《道德真經疏義(一)》Vol. 6

This passage discusses Chapter 24 of the Daode Jing (Classic of the Way and Virtue), focusing on the relationship between artificial striving and natural spontaneity.

Those who stand on tiptoes to appear taller will lose their balance; those who take oversized strides to move faster cannot go far. As Emperor Huizong of Song noted in his commentary, such actions violate natural spontaneity—it is difficult to achieve goals through forced effort. But if one follows innate nature and takes De (Virtue/Power) as the guiding principle, even those with physical disabilities, like Shushan Wuzhi (a sage said to have lost his toes) or Wang Tai (a wise man with severed feet), can attain profound realization.

Those who self-display cannot see the truth clearly; those who self-assert cannot manifest their worth; those who boast of their merits will find them void; those who act arrogantly cannot endure. From the perspective of the Dao (the Way), such behaviors are as superfluous as leftover food or excess fat on the body.

Emperor Huizong explains: Those who cling to their own views lack the wisdom to perceive things holistically; those who insist on their own correctness lack the De to embrace others. Deliberately flaunting one’s virtues leads to losing them; parading one’s talents results in forfeiting real achievement. The true Dao takes profundity as its root and simplicity as its essence. How can extravagant and self-indulgent actions ever align with the Dao?

The commentary elaborates further: Confined to a narrow perspective, one cannot see the whole, and wisdom remains incomplete; fixated on personal judgments, one cannot accept others, and De remains limited. Only those who do not contend for merit cannot be contended against by the world. If one boasts of goodness, that goodness will vanish. The sage unites with the Dao, taking profundity as the foundation and withdrawing into stillness—thus attaining clarity without self-display. Taking simplicity as the standard, without extravagance, they attain radiance without self-assertion. Free from arrogance, they are without reckless desires; without self-promotion, they endure.

(Note: Shushan Wuzhi and Wang Tai are disabled but enlightened figures mentioned in the Zhuangzi, illustrating that cultivation lies in the mind, not the physical form.)

This passage elucidates two fundamental Daoist principles:

First, it discusses the law of "fullness leading to decline." When a person becomes arrogant and self-satisfied (矜), it's like overeating harming the body or carrying excessive burdens during travel—these are external superfluities rather than true internal needs. The natural law of heaven and earth diminishes the full while benefiting the humble, just as water flows downward. Indulging in desires, extravagance, and excessive ambition (泰色淫志) violates one's inherent nature through self-satisfaction, inevitably inviting cosmic retribution and human aversion. Those who have attained the Dao (有道者) never act this way, maintaining instead an attitude of gentle humility.

Next, it explains the concept of "something formed in chaos." Before heaven and earth took shape, there existed an undifferentiated state of chaos (浑沦) containing the three elements of Qi (vital energy), form, and substance—yet still unified. This is what the Yijing calls Taiji (Supreme Ultimate). As the source of Yin-Yang duality, Taiji gives rise to all phenomena. This primordial state remains silent and vast (寂兮寥兮), without movement or external interaction, preserving its pure, empty (湛然) essence.

Key terms in the commentary:

• Taichu (太初): The primordial state of cosmic Qi
• Taisu (太素): The initial stage of material formation
• Hunlun/Taiji (浑沦/太极): The undifferentiated unity before heaven-earth separation
• Liangyi (两仪): The two fundamental forces of Yin-Yang

The text reveals core Daoist philosophy: rejecting arrogance while advocating humility and softness, while simultaneously presenting a cosmogony where all things originate from the undifferentiated Taiji state.

The Dao (the Way), as the origin and principle of the cosmos, exists independently and remains eternally unchanging, unaffected by external things. Emperor Huizong of Song comments that this refers to the Dao's essence being perpetually stable, never assimilated by external phenomena. The subcommentary explains that the Dao possesses its own foundation, having existed since antiquity. No being can shake it, and no transformation can alter it—this is what constitutes "great stability" (absolute constancy). If one can maintain this state, then even as the myriad things undergo endless transformations, the Dao itself remains as it was. Is this not precisely the essential characteristic of the Dao?

The Dao operates within all things yet never exhausts itself. Emperor Huizong notes that this refers to the Dao's function manifesting in the birth and death, transformation and change of all beings, cycling endlessly without depletion. The subcommentary clarifies that when things arise, the Dao arises with them; when things perish, the Dao withdraws with them. Though people constantly use it, it is omnipresent—this is what is meant by "its usefulness flows in and out." Thus, its coming and going never cease—is this not the very embodiment of the Dao's function?

The Dao may be called the mother of all things under heaven. Emperor Huizong observes that all beings depend on the Dao for their existence. The subcommentary elaborates: Living creatures cannot generate life on their own; only the Dao, which itself is ungenerated, can give birth to the myriad things. Hence, the existence of all beings necessarily relies on the Dao. The scripture states, "The myriad things rely on it to grow, yet it does not refuse them," and further declares, "Under heaven there is a beginning, which may be called the mother of all things under heaven."

