《道德真經疏義(一)》Vol. 11

The one who truly understands the Dao does not speak much, while those who indulge in eloquent discourse do not genuinely comprehend the Dao. Emperor Huizong of Song commented that the Dao cannot be investigated through questions nor answered through words. Those who have attained the Dao realize it through silent contemplation, with no need for speech at all. It is like when Nie Que asked Wang Ni four consecutive questions, and each time Wang Ni replied, "I do not know"—not because he truly lacked knowledge, but because the more one speaks, the further one strays from the Dao.

What can be discussed through words is merely the superficial appearance of things; what must be grasped through the heart is the subtle essence. The profound Dao is unfathomable—even if one wished to speak of it, it cannot be expressed. The Dao has no specific path to follow, so how can one even pose a question? The Dao itself requires no answer, so how could one respond? Those who believe they can understand the Dao through questions and answers are fundamentally mistaken. Practitioners must realize that the Dao can only be received through spiritual resonance, not transmitted through language; it can only be aligned with the heart, not pursued through outward forms. Thus, the highest form of speech transcends speech—one must reach the state of "forgetting words" and comprehend it through silence. As the Book of Changes states, "Silently, it is accomplished," and the Liezi says, "Through silence, it is attained"—both express this truth.

When Nie Que asked Wang Ni, "Do all things share a common standard?" and further inquired, "How can one know what one does not know?" and "What is the difference between ignorance and knowledge?"—four questions in total—Wang Ni replied each time, "I do not know." This was not because he truly lacked knowledge, but because he understood that "knowing" is only superficial cognition, while "not knowing" is profound realization; "knowing" remains on the surface, while "not knowing" penetrates to the core. This "not knowing" is true knowledge. Those who endlessly debate, no matter how much they speak, inevitably become entangled—how could they understand that the Dao cannot be conveyed through words, and that speech only leads one astray from its truth?

"Block the openings, shut the doors" (se qi dui, bi qi men). Emperor Huizong of Song explained that one must "expel distracting thoughts to preserve the spirit and withdraw into deep stillness." External temptations must not be allowed to disturb—guard the inner pivot. Internal desires must not be misled—establish boundaries outwardly. By blocking the sensory openings, one avoids internal and external disturbances, maintaining harmony and clarity without losing one's innate nature. When people sleep, their hun (ethereal soul) and po (corporeal soul) commune; when awake, their physical forms become active. All day long, they interact and entangle with external things, their hearts embroiled in endless conflict. By shutting the doors of desire, one returns to the original truth.

This passage elucidates the essential principles of Daoist mental cultivation. The core teaching suggests that when the mind harbors no contentious thoughts, it remains as naturally inaccessible as a door without a lock that can never be opened. Zhuangzi's concept of "sealing the senses to guard the spirit (Shen)" and the Yi Jing's instruction to "withdraw and conceal in secrecy" both convey this same truth.

By closing off sensory desires, one becomes impervious to external temptations, maintaining inner tranquility and uniting with the innate spirit—this is what is meant by "blocking the openings" (of desire). When one returns to their original nature and source, external influences cannot penetrate, allowing harmony with the Dao (the Way). This is the principle of "shutting the gates" (of desire). Guangchengzi, an immortal sage from the time of the Yellow Emperor, similarly advised: "Guard the inner mind with care and close off the external senses."

The passage further explains how to achieve this state: one must smooth out sharp edges and dissolve entanglements. Just as overly sharp flames can harm, their blunting renders them harmless; tangled threads create knots, but when straightened, they no longer snarl. Zhuangzi's teaching to "take depth as the root and simplicity as the guiding principle" expresses this idea. A deep foundation prevents deception by superficial appearances, while simplicity in practice avoids disturbance by complexity.

One must also "harmonize the light and blend with the dust": brilliance should be gentle, not glaring, as Zhuangzi describes, "moving with things like a serpent gliding through waves." Adapting to the natural flow of circumstances without forcing novelty allows harmonious coexistence with all things.

Ultimately, one attains the state of "mysterious unity (Xuantong)": returning to the profound depths of the Dao and merging with the fundamental "One." In this realm, all things and the self become indistinct—no separation exists between closeness and distance, benefit and harm, nobility and lowliness. This is entering the mysterious gate of the Dao, achieving the deepest state of oneness.

This passage discusses the Daoist concept of "Mysterious Unity" (xuantong) - a state transcending dualities and merging all into oneness.

The primordial state is profoundly dark and undifferentiated, where all things return to the Great Dao. By returning to this supremely mysterious state, one embraces all differences and achieves perfect unity. When a person can perceive the essential nature of all things and realize there's no fundamental separation between self and objects, they reach the state of forgetting both self and things, becoming one with all existence. In this state, one no longer clings to artificial distinctions like intimacy and estrangement, benefit and harm, nobility and baseness.

