《道德真經四子古道集解》Vol. 7

This scripture primarily discusses the distinction between "pursuing knowledge" and "pursuing the Dao (the Way)," as well as the political philosophy of "governance through Wuwei (non-action)."

Regarding the pursuit of knowledge, if one merely seeks erudition and extensive learning, it can actually lead to mental confusion. Just as during the Zhou Dynasty, despite its vast scholarship, society remained turbulent. Focusing solely on minor academic pursuits like textual exegesis while failing to comprehend the clear essence of the great Dao makes effective governance of a nation exceedingly difficult.

The method of pursuing the Dao operates in precisely the opposite manner—it requires daily reduction of distracting thoughts and desires (this is the meaning of "daily diminishing for the Dao"). One must continuously pare away until reaching the state of Wuwei. This non-action doesn't mean doing nothing, but rather acting in accordance with natural laws ("non-action yet nothing is left undone"). The truly sublime method of governance maintains this state of non-action at all levels of society.

The key to governing the world lies in reducing human intervention ("avoiding meddlesomeness"). Just as worms hollow out a tree from within, people who constantly stir up affairs ultimately harm themselves. Attempting to solve problems through complicated methods is like trying to clarify muddy water by stirring it—the more one interferes, the murkier it becomes. The higher one's position, the more one should avoid cumbersome administrative affairs; otherwise, effective governance becomes impossible.

The text later explains that sages (those who have attained the Dao) hold no fixed ideas, but rather adopt the people's thoughts as their own. Ancient sages constantly sought to benefit others, and their benevolent influence extended to the four seas. Although later generations established various laws, rewards, and punishments, they failed to transform social customs precisely because rulers didn't follow the Dao. Those who truly understand the Dao can discern popular sentiment by listening to music and gauge the effectiveness of moral education by observing customs. Without uttering a single word, the common people are naturally transformed. When sages care for the people as tenderly as protecting infants, all under heaven naturally gravitate toward them.

The Scripture of Penetrating Mystery (Tongxuan Jing) states that when a sage occupies a high position, the people find peace and contentment under his governance; when he holds a humble station, they still revere his virtue (De). To those who are good, I respond with goodness (the Tongxuan Jing notes that ancient sages pursued virtuous deeds as if they could never catch up and shunned wrongdoing as if avoiding calamity. Without leaving their court, they rectified the world, for the people were transformed by their goodness—the key being that the sage first embodied it himself). To those who are not good, I still respond with goodness, for this is true virtuous power (De) (the Tongxuan Jing says that ancient rulers attributed achievements to the people and faults to themselves, constantly reflecting inward).

To those who are trustworthy, I respond with trust (the Tongxuan Jing explains that the noble person’s words are credible and their intentions sincere; such loyalty and trust emanate from within, naturally inspiring others. Ancient sages could teach the world without leaving their seats, as the people transformed as if divinely awakened—rooted in the sage’s own embodiment of trust first). To those who are untrustworthy, I still respond with trust, for this is true integrity (the Tongxuan Jing states that ancient rulers ascribed uprightness to the people and errors to themselves, always withdrawing to self-examine).

When sages govern the world (the Tongxuan Jing emphasizes that the foundation of ruling lies in securing the people’s well-being. The Scripture of Southern Florescence (Nanhua Jing) also records that ancient rulers, upon witnessing wrongdoing, would withdraw and reflect on their own faults), they remain vigilant and labor for all under heaven (the Tongxuan Jing describes how the ancient perfected ones (zhiren) cultivated inner sincerity, their virtue (De) radiating in all directions. They rejoiced at the world’s benefit, treasuring it in memory, and grieved at its harm as if in mourning). They preserve an undivided, simple heart (the Tongxuan Jing holds that those who share joy and sorrow with the world invariably achieve kingly success).

The people invariably attend to the sage’s words and deeds (the Tongxuan Jing says: when the ruler worries for the people’s worries, the people worry for his; when he delights in their joys, they delight in his). The sage cherishes the people as one would children (the Tongxuan Jing elaborates: when superiors regard inferiors as their children, the inferiors regard them as parents; when superiors treat them as younger siblings, the inferiors see them as elder siblings. Those who govern with a parent’s heart will rule the world; those who serve with a child’s heart will rectify it; those who treat the people as siblings will inspire them to face death for their sake).

