《道德真經四子古道集解》Vol. 1

This passage elucidates the core concept of "The Dao that can be spoken is not the eternal Dao" from the Daode Jing, synthesizing interpretations from multiple Daoist scriptures.

The Dao that can be articulated is not the eternal, unchanging Dao ("Chang Dao"). The Tongxuan Jing explains that human constructs like benevolence and righteousness—behavioral norms responding to social changes—vary with circumstances and do not constitute the constant Dao. The Dongling Jing further clarifies that later generations' artificial systems of moral instruction through rituals and music are merely minor, speakable Daos that tend toward superficial ornamentation, not the true eternal Dao.

Names that can be named are not eternal names. The Tongxuan Jing observes that written records are products of human artifice, while true wisdom transcends textual documentation. The Dongling Zhenjing critiques later generations' technical formulas and ornate rhetoric as mere speakable superficialities, not eternal truths.

"The nameless" represents the primordial state from which heaven and earth formed. The Tongxuan Jing describes the great Dao as formless and imageless, silently practicing wuwei (non-action)—this wordless teaching being the supreme state. "The named" constitutes the generative matrix of all things; though heaven and earth manifest form, they retain their silent, wordless nature. This mute instruction likewise embodies the supreme state of the Dao.

The "Celestial Treasury" mentioned here symbolizes the all-encompassing nature of the Dao itself, emphasizing that true teaching lies in wordless demonstration rather than verbal instruction. This concept originates from the Daoist principle of "governing through wuwei," which holds that the natural operation of heaven and earth constitutes the most profound teaching.

This passage primarily discusses the distinction between the Heavenly Dao (natural laws) and the human way (artificial actions), as well as the core concept of "Xuan" (the Mysterious).

The first part presents two modes of observing the world: when free from selfish desires, one perceives the subtle workings of the Heavenly Dao (the natural order that "acts through non-action [Wuwei] and is revered"); when driven by desires, one only sees the boundaries of human artifice (the limited efforts that "act through action and are base"). Quoting the Nanhua Jing (Zhuangzi) and Tongxuan Jing, it explains that the Heavenly Dao represents boundless wisdom, while the human way constitutes constrained cleverness.

It then clarifies that although both originate from the same source (the Dao), their manifestations differ completely. Ancient sages could unite with the Heavenly Dao ("sharing the heart of Heaven and the body of Dao"), while later emperors (the Five Emperors and Three Kings) governed according to personal designs, deviating from the Great Dao. This primordial mystery is called "Xuan"—simultaneously profound ("deep beyond depth") and numinous ("divine beyond divinity"), serving as the root source of all phenomena ("all things in creation stem from the single gate of Dao").

The concluding section adds that true sages penetrate the depths of their spiritual abode ("Lingfu"), connecting with nature's transformative processes. Holding profound Virtue (Xuan De) within, they transform the world without words. This embodies the mystery of "teaching without speaking"—Heaven and Earth never speak, yet all things are naturally nurtured; conversely, deliberate action brings only harm.

The Tongxuan Jing states that later generations govern the world in ways that violate the natural order, and this very approach becomes the source of calamity. When rulers act with deliberate effort (youwei), those below will imitate them, resulting in superficial governance where both superiors and subordinates engage in empty formalities, ultimately failing to properly administer the state.

When everyone claims to know what is beautiful (as the Tongxuan Jing·Weiming Chapter points out: what later generations call learning actually drifts further from the Dao. The ancients, knowing less, were closer to the essence of the Dao; modern people, learning more, only increase their desires. The ancients focused on inner cultivation, while modern people chase external gratification. Thus, when all under heaven strive deliberately for beauty), this beauty becomes ugliness.

The same principle applies (Tongxuan Jing says: The Dao cannot be heard with ears—what one hears is merely learning; the Dao cannot be seen with eyes—what one sees is merely appearance; the Dao cannot be debated with words—what one speaks of is only superficial. Such deliberate pursuits instead distance one from the essence). When everyone flaunts their goodness (as recorded in the Nanhua Jing: The Perfected Taiqing once lamented that the ancients, knowing less, understood the Dao better. Who in later generations could realize that true wisdom often emerges from a state of seeming ignorance? Thus, when all under heaven deliberately display goodness), this goodness becomes hypocrisy.