I do not know its name, so I reluctantly call it "Dao," and further reluctantly name it "Great" (Da). Emperor Huizong comments: When things come into being, they acquire form; as forms develop, they undergo growth; after growth comes fixed measure. Names derive from actual things, and all actual things have fixed measures. The term "designation" (zi) refers to this process of growth. The Dao originally has no name, hence it is named "Great." "Great" is a designation relative to "small." The mystery of the Dao lies in its subtlety and hiddenness, while its core is vast and manifest. The subcommentary cites the Zuo Zhuan: When things come into being, they acquire form; as forms develop, they undergo growth; after growth comes fixed measure. All things originally emerge from water (referring to primordial matter), and the growth of water constitutes "flourishing." "Measure" quantifies aggregation and dispersion. Growth is the initial manifestation of measure, before fixed form takes shape; measure is the completion of growth, when concrete entities have formed. Once things take shape, their measure is determined, and thus names arise—hence names derive from actual things. Using "designation" as a name expresses this meaning of growth and development. At the beginning of heaven and earth, there were no names, yet the Dao produced heaven and earth, so the Dao is fundamentally nameless. It encompasses both the most minute subtleties and the most magnificent expansiveness—"Great" is a designation relative to "small." Having no name is precisely the essential characteristic of the Dao.

The profound mystery of the Dao lies in its subtlety and depth, yet it can distinguish all things. When we call it the "Marvelous Dao," we are describing this exquisite and unfathomable quality. The vastness of the Dao manifests in its clarity and comprehensiveness, enabling it to merge with all things. When we call it the "Central Dao," we are describing this all-encompassing nature.

"Greatness" signifies ceaseless movement. Just as a river flows day and night without pause, the Dao's operation never stagnates. Though the Dao appears in concrete forms, it remains fluid and unaccumulated, hence called "passing" (unceasing flow).

"Passing" further implies boundlessness. Like the profound and far-reaching De (virtue), the Dao's operation manifests as endless transformations yet remains unconstrained, thus called "far-reaching" (without boundaries).

"Far-reaching" ultimately returns to its origin. All things must return to their roots and revert to their tranquil nature. When the Dao manifests as vastness, it embraces all things; when it returns to subtlety, it distinguishes all things. When the Dao merges with all things, it resembles the Yi Jing's description of "extending without limit"; when it returns to its original nature, it resembles the Yi Jing's description of "being still and upright in proximity." Though the Dao may seem distant from its source, its ceaseless operation and infinite responsiveness—this state of merging with all things—is precisely when the Dao reveals its vast nature.

The essence of the Dao lies in returning to the origin. By reverting to the fundamental source, one attains tranquility, and within this stillness rediscovers the true meaning of life. This state of returning to pristine simplicity represents the purest manifestation of the Dao, where contention with external matters becomes unnecessary.

The Dao is the supreme existence, while heaven and earth are equally vast. The ideal human ruler (the sage-king) can also stand alongside heaven and earth as one of the greats. Emperor Huizong of Song commented: The Dao contains heaven and earth like a vessel. Heaven covers all things without exception, while earth bears all things without discrimination. The ruler, positioned between heaven and earth, can stand equally with them, thus sharing their greatness.

Further explanation: The Dao existed before the formation of the cosmos yet does not appear distant; it permeates the six directions (up, down, and the four cardinal points) yet does not seem abstruse. The Liezi asks: Could there not exist realities beyond heaven and earth that surpass them in magnitude? This demonstrates the Dao's capacity to encompass all creation. The light and clear Qi ascends to form heaven, its boundless expanse covering all stars and myriad beings; the heavy and turbid Qi descends to form earth, its vast depths supporting all mountains, rivers, and seas. The ruler, emulating these qualities, dwells at the center, comprehending the interconnectedness of the Three Powers (heaven, earth, and humanity) and discerning their distinct characteristics. Thus the ruler becomes comparable to heaven and earth while maintaining self-awareness. This constitutes the origin of the Four Greats (Dao, heaven, earth, and the sage-king) in the cosmos.

Though these four emerge from the state of "non-greatness" through differentiation, they never completely depart from form; though derived from the "Great Unity" (cosmic origin), they remain governed by numerical principles. Yet it is precisely this existence within form and number without being constrained by them that constitutes their true greatness.

Among the Four Greats in the cosmos, the sage-king occupies one position. Emperor Huizong explains: As the Dao differentiates downward, concrete existence emerges—hence the term "within the realm." Through stillness, one becomes a sage; through action, a king. By mastering the Three Powers and reaching the ultimate expression of humanity's way, the ruler achieves unity with the Dao, shares the function of heaven and earth, and thus attains equal greatness.

