《宋徽宗道德真經解義》Vol. 7

In his commentary on Chapter 45 of the Daode Jing, Emperor Huizong of Song expounds the profound meaning of "Great perfection seems defective." He suggests that although the Dao (the fundamental principle of the universe) is flawless in itself, its manifestation appears incomplete. Precisely because it does not cling to perfection, it remains inexhaustible. This is akin to Confucius, who synthesized the wisdom of various schools yet continually adapted with the times.

The "great perfection" here refers to the realm of the Dao. Though the Dao is complete, people cannot perceive its entirety, hence it seems lacking. Because it does not display its achievements, it can function perpetually.

"Great fullness seems empty" describes the nature of De (Virtue/Power). The most abundant virtue appears hollow; precisely by maintaining a state of humble receptivity, it becomes inexhaustible. Just as truly great merchants conceal their wealth, those with profound virtue may outwardly seem simple. If one becomes complacent about virtue, its efficacy is lost instead.

"Great straightness seems crooked" illustrates that true integrity appears flexible. This means adapting to circumstances without rigidly displaying uprightness, thereby preserving genuine integrity.

"Great skill seems clumsy" points out that the highest craftsmanship appears artless. Nature shapes all things (round, square, curved, straight) without leaving traces; true masters likewise act without deliberate effort, accomplishing exquisite work imperceptibly.

"Great eloquence seems inarticulate" emphasizes that the most profound debate appears taciturn. True mastery of discourse requires no words, unlike the sophistry of Hui Shi, whose verbal dexterity revealed superficiality. Explaining truth through speech is inferior to letting truth manifest naturally through silence.

The chapter concludes: Movement overcomes cold; stillness overcomes heat. Only by maintaining a state of serene Wuwei (non-action) can one embody the world's proper path. Emperor Huizong explains this as the pattern of Yin-Yang interaction: Yang Qi moves vigorously to withstand cold, while Yin Qi remains still to counteract heat.

This scripture expounds the principle of clarity and non-action (Wuwei). When humans become trapped in the extremes of Yin-Yang energies (referring to excessive pursuits or extreme behaviors), they lose the capacity to maintain centered harmony. If the mind is restless and agitated, one will feel feverish even in cold environments; but with inner clarity and stillness, one remains composed even in scorching heat. Heat and cold are natural phenomena, yet when the mind is dominated by either agitation or tranquility, we cease to perceive these seasonal changes. Only by returning Qi to its pure, unified state can one maintain clarity, and only through focused concentration can the spirit (Shen) remain undisturbed. This state of serene concentration is the true way to govern the world.

The text then discusses principles of statecraft: When the world follows the Dao in peace, warhorses retreat to plow fields and fertilize crops ("却走马以粪" signifies ending warfare to develop agriculture). This occurs because people live contentedly without competitive desires. Conversely, when chaos reigns, even the suburbs breed warhorses (indicating such frequent battles that mares foal on battlefields), fields lie fallow, the weak are oppressed, and borders cannot maintain stability.

The greatest transgression is indulging desires ("可欲" refers to coveting external things), which drives people to violate their true nature in pursuit of gain. The mere thought of "I want this" sparks contention and disorder. The greatest calamity is perpetual dissatisfaction—those who understand contentment avoid disgrace and misfortune. The gravest fault is insatiable greed, for satisfying selfish desires inevitably incurs collective resentment. Thus, only those who truly comprehend contentment attain lasting fulfillment.

Note: The "Imperial Commentary" (御注) refers to Emperor Huizong of Song's annotations, while "Minister Yi's Commentary" (臣义) represents Zhang An's explanations. This passage embodies the Daoist advocacy for mental purity, desirelessness, and contentment, demonstrating how personal cultivation parallels state governance—both must return to the natural, authentic state.