Therefore, all things in the world exist in relative duality (Tongxuan Jing states: The way to govern lies in grasping the mutual generation of being and non-being). Difficulty and ease complete each other (the ancients educated people with upright teachings—simple methods that inevitably succeeded; later generations used corrupt teachings—complicated methods doomed to fail. Abandoning what is simple and effective for what is complex and difficult naturally leads to failure). Long and short are revealed through contrast (the ancients, in their simplicity, made no distinctions; later generations, through deliberate comparison, created divisions). High and low depend on each other (the ancients, in their purity, recognized no nobility or baseness—like a balanced scale that does not tilt. Later generations, through artificial hierarchies, created oppression). Only through the interplay of high and low tones can harmonious music be formed.

This passage elucidates the essence of the Daoist concept of "governing through non-action (Wuwei)." Both the Nanhua Jing (Zhuangzi) and the Tongxuan Jing (Wenzi) employ metaphors to illustrate the sage's approach to cultivation—as natural as an echo following sound or a shadow following form, requiring no deliberate effort.

The sage emulates the operating principles of Heaven and Earth, maintaining a state of emptiness and non-interference. Heaven and Earth give birth to all things without deliberate intervention; the Dao nurtures all creation without visible action—this represents the supreme state of divine non-action. True kingly governance means aligning with nature's flow: neither forcing interference, boasting of achievements, nor claiming credit.

The text specifically addresses the term "ten thousand things" (wanwu): worldly phenomena far exceed this number, yet "ten thousand" is used precisely because their multitude defies enumeration. Just as Heaven and Earth never consciously produce, yet all things grow spontaneously; as the Great Dao rears all creation without displaying its workings. Precisely because it neither claims merit nor forces outcomes, true accomplishment never fades.

The virtue of perfected beings (zhiren, those who attain the Dao) operates similarly—without conscious cultivation, all things naturally remain inseparable from them. This state of non-action represents the highest form of governance exalted in Daoist philosophy.

Chapter 3 of the Daode Jing expounds the wisdom of ancient sage-kings in governing the world. The "Way of Heaven" chapter in the Zhuangzi (also known as Nanhua Jing) states that rulers of antiquity took Heaven and Earth as their fundamental standard, with the natural Dao as their core principle, and regarded "Wuwei" (non-action, or non-forced intervention) as the norm. Precisely because they refrained from arbitrary action, they were able to govern with ease.

When the ancient sages ruled, they kept the people's hearts pure and their lives prosperous—this was the embodiment of Wuwei. They did not encourage excessive cleverness or desires among the people, so they would not act recklessly. By not deliberately exalting the worthy ("not esteeming the worthy") nor valuing rare treasures, the world naturally remained peaceful.

Zhuangzi said that in the golden age of flourishing Dao and De, people did not flaunt their worthiness or promote their talents. The rulers remained as naturally effortless as treetops, while the people roamed as freely as wild deer. Thus, conflicts did not arise among the populace.

The Tongxuan Jing (i.e., Wenzi), in its "Lower Virtue" chapter, points out that later generations always sought to appear more virtuous than others while envying those they deemed inferior. This competitive mentality bred strife, which in turn gave rise to resentment, ultimately leading to mental confusion and disordered Qi. The ancient sage-kings eliminated such conflicts and resentments, calming people's minds and harmonizing their Qi. Hence, "not esteeming the worthy" prevented contention among the people.

By not valuing rare treasures ("not prizing hard-to-get goods"), the people would not resort to theft. Zhuangzi remarked that in antiquity, people left gold in the mountains and pearls in the deep waters, free from greed for such possessions.

