (Dao), ultimately lost the world. This admonishes sovereigns to govern with caution.

All things in the world follow their natural patterns: some advance while others follow; some bring warmth (xu) while others bring cold (chui); some are strong while others are weak; some build and achieve (zai) while others destroy and perish (hui). Governing the world is no different—forcing outcomes leads to failure, and stubbornness results in loss.

This passage discusses how sages who govern the world restrain themselves and avoid excess. Observing the unpredictable nature of human behavior, sages recognize that stubborn adherence to personal views inevitably leads to faults. Thus, they practice self-discipline, tempering body and mind while eliminating greed and desire. Specifically, they must achieve three things: abandoning excessive artifice, forsaking extravagant pleasures, and relinquishing unrestrained sensual indulgence. Though listed as three separate items, they all convey the same principle—excessive pursuit of luxury and pleasure transgresses proper boundaries.

The text then addresses the principle of using the Dao (the Way) to assist a ruler. As ministers, one should support the sovereign with the Dao's practice of Wuwei (non-action), guiding the ruler to become an enlightened leader like the legendary sage-kings Yao and Shun. Governance should rely on the transformative power of ritual and music, cultivating refined virtue throughout the realm. If instead one glorifies military force and engages in relentless aggression against other states, retaliation becomes inevitable, and the outcome of conflict becomes unpredictable.

Where great armies encamp, desolation follows; after major wars, years of famine inevitably arise. Mobilizing troops exhausts the people with military service, while transporting supplies disrupts agriculture. Neglected farmlands become overgrown with thorns. The enormous expenditures of war, coupled with the baleful energy of conflict, trigger floods and droughts, causing crops to fail. Thus, years of famine are the inevitable retribution for warmongering.

(Note: "Gan yu" refers to the shields and pheasant feathers used in ceremonial dances, symbolizing the civilizing influence of ritual and music; "da xiang" represents the manifestation of the great Dao; "tai jie ping" signifies universal peace; "qiong du" denotes the reckless abuse of military force.)

A skilled commander seeks only to achieve the objective and then stops, never presuming to flaunt military might. The Spring and Autumn Annals state that "killing the enemy is called resolution (guo)," where resolution here means stopping the enemy's violence. Laozi teaches that arms should be used only as a last resort—the highest purpose of warfare is to halt slaughter and prevent enemies from becoming bandits, never to bully the weak with superior force. Because aggression inevitably invites retaliation, this warning is given against such behavior.

After achieving the goal, one must not become self-righteous, boast of military exploits, or grow arrogant. The highest art of war lies in restraining the enemy; if one becomes prideful merely for having stopped them, this cannot be called true victory. Even when successfully halting the enemy, remain cautious and avoid glorifying achievements, for boasting leads to personal ambition. Arrogance fosters delight in killing, which soon brings defeat. This is a clear warning—how can we not be vigilant?

Using force to stop an enemy is a last resort; once the goal is reached, refrain from aggression. Restraining the enemy is not about proving superiority, but a necessary response to their provocation. Warfare should not seek victory for its own sake—those who understand this will never bully others even in triumph.

When things reach their zenith, they begin to decay. This is called being contrary to the Dao (Dao). What contradicts the Dao perishes prematurely. Just as all things wither after reaching full strength, armies that rely on brute force will fail. A military that depends on violence is like plants growing excessively robust only to hasten their decline. Both phenomena violate the Dao's natural order. Wise rulers and ministers, recognizing this disharmony with the Dao, should cease such actions promptly.

Chapter 31 states: "Fine weapons are instruments of ill omen" (The previous chapter explains how military aggression invites retaliation and warns against arrogance; this chapter emphasizes that superior arms are detestable and should be used only when unavoidable. First, it cautions that weapons bring misfortune and are avoided by those who follow the Dao; next, it declares victory unworthy of celebration, noting that delight in killing is evil; finally, it uses metaphor to prescribe funeral rites for warfare, demonstrating disapproval of martial enthusiasm).

This passage presents profound insights on the art of warfare. Though military strategies may demonstrate tactical brilliance, weapons (referring to means of war) are fundamentally inauspicious objects. The true noble person should focus on cultivating virtue (De), keeping their abilities concealed within until the proper moment for action arises. Ordinarily, one should devote themselves to studying Daoist scriptures (Jing), establishing a virtuous reputation, and achieving meaningful work—not treating military stratagems as skills worthy of pride.