This scripture contrasts ancient military strategies with those of the Warring States period, revealing the immense casualties caused by warfare. It points out that despite the rulers and generals of the seven warring states being well-versed in strategic terrain and battle formations, their conflicts left corpses strewn across fields and blood flowing for miles. Both victors and vanquished suffered devastating losses—such methods of warfare could never embody true governance.

Those skilled in leading armies in ancient times never drove their soldiers into hopeless situations. Yet the wars of the Warring States period turned every battlefield into a death trap. Weapons themselves determine life and death: wielded wisely, they bring benefit; wielded recklessly, they bring calamity.

The text employs numerical analogies: one-thirteenth of deaths result from facing overwhelming odds with inferior forces; another one-thirteenth come from the backlash of war (killing ten thousand enemies at the cost of three thousand of one's own); and yet another one-thirteenth perish in strategically fatal battlegrounds. By nature, all people yearn to live, yet war pushes them toward death.

The root cause lies in the fact that the people of the Warring States could not live out their natural lifespans—all because of the slaughter of war. Excessive pursuit of security ironically invites destruction. Those truly skilled in nurturing life need not rely on the strength of fierce beasts to prove their wisdom. Just as fishermen in water do not flee from flood dragons, and hunters on land do not fear tigers, the truly courageous face swords and spears with equanimity, unshaken by the specter of death.

This scripture primarily describes the harmonious coexistence between humans and nature during ancient times of great peace, while elucidating the essential nature of the Dao (the Way) in nurturing all beings.

Regarding the depiction of the golden age: In antiquity when Dao and De (Virtue/Power) flourished, rhinoceroses never gored people with their horns, tigers never attacked with their claws, and weapons found no occasion for their blades. This was because the strong did not oppress the weak, the many did not bully the few, and all people could peacefully live out their natural lifespans. With universal peace prevailing and no warfare, people never found themselves in life-threatening situations.

On the nature of the Dao: All things are generated by the Dao (the Way gives them birth), while De nourishes and sustains them. The Dao operates like a great furnace of heaven and earth, using yin-yang as its charcoal and the four seasons as its bellows to shape all creation. The spring growth of plants and autumn ripening of fruits all manifest the Dao's operation. Though all things follow the Dao's patterns, the Dao itself acts without deliberate intention (heaven and earth practice wuwei - non-action).

Neither heaven actively produces creatures nor earth consciously cultivates them, yet all beings naturally transform and grow. All things emerge from nothingness, experiencing birth and death, coming and going, yet people cannot perceive their ultimate source or gateway—this is what we call the "Gate of Heaven," the portal of spontaneous emergence.

This passage elucidates the nourishing function of Dao (the Way) and De (Virtue/Power) upon all beings. It reveals that De (as the concrete manifestation and operation of Dao) serves as the fundamental nourishing force for all existence – without such nourishment, nothing can properly flourish. Heaven and Earth nurture all things through seasonal cycles and life-giving moisture, while the Earth supports all beings by providing the environment for growth. Thus, all things revere Dao and cherish De, for Dao bestows life while De fosters development; together they function like parents to all creation.

The reverence accorded to Dao and the value placed on De do not stem from artificially conferred status, but emerge spontaneously from nature's patterns. The Dao of Heaven manifests through the four seasons: spring initiates growth, summer fosters development, autumn brings fruition, and winter provides conservation. Heaven and Earth nourish all things without claiming possession, bestow blessings without demanding repayment – this selfless action embodies nature's supreme principle. As the scripture states, nothing rivals Heaven's numinous potency or Earth's abundant generosity; they transform and nurture all existence without asserting moral superiority, benefiting countless generations without seeking recompense. This characteristic of giving birth without possessing perfectly illustrates the Dao's governance through wuwei (non-action).

All things in the world possess their own colors and forms, and these external manifestations are clearly evident. Yet while the Dao (the cosmic origin) endows all things with color, it never displays any form or hue itself—this precisely embodies the Dao's characteristic of Wuwei (non-action).

The Dao nurtures all things without claiming merit. As the Tongxuan Jing states: "The eternal Dao is the root of all growth. Though we cannot see how it operates, all things are naturally perfected—this is the realm of 'spiritual non-action.'" The Chongxu Jing similarly illustrates: "All things produce sounds, yet the Dao itself never utters a sound."