Emperor Huizong of Song's commentary notes: Ordinary people create distinctions of intimacy based on preferences, calculate gains and losses due to emotional attachments, and differentiate status through concerns of profit. These discriminating thoughts cycle endlessly without cessation. Those who truly attain the Dao transcend language and concepts, dissolve preferences and distinctions, and free themselves from emotional entanglements to achieve unity with the Dao. This inner fulfillment constitutes true nobility.

Worldly people persistently cling to distinguishing sameness and difference, right and wrong, gain and loss. They favor what aligns with themselves and dislike what differs. Emotional attachments generate calculations of benefit and harm, while concerns about gain and loss create distinctions of status. These discriminating thoughts rise and fall in endless cycles, remaining far from the Dao. Those who attain the Dao see through these appearances, transcend linguistic constraints, eliminate preferences and distinctions, remain unaffected by intimacy or estrangement, surpass attachments to truth and falsehood, and reach the supreme state of non-differentiation.

This passage elucidates the core Daoist philosophy of governance, emphasizing alignment with natural laws and minimizing artificial interference.

Regarding statecraft, it presents three levels of application: governing the nation through upright principles (zheng), commanding armies through strategic adaptability (qi), and attaining the world through wuwei (non-forced action). Here "zheng" represents the constant patterns of the Dao, "qi" signifies the Dao's flexible application, while "wuji" (non-interference) embodies the Dao's fundamental state. As Emperor Huizong's commentary explains, nations stabilize through upright governance, battles are won through strategic surprise, yet the true essence of the Dao lies in selfless alignment with nature's rhythms—only through this can the world be properly ordered.

The text employs Mencius' wisdom to illustrate "nations stabilize through uprightness"—maintaining correct principles naturally brings stability. Zhuangzi's teachings demonstrate "victory comes through strategic surprise"—warfare requires ingenuity and maintaining unpredictability. Authentic governance stems from cultivating inner purity and eliminating selfish thoughts; when achieved, order emerges spontaneously without forced administration.

The passage further observes that when rulers establish excessive prohibitions, the people paradoxically grow poorer. Human nature naturally tends toward community—care engenders closeness, benefits inspire allegiance—yet excessive restrictions cause dispersal. Contemporary rulers, lacking genuine care, create numerous taboos that inevitably scatter the population into poverty.

The central tenet reveals: securing the world hinges on winning hearts. Gaining popular support requires benevolent care and tangible benefits, while losing it leads to dispersal. This embodies the Daoist political wisdom of "governing through wuwei"—reducing unnecessary interference and aligning with the people's natural inclinations achieves true governance.

This scripture primarily discusses how rulers can win the people's hearts and the dangers of excessive reliance on clever artifice.

The key to winning popular support lies in this: Give the people what they love, and you will gain their allegiance; impose what they despise, and you will lose their hearts. If you treat the people as parents care for their children, they will naturally draw close to you; if you enable them to obtain tangible benefits, they will flock to you as eagerly as parents carrying their children to seek refuge. Conversely, if you defy the people’s will to satisfy selfish desires, exploiting them to sustain your own luxury, they will leave, taking their families with them. A ruler who lacks benevolence yet abuses authority, who establishes excessive prohibitions while believing himself astute, cannot bring stability to the people—ultimately, they will scatter in all directions. This is what is meant by "the upper overflows while the lower leaks" (the elite indulge in extravagance while the masses suffer deprivation). How can such a state ever attain the ideal of "government so unobtrusive that the people remain simple and honest"?

The text then addresses the harm of excessive cleverness: When people obsess over ingenious tools (sharp implements), the nation descends into chaos. Just as the creation of measuring vessels (bushels and pecks) and scales (balances and weights) invites thieves who steal even these instruments, the ancient sages advocated smashing such measures (breaking bushels and snapping scales) to eliminate contention. The use of machinery inevitably gives rise to cunning affairs, and cunning affairs breed deceitful minds. Once deceit takes root, the originally pure heart becomes complicated, and innocence dissipates. At this point, scheming and deception clash, crafty falsehoods multiply, and some even deceive superiors, betray subordinates, and defy the true Dao. Therefore, when sages governed the world, they sought to eliminate these ills.

Finally, the text warns: When people excessively pursue bizarre skills and extravagant crafts (clever techniques), an abundance of novel objects emerges. This leads people to chase superficial glamour while neglecting fundamentals, using outlandish clothing and strange tools to disrupt traditional customs. In the ideal society of ancient times (the age of perfect virtue), the people were simple and guileless, for the ancient kings taught them not to engage in useless endeavors that harm what is beneficial, nor to value rare treasures over practical goods—all out of concern that such frivolous skills would undermine the foundation of agriculture.

People only know to pursue daily pleasures and material skills, yet fail to realize that excessive pursuit of cleverness brings problems. When techniques become overly developed, people chase after trivialities, leading to bizarre clothing and strange contraptions that disrupt social customs. In ancient times, those who governed the state imposed fixed punishments on anyone selling outlandish garments or peculiar artifacts in markets, or presenting them as tribute to the court. This was to urge people to return to fundamentals, restrain extravagance, and restore the people to simple, honest customs.