Military strategy is inherently designed for conquest and killing. Even when employing tactics like "using orthodox methods for unorthodox purposes" or "first demonstrating strength before actual engagement," these ultimately remain tools of ill omen. Thus all things in nature detest warfare, and those truly aligned with the Dao (the Way) do not indulge in it.

The ancients regarded the left as yang and the right as yin—yang representing growth and vitality, yin representing austerity and killing. Therefore, noble persons normally honor the left (yang), only revering the right (yin) when employing military force. Weapons are inauspicious objects, not tools a noble person should rely upon. The superior person establishes their foundation in Dao and De—only then can their actions meet with universal success.

One should resort to arms only when absolutely necessary, maintaining a detached mindset. Civil governance and moral education form the root of statecraft, while military force serves merely as a supplementary measure. Just as the cosmos requires the balanced interaction of the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water), the use of martial power must be tempered with restraint. When facing external threats, one should first attempt peaceful reconciliation through benevolence and moral influence—like remaining unperturbed by mosquito bites—representing the highest attainment.

Those who take pride in military victories are essentially delighting in killing. True victory comes not through forceful conquest but through virtuous influence. Even when achieving battlefield success, if lacking in De, such victories deserve no praise. Since triumph inevitably involves bloodshed, those who glorify martial prowess are ultimately reveling in slaughter.

Those who take delight in victory through warfare are in truth addicted to slaughter. Those who find joy in killing can never truly win the allegiance of the world. The inherent nature of Heaven and Earth cherishes life. Those with De (Virtue) should align with the Dao (the Way), making it their mission to preserve life and relieve suffering. How can one indulge in violence to satisfy greed and cruelty? Such actions inevitably lose the people's hearts—how then can one hope to achieve their ambitions? Thus, those addicted to slaughter can never gain the genuine support of the world.

In ancient times, the left was considered auspicious, while the right was inauspicious. The left belongs to Yang, representing growth and life, hence auspicious matters favor the left. The right belongs to Yin, representing austerity and death, hence inauspicious matters favor the right. The Book of Rites: Tan Gong records that Confucius and his disciples stood with their hands clasped slightly to the right, and the disciples followed suit. Confucius explained, "I do this because of my elder sister's mourning." Upon hearing this, the disciples immediately adjusted their posture to the left.

In military formations, the assistant general (偏将军) stands on the left, while the commanding general (上将军) stands on the right—this follows the ritual protocol of mourning. The commanding general holds the power of life and death, hence he occupies the inauspicious position; the assistant general does not monopolize the authority to kill, hence he occupies the auspicious position. Though the left is usually the position of honor, in warfare the commanding general stands on the right, precisely to signify that war is akin to a funeral.

War inevitably brings great loss of life, and the victors ought to mourn and weep for the fallen. The people are the foundation of the state—only when the foundation is secure can the nation be at peace. War brings devastation to living beings, and those of humane disposition naturally feel compassion and grief. Even in victory, the matter should be treated as a funeral rite, for the victors receive their honors while standing on the right (the inauspicious side), which in itself demonstrates that war is no auspicious affair. The so-called "funeral rites" do not require donning mourning garb, but rather emphasize the inauspicious nature of warfare.

(Note: This commentary is Tang Emperor Xuanzong's interpretation of the Daode Jing chapter on "arms being instruments of ill omen," reflecting the Daoist opposition to war and reverence for life. The discussion of "left as Yang, right as Yin" illustrates the application of Daoist Yin-Yang theory in ritual practice, while the correspondence between ancient military hierarchy and funeral rites embodies the traditional view that "warfare is ominous and dangerous.")

The Dao can never be defined by concrete names. It eternally exists with infinite applications, capable of adapting to all transformations, and thus cannot be confined to a fixed designation. Though the essence of the Dao (known as "Pu" or the Uncarved Block) may appear minute, nothing in the world dares to subordinate it, for it is the fundamental principle that gives birth to all things.

If rulers (houwang) can uphold this root principle of the Dao and maintain a state of pure Wuwei (non-action), all things will naturally return to them. When the Qi (vital energy) of Heaven and Earth harmoniously blends, auspicious dew (a symbol of peace and prosperity) will descend. Such blessings require no human command—they distribute themselves evenly, just as a ruler governs fairly, causing the people to willingly submit without coercion.

When a ruler begins to govern the world, all things acquire names. As long as the ruler holds fast to the Great Dao, these named things will ultimately submit to him. Yet the ruler must also know when to stop, understanding the limits of governance—only then can danger be avoided.