The Dao governs all things without domination. The Tongxuan Jing explains: "The Dao perfects all without imposing control—this formless virtue is 'spiritual non-action.'" Continuing this theme, the Chongxu Jing employs the metaphor of flavor: "All things possess taste, yet the Dao itself remains flavorless."

This constitutes the most profound "Mysterious Virtue" (the Dao's hidden power). The Chongxu Jing describes: "The Dao perfects all opposites—Yin-Yang, hardness-softness, life-death—while remaining without cognition or action itself, yet enabling all things to attain their proper place." This quality of accomplishing everything through apparent non-action represents the supreme virtue.

(The current chapter of the Nanhua Jing observes) Heaven and Earth operate through the natural principles of the six directions and Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water). When rulers align with this non-active Dao, they can govern the nation peacefully. Ancient sage-kings, though possessing heavenly wisdom, never acted willfully; though capable beyond measure, they never forced interventions. Just as Heaven produces without intention and all things transform spontaneously, as Earth nurtures without effort and all things grow naturally, so too when emperors hold fast to non-action, the world finds peace of its own accord.

The ancient sages understood how Heaven and Earth formed the patterns of Yin-Yang, and how all beings came into existence - all governed by the Dao (the fundamental cosmic principle). The true Dao requires no deliberate action or verbal expression, embodying the state of Wuwei (non-action, or acting in accordance with nature). It resembles the mother that nurtures all things.

The Tongxuan Jing (Scripture of Pervading Mystery), Chapter on Sincerity states: The Son of Heaven takes Heaven and Earth as his model, and all beings as his foundation. His merit and virtue reach the highest honor. Such De (virtue/power) matches that of Heaven and Earth, therefore one must follow the Great Dao as the fundamental principle for governing the world.

By comprehending the Dao as the root (mother), one can understand all things that stem from it (children). The Nanhua Jing (Classic of Southern Florescence) points out: Heaven and Earth appear to do nothing, yet accomplish everything. After realizing that all things originate from the Great Dao, one must still hold fast to the root and maintain the state of Wuwei, allowing all beings to transform and nurture naturally. Thus one may live free from peril throughout life.

The Tongxuan Jing teaches: The foundation of cultivation lies in abandoning cleverness and cunning, closing the gates of sensory desires (the "four gates" refer to eyes, ears, nose and mouth; the "five emotions" to joy, anger, sorrow, pleasure and desire). When the heart-mind merges with the Dao and the Shen (spirit) returns to the formless true Dao, one may enjoy lifelong peace.

One must block the openings of desire (the "exchange" refers to the mouth): The sages of highest antiquity spoke appropriately without reckless words, their thoughts were penetrating yet free from delusion, they followed their innate nature without being disturbed by cleverness. Closing the doors of desire (the "doors" refer to eyes and ears): The ancient sages had keen ears yet did not listen recklessly, sharp eyes yet did not gaze indiscriminately, maintaining inner clarity. Thus they never exhausted their spirit throughout life.

The Tongxuan Jing warns: Later generations of shallow people (xiaocheng refers to those with superficial understanding) act deliberately, engage in contentious debates, employ scheming minds, and use clever words to adorn worldly affairs; they further employ book learning to stir up matters, using eyes and ears to chase external things. Such methods that go against nature will never bring true salvation throughout one's lifetime.

This passage elucidates the methods for practitioners to control desires and maintain inner purity in their cultivation of the Dao.

If one merely forcibly restrains what the eyes wish to see without fundamentally adjusting the desires within the heart-mind, or simply blocks what the ears wish to hear without investigating the root of these sensory cravings, it's as futile as confining wild beasts without mending the pen's walls, or attempting to stem a river's flow with bare hands. Thus, indulging sensory desires and becoming engrossed in worldly affairs will forever prevent true liberation.

Genuine wisdom lies in perceiving the subtle (seeing the small is called illumination). When ancient sages governed the world, they maintained enduring peace by holding fast to the profound and mysterious Dao, preserving humble and seemingly simple attitudes, and governing through wuwei (non-action).

Maintaining softness achieves true strength (holding to weakness is called strength). The primordial sages ruled the world by adhering to the way of pliancy—appearing insignificant yet accomplishing great deeds. Though erudite, they manifested wooden silence, protecting all under heaven through wuwei.