The more numerous and harsh the laws become, the more thieves and bandits arise. Emperor Huizong of Song commented: Excessive severity inevitably invites undesirable responses. The subcommentary explains: Seeing clearly into the depths of fish-filled waters is inauspicious; foreknowledge of hidden matters invites calamity. Thus, as soon as laws are issued, cunning emerges; as soon as decrees are proclaimed, deceit arises. If one attempts to constrain the people with regulations as meticulous as counting hairs or grains of rice, the intent to stop theft cannot eradicate it. This is what Zhuangzi meant by "excessive severity inevitably invites undesirable responses."

The common people are ignorant and simple—comfort them and they will comply; mistreat them and they will resent. Unless one wins their trust through tolerance, who would willingly turn toward goodness and shun evil? Thus, when guided by edicts and restrained by punishments, the people merely avoid penalty without feeling shame. Therefore, the sage says: I govern through Wuwei (non-action), and the people transform naturally. Emperor Huizong remarked: Heaven is Wuwei yet remains clear; Earth is Wuwei yet remains tranquil. These two, through their Wuwei, unite and all things are naturally nurtured. The sage merely emulates Heaven and Earth—thus the people gradually improve without knowing what caused it.

The subcommentary elaborates: Does Heaven act? Precisely because it is Wuwei, it operates with purity and simplicity, solely covering and nurturing all things without exception. Does Earth move? Precisely because it is Wuwei, it remains steadfast and unchanging, solely bearing all things without exception. Purity brings clarity; steadfastness brings peace—all due to Wuwei. When the Yin-Yang energies of Heaven and Earth blend, all things are nurtured and grow. It is through their Wuwei union that transformation occurs. Observe Heaven and Earth to understand the sage—what need has the sage to act? He merely follows their example. Thus, the violent become simple; the selfish become just—all shedding harmful intentions while elevating their goodwill. The people gradually improve without knowing what caused it.

I love stillness, and the people naturally become upright. Emperor Huizong notes: Like a mirror reflecting objects—no deliberate cleverness is needed, for things appear of themselves.

A clear mirror gathers no dust, and still water perfectly reflects every hair and brow. The reason mirrors and water can achieve this lies in their unchanging purity—they remain settled yet capable of mirroring all things. Ancient texts say that when mirrors and water encounter objects, they require no deliberate technique: the square and round, the crooked and straight reveal themselves naturally. This illustrates the supreme state of stillness. Those who attain the Dao cultivate their hearts in precisely this manner—maintaining perfect tranquility, never allowing restless impulses to disturb their innate nature, simply following what is spontaneous without forced interference. Why wait for compass and ruler to measure before things are deemed correct? Thus, the way to govern a state values serenity above all, and the people will naturally settle into peace. The Daode Jing states: "Tranquility is the correct standard for all under heaven."

"When I refrain from stirring up affairs, the people prosper of themselves." Emperor Huizong of Song comments: The world is naturally free from trouble—it is only the mediocre who create disturbances. By not harassing the people, they naturally become prosperous. The Shuyi explains: Governing a large state is like frying small fish—too much turning breaks them; over-managing the people only confuses them. Letting the world follow its own course is like fish swimming freely in rivers and lakes—they naturally find peace and livelihood. The root of prosperity lies precisely in non-interference. How could those who later altered ancient ways and disrupted norms—bringing calamity—ever comprehend the true essence of enriching the people?

"When I am free of desires, the people return to simplicity." Emperor Huizong remarks: By not exalting the worthy, the people cease competing; by not valuing rare goods, they stop stealing. Sharing this desireless state with them preserves humanity's natural integrity. The Shuyi expands: Promoting the worthy ironically incites rivalry—hence the sage does not glorify them; rare objects tempt wrongdoing—thus he does not prize them. Neither esteeming worthiness nor treasuring goods prevents desires from arising. The way of sages purifies human hearts—when rulers lack selfish cravings, the people return to desirelessness. This state is called "plain simplicity," enabling return to one's original nature. "Uncarved wood" represents the Dao in its wholeness, not yet split into concrete implements. When people return to simplicity, they perceive the great Dao rather than external things. Those who fail to cleanse desires, however, become bound and troubled by material attachments.

Humanity has lost its original simple nature, becoming mired in artificial hypocrisy—how can we return to the ancient purity of character? Laozi wrote in his works: "Do not display what might arouse desire, and the people's hearts will remain undisturbed." He also said: "There is no greater sin than indulging desire," and advised to "reduce selfishness and restrain desires," for desires harm human nature and must be eliminated. Mencius similarly stated: "When a person has excessive desires, even if they possess good intentions, they will be few."