Emperor Huizong of Song, in his commentary on the Daode Jing, remarked: Once people lay eyes on objects of desire, they can never be satisfied. This insatiability leads to endless grasping, which in turn provokes contention. When contention escalates, it breeds chaos, and in extreme cases, even war ("armored horses are bred in the suburbs"). But if one understands contentment and abides by their innate nature, there will be no need for cunning schemes. Simply meeting the basic needs of daily sustenance—where then would contention and turmoil arise?

The commentator (a court official) adds: The greed of insatiable desires cannot be fulfilled even by heaven and earth. Only when one finds contentment within the bounds of their innate nature will they never feel lacking, and thus naturally remain satisfied.

Chapter 47 of the Daode Jing states: "Without stepping out the door, one knows the world; without peering through the window, one perceives the Dao of heaven." Emperor Huizong explains: Though the world is vast, the sage comprehends it through wisdom; though the Dao of heaven is profound, the sage discerns it through insight. Because the sage’s mind encompasses all things, even the most distant matters are clear—thus, there is no need to step out. Because the sage’s nature is in communion with the divine, even the most obscure principles are illuminated—thus, there is no need to look through a window. As Zhuangzi said, the sage grasps matters beyond the four seas in the blink of an eye—this is the realm where the sage silently operates and alone transforms all things.

The commentator elaborates: Ordinary people must step outside to learn things, but what they know is limited; they must peer through a window to see, but what they perceive is limited. How could the vastness of the world and the profundity of the Dao of heaven ever be fully grasped through ordinary cognition? Stepping out means departing from one’s original mind to seek knowledge—how much can such understanding truly yield? Peering through a window means relying on external objects to observe—how far can such sight truly reach? The sage silently operates and alone transforms, knowing all without conventional cognition, seeing all without ordinary observation. All things in the world have their reasons for being; the movement of the Dao follows its natural order. Superficial principles manifest in concrete things, while subtle mysteries lie within the fundamental Dao—none of this departs from one’s own essence. If so, why would knowledge and insight require stepping out? Why would they require looking through a window?

"The farther one travels, the less one knows." Emperor Huizong comments: To understand the heart of heaven and earth, seek it within yourself—the principles of all things are already complete. If one abandons the near to chase the far, searching in the transformations of Yin-Yang or the calculations of numerology, they will only stray further from the Dao, and what they know will diminish.

The commentator explains: Stepping out means leaving stillness for movement—the farther one goes, the harder it is to return to the origin. This is why traveling farther leads to knowing less.

Thus, the sage knows without traveling, understands without seeing, and accomplishes without forcing. Emperor Huizong says: "Using my wisdom to know the world—this is 'knowing without stepping out.'"

Emperor Huizong of the Song Dynasty, in his commentary on the Dao De Jing, explains that true understanding of the Heavenly Dao requires no deliberate observation of external phenomena. The sage needs neither to step outside his door (symbolizing independence from sensory perception) nor peer through windows (representing forced seeking), for his inner wisdom is inherently complete. By maintaining original purity of heart, all phenomena under heaven become knowable, and the mysteries of the Dao become comprehensible. This knowing is not achieved through striving, yet spontaneously accomplishes all things.

On the distinction between scholarly learning and Daoist cultivation: Learning aims at accumulating knowledge, transforming an ordinary person into a sage through daily progress. As Confucius praised Yan Hui's constant refinement, the path of study requires broad learning and exhaustive investigation of principles, with continuous advancement as its essence.

Daoist cultivation operates inversely—it demands perpetual reduction. Attaining the supreme state requires relinquishing attachment to the physical form, abandoning cleverness and cunning, transcending both body and thought until all phenomena naturally dissolve. Like Qu Boyu who at sixty still renewed himself yearly, the Daoist path seeks the realm of emptiness, returning to original nature through progressive simplification.

Reduce and reduce again, until reaching the state of Wuwei (non-action). This non-action isn't inactivity, but effortless accomplishment without striving. Learning masters principles through exhaustive study, while cultivation attains emptiness through returning to original nature. Through continuous reduction, one regains the primordial state of "non-being." In stillness, one remains unmoved yet resonates with all existence; in quiescence, one embodies the sage's transcendence, while in action, one manifests the sovereign's efficacy.