Overusing cleverness (employing its light) ultimately causes harm. Later generations chasing superficial brilliance must eventually return to fundamental radiance (return to their light), but those severely damaged find longevity difficult.

Do not invite misfortune upon yourself. When Dao cultivators excessively employ cunning intellect, they disturb the Dao-mind; harboring craftiness leads to peril; greedy eyes bring confusion. Desires scatter jing (essence) and qi (vital energy); attachments and aversions exhaust shen (spirit). Unless swiftly eliminated, one's vital resolve gradually dissipates, ultimately forfeiting one's natural lifespan. Excessive external adornment injures the inner being; indulging emotions harms the primordial spirit; pursuing ornate appearances obscures original truth.

This constitutes following eternal constancy (inheriting the constant). Ancient sages purified their vision without covetous gazing, quieted their hearing without vain listening, closed their mouths without idle speech, released thoughts without anxiety, abandoned cleverness to return to primal simplicity (taisu), allowing the spirit to rest. Eliminating cunning, transcending preferences, they merged with the Great Dao through wuwei, thereby succeeding in all endeavors.

This scripture, through the exposition of several Daoist classics, reveals the current state of moral decline in society and its root causes. The Dongling Jing (Scripture of the Cavern of Numinous Power) observes that in recent times, the world has seen an increase in deceitful and wicked individuals while upright and virtuous people have become scarce. People admire frivolity and licentiousness, while qualities like honesty, integrity, and the practice of Wuwei (non-action) are no longer valued. The cunning use sweet words to deceive the loyal and virtuous, leading the masses to imitate depraved customs and stray from the Dao (the Way).

In ancient times, heaven and earth were in harmony, and all things grew in simplicity—even ghosts and spirits could not cause mischief. But in this age of decline, rulers pursue strange and extravagant affairs, while ministers behave eccentrically, giving rise to the widespread practice of occult arts. This is not because people fail to revere the divine, but rather because excessive and improper sacrifices (yinsi) provoke the wrath of the spirits. The common people eagerly follow deviant paths to serve ghosts and deities, and this culture of improper worship brings forth calamities, ruining families and destroying livelihoods.

The Chongxu Jing (Scripture of the Void and the Pivot) adds that as ren (humaneness) and yi (righteousness) decline, the people’s nature becomes increasingly shallow, making it difficult to uphold the Great Dao. The Tongxuan Jing (Scripture of Penetrating the Mysteries) further notes that while people may delight in hearing virtuous words and admire the noble conduct of sages, few actually practice the Dao in their lives. The Dao is inherently smooth and easy to follow—it is always close at hand—yet people prefer to take treacherous and crooked paths.

The Dongling Jing further criticizes rulers for neglecting the root of governance: the court indulges in massive construction projects (such as extravagant palaces that exhaust the people), while farmland lies abandoned. The ancient sage-kings governed the world by prioritizing agriculture. When farmers are simple and honest, they are easy to govern, and the borders remain secure; those who work the land are pure-hearted and free from selfish desires, naturally abiding by public laws. But now, people abandon the foundation of farming to chase after secondary pursuits (such as commerce), and this is precisely the root of social turmoil.

The Tongxuan Jing records the governance principles of Shennong: If able-bodied men do not till the fields, people will starve; if women do not weave, people will suffer cold. Therefore, the emperor personally plowed the fields and the empress personally wove cloth, setting an example for all under heaven. If farmers do not diligently cultivate, they cannot sustain life; if weavers do not work hard, there will be no clothing for covering the body. Only when the people have sufficient food and clothing will wickedness cease to arise. The foundation of governance lies in not disrupting the farming seasons, allowing the people to focus on production. The Dongling Jing states: Farmers are responsible for grain, craftsmen make tools, and merchants circulate goods. Grain is the foundation of people's survival, thus wise rulers must value agriculture. If a ruler neglects farming, it is tantamount to abandoning the people—how can such a state endure?

The Tongxuan Jing points out: Sagely emperors enrich the people, hegemonic rulers only pursue territorial expansion, and doomed states enrich only their officials. A well-governed country may appear to have insufficient resources, while a ruler on the path to ruin will have empty granaries. Thus, if the ruler does not disturb the people, they will naturally prosper.