By not displaying objects that aroused desire ("not displaying the desirable"), the Shen (spirit) could remain tranquil, naturally free from covetousness. The Tongxuan Jing states that later rulers indulged in sensual pleasures, leading to national chaos and ultimately decadence. Therefore, those who govern must be cautious about things that incite desire. The Chongxu Jing (i.e., Liezi) also notes that when rulers indulged, the people followed suit, whereas the ancient sages, being detached and desireless, fostered natural simplicity among the populace.

Thus, the foundation of the sage's governance lies in Wuwei. The Tongxuan Jing explains that sages took emptiness and stillness as their root, followed the natural Dao, and achieved great order through serene non-action. They remained open-hearted ("emptying their minds") because they recognized their own limitations. It was precisely by seeing their shortcomings that they became truly wise, while the arrogant and extravagant could not endure.

The ancient sages valued inner cultivation without neglecting outward manifestation, thus maintaining inner fulfillment while reducing desires. They advocated restraining personal will (weakening the will), for when the mind is serene, one naturally comprehends the Dao. What appears soft and weak can accomplish great things; without deliberate scheming, one attains results naturally.

In cultivating the body, one must strengthen the sinews and bones (strengthening the bones). The perfected beings of antiquity discarded cleverness and artifice, eliminating superficial adornments, thereby achieving communion with the divine and attaining the state of Wuwei (non-action). With the five viscera at peace and thoughts tranquil, the sinews and bones naturally become robust, the ears keen and eyes sharp. This inner strength never exhausts itself and can reach everywhere.

In governing the people, one must follow the principle of Wuwei (constantly keeping the people simple). In ancient times, when rulers practiced non-action, the people naturally followed suit. Maintaining a state of pristine simplicity—free from knowledge and desire (without knowledge or desire)—allows the populace to preserve their innate genuineness. Even if clever individuals exist, they dare not act recklessly.

To implement governance through non-action (acting through non-action) is the essential art of imperial rule. What appears as detached inaction actually accomplishes all things; what seems like unforced governance actually leaves nothing ungoverned.

Chapter Four discusses the essence of the Dao (The Dao is Empty). The Dao resembles harmonious Qi (vital energy), permeating everywhere and nourishing all beings. Whether tiny ants, humble tiles and stones, or lowly weeds and chaff, the Dao nurtures them all equally. It blunts sharp edges (blunting sharpness), resolves conflicts (dispersing entanglement), harmonizes radiance (harmonizing brilliance), and does not disdain even the filthiest waste (uniting with the dust). The Dao appears empty yet truly exists; we cannot know its concrete form, yet it predates the Celestial Emperor, being the primordial Qi that constitutes all things.

(Note: The "Tongxuan Jing" refers to the Tongxuan Zhenjing; the "Nanhua Jing" is the Zhuangzi; the "five viscera" indicate the heart, liver, spleen, lungs, and kidneys; "Xiangdi" signifies that the Dao's form existed prior to the Celestial Emperor.)

The Dao is ethereal and void (the Tongxuan Jing states: The Great Dao manifests clarity through the harmonious blending of Yin and Yang Qi). Though seemingly empty, it functions ceaselessly (Tongxuan Jing: Subtle Illumination Chapter says: The Dao appears vacant yet its efficacy is inexhaustible, never running dry). It can never be filled to capacity (Tongxuan Jing explains: The Dao resembles harmonious currents of Qi—full yet never overflowing).

Profound as the root of all things (Nanhua Jing states: The Dao of Heaven generates the myriad beings through balanced Qi, its creative force permeating everywhere), the Dao rounds sharp edges (Tongxuan Jing clarifies: It dissolves violent and malicious tendencies), resolves conflicts (Tongxuan Jing says: It pacifies all strife and chaos), harmonizes brilliance (Tongxuan Jing notes: It dispels resentment and opposition), and blends with worldly dust (Tongxuan Jing describes: The Dao coexists peacefully with earthly impurities). Transparent yet undeniably real (Tongxuan Jing affirms: The Dao of Heaven maintains this clarity, eternally serene and lucid).