Those who truly govern the world often appear to do nothing. Constant deliberate action actually disqualifies one from rulership. For the world is the greatest existence—its true master never confines himself to particular affairs. Only by transcending particulars can one genuinely command all things. Therefore, governing requires maintaining a state of "non-interference"; the moment one forces action, one loses the mandate to rule.

The sacred vessel of the world (referring to state power) cannot be forcibly controlled. Those who attempt to manipulate it through force will fail; those who try to forcibly possess it will lose it. Thus when rulers govern with coercive methods, they ultimately fail to attain true mastery of the world. The sage who has attained the Dao governs by aligning with natural principles, cultivating both self and state through genuine innate nature. Like the rise of ancient emperors and the founding of dynasties, all emerged naturally in accordance with their time. When King Tai of Zhou moved from Bin to Mount Qi, this seemingly passive act ultimately established the foundation of the Zhou dynasty.

The operation of the world contains the profound mystery of the Dao, manifesting the transformative work of divine forces—hence its designation as the "Great Vessel" and "Divine Instrument." Only those who have attained the Dao can win the hearts of the world, precisely because they never act with deliberate intention. Their apparent non-action (Wuwei) achieves governance effortlessly, whereas forced action inevitably leads to failure.

Chapter 49 describes the sage's mindset: The sage maintains no fixed ideas, but rather adopts the people's thoughts as their own. The sage's heart reflects all things like a mirror—empty, tranquil, and all-encompassing; it responds like a valley echoing sounds—naturally and without distortion. As Zhuangzi said: "Those in lowly positions who must adapt are precisely the common people."

The sage takes "no-mind" as their mind, thus able to respond appropriately to changing circumstances. As the people's thoughts shift with the times, the sage reflects them like a mirror that neither welcomes nor dismisses images, like a valley that neither amplifies nor diminishes echoes—how could there be any fixed standard?

To the virtuous I show virtue; to the non-virtuous I also show virtue—this is true Virtue (De). To the trustworthy I extend trust; to the untrustworthy I also extend trust—this is true integrity. Ordinary people constantly distinguish between good and evil, truth and falsehood, accusing one another—how can this be considered virtuous conduct? One who possesses true Virtue sees all actions as good, thus treating even the unvirtuous with kindness. One who possesses true integrity perceives all sentiments as trustworthy, thus extending faith even to the unreliable. Forgetting distinctions between true and false, dissolving boundaries between right and wrong—this marks the person of complete Virtue. Like Shun's treatment of his brother Xiang: through unwavering sincerity and trust, he ultimately transformed him.

The sage's treatment of others knows no unkindness, no distrust—thus people naturally become good and trustworthy. The sage's Virtue expands like heaven and earth embracing all things, shines impartially like sun and moon illuminating all beings.

This scripture passage primarily discusses the sage's attitude toward good and evil, belief and disbelief, as well as how to govern the world through the Dao (the Way).

Regarding the distinctions between good and evil, belief and disbelief, the text points out that these dichotomies actually stem from human subjective delusions and selfishness. Those who have truly attained the Dao transcend such oppositions, reaching the state of "blending distinctions into oneness"—neither clinging to goodness nor rejecting evil, neither rigidly adhering to belief nor denying disbelief. In this way, they can embrace all people, so that even those who are not good will naturally turn toward goodness, and those who do not believe will naturally become trustworthy. This is the highest form of "De-shan" (virtuous goodness) and "De-xin" (virtuous trustworthiness).

When governing the world, sages always maintain a cautious and vigilant attitude ("die-die" describes a state of fearful carefulness). Though they follow the natural Dao, they still dare not be careless in facing worldly affairs. The sage's mind is undivided, viewing good and not-good, belief and disbelief with equanimity, as if returning to the purest original nature.