The Nanhua Jing (i.e., the Zhuangzi) criticizes the chaos of degenerate ages: People become obsessed with extravagant clothing and dazzling colors, losing their original minds and neglecting proper duties. Such pursuit of superficial beauty corrupts the people's simple customs. Zhuangzi once admonished King Wen of Zhao, who was fond of swordsmanship: "Swords are of three kinds—the sword of the Son of Heaven, the sword of feudal lords, and the sword of commoners. Your Majesty occupies the position of the Son of Heaven yet indulges in the fencing of commoners—this is truly beneath your dignity." Deeply moved, King Wen remained secluded in his palace for three months, and all the swordsmen dispersed in shame.

The Nanhua Jing further criticizes: People in degenerate ages crave fine flavors and musical indulgence, likewise losing their original minds and neglecting proper duties. The greedy for wealth will ultimately bring disgrace upon themselves; those craving power will exhaust their spirits; those obsessed with profit will eventually suffer harm. Such behavior is as shameful as thieves flaunting their loot. These seven desires (referring to the aforementioned cravings for fine clothing, beauty, flavors, music, wealth, power, and material goods) are the greatest scourges under heaven, yet people often indulge in them unknowingly. The Chongxu Jing concludes: When those above illuminate through teaching, and those below follow the correct path, the people will naturally develop a sense of shame.

This passage elucidates the principles of governing a nation and cultivating one's character. Those who rely on cunning strategies and extravagant displays to rule a country will ultimately fail, as such methods are not in accordance with the Dao (the Way).

In ancient times, those who excelled at establishing achievements built accomplishments that remained unshakable. From the Son of Heaven to commoners, each person has their own way of life, yet the quality of life varies. Historical tragedies of fallen states and ruined families all stem from abandoning moral principles. If one remains vigilant and acts prudently, calamities can be avoided; but if desires are indulged and diligence slackens, ruin may come at any moment. Had tyrants like Jie of Xia and Zhou of Shang followed the Dao, even virtuous rulers like Tang of Shang and Wu of Zhou could not have established their dynasties.

Those truly skilled at building achievements (referring to governing through De, Virtue) create enduring accomplishments that cannot be toppled. Those adept at preserving foundations (referring to upholding morality) ensure their legacy remains unbroken. King Wen of Zhou serves as the exemplar—his humility, frugality, and measured conduct earned divine protection, allowing the Zhou dynasty to endure for thirty generations. True preservers never lose what they've gained. The ancient sage-kings, even in positions of great honor, never grew arrogant, thus maintaining their prosperity indefinitely. King Wen's virtue was such that even the tyrannical King Zhou could not harm him, and the Zhou's seven-century reign was truly heaven-mandated.

Genuine wealth and honor come from never departing from the Dao and De, with blessings extending to descendants—this was the governing principle of ancient sage-kings. For ordinary people, cultivating personal virtue constitutes the most authentic De. As long as scholars and commoners adhere to the Dao's principles, they can preserve themselves. Thus we see that self-cultivation is the fundamental root.

This scripture primarily discusses the relationship between personal cultivation and the expansion of virtue (De), as well as how different social classes should practice self-cultivation to govern the state. It cites perspectives from the Tongxuan Jing (Scripture of Pervading Mystery) and Nanhua Jing (Classic of Southern Florescence) as supporting evidence.

First, it addresses personal cultivation: If one can cultivate oneself, their virtue will become genuine and pure. The Nanhua Jing states that in ancient times, when ordinary people (commoners) each rectified their conduct, this constituted the finest form of governance.

Next, it expands to the family level: When scholar-officials (ancient ministers) cultivated their households well, their virtue became abundant and overflowing. The Tongxuan Jing explains that ancient scholar-officials who followed the Dao (the Way) would never lose their families.

Then it extends to the local community: When regional governors cultivated their villages, their virtue endured. The Tongxuan Jing records that ancient regional officials who followed the Dao could effectively govern their localities.

Moving to feudal lords governing states: When feudal lords cultivated their domains, their virtue became plentiful. The Nanhua Jing remarks that feudal lords capable of self-cultivation practiced the best form of state governance.