A deeper meaning: Before differentiation, the Dao exists in undifferentiated chaos—hence the earlier reference to "primordial formation." After differentiation, it manifests within concrete vessels—hence the term "within the realm." Maintaining connection with the divine source constitutes stillness and sagehood; responding to worldly changes constitutes action and kingship. Through the movement from stillness to action, from sagehood to kingship, one integrates the Three Powers and reaches humanity's ultimate state. Those rulers who establish great achievements mirror heaven's workings precisely because true kings fully realize the human Dao.

This passage elucidates the relationship between the Dao (the Way) and heaven/earth as well as sages, while outlining the cultivation sequence of "humans model earth, earth models heaven, heaven models Dao, Dao models ziran (spontaneous nature)."

First, it explains how the Dao enables humans to attain unity with heaven. The scripture states "the king becomes heaven," meaning that if a ruler follows the Dao's principles, they can merge with heaven. The kingly Dao is so sublime that it can embrace all things under heaven. The Dao itself is subtle and nameless, comprehensible only to those who commune with it. When sages unite with the Dao, they gain the transformative power of heaven and earth. Dao, heaven/earth, and sages share the same origin - through cultivation, humans can achieve unity with heaven and ultimately with the Dao, as these states are fundamentally identical.

Next, it interprets the progressive cultivation sequence: "humans model earth, earth models heaven, heaven models Dao, Dao models ziran." Here "humans" specifically refers to rulers. Heaven acts through wuwei (non-action) yet all things naturally transform; earth practices wuwei yet all things naturally grow; if emperors govern through wuwei, the world naturally achieves peace. These all emulate the Dao's spontaneous nature. The Dao models ziran to respond to all things - ziran isn't the entirety of Dao, but rather the principle Dao manifests when interacting with creation.

Specifically: Heaven maintains clarity through wuwei, allowing all things to grow naturally; Earth maintains tranquility through wuwei, enabling all things to multiply naturally. If rulers govern through wuwei, they can accomplish imperial achievements. These three (heaven, earth, ruler) all follow the Dao's natural principles. Humans first model earth, earth models heaven, heaven models Dao - this cultivation follows sequence yet ultimately returns to ziran. From the perspective of concrete phenomena, ziran appears above Dao; from the transcendent view, ziran stands below Dao. Where there's "self" there's "other," where there's "so" there's "ceasing" - ziran isn't the complete Dao, but the Dao must descend to model ziran when responding to all things. As Zhuangzi said, the Dao adapts according to circumstances.

Finally, it cites key points from Chapter 26 of the Daode Jing: "The heavy is the root of the light; the still is the master of the restless." Thus noble persons never depart from this fundamental principle in their daily affairs.

This scripture primarily discusses the importance of "steadiness" and "tranquility."

Emperor Huizong of the Song Dynasty explains: Steadiness prevents one from being easily shaken, allowing one to preserve the root; tranquility prevents reckless action, enabling one to control restlessness. Those who maintain steadiness and tranquility rarely lose themselves. A nobleman always travels with heavy supplies (logistical provisions in ancient military campaigns), so even when traversing dangerous paths, he encounters no trouble.

Yang Xiong's saying "embrace fourfold gravity" emphasizes the importance of steadiness. The scripture states "hold fast to tranquility" to maintain inner stillness. Only through steadiness can one remain unaffected by external things and retain inner resolve; only through tranquility can one avoid restlessness and respond to all changes. Steadiness preserves the root, while tranquility controls agitation. Those who can maintain tranquility and steadiness cannot be shaken by external disturbances.

Objects must bear weight to remain stable—without it, they easily lose control. Though traveling light allows for speed, one must still rely on supplies for sustenance, ensuring no peril on dangerous roads. Even amid dazzling sights, one must maintain a detached attitude.

Emperor Huizong notes: Dazzling sights belong to the external world, while ease and comfort belong to oneself. Only when one is internally settled can one enjoy the pleasures of external things. Zhuangzi says excessive pursuit of visual delights disturbs the spirit (Shen), while Mencius states that the limbs need ease. King Wen of Zhou first settled himself before enjoying the pleasures of his Lingtai gardens. Thus, even amidst splendid scenery, one must first maintain detachment.

How can a ruler governing the world act recklessly? The world is a grave responsibility, like driving six horses with rotten reins—so the ruler must not treat it lightly. Acting through Wuwei (non-action) and avoiding mistakes is easy; acting deliberately without entanglement is difficult. Is governing the world an easy task? Emperor Yu praised Yao, saying, "Only the Emperor found it difficult," and Tang of Shang also declared, "trembling with fear"—both illustrating that ruling the world requires caution and care.