Regarding the chapter on "Its governance is dull and uninteresting" (Chapter 58):

When rulers appear to govern without action (闷闷), they are actually practicing "governing through non-action (Wuwei)." Emperor Huizong of Song commented: "The ruler embraces all under heaven, and the people merely know of the ruler's existence without feeling any particular joy." This is explained as follows: All things in the world possess an inherent, constant nature, which carries with it an enduring Virtue (De). This nature cannot be artificially altered, for alteration leads to hypocrisy; nor can it be disturbed, for disturbance breeds anxiety. The key lies in ensuring that nothing deviates from its innate nature, embracing all things without altering their Virtue (De), so that society remains in a state of serene tranquility. In this way, the people will perceive everything as natural and effortless. This is the realm where "the people merely know of the ruler's existence." In such a state, human nature does not become inflated, Virtue (De) remains unharmed, and life is stable and harmonious. Though the people may not feel particular joy, they also avoid the extremes of praise or slander. Mencius said, "The people under a sage-king live in leisurely contentment"—this is precisely the state of "its governance is dull and uninteresting."

Under such governance, the people retain their simplicity (淳淳). Emperor Huizong of Song commented: "Manifest authenticity, preserve simplicity, reduce selfishness, and restrain desires." This is explained as follows: Simplicity is the innate nature of the people. To preserve authenticity and simplicity is to remain pure and uncluttered, steadfast and unchanging, ultimately achieving clarity of understanding and a return to one's true self. Selfish desires are the common inclinations of the people. To reduce selfishness and restrain desires is to overcome the self and cultivate the mind, ultimately attaining selflessness and freedom from the delusions of desire. For the people's simplicity, nothing is more essential than this.

Conversely, "its governance is scrutinizing" (overly harsh rule) is likened by Emperor Huizong of Song to "counting hairs while combing or measuring grains while cooking"—obsessing over trivialities under the illusion of precision. This is explained as follows: The essence of governance lies in understanding the Dao (the Way), and the essence of the Dao (the Way) is freedom from complication. The sage governs the world through the Dao (the Way), using supreme emptiness to embrace all things and supreme stillness to respond to change. Simple and easy methods accomplish great deeds, without the fuss of counting hairs or measuring grains. For excessive attention to minutiae wastes the spirit (Shen) on trivialities and exhausts the mind on irrelevancies.

This passage primarily discusses principles of governance and the interdependence of fortune and misfortune.

Regarding statecraft, the text suggests that excessive emphasis on talent and cleverness can lead to problems. If rulers constantly glorify wisdom and ability, the people will compete and contend with one another; if they prize cunning, the people will scheme and steal. Therefore, the sage governs the world by keeping the people simple and natural, avoiding the stimulation of excessive desires and craftiness. Zhuangzi once said that only those with complete virtue (De) can maintain a sound body—if virtue is lacking, no amount of physical nourishment can truly preserve life. This is the meaning behind "the people's virtue is deficient" (其民缺缺).

Concerning the relationship between fortune and misfortune, the text points out that they are interdependent and mutually transformative. Brightness arises from darkness, and form emerges from formlessness. Human wisdom and ability are often cultivated through hardship, while prominent families are more susceptible to unseen scrutiny (symbolizing the vulnerability of high status). Those who truly understand this principle recognize that circumstances are ever-changing and that fortune and misfortune have no fixed form. In a state of stillness and emptiness, the transformations of heaven and earth unfold silently, moving from the subtle to the visible, from the formless to the formed. The principle of fortune and misfortune lies hidden within, as naturally as a shadow follows its form. Only those who are truly perceptive understand that benefits may bring harm and joy may give rise to sorrow. They apply wisdom before events unfold and discern signs in the subtlest details, thereby avoiding difficulties.

The text quotes Mencius: "Virtue, wisdom, skill, and knowledge often arise from suffering" (德慧术智存乎疢疾), and Yang Xiong: "Lofty houses are spied upon by ghosts" (高明之家，鬼瞰其室), both illustrating this principle. Even the wise must maintain a sense of vigilance, and the noble-minded must prepare for potential misfortune in advance.

This scripture primarily explores the impermanent nature of fortune and misfortune, and the difficulty in distinguishing right from wrong. The text points out that while prominent families may appear carefree, they must remain vigilant against the unseen gaze of spirits. For the Dao's principle is to diminish the arrogant and bless the humble.

Observing worldly changes reveals that time never stagnates, fate has no constant state, and the beginnings and endings of things follow no fixed pattern. Thus we must understand: knowing time's ceaseless flow allows one to remain composed when distant goals seem unattainable and unhurried when they draw near; recognizing fate's impermanence enables one to see through cycles of prosperity and decline without being troubled by gain or loss; comprehending the fluidity of beginnings and endings grants clarity on life's journey, unshackled by concerns of life and death.