Finally, addressing the Son of Heaven ruling the world: When the emperor cultivated all under heaven, his virtue spread universally. The Tongxuan Jing states that ancient emperors who followed the Dao could maintain long-lasting rule over the world.

The text then contrasts these ideals with the consequences of neglecting cultivation: Commoners who fail to cultivate lose themselves; scholar-officials lose their families; regional officials lose their villages; feudal lords lose their states; and the Son of Heaven loses the world.

Concluding with governance wisdom from the Tongxuan Jing: The foundation of preserving a state lies in skillful protection rather than reckless expansion. Just as a house's beams must be sturdy enough to bear weight, governing a state requires profound virtue.

Chapter 55 (corresponding to Nanhua Jing's "Horse Hooves" chapter) describes how in ancient times when the Great Dao prevailed, the people were all as pure and simple as newborn infants.

This passage describes the ideal state of harmony between humans and nature in ancient times. It explains that people of that era lived with simple, unadorned behavior, not distinguishing east from west, seeing things in a hazy manner without knowing day from night. Though beasts roamed in herds and plants grew in abundance, animals could be led by ropes without harming people, and bird nests could be climbed to observe without fear of being pecked. This wasn't because the animals had become tame, but because humans understood how to discern safety from danger, recognize fortune and misfortune, and act with caution—so nothing could harm them. All this stemmed from the profound Dao (the Way) and De (Virtue/Power) embodied within their hearts.

The Chongxu Jing records that in the most ancient times, beasts and humans coexisted without conflict. It was only during the reigns of the Five Emperors and Three Sovereigns that animals began to scatter in alarm. By the decadent age, beasts fled and hid to escape calamity. The Tongxuan Jing states that when Dao and De declined in later ages, humans grew cruel—even insects and snakes would harm people, forcing them to forge weapons for defense. In antiquity, people's Dao and De ran deep; their hearts were as pure as infants', free from thoughts of profit or harm, allowing them to maintain simplicity and longevity.

The text mentions that when the supreme sages of old governed the world, they embraced Dao and De within, remaining serene and joyful without arrogance. Their harmonious virtue meant no thieves arose. Like infants, they were innocent and unknowing—walking all day without knowing where to go, dwelling peacefully without purpose, their bodies still as withered branches. Such people neither attracted misfortune nor invited blessings, for both were irrelevant to them. Malevolent beings and calamities could not harm them.

The Tongxuan Jing·Jingcheng Chapter recounts that under Fuxi's rule, his De nurtured all things without killing. Poisonous insects sheathed their stingers, and fierce beasts retracted their claws, causing no harm—all due to the depth of Dao and De.

This passage draws upon multiple Daoist classics to expound upon the state of natural harmony achieved through "containing De" (the cultivation of inner Virtue/Power).

It begins by describing the ancient era when Fuxi ruled the land. His profound De was such that even fierce beasts became tame and harmless, while birds' nests could be touched without provoking attack. This illustrates the transformative power of moral virtue upon all creatures.

The text then employs infant physiology as metaphor: though babies have weak muscles and bones, they naturally clench their fists; though unaware of sexual matters, they exhibit natural physiological responses; they can cry all day without becoming hoarse. These phenomena are interpreted as manifestations of "the perfection of Jing" (pure essence) and "the perfection of harmony" (balanced Yin-Yang).

A distinction is made between ancient and later ages: the ancients valued life over material gain, thus achieving longevity; later generations disregarded life in pursuit of profit, resulting in physical and mental deterioration. Understanding the way of harmony is called "the Constant" (eternal principle), and comprehending this principle constitutes "enlightened wisdom."

Finally, it outlines characteristics of different life stages: childhood pursues clever skills and empty fame; adulthood brims with vigorous Qi and expanding desires; old age brings waning vitality. Forcing Qi through willpower ("the mind driving Qi") may appear strong but actually violates the Dao (Wuwei), for when things reach their zenith, they inevitably decline. This reveals the Daoist dialectical principle that "what flourishes must age."

Those who belittle their own bodies will find illness collectively destroying them. Only those with tranquil and joyful hearts can truly comprehend the essence of Dao (the Way) and De (Virtue/Power). If one forcefully pursues what is contrary to Dao and De yet deludedly seeks to preserve it eternally, such a thing is fundamentally impossible in this world. Those who defy Dao and De often meet an early demise.