This passage conveys two main layers of meaning:

The first layer discusses the art of governance. Just as it's perilous to control six spirited horses with a rotten rein, a ruler must not treat state affairs lightly. Frivolous behavior leads to loss of officials' respect (without dignity, one lacks authority), while reckless haste undermines the ruler's majesty (issuing commands without proper authority oversteps one's role). The ruler should maintain solemn dignity, while ministers should remain respectfully obedient—this embodies the natural way of ruler-subject relations.

The second layer describes the realm of the sage's words and deeds. "Perfect conduct leaves no tracks" means the sage's actions are formless like divine workings, naturally transforming all things without leaving traces of deliberate effort. "Perfect speech bears no reproach" means the sage's words follow natural disposition (tianni refers to the origin of life) and adapt to circumstances (manyan denotes infinite transformation), thus remaining faultless. Like the noble person in the Yijing who guides conduct by observing hexagram images (nixiang) and line changes (yiyao), the sage's words and deeds align with cosmic transformations, achieving a miraculous level of mastery. Such conduct leaves no traces and invites no blame, capable of resonating a thousand miles away and influencing the movement of heaven and earth.

(Note: In this text, "tianni" is a Daoist term referring to the origin of life; "manyan" means conforming to natural transformations; "nixiang" and "yiyao" are concepts from the Yijing, denoting the observation of hexagram changes to guide behavior.)

The true Dao (the supreme truth of Daoism) operates without leaving any trace, just as no wheel ruts can be found in the vastest of territories. In such a realm, words naturally accord with the proper measure, as flawlessly as if decreed by divine spirits—how could there be any fault or blame?

Those skilled in calculation need no counting rods (ancient calculating tools). Emperor Huizong of Song comments: One who comprehends the "One" (the fundamental principle of Dao) can understand all things, let alone those beyond quantification. Thus without counting tools, facing myriad changes becomes as simple as counting one and two. The commentary explains: Understanding the "One" allows mastery of all, because all numbers in the world derive from "One." Grasping this root enables resolution of all matters. Since all things fundamentally form one unity—though manifesting as different quantities—knowing the "One" reveals their essence. How much more so for the Dao, which produces quantity yet transcends its limitations? Naturally, no calculation is needed; even the most complex transformations become as clear as counting to two.

Those skilled at closing need no latch yet cannot be opened. Emperor Huizong annotates this as "blocking the sensory orifices, guarding the inner spirit (Shen), and withdrawing into profound obscurity." The commentary elaborates: Like plugging the ears and shutting the doors, firmly preserving the primordial spirit (Shen) undisturbed by external things. This aligns with Zhuangzi's teaching: "Neither looking nor listening, holding the spirit in stillness and returning to clarity." It resembles hiding in remote mountain valleys, concealing all traces so the world cannot peer in—this is the state of "withdrawing into profound obscurity." As Zhuangzi says: "Withdrawing into the realm of no beginning and no end." Cultivating oneself thus, though lacking physical latches, who could possibly open it? This constitutes true "skill in closing."

Those skilled at binding need no ropes yet cannot be untied. Emperor Huizong explains: What relies on ropes for fastening ultimately harms innate nature. If one can make others feel harmony without words, or transform companions through mere presence—such bonds require no constraints yet remain unbreakable. Who could loosen them? The commentary clarifies: The world contains eternal truths, chief among them humanity's authentic innate nature. This inborn true nature stands firm without reinforcement—why would it need ropes? Those who depend on ropes for binding ironically damage true nature and undermine primordial simplicity. The skilled binder differs: they moisten hearts with perfect harmony, needing no speech; rectify others through dignified bearing, requiring no coercion. As Zhuangzi states: "Sometimes harmonizing others without words, transforming them simply by sharing their company." Such unions need no glue, such bonds require no ropes—who could possibly untie them?

The sage is always adept at rescuing others, therefore no person in the world is abandoned; equally skilled at saving all things, therefore nothing in creation is cast aside.

Emperor Huizong of Song explains this thus: Goodness (shan) is the continuation of the Dao. Those truly united with the Dao do not deliberately proclaim the label of "goodness." Once one consciously promotes the name of goodness, the Dao becomes externalized and affects the mundane world. The sage saves the world through embodying the great Dao, thus achieving the five virtues of goodness (referring to the previously mentioned good deeds, good words, good calculation, good closure, and good connection), ensuring neither people nor things are forsaken. The sage's way of cherishing the people and benefiting all things is not deliberate action, but rather a return to the source of the Dao without leaving traces, simply following the natural order.

In these times of moral decline, all under heaven have lost their original tranquil nature, sinking increasingly into distress. Who but the sage could remedy this situation?