The common people pay close attention to the sage's words and actions ("focus their ears and eyes"), while the sage cherishes them like infants. Because the sage unifies the world through the Dao, free from distracting thoughts, the people are naturally transformed by the Dao. The sage treats the people with a heart of simplicity and sincerity, without cunning or cleverness, thus enabling society to return to its original truth.

Finally, the passage addresses the issue of life and death, pointing out that the birth and death of all things are the natural workings of "heaven's mechanism." Life is the beginning of creation, and death is the transformation of Yin-Yang—all are part of the natural Dao.

This scripture explores the principle of the cycle of life and death. All things emerge from within as yang (vital activity), manifesting as life; when they return inward, this is yin (quiescent state), manifesting as death. What is born here dies there, and what dies here is reborn elsewhere. Original nature inherently knows neither life nor death—it has existed unchanged since ancient times. The phenomena of birth and death arise only through the spirit's movement in and out of physical form.

The text mentions that "those clinging to life number thirteen, those clinging to death number thirteen," indicating thirteen specific manifestations of attachment to either life or death. Emperor Huizong of Song's commentary observes how such individuals remain trapped in samsaric cycles. Specifically, six attachments relate to physical form, while seven stem from indulging desires (the corporeal soul, po)—all plunging one into darkness.

Among ordinary people, thirteen circumstances show how the very fear of death ironically hastens demise. Lured by sensory desires of eyes, ears, mouth, and nose, they live as walking corpses. Why? Because they excessively cling to worldly pleasures and survival.

Those pursuing longevity become burdened by physical form; those yearning for annihilation neglect the body; others meet punishment-induced deaths—all failing to recognize the body as the root of suffering and life's impermanence. Their excessive pursuit of survival becomes self-destructive. Ancient Daoist adepts, whether noble or humble, never allowed external things to harm their intrinsic nature. They neither rejoiced at longevity nor grieved early death, perceiving life and death's essential unity—thus transcending temporal constraints to attain the deathless state.

True understanding reveals: only attachment to form binds one to life-death cycles. Those who penetrate reality know life and death as one, thereby remaining unshackled. Ironically, humanity's craving for life and aversion to death become the very chains that confine them.

This scripture primarily discusses the nature of life and death and the realm of those who attain the Dao. The main ideas are:

Those who excessively pursue longevity ironically harm their lives because they fail to understand that life inherently has its limits. Those who truly understand nurturing life walk on land without encountering rhinos or tigers, and enter battlefields without needing armor or weapons. Rhinos find no place to gore them, tigers no place to claw them, and weapons no place to wound them. Why? Because they have transcended the boundaries of death.

Those skilled in nurturing life maintain physical wholeness and spiritual abundance, merging with nature. Their innate nature remains intact, their spirit undamaged—they can dive into water without drowning, tread on fire without burning, and walk among all things without fear. Thus external things cannot harm them. The Book of Changes states: "Those who comprehend the patterns of day and night and penetrate the mysteries of life and death cannot be harmed by anything." Only the perfected who have attained the Dao can reach this state.

Life inevitably involves birth and death—this is nature's law. Qi generates Jing (essence), Jing generates Shen (spirit), and Shen sustains the body; when Shen dissipates, the body perishes. Those skilled in nurturing life can return Qi to its source, preserve Jing in purity, and elevate Shen to mystical realms, uniting with the Dao. While living, they follow nature without clinging to life; when dying, they offer no resistance, roaming with the Creator in the primordial Qi. They regard life as superfluous flesh and death as the bursting of an abscess—thus unattached to physical form and unafraid of death. Precisely because they forget life and death, they face no mortal danger, fear nothing others dread, and remain unburdened or unharmed by external things.

The following Chapter 51 describes how the Dao generates all things:

The Dao generates all things (the Dao is eternally Wuwei [non-action] yet accomplishes everything; all things arise from non-action). De (Virtue/Power) nurtures all things (all things receive their life characteristics from the Dao, which is called De). Things take their forms (movement and transformation produce things; their established patterns are called forms). Environments complete things (all things have their unique modes of existence and developmental tendencies).