The Chongxu Jing states: When a person faces death, their life’s Qi (vital energy) disperses, ultimately returning to the ultimate state of nothingness.

Chapter Five discusses how "the truly wise do not speak lightly." The Nanhua Jing (Zhuangzi) points out that the ancient truths of Dao and De were obscured by the later doctrines of the Hundred Schools of Thought. The Nine Schools of Philosophy, upon hearing differing theories, rejoiced excessively, binding themselves with rules to cope with worldly crises—yet in doing so, they disrupted the ancient traditions of Dao and De, no longer aligning with the ways of the ancient sage-kings. What difference is there between those who govern the world and nurture the people, and a horse herder? Merely the removal of the unruly horses. Those so-called wise men who harm the people find no joy without the pleasure of thought; the eloquent are unhappy without opportunities to debate; the contentious are discontent without opponents to argue against. Such people are all constrained by external things, losing the original purity of Dao.

Those who seek fame and status aspire to prominence in court; ordinary people take pride in official titles; the strong boast of overcoming hardships; the brave delight in facing calamities; soldiers revel in warfare; ascetic recluses pursue reputation; legalists zealously advocate broad governance; ritualists emphasize outward decorum; and the righteous prioritize social connections. If wealth is not accumulated, the greedy grieve; if power is insufficient, the vainglorious lament. These pursuers of external things crave change, seizing every opportunity to act—yet inevitably bring harm. The doctrines of the Nine Schools obstruct the great Dao, and book learning only further confuses the truth.

The truly wise do not speak excessively (the Nanhua Jing says the ancient sages practiced Wuwei (non-action), free from thought and worry—only then could they be said to understand Dao, hence the wise do not speak). Those who chatter eloquently do not truly comprehend Dao (the Nanhua Jing states that lesser men act and thus value spreading words, defining things through writing, expressing through sound and form—such speakers do not truly understand, so how can ordinary people discern the truth?).

One must block the openings of desire (the Tongxuan Jing’s "De" chapter says the ancient sages sealed the apertures of desire, spoke with caution—the greatest eloquence appears as stammering). Close the gates of desire (the Tongxuan Jing states the ancient sages shut the doors of desire, concealed their brilliance—the greatest skill appears as clumsiness). Blunt the sharp edges (the Tongxuan Jing says the ancient sages withdrew their锋芒, abandoning forceful displays—even weapons became unnecessary). Resolve disputes (the Tongxuan Jing teaches that the ancient sages dissolved conflicts, eliminating strife and turmoil—thus the world naturally found peace).

This scripture explains the Daoist practitioner's method for attaining the state of "mysterious unity" (xuantong) - complete harmony with the Dao.

The text begins by advising practitioners to "blend their radiance," meaning ancient cultivators would conceal their brilliance to avoid arousing resentment or conflict. "Mingling with the dust" refers to coexisting with worldly affairs without drawing attention to one's differences, thereby preventing disputes. This is the essence of "mysterious unity." The Zhuangzi (Nanhua Jing) records Yan Hui speaking of relinquishing attachment to sensory perceptions, abandoning cleverness, freeing oneself from bodily constraints, and eliminating discriminating intellect - only then can one merge with the Dao, a state called "sitting in forgetfulness" (zuowang). The Tongxuan Jing similarly teaches that all things originally share one substance, with no absolute distinctions between right and wrong.

Having attained this state, practitioners transcend all worldly oppositions: they neither deliberately seek intimacy (as virtuous Confucians might, while Daoists have no need for social connections) nor intentionally distance themselves (as ritualists emphasize formalities, while Daoists remain indifferent). They are neither tempted by profit (as debaters delight in contention, while Daoists recognize strife as the root of chaos) nor threatened by harm (as warriors relish battle, while Daoists know weapons are instruments of destruction). They neither pursue high status (as Daoists don't require prominence for peace) nor despise lowliness (as Daoists feel no shame in poverty or hardship).

The text concludes by noting that ancient true practitioners saw through six distractions that unsettle the mind: praise and blame, ambitions, wealth and rank, fame and influence, authority, and profit. When the heart remains unmoved by these, one maintains perfect balance, reaching the supreme state of wuwei (non-action) that effortlessly accomplishes all things. This represents the most precious cultivation in all under heaven.