Its origins remain unknowable (Nanhua Jing states: I know not whose child it is), seemingly predating the Celestial Emperor (Nanhua Jing records: Ran Qiu once asked Confucius, "Can the formless Dao give birth to the tangible heavens and earth?" Confucius replied, "Indeed. Those tangible things existing before heaven and earth were concrete entities, yet the Dao that creates them is itself no concrete thing").

Chapter Five on Heaven and Earth (discussed in Nanhua Jing: Journey to the North): Heaven and Earth embody ultimate beauty yet never speak; the four seasons follow precise rhythms yet never debate; the myriad beings grow by fixed principles yet never explain. The ancient sages comprehended this supreme beauty of natural Wuwei (non-action) and penetrated the spontaneous patterns of creation. Thus, the highest adepts align with nature, and the greatest sages refrain from forceful interference. Observing Heaven and Earth’s Wuwei operation, there’s no need for deliberate instruction in shallow virtues like humaneness and righteousness, nor excessive rhetoric. Like wind bending grass through subtle influence, sages govern effortlessly—and the world finds peace of its own accord.

The operations of Heaven and Earth do not intentionally display benevolence (where "benevolence" refers to artificial human kindness)—they treat all things equally, like straw dogs used in sacrificial rituals ("straw dogs" were ritual objects discarded after use). The Dao of Heaven and Earth is rooted in natural virtue (De), and all things follow their own inherent patterns. Though the interplay of Yin-Yang, the four seasons, and the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water—the fundamental elements composing all phenomena) all belong to the great Dao, each manifests in its own distinct way. The wise do not forcibly instruct others, and the capable do not compel others to accept their ways. Thus, Heaven and Earth regard all things with impartiality.

The sage likewise emulates Heaven and Earth, refraining from deliberate displays of benevolence and treating the common people like straw ritual objects. When sages establish laws, it is to guide the hearts of the people, allowing them to develop naturally. True kindness and righteousness are, in fact, limited—obsession with petty kindness and righteousness can lead one astray from the great Dao. The sage maintains a state of emptiness and stillness ("emptiness and stillness" is a vital Daoist practice, referring to a mind free of artificial striving), thereby attaining the highest state of being. This is the virtue (De) of unity with Heaven.

The space between Heaven and Earth is like a great bellows ("tuoyue" were leather bellows used in ancient smelting). The sounds rising from the earth are the natural resonance of countless hollows in the wind, and the voices of all things arise spontaneously, not because they are driven by any deliberate force. When the wind is still, all sounds cease; when it stirs, countless voices emerge.

The wisest sages govern the world by emulating Heaven and Earth's emptiness, stillness, and non-action (Wuwei). Only by understanding the principle of maintaining emptiness and stillness can one endure eternally, like Heaven and Earth. Just as the ancient sage-kings ruled the world by following natural patterns rather than forcing interventions, they achieved the most harmonious governance.

On the broad thoroughfare, children were heard chanting: "To nurture us common folk, none but your virtue (De) sustains. Without deliberate knowing, we naturally follow the celestial laws." When Tang Xi asked who taught them this song, the children replied it was an ancient poem passed down through generations.

Excessive pursuit of rhetoric and calculation leads only to entanglement. The Scripture of Penetrating Mystery (Tongxuan Jing) observes that after later generations mastered written records, the Dao (the Way) declined; after excelling in calculations, virtue (De) diminished. Those who rely on techniques labor in vain, for words and calculations are human constructs. Speech arises from cleverness, and cleverness easily breeds deception, distancing one from the essence of the Dao. Rather than indulging in these, one should hold fast to inner emptiness and harmony. The Scripture of Master Chongxu (Chongxu Jing) records that the regions of Qi and Lu were filled with people skilled in cunning schemes.

The Scripture of Penetrating Mystery emphasizes that the root of teaching lies in abandoning petty cleverness. Those who embody the Dao remain at ease, never distressed, while the divine transformations of creation act through non-action (Wuwei), yet resonate with all things under heaven. Such is the wordless teaching of heaven and earth—vast and magnificent indeed! If later generations grasp this principle, they touch the "Celestial Treasury" (the inexhaustible source of wisdom). The Dao acts through non-action, just as heaven and earth teach without words.