Fortune and misfortune transform into each other without fixed standards. What we call good fortune may become the seed of calamity, just as misfortune may serve as a stepping stone to blessings—precisely because their transformations are boundless and limitless. Emperor Huizong of Song's commentary further explains: If we ask like-minded people to judge right and wrong, how can they make impartial judgments when all share the same views? If we ask those with opposing views to judge, how can they reach fair conclusions when all maintain contradictory positions? Who then can establish the most correct standard under heaven?

The world's concepts of right and wrong are merely agreements or disagreements between people. We are like frogs at the bottom of a well, knowing comfort but not true ease; like livestock content with fodder, unaware of real delicacies; like those obsessed with superficial beauty, ignorant of true splendor. When even basic perceptions may be skewed, how can we clearly distinguish right from wrong?

Emperor Huizong continues: Between heaven and earth flows the same Qi (the fundamental energy Daoists believe constitutes all things). What's deemed right today may become wrong tomorrow; discord precedes harmony. The miraculous and the腐朽 (decayed) transform into each other, good and evil give rise to their opposites, virtue and vice alternate—all are natural manifestations of Qi's movement. Humans have long been trapped in delusion: minor confusion makes one lose direction, while major confusion alters one's essential nature, all because selfishness has become too prevalent.

The Qi (vital energy) of heaven and earth circulates unseen through the void, and all transformations of the myriad things are stirred by this vital breath. Zhuangzi said, "All under heaven is but a single Qi," meaning that although the myriad things take different forms, they are all governed by the same principle of Qi transformation.

Since all things under heaven are interconnected through this same Qi, the flow and transformation of phenomena follow no fixed pattern. What is considered right today may be wrong tomorrow; what was rejected in the past may now be affirmed. Initially without fixed form, things first oppose each other only to later merge. Where there is rejection, there is acceptance; what is deemed miraculous in one moment may decay in the next. These two states mutually transform in endless cycles—success turns to failure in an instant, ruin gives way to renewal—just as the extraordinary and the ordinary give birth to each other, or as the demonic and the virtuous interchange. Truly, this is unpredictable.

Is there some hidden mechanism driving this? Or does the movement of Qi operate spontaneously without cease? In truth, it is the self-movement of Qi that silently propels creation, though people neither understand why it is so nor can deny that it is so. The myriad things have existed for ages, and humanity's loss of original truth is no recent occurrence. Minor delusions cause people to lose their bearings, like turning one's back to Dark Mountain and failing to see it; greater delusions distort human nature itself, mistaking emptiness for reality while losing the Mysterious Pearl (a metaphor for the Dao) without even searching for it.

When selfish tendencies prevail, people become blinded by partial views, failing to recognize how fortune and misfortune intertwine. Instead, they govern through harsh and trivial methods, only deepening confusion. How then can the people return to their original truth? Therefore, Laozi proposed in the Daode Jing the governing principle of "keeping administration simple and unpretentious," hoping the people might abide in natural harmony and return to simplicity.

The sage is square-cornered yet injures no one. Emperor Huizong of Song commented: "Squareness" refers to the ability to discern the proper way of things, yet true "great squareness" has no sharp edges—it remains still without flowing, leaving no trace of discrimination. Those rigidly attached to physical squareness often cling stubbornly to their views, becoming incompatible with the world. True "great squareness" knows no north or south but connects with all directions, responding to infinite changes, unlike those obstinate individuals who remain as inflexible as vessels. "Still without flowing" speaks of maintaining original truth without drifting with the currents, like the clarity of unmoving water.

The craftsman emulates the natural Dao (the Way), thus leaving no trace of forced carving. This resembles what Xunzi described: only with inner tranquility can one respond to all things with ease.

Regarding the principle of "being incorruptible without harming others": Emperor Huizong of Song commented that true integrity isn't about ostentatiously displaying purity ("廉隅" refers to rigid moral rectitude), but about maintaining inner clarity while embracing all things, never imposing harsh standards on others. The commentary further explains that while those who uphold integrity often appear solemn and self-disciplined, the highest form of integrity ("great incorruptibility") manifests as inner contentment and natural simplicity, never straining after unattainable ideals. Like a polished mirror that reflects all things without retaining traces, this embodies Zhuangzi's state of "conquering external matters without causing harm."

Concerning the principle of "being upright without arrogance, luminous without glaring": Emperor Huizong noted that excessive uprightness leads to overbearingness, while excessive radiance invites misfortune. Only sages can maintain inner rectitude while appearing outwardly accommodating, wielding the light of wisdom to illuminate their inherent virtue (De). Ordinary people often cling to partial standards—like Zimo (a Warring States scholar) rigidly adhering to the mean, or Zhongzi (Chen Zhongzi, a Warring States recluse) practicing excessive austerity—knowing only how to display but not how to restrain. Such approaches fixate on minor details while violating the sage's complete Dao.