Further explanation: The Book of Changes states "the movement of yin and yang constitutes the Dao," and what can inherit this principle is goodness. Therefore goodness is the continuation of the Dao. When returning to the origin of the great Dao, the distinction between good and evil becomes difficult to discern, hence true goodness needs no name. When goodness manifests as concrete, perceptible actions, it becomes goodness rooted in the Dao that benefits all under heaven, and only then does the name "goodness" arise. From good deeds to good connection—these five virtues—the reason the sage can ensure nothing is abandoned lies precisely in their ability to embody the great Dao to save the world.

The sage loves and rescues the people, enabling them to live in peace; benefits and saves all things, allowing everything to fulfill its purpose. How could this be deliberate action? It is simply returning to the origin of "the One" without leaving traces, following the great Dao without violation, complying with nature's patterns without forcing, letting all things grow naturally and the people govern themselves. Yet without suitable people to carry out the Dao, the Dao cannot manifest spontaneously. Nowadays when people lose their tranquil nature, becoming chaotic and exhausted, sinking daily deeper into distress—were it not for the sage comforting them through the method of "zaiyou" (letting things be natural), how could their original purity remain undisturbed? Who but those bearing the mission of teaching, who shoulder the world's burdens through the great Dao, practicing the Dao to improve customs and enable all people and things to abide peacefully in their essential nature—who else could accomplish this work of perfect salvation?

This is called "ximing" (concealed illumination). Emperor Huizong explains: "Xi" means not deliberately revealing. Concealed illumination is bright yet not dazzling. Like the dragon—a creature that can appear or hide—"xi" represents the state of hidden non-manifestation. Because it is concealed, the illumination remains internalized rather than outwardly displayed.

This passage expounds the Daoist dialectical perspective on good and evil, wisdom and foolishness.

Laozi believed that true sages (those who have attained the Dao) do not deliberately distinguish between good and evil when observing worldly matters. Like light that does not dazzle, the wisdom of a sage remains deeply concealed. Ordinary people often appear outwardly clever, while sages seem muddled. This is the realm Zhuangzi described as "radiant yet not glaring" (guang er bu yao).

Regarding the relationship between good and bad people: the good can serve as teachers for the bad, while the bad can serve as lessons (zi) for the good. Emperor Huizong of Song commented that it is precisely the existence of bad people that highlights the value of goodness. As Confucius said, "When three walk together, there must be a teacher among them"—when encountering good, learn from it; when encountering bad, reflect and correct oneself.

However, when sages (those who have reached the highest state) observe all this, their minds are clear and empty. They neither overly esteem the good nor despise the bad, because the distinction between good and evil is ultimately a product of human discrimination. Sages transcend this duality, attaining the realm of "great harmony" (da tong)—treating both good and bad with equal regard.

Finally, the passage speaks of the subtlety of the Dao: the true Dao transcends distinctions of good and evil. It does not require deliberate pursuit of virtuous deeds, nor does it demand flaunting intelligence. Just as the seven ancient sages once lost their way, true wisdom often appears foolish. This is the profound state Daoism calls "great wisdom seems like folly" (da zhi ruo yu).

This passage conveys two main ideas: first, it illustrates how the Dao transcends intellectual comprehension, and second, it explains the cultivation principle of "knowing the masculine while keeping to the feminine."

Regarding the profundity of the Dao, the text observes that even when one employs wisdom to seek various virtuous methods, they remain unfound—demonstrating the inadequacy of intellect here. The Dao is boundless, immeasurable, and unknowable; how could it possibly be grasped through mere cleverness or decisive action? The anecdote about the Yellow Emperor visiting Mount Juzi to seek the Great Mystery (symbolizing the Dao), accompanied by seven sages including Fangming and Huaji, only to lose their way in the outskirts of Xiangcheng, serves as a metaphor. These seven sages represent those who rely on intellect—their confusion precisely illustrates that the subtle profundity of the Dao cannot be comprehended through intelligence alone. This shared understanding reveals how Zhuangzi's philosophy and Laozi's teachings complement each other.

Concerning the cultivation principle of "knowing the masculine while keeping to the feminine," the text explains that by recognizing the potency of the masculine (active yang force) yet abiding in the feminine (receptive yin stillness), one becomes the "ravine of the world"—a symbol of universal accommodation. Just as water naturally flows into low-lying ravines, the sage, though possessing the wisdom and power to master all things (knowing the masculine), intentionally maintains a stance of humble tranquility (keeping to the feminine). Like how the southeastern lowlands of the earth receive countless rivers, the sage's stillness enables them to embrace all phenomena and adapt to infinite changes. The more one gives to others, the more abundant their De (Virtue/Power) becomes—this is the state of "constant De never departing," where one preserves their primal, authentic virtue without dissipation, returning to the pure, gentle state of an infant. Emperor Huizong of Song's commentary quotes Mencius: "The great person never loses their childlike heart," emphasizing how cultivators should maintain an infant's harmonious Qi and unadulterated nature.