This is akin to how the Dao operates in the world, like countless streams inevitably flowing into rivers and seas. Though the Dao is formless and nameless, it is the ultimate destination of all things. If rulers emulate this nature, refraining from forceful interference, all things will naturally move in orderly harmony.

This passage elucidates the principles of governing a nation and cultivating one's character.

When a ruler who embodies the Dao (the Way) governs the world, if they educate the people with benevolent De (Virtue), a peaceful and prosperous era will naturally arise. This harmonious Qi (vital energy) can move Heaven, and Heaven will inevitably bestow auspicious signs—just as small streams naturally converge into rivers and seas.

Regarding the "Chapter on Knowing Others": Previous chapters explain how a ruler who follows the Dao naturally attracts all things to submit; this chapter clarifies that people submit to such a ruler because the ruler possesses self-awareness and self-transcendence. Those who know themselves can perceive things clearly, and those who transcend themselves can remain strong. The chapter ultimately emphasizes adhering to the principles of Heaven without wavering, even unto death.

Those who merely understand others may be considered clever, but those who truly know themselves are wise. When the human mind interacts with the external world, it generates cognition, which allows one to discern past events—this is called "the wisdom of knowing others." But if one can turn inward, free from attachment to external perceptions, and attain a state of no-mind, that is true wisdom.

Using power to suppress others may demonstrate physical strength, but those who conquer their own desires are truly strong. Self-transcendence means mastering the inner self and maintaining a state of softness and humility. This gentle way of the Dao is so resilient that even external forces cannot harm it—hence its true strength. As the Daode Jing later states, "To remain soft is called strength"—weakness can overcome hardness.

Those who understand contentment are truly wealthy, and those who persevere unwaveringly possess true willpower. A content heart does not crave excess; even simple food and drink can bring joy. Those who persistently transcend themselves without slackening are the ones who embody true resolve.

Only those who do not deviate from the Dao can endure. Whether in contentment or perseverance, as long as one does not stray from fundamental principles, they can walk the path of the Dao for long. Those whose actions do not stray from the right course will naturally endure.

Those who follow the principles of Heaven and complete their natural lifespan are truly long-lived. Death is the natural conclusion of life, while premature death is an unnatural disruption. Those who comply with the laws of nature, peacefully accepting the transformations of life and death, and complete their life's journey in full, are the ones who attain true longevity. By not violating the principles of Heaven, one achieves such a good end.

This scripture passage, through Emperor Xuanzong of Tang's commentary on the Daode Jing, elucidates the essential characteristics of the "Great Dao." It begins with the stories of Shan Bao and Zhang Yi to illustrate how those who violate natural laws cannot be considered truly long-lived, even if they appear prosperous on the surface. As Zhuangzi said: Under heaven, no one is longer-lived than an infant who dies young, while Pengzu (a legendary figure said to have lived eight hundred years) is actually short-lived.

The passage then explains the meaning of "the Great Dao overflows like a flood": The Dao is like surging water without fixed form—it belongs neither to Yin nor Yang, is neither soft nor hard, and adapts to all transformations. Zhuangzi states that the Dao has never had boundaries; all things depend on it to grow, yet it never declines responsibility nor claims credit. Though it nurtures the myriad things, it never acts as their master.

Here, the text particularly emphasizes: Though the Dao appears minute (because it has no desires), we cannot call it insignificant; though all things return to it (making it seem vast), we cannot call it great. This is because the Dao neither dominates the myriad things nor deliberately pursues names of greatness or smallness. These seemingly paradoxical statements precisely demonstrate how the Dao transcends our conventional categories of understanding—it encompasses all yet remains transcendent, accomplishes all things yet possesses nothing.

The Dao (the Way) as the cosmic origin and principle can turn either left or right, being neither small nor great. Precisely because it is neither small nor great, it defies fixed naming. As Zhuangzi observed, this explains why the myriad things each follow their own unique paths.

Thus, the sage who attains the Dao never claims greatness, yet accomplishes truly great deeds. This means: the sage governing the world widely bestows De (Virtue/Power), transforming people through simple and honest customs, allowing all beings to grow naturally. Following the patterns of the great Dao, they neither boast of achievements nor deliberately display nobility and grandeur. Therefore, they ultimately accomplish luminous deeds that illuminate the world.

This commentary comes from Emperor Xuanzong of Tang's personal annotations on the fourth chapter of the Dao De Jing. As a ruler, Xuanzong particularly emphasized that leaders should emulate the humble nature of the Dao, achieving true greatness through Wuwei (non-action) governance.