The commentary adds: If one becomes overly rigid ("亢己") to demonstrate uprightness, it appears arrogant and offensive. Only by eliminating extreme behavior ("逕庭之累") and avoiding distortions of one's true nature ("枉撓之失") can one be upright without arrogance. Similarly, displaying brilliance to please the crowd invites calamity ("扬行之患"). Only by restraining outward锋芒 ("形諜之光") and eliminating the desire to show off ("滑疑之耀") can one be luminous without glaring. This is the sage's wisdom of "inner straightness and outer flexibility"—maintaining inner rectitude to accord with heavenly Dao while presenting outward accommodation to harmonize with human relations. As the saying goes, "To know how to yield and when to stand firm—this is true uprightness."

This passage elucidates how sages employ wisdom to govern the world, while highlighting the common pitfalls of partial understanding that ordinary people often fall into.

The text first explains the principles of "using light" and "returning to illumination": employing the radiance of wisdom manifests benevolent virtue (De), while withdrawing its brilliance conceals its functional application. Only sages can harmonize the relationship between heaven and humanity, demonstrating divine-like moral character. Ordinary individuals frequently become trapped in extremes—like Zimo (a Warring States scholar) who rigidly pursued the golden mean without flexibility, or Chen Zhongzi (a Warring States recluse) whose excessive pursuit of purity disrupted human relationships.

The scripture reveals that all things alternate between contraction and expansion—knowing only how to extend without bending leads to rigidity. Similarly, perceiving only surface phenomena while missing subtle essences prevents true understanding. These limitations stem from selfish desires that obscure vision, as people chase partial virtues to glorify themselves while losing the comprehensive wisdom possessed by sages.

The true sage's method of governance manifests as: being square-cornered yet not injurious, incorruptible yet not harsh, straightforward yet not unrestrained, luminous yet not glaring. Sages embody perfect virtue (De) naturally becoming the world's model. Like the legendary Emperor Shun, they achieve universal harmony without deliberate action (Wuwei).

Finally, the passage discusses the principle that "nothing surpasses moderation in governing people and serving heaven": managing human affairs and honoring the Dao fundamentally requires temperance. Intelligence belongs to heavenly endowment, while activity and contemplation belong to human effort. Regulating the rhythm of movement and stillness while reducing mental burdens constitutes governance of human affairs; not exhausting innate wisdom constitutes service to heaven. This resembles nourishing kidney Qi—enriching wisdom's wellspring while restraining its outward display—thus harmonizing human affairs with heavenly principle.

The text emphasizes that true wisdom lies in maintaining balance—neither excess nor deficiency—preserving a state of natural harmony.

This passage expounds the core Daoist cultivation principle of "restraint" (se), emphasizing temperance and conservation. Through Han Feizi's perspective, it explains that human intelligence stems from innate endowment, while actions and thoughts are shaped by acquired influences.

Inner cultivation should adhere to simplicity and self-discipline, while outward behavior must regulate desires. Whether governing human affairs or aligning with heavenly Dao, "restraint" serves as the fundamental principle. Regularity in movement and stillness embodies truth, and freedom from excessive thinking represents the highest state of the Dao. By moderating actions, one seizes timely opportunities; by reducing mental clutter, one maintains inner clarity.

The text mentions "relinquishing cleverness" (chu congming) and "abandoning artificial wisdom" (qu zhi gu) as prerequisites for connecting with the Great Dao and following natural laws. Only by not overusing one's intellect can one return to original simplicity. This mirrors the cosmological concept of "Heaven generates water first" (tian yi sheng shui) - where water symbolizes the primordial origin - corresponding to how the kidneys store Jing (essence) in the human body, highlighting the importance of conserving vital energies in self-cultivation.

Emperor Huizong of Song's commentary adds: Returning to one's original nature after losing it is too late; early return is the superior approach. "Restraint" means not indulging one's nature, thus enabling timely restoration. Preserving one's innate nature ensures continuous vitality, while losing it leads to depletion. The auspiciousness of timely return resembles the initial yang line of the Fu hexagram (symbolizing renewal) in the Yijing, whereas waiting until the topmost line to turn back brings misfortune.

The passage consistently advocates returning to natural simplicity by restraining desires and reducing cunning, thereby harmonizing with heavenly Dao. This cultivation method simultaneously manages human affairs effectively and aligns with cosmic principles, achieving the ideal state of "early return" (zao fu) to one's fundamental nature.

This passage elucidates the cultivation concepts of "returning to one's original nature" and "accumulating De (Virtue/Power)" from the Daodejing:

"Return" refers to the process of reverting to one's innate nature. As revealed in the Book of Changes through the Bi and Fu hexagrams, if one can avoid losing one's true nature and return early (early return), one can continuously accumulate De. Emperor Huizong of Song's commentary notes that returning is the foundation of De - through self-awareness to recover one's original nature, the inner Dao becomes renewed daily.

The explanatory section clarifies: De means attaining the true essence of one's nature. By observing the principle of return amidst worldly complexities and maintaining one's nature in turbulent environments, one avoids deviating from heavenly endowment. The Book of Changes states return is the source of De; returning to one's nature cultivates the heart-mind, making wisdom illuminate all things without exception. By not excessively depleting one's nature and returning early, De grows daily. The Book of Documents speaks of daily renewal in De.