This passage explains how sages achieve perfect De (Virtue/Power) through cultivation that harmonizes strength and softness. The text uses "male" as a metaphor for strength and "female" for gentleness—true sages understand the way of strength yet maintain a gentle demeanor. Like infants, they concentrate their Qi (vital energy) with focused minds, neither violent nor scattered, preserving their innate authentic state.

The philosophy of "knowing the white yet guarding the black" is presented: white symbolizes the manifestation of virtuous conduct, while black represents returning to the origin of the Dao. Sages both display luminous virtue and silently unite with the great Dao, operating with the precision of the four seasons. This state is boundless and called "Wuji" (the limitless ultimate). The Book of Documents states that the kingly way should return to "Youji" (having standards), while Laozi advocates returning to "Wuji"—both ultimately pointing to the Middle Way.

Specifically: in the Five Phases, white corresponds to the west, symbolizing the maturity of all things; black belongs to the north, representing the season when all things return to their roots. Sages can both illuminate the world (knowing the white) and withdraw to preserve their origin (guarding the black), attaining complete moral perfection. This cultivation avoids either extreme—neither unyielding strength (which disrupts harmony) nor excessive gentleness (which lacks firmness)—but balances hardness and softness, ultimately returning to childlike purity. Mencius' saying that "the great person never loses the heart of a newborn" perfectly captures this meaning.

This passage primarily discusses the characteristics of the Dao as the universal principle and the sage's transcendent attitude toward honor and disgrace.

Regarding the Dao as universal principle: Where the Dao exists, the world has a standard to emulate. This principle inspires conviction without deliberate contemplation, and its abundant De (Virtue/Power) is never forgotten. As the universal principle, it remains constant and unchanging, as natural and orderly as the succession of the four seasons. This state of ultimate refinement and purity perfectly aligns with the movement of celestial laws, without deviation—infinitely transformative yet never exhausting itself, embodying what is called "constant De" (eternal Virtue). The "Hong Fan" chapter of the Book of Documents speaks of the kingly way "returning to the supreme pivot" (adhering to the central standard), while Laozi speaks of "returning to the infinite" (returning to the boundless source). These seemingly contradictory views are actually unified: the former emphasizes maintaining the Middle Way in concrete affairs, while the latter emphasizes returning to the infinite nature of the Dao.

Regarding perspectives on honor and disgrace: To understand honor yet peacefully abide in humility is like a valley containing all things. The sage views honor and disgrace without discrimination, unattached to gain or loss. Ordinary people consider acquisition as honor and loss as disgrace, prominence as honor and hardship as disgrace, while the sage regards all these as illusory. Only by maintaining this valley-like emptiness can De become complete, ultimately returning to "pu" (the uncarved simplicity of Dao's original purity). Just as rulers style themselves "solitary" and "virtueless" yet thereby manifest greater nobility, preserving this simple nature allows one to win the world's allegiance.

Emperor Huizong of Song's commentary notes: All beyond human true nature is illusory external matter. Only by maintaining inner emptiness and stillness can one remain undisturbed by external things. "Pu" represents the complete manifestation of Dao—only by returning to simplicity can one fully unite with the Dao.

This passage discusses how to perceive gain and loss, honor and disgrace, as well as the relationship between the "Dao" and "concrete forms."

Regarding gain/loss and honor/disgrace: Ordinary people rejoice when gaining and worry when losing, considering acquisition as honor and loss as disgrace. Some become arrogant with wealth and status, or despondent in poverty and lowliness. However, sages understand that the coming and going of all things is beyond human control. Thus they neither become proud when gaining nor feel ashamed when losing. They view honor and disgrace with equanimity, maintaining inner emptiness and stillness. Like a valley that remains hollow yet contains all things - this represents the highest virtue (De).

On "Dao" and "concrete forms": The Dao is formless and transcends physical manifestations, while "concrete forms" refer to tangible, specific objects. When the Dao is whole, heaven and humanity unite as one; when the Dao disperses into concrete forms, heaven and humanity separate. It's like uncarved wood (pu) - in its natural state it's whole and complete, but when fashioned into utensils, it becomes fragmented.

The text notes that while terms like "solitary," "desolate," and "unworthy" are generally disliked, rulers and nobles use them to refer to themselves. This illustrates that true nobility lies in preserving one's original simplicity. By maintaining this simplicity, one attains the Dao, and those who attain the Dao naturally attract the allegiance of all under heaven. As the scripture states: "Though the uncarved block is small, none in the world dare claim it as their subject. If lords and kings can preserve it, all things will submit of their own accord."

Finally, explaining "when simplicity (pu) scatters, it becomes vessels": What transcends form is called the Dao; what takes concrete shape is called a vessel. When the Dao is whole, heaven and humanity unite; when vessels scatter, they separate. At the level of Dao, all things exist in undifferentiated chaos; at the level of concrete forms, when simplicity disperses, distinctions between specific shapes and appearances emerge.