This scripture elucidates the relationship between Dao (the Way) and De (Virtue/Power) from a Daoist perspective, along with their roles in the generation of all things:

Emperor Huizong of the Song Dynasty (Northern Song emperor) explains: Once all things take concrete form, natural comparisons of length and height inevitably arise—this reflects the necessary patterns of development. His minister adds that these mutually generative and interdependent relationships are all facilitated by "shi" (natural tendencies).

The text clarifies that all things follow the Dao (cosmic primordial principle) while treasuring De (its concrete manifestation). As the foundation of heaven, earth, and the myriad beings, Dao is described as "revered"; De inherits Dao's characteristics yet is never disregarded by creation, hence deemed "honored." This reverence and honor aren't artificially bestowed but emerge spontaneously.

The process through which Dao nurtures all beings includes: creation, cultivation, growth, nourishment, formation, maturation, sustenance, and protection. Though superficially Dao-De, tendencies, and objects appear distinct, they fundamentally originate from Dao. Dao permeates all existence—whether in generation, transformation, withdrawal, or concealment, nothing operates beyond Dao's workings. Just as the Eight Trigrams (Qian, Kun, Zhen, Gen, etc.) interact dynamically, what seems mechanically controlled actually manifests Dao's activity.

The text concludes by emphasizing Dao's characteristics: creating without possessing, acting without claiming, guiding without dominating—this profound virtue is called "Xuan De" (fundamental virtue). Emperor Huizong observes these qualities permeating all movement, transformation, and unity within creation, revealing Dao's expression through De.

This passage elucidates the manifestation of "profound virtue" (Xuande) and the characteristic of the Dao as the mother of all things.

A truly virtuous person, though capable of creation, action, and growth, never boasts of achievements or flaunts abilities. In sustained development, there's no trace of forced artifice. Such natural action devoid of contrived technique embodies the highest form of virtue—this is what we call Xuande.

All things under heaven have an origin, and this origin is their mother (primordial source). The formless primordial Qi is called the "beginning," while the aspect that gives birth to all things is called the "mother." This "One" (manifestation of the Dao) serves both as the naming source for all things and the fundamental origin of existence. The initial state of primordial Qi is the "One," from which all beings emerge.

Understanding this source (mother) enables one to comprehend all things (offspring). Yet after recognizing all things, one must return to safeguard this origin—only then can the spirit remain unharmed even when the body perishes. As Zhuangzi said: "Without the Dao, form cannot emerge; all things originate from the Dao." Knowing everything stems from the "One," we must preserve this unity.

Block the apertures of desire (referring to sensory indulgence) and close the gateways of external pursuit (referring to outlets of craving)—thus one may avoid lifelong toil. Because external temptations stir inner delight, the eyes, ears, nose, and mouth all serve as exits for the Shen (spirit), hence the need for careful internal preservation.

This scripture expounds how Dao cultivators should maintain inner tranquility and accord with nature.

When one ceases to find joy in pursuing external things, worldly matters can no longer disturb them - this is how genuine happiness is attained. Aligning with the Dao's natural flow brings spontaneous contentment; why exhaust oneself chasing after material objects?

When human senses (eyes, ears, nose, tongue, etc.) seek pleasure outwardly, the Shen (spirit) follows in restless motion. By closing these sensory channels, the spirit maintains singular focus and serenity. Preserving this state of unified stillness constitutes "guarding the origin" (shou mu - returning to the Dao's source). Those who safeguard this root return to the Great Dao, finding contentment wherever they dwell, with no need for forced effort.

Indulging sensory desires and drowning in worldly affairs leaves one unredeemed throughout life. Deluded by external temptations and chasing illusory cravings only exhausts one's vital energy in futile labor - what folly! This dissipates Jing (essence) and obscures spiritual awareness - how could salvation be possible then?

Perceiving subtlety is called "illumination" (ming - profound understanding of the Dao's mysteries). Though subtlety and simplicity appear insignificant, recognizing them constitutes true enlightenment - the authentic self-awareness.