When De becomes so profound that nothing remains unconquered, one can master all things and guide all beings without being overcome by anything. The commentary cites Yang Xiong: conquering selfish desires constitutes "overcoming." When De accumulates sufficiently, one can govern many with few, commanding all things with perfect compliance. As the Book of Rites states: only with accomplished De can one occupy superior positions.

When De reaches the state of invincibility, its efficacy becomes boundless. The explanation clarifies: abundant De seeks not to conquer external things yet naturally prevails everywhere, enriching both self and others, handling all transformations with ease while illuminating all directions. Mencius compares virtuous teaching to nourishing rain enriching the world.

When De becomes unfathomably deep, one becomes qualified to govern states. Emperor Huizong's commentary explains: those who embody the infinite Dao have more than enough capacity to govern the world, let alone a single state. The commentary quotes Zhuangzi: when De reaches the same origin as Dao, one completely comprehends Dao's wholeness - this state is called "perfect unity with all existence."

No realm under heaven exists beyond the scope of the Dao. One who comprehends the Dao can govern the world with ease, let alone a small state. When a ruler holds the fundamental principle of statecraft (the "mother" referring to cardinal laws), the nation enjoys enduring peace and stability.

Emperor Huizong of Song's commentary explains: The Dao is the origin of all things, and rulers who grasp it never err. Further elaboration reveals: All beings between heaven and earth have their source, and this source is the Dao. Whether tangible or intangible, sentient or insentient, all things emerge from the Dao, hence it is called the "Mother." A ruler who masters this fundamental Dao transcends temporal constraints, maintaining prosperity through ten thousand generations without decline—is this not the very path of perpetuity?

This constitutes the eternal principle of deep-rootedness and enduring vision. Emperor Huizong clarifies: The Dao resembles a mother, while all creatures are like her children; inner nature forms the root of physical form, while physical form manifests inner nature. By understanding phenomena (the children) while preserving their source (the mother), one remains free from lifelong troubles and attains immortality. Deep roots ensure stable trunks; purified nature brings complete form. Abiding with heaven and earth brings longevity; shining with sun and moon grants enduring vision. While all things transform, only the Dao remains constant.

Detailed explanation: Concrete existences (the born) arise from the fundamental generative power (that which gives birth to the born). This generative power is the Dao. The Daode Jing states "the named is the mother of all things," while Zhuangzi observes all flourishing originates from the Dao's Wuwei (non-action) operation. Similarly, physical forms (the colored) stem from essential nature (that which colors the colored). Zhuangzi teaches that nature is life's essence, while the Liuzi text states form is life's vessel. A ruler who understands administrative affairs (the children) while upholding the fundamental Dao (the mother) unites with the Dao, transcending time to exist perpetually. Just as deep roots make foliage flourish, returning to one's nature perfects physical form. Maintaining undecaying form resembles plants thriving in fertile soil—thus one abides with heaven and earth. Preserving undimmed wisdom allows one to shine with sun and moon. All things undergo transformation, yet those who hold fast to the great Dao surpass physical limitations, unbound by cycles of life and death—this is the true meaning of the eternal Way.

Governing a large state is like cooking small fish. Emperor Huizong of Song explains that managing multitudes with frequent policy changes makes success difficult—just as constantly moving precious objects leads to damage, or stirring small fish too often makes them fall apart. If laws and decrees in governing a great nation are altered capriciously, the people will become confused. Thus, the Dao of governance values stillness and Wuwei (non-action), allowing the people to naturally settle into stability.

Further elaboration in the commentary clarifies: When a ruler grasps the essential principles, all affairs can be properly managed; but micromanaging every detail leads to neglect of governance. Therefore, ruling a state requires holding to fundamental principles—just as one shouldn’t stir fish excessively, neither should laws be changed incessantly. In ancient times, those skilled at establishing laws made them as firm as metal or stone, as reliable as the unchanging cycle of the four seasons. By maintaining stillness and Wuwei without disrupting natural patterns, the people could live and work in peace.

When the Dao is used to govern the world, even spirits and ghosts cease to manifest anomalies. Huizong’s annotation states that the sage is the sovereign of deities, the people, and all things, yet the best way to rule is through Wuwei. When the sage governs with the constant and effortless Dao, the people naturally settle into tranquility, and even the ghosts and spirits attached to the human realm rest quietly without causing disturbances.

The commentary cites the Book of Songs, Book of Documents, and Zhuangzi to illustrate: Though the sage is the master of all things, governing the world is done out of necessity. The sage simply faces south (symbolizing Wuwei governance), rectifies himself, and through non-action brings peace to all under heaven.