Regarding the chapter on the "Valley Spirit" (Zhuangzi states that though the Dao is formless, it contains the vitality from which even ghosts, spirits, and the Celestial Lord arise. Heaven and earth operate by attaining the Dao: heaven attains it to remain clear and govern movement, earth attains it to remain tranquil and fulfill its function):

The "Valley Spirit" (the eternal creative force within emptiness) never perishes. The Scripture of Master Chongxu says heaven and earth ceaselessly generate and transform without pause, as evidenced by the cycle of the four seasons.

This is the "Mysterious Feminine" (the generative matrix of Yin-Yang). The Scripture of Master Chongxu states that the Dao endlessly generates and transforms all things, manifest through the interplay of Yin and Yang.

The "gateway of the Mysterious Feminine" (the portal of Yin-Yang transformation). The Scripture of Master Chongxu explains that though the transformations of Yin and Yang appear independent, their underlying principle is unfathomable.

This is the root of heaven and earth. The Scripture of Master Chongxu declares that the cyclical motion of heaven and earth through the seasons has no end.

It endures continuously, seeming both present and absent. The Scripture of Master Chongxu describes this state, while the Scripture of Penetrating Mystery proclaims the Dao as supremely numinous.

This scripture primarily explains that heaven and earth endure because they follow the natural principle of "selflessness." It cites multiple Daoist classics (such as the Nanhua Jing, Chongxu Jing, and Tongxuan Jing) to illustrate this truth.

First, it clarifies the principle of "heaven's movement and earth's bearing": Heaven and earth operate ceaselessly ("continuous as if ever-present"), yet never strain or force their function ("used without exhaustion"). As the Nanhua Jing states, heaven moves naturally, earth bears naturally—both follow the patterns of nature.

The reason heaven and earth endure is that they do not strive for their own existence ("do not live for themselves"). The Nanhua Jing uses metaphors to illustrate this: Heaven is naturally lofty, earth is naturally vast, the sun and moon are naturally luminous—none require deliberate effort. Precisely because they do not force anything, they endure eternally. The Tongxuan Jing adds that heaven and earth harbor no selfishness, favoring nothing ("neither rejecting nor approaching with bias"), and thus they endure.

Next, it discusses the way of the sage: Ancient sages (such as Yao abdicating the throne to Shun) emulated the selflessness of heaven and earth. They did not compete to be first ("put themselves last"), yet ultimately led; they did not cling to life ("placed themselves outside life"), yet preserved it. This was precisely because they lacked selfishness, and thus fulfilled themselves.

The Tongxuan Jing points out that the law of heaven and earth prioritizes "yielding," and sages emulate this wisdom of "retreat" ("follow the Dao's way of yielding"), willingly positioning themselves behind others, thereby attaining peace. All this demonstrates that "selflessness" is the fundamental principle for achieving lasting fulfillment.

The Tongxuan Jing (Scripture of Pervading Mystery) teaches that yielding may actually lead one to advance, for this is the natural principle of heaven and earth's operation. By placing oneself behind others, one ultimately preserves oneself. Is this not because the sage has no selfish desires? Precisely through this selflessness, one achieves self-fulfillment.

The ancient sages emulated the Dao of heaven, embodying supreme goodness like water. Though the softest substance under heaven, water nourishes all things without contention, willingly occupying the low places people despise. Water's nature nearly approximates the realm of Dao: it dwells in low-lying places (like the earth moistening all things), its heart-mind is as vast as the abyss (immeasurably profound), and its giving is filled with De (Virtue) (nourishing the world without seeking reward).

(Note: This passage elucidates the Daoist principle of "the soft and weak overcoming the hard and strong" through water's characteristics. The Tongxuan Jing was an important Tang dynasty Daoist text, while the Nanhua Jing refers to the Zhuangzi. The repeated emphasis on concepts like "non-contention" and "dwelling below" exemplifies the Daoist wisdom of "non-action yet nothing left undone" in worldly affairs.)