This passage elucidates how sages employ the Dao to govern the world and cultivate themselves.

The phrase "when sages employ it, they become officials and leaders" is explained thus: The complete Dao (Dao in its entirety) is used for self-cultivation, while its dispersed manifestations (Dao in its particular expressions) are applied to governance. Just as tangible things can be named and specific responsibilities can be followed, establishing official positions and directing subordinates enables effective governance of the world—this is the meaning of "officials and leaders." The Book of Changes states that only those who comprehend both the subtle and the manifest, the yielding and the firm, can become leaders revered by multitudes, embodying the same principle.

When Zhuangzi discusses the order of the Great Dao, he describes a threefold process: first clarifying benevolence and righteousness, then defining divisions of labor, and finally establishing systems of titles and duties. When sages apply these methods to govern the world, it represents the highest form of peaceful rule. The Book of Changes speaks of "knowing the subtle and the manifest, knowing the yielding and the firm" precisely because sages possess complete virtue and embody both benevolence and righteousness, thus becoming the officials and leaders whom people look up to.

The explanation of "the great system does not carve" follows: Sages understand the Dao of transformation—they can adapt to the changing forms of all things (transformation) while also decisively initiating change (revolution). They establish rules without being constrained by them, and they refine all things without leaving traces of carving. This illustrates how the highest system does not violate nature through artificial division.

Finally, the chapter on "those who wish to seize the world" makes clear: The world is the greatest entity, and those who attempt to forcibly possess it are doomed to fail. Those who truly comprehend the Dao are not bound by specific things, and only such individuals can truly master all phenomena.

All things in the world that possess form, appearance, sound, or color can only be called "objects" (物). At their core, these concrete things are not fundamentally different. Though the vastness of the world may be called a "great object," without understanding the Dao (the Way), even the grandest things remain merely ordinary objects.

Only those who unite with the Dao and are not bound by concrete things can truly govern all beings, mobilize the multitude, and allow everything under heaven to find its proper place. Because all things arise through movement and transformation and cannot escape the category of "objects," there must be something that transcends the limitations of objects to command them—this is the Dao. Understanding that the Dao itself is not a concrete thing allows one to hold the workings of the universe in the palm of one’s hand, effortlessly shouldering the responsibility of governing the world without deliberate effort.

Zhuangzi said, "Those who possess great things must not cling to concrete objects." Ultimately, one must realize that the ruler of all things is not itself a thing—this principle applies not just to governing the world. Though the world is an important vessel, it cannot be forcibly controlled. Those who do not understand the Dao yet seek to seize the world and act forcefully rely on cunning and brute force. Those who rely on cunning will inevitably encounter difficulties, and those who depend on force will ultimately face danger—such approaches are far removed from the Dao.

The reason sages follow the natural Dao and do not exalt cunning or force is precisely because the Dao gives rise to all things without being constrained by them, while cunning and force become ensnared by concrete things. Only by transcending the limitations of objects can one truly govern them, which is why sages choose to align with the Dao rather than rely on cunning or force. How could someone like the First Emperor of Qin, who relied solely on cunning and force, ever govern the world well? Thus, the ancients believed the Qin dynasty’s downfall was due to its excessive reliance on force, and Yang Xiong compared the Qin to wolves for this very reason.

The phrase "the world is a sacred vessel" (神器) was explained by Emperor Huizong of Song: What is confined by form and quantity, restricted by spatial orientation, or limited to the bounds of heaven and earth are merely ordinary objects. But what stands in the immeasurable and moves without fixed direction—those who try to force it will fail, those who cling to it will lose it—this is why it is called a "sacred vessel."

Further commentary elaborates: Speaking of "the six directions" (六合, up-down, left-right, front-back) is to be constrained by form and quantity; speaking of "time and space" (宇宙, past-present, vastness) is to be restricted by spatial orientation—these are ordinary perceptions confined within the bounds of heaven and earth.

Heaven and Earth embrace and sustain all things, yet the vast cosmos is but a vessel. The true Dao stands in unfathomable realms, invisible to the eye; it moves through boundless space without fixed boundaries. Those who force action while ignorant of Wuwei (non-action) are doomed to fail; those who cling to personal views without understanding timely adaptation are destined to lose. Though the Dao never departs from concrete phenomena, as the origin of all things, it may be called mysteriously profound.

Emperor Huizong of Song comments: To govern all things and guide all beings, one must attain the "vessel-transcending" state unconfined by particulars—only then can the world be properly ordered. Thus rulers should maintain Wuwei to utilize all under heaven.

The commentary explains: What has form can be named; what has boundaries can be grasped—this defines "vessel." One must transcend concrete forms to master all existence. "Vessel-transcending" means not being enslaved by external objects. Only when unshackled from material constraints can one effortlessly handle myriad phenomena and ever-changing beings. Without consciously seeking control, one naturally directs all things and guides all life. This reveals how transcending particulars enables universal governance—how Wuwei accomplishes worldly affairs. Thus without deliberate governance, the world becomes ordered of itself.