When governing the world with the Dao, all beings abide in their true nature, and the people are naturally transformed. Those spirits that manifest through human connection will find their proper abodes, resting peacefully without causing chaos or harm in the human realm. As the Book of Odes states, "The ancestral spirits enjoy the offerings." Thus we say spirits do not manifest as malevolent forces—not that spirits lack numinous power, but that they do not harm the people; not that the spirits refrain from harming people, but that the sage likewise does not harm the people. When neither side brings harm, their De (Virtue) merges in mutual accord.

Emperor Huizong of Song comments: Governing with the Dao means following nature's course—without warfare or chaos, without harsh punishments or slaughter—this is what it means not to harm the people. When spirits and people refrain from harming each other, their Virtue merges. Spirits need not manifest calamities, only bestow blessings; the people need not employ cunning, simply attending to daily sustenance—how could harm arise?

Further explanation: The Dao appears Wuwei (non-active) yet accomplishes all. Governing through the Dao means conforming to nature without artificial interference. Cherishing the people like one's children, feeling their hardships as one's own pain—without resorting to arms there is no warfare, without excessive punishments there is no slaughter. When spirits and people do not harm each other, the yang realm holds no resentment and the yin realm no hauntings—Virtue naturally merges. Spirits simply confer blessings, as the Odes say: "The spirits descend with blessings"; the people simply live with simplicity, as the Odes say: "The people abide in their proper station"—how could harm arise?

Regarding the chapter "Great States Flow Downward" (Chapter 61):

A great state should humble itself like the lower reaches of a river. Emperor Huizong comments: All people have aspirations to climb high, but ascending too precipitously often leads to falls. Rivers and seas become kings of all streams precisely because they excel at maintaining low positions.

Further explanation: A nine-tiered tower begins with piled earth; to ascend high one must start from below. Understanding that heights require low foundations prevents stumbling. Those who only look upward without securing their base are indulging in empty ambition—how can they avoid falling? Without accumulation, water cannot form deep pools; only by gathering a hundred streams do rivers achieve greatness.

The reason rivers and seas can become kings of all streams is because they excel at occupying low positions that accommodate all tributaries. For a nation to become strong, is it not also through humility and inclusiveness that this is achieved? The principle by which all things in the world interact is like how the female (yin) often overcomes the male (yang) through stillness—precisely because the female understands maintaining a gentle, quiet, and humble attitude.

Emperor Huizong of Song comments: While ordinary people use strength to confront external things, the sage alone dwells in the realm of softness, stillness, and non-contention, where none can overcome him. This is the way to engage with the world. The Daodejing states, "Knowing the masculine but keeping to the feminine, becoming the valley of the world," showing that the principle of overcoming lies in maintaining stillness, whereby all things naturally return.

Observing the patterns of all things, the lower the depression, the more water it can hold; the more humble, the more one can contain. Going against this principle—relying on strength to bully the weak while seeking high positions—will instead invite failure. The constant path to victory lies in pliancy, while the constant path to defeat lies in rigidity. Though sages may appear outwardly weak and humble, dwelling in non-contention, they ultimately lead others and preserve themselves. This is not about deliberately surpassing others but naturally becoming unsurpassable.

When a large state is humble toward smaller ones, it gains their allegiance; when a small state is humble toward a larger one, it gains the larger's acceptance. Thus, sometimes humility is for gain, and sometimes gain comes naturally through humility. Just as contraction must first expand and giving must precede receiving, these are the natural rhythms of waxing and waning between heaven and earth. Those who understand this know that restraint and expansion, fullness and deficiency all transform into one another.

A large state seeks only to lead others, while a small state seeks only to rely on the strong. Each obtains what it needs, so the noble person does not deliberately pursue dominance over others but achieves aims through humble speech.

The Dao of Heaven shines upon all things precisely because it descends to bestow, thus encompassing everything without exception; the Dao of Earth operates upward by remaining humble, thereby bearing the virtue (De) of Heaven. Humans emulate Earth, and Earth emulates Heaven—hence those in positions of honor should maintain an attitude of humility.

To elaborate: The Dao of Heaven achieves boundless radiance by descending to nourish all things, covering everything in its light; the Dao of Earth ascends to receive Heaven’s virtue precisely through humility. If even Heaven and Earth operate with such harmony and modesty, how much more should humans? Emperor Yao (an ancient sage-king) illuminated the four directions with sincere reverence, while Emperor Shun’s gentle humility allowed his profound virtue to ascend and resonate with Heaven. Both exemplify the emulation of Heaven and Earth. Though the Three Powers (Heaven, Earth, and Humanity) occupy different positions, their fundamental principles align.

Thus, when a ruler refrains from self-aggrandizement and instead follows the Dao of Earth, they govern effortlessly (Wuwei) and accomplish great deeds for the world. When Earth does not exalt itself but follows the Dao of Heaven, it nurtures all things without deliberate effort. Herein lies the truth: genuine greatness arises not from self-inflation but from humility—a principle universal in its application. Should not those in lofty positions embody this very wisdom by remaining humble?