Maintaining softness embodies genuine strength. Understanding how gentleness overcomes rigidity means mastering self-conquest.

When employing the light of wisdom (the Dao's manifestation), one ultimately returns to original radiance. As sages act in the world, their wisdom-light extends outward to benefit others, while inward it withdraws to the Dao's essence. Like sun and moon illuminating creation without diminishing their own brilliance - this exemplifies true divine virtue (De).

Leaving no calamity for oneself means following constant principles (xi chang - conforming to natural laws). Though all things change unpredictably, only those returning to original nature transcend external fluctuations, maintaining constancy undisturbed - utterly unlike those who ostentatiously flaunt cleverness.

All things in the world may appear limitless, yet their utility ultimately reaches exhaustion. Excessive pursuit of external objects invites calamity—this is essentially bringing misfortune upon oneself. Only by returning to the inherent radiance of one's nature and reverting to simplicity can one preserve the unchanging essence, remaining unaltered by external things. This is what it means to follow the constant Dao (the Way). The true constant Dao is profoundly mysterious and unfathomable; it can only be realized through silent meditation, not obtained through outward displays.

Chapter 53, The Chapter on Making Me Discerning, states: "If I can walk the great Dao with a clear and awakened mind, what I must most guard against is excessive action." Emperor Huizong of Song comments: "The great Dao emphasizes eliminating extravagance and excess. Extravagance corrupts De (Virtue/Power), while excess indulges one's nature—both are manifestations of overdoing." "Discerning" refers to maintaining subtle awareness of things; through this awareness, one reflects on the self and stabilizes the root, finding fulfillment within. Thus, what must be most guarded against is excessive action.

The minister adds: Only by relinquishing attachments can one attain the Dao. Without attachment, there is nothing to fear. If one deliberately maintains clarity to walk the Dao, one will instead become attached to the Dao itself, inevitably leading to hesitation in action.

The great Dao is inherently level and easy to walk, yet people always prefer shortcuts. Emperor Huizong comments: "The great Dao is level, while shortcuts appear near but are actually distant. Seeking shortcuts to quickly achieve goals only takes one further from the Dao." The minister adds: The great Dao is naturally easy to understand and practice, as smooth as a broad highway. Yet people always prefer clever shortcuts, seeking rapid success—only to lose their way in the end.

The court is adorned in splendor, yet the fields lie barren and the granaries stand empty. Emperor Huizong comments: "Exalting the worthy to govern the court while neglecting farming and reserves to enrich the people is abandoning the root for the branches—it cannot endure." The minister adds: The court excessively decorates its appearance while ignoring the fundamental issues of barren fields and empty granaries. Such emphasis on surface over substance is unsustainable.

Dressing in lavish robes, girding sharp swords, indulging in extravagant feasts, and hoarding inexhaustible wealth—this is the ostentation of bandits, not the true Dao. Emperor Huizong comments: "Those who cultivate their inner nature act with humility, while those who chase externals flaunt their wealth. The humble fear excess, while the ostentatious crave display—wearing fine clothes, bearing sharp swords, indulging in luxury, and amassing surplus, taking pride rather than shame in it. Such extravagance and arrogance—how could it accord with the Dao?" The minister adds: Forsaking the root to chase the branches, pursuing externals at the expense of the inner, forgetting one's innate precious nature while boasting of things not truly one's own.

In his commentary on the Daode Jing (Tao Te Ching), Emperor Huizong of Song explained the phrase "what is valued is called the boast of thieves." He meant that excessive pursuit of wealth and honor is essentially like a robber's empty bluster ("the boast of thieves" refers to a thief's exaggerated bravado). This passage points out that attachment to external fame and status not only contradicts the Daoist principle of clarity and stillness through Wuwei (non-action), but is also as hollow and insubstantial as a thief's posturing. As an emperor deeply devoted to Daoism, Huizong used this commentary to remind people not to be deluded by worldly riches and honors, but rather to return to the simple and natural way advocated by Daoism.