The Daode Jing states: "The eternal Dao does nothing yet leaves nothing undone. If lords and kings could hold to this, all things would transform spontaneously." Zhuangzi similarly says: "Rulers must practice Wuwei to employ all under heaven." A monarch facing south who clings to superficial actions—ignoring Wuwei as fundamental principle—exhausts limited lifespan pursuing infinite affairs until wisdom becomes entangled. How then could such a ruler govern the world or transform all beings? Hence Zhuangzi warns: "Excessive cleverness brings failure."

Emperor Huizong further notes: "Capable yet incapable of Wuwei, one's wisdom becomes constrained." Zhuangzi's "much knowledge brings failure" speaks precisely to this.

The commentary elaborates: Fixation on distinguishing among things prevents unity with all existence—this loses Wuwei's essence. Contact with objects breeds discrimination, forcing deliberate action. Forced action creates opposition—how could this not fail? Only by taking Wuwei as root and action as branch, practicing non-action that accomplishes all, can one respond to phenomena with effortless ease. How then could wisdom be constrained? The immortal Guangchengzi said "much knowledge brings failure" precisely because maintaining unknowing leads to omniscience—how could this possibly fail?

Emperor Huizong of the Song Dynasty, in his commentary on the Daode Jing, states: The preciousness of the Dao lies in its accordance with the changes of time. If one stubbornly resists change, opportunities will be lost—such behavior contradicts the heavenly Dao.

This commentary explains: Time never stops, and the great Dao cannot be obstructed. As time flows unceasingly, the Dao also adjusts with transformation. Thus, the value of the Dao lies in seizing the right moment. All things lack fixed forms—the key is to adapt with the times. If one clings stubbornly to rigidity, opportunities will be missed—acting too early is recklessness, while acting too late means falling behind. How could mistakes not arise? Only by moving with the times and adjusting to circumstances, free from stubborn attachments, can one neither violate the moment nor deviate from the Dao. The Book of Changes states, "The significance of acting in accordance with the time is supremely great."

Thus, all things sometimes advance and sometimes follow, sometimes flourish and sometimes wither, sometimes strengthen and sometimes weaken, sometimes thrive and sometimes decline. Emperor Huizong comments: Such is the principle of all things—advancing and following like the alternation of sun and moon, flourishing and withering like the turning of the four seasons, strengthening and weakening like the mutual generation and restraint of the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water), thriving and declining like the growth and decay of plants. All are governed by time and principle, inevitably bound by constraints. Only the sage transcends the entanglements of external things, standing independently above all phenomena, coming and going freely—this is the state of "solitary uniqueness." Those who attain this state are most revered, for they can serenely master all things without being disturbed by their complexity.

Further elaboration in the commentary explains: The sun sets and the moon rises, their alternation never ceasing—this is the principle of "sometimes advancing, sometimes following." Spring passes and summer arrives, the seasons turning without end—this is the manifestation of "sometimes flourishing, sometimes withering." When Wood Qi flourishes, Water Qi weakens; when Fire Qi rises, Metal Qi is subdued—this is the "sometimes strong, sometimes feeble" dynamic within the mutual generation and restraint of the Five Phases. When rice withers, wheat sprouts; when leaves fall, chrysanthemums bloom—this is the cycle of "sometimes thriving, sometimes collapsing" among plants. From advancement and following to thriving and decline, all things are governed by time and constrained by principle, trapped in ceaseless cycles without liberation. Only by transcending time and breaking free from the bonds of principle can true freedom be attained. The sage understands this truth: realizing the emptiness of the Dao, one is not burdened by external things; recognizing the nobility of the Dao, one can rise above them. When human and Dao unite, external things can no longer become obstacles—such freedom to come and go without restraint is true "solitary wandering."

This passage expounds the worldly wisdom of those who have attained the Dao. Laozi believed that truly enlightened sages (referring to wisdom-holders who comprehend the Dao) can transcend the constraints of the material world, remaining unburdened by external things. They understand that all phenomena exist in constant transformation (as Emperor Huizong's commentary notes: "When things reach their prime, they age" and "Fullness invites diminishment"), and thus avoid excessive pursuit, extravagant waste, or extreme behaviors ("eliminating excess, luxury, and extremes").

Sages maintain inner tranquility and unity. Though external circumstances may change endlessly, their principles for engaging with the world remain constant. They follow natural laws ("acting according to spontaneity"), refrain from excessive material pursuits ("not artificially enhancing life"), live with measured simplicity ("taking restraint as their discipline"), and preserve their intrinsic nature undisturbed by external influences ("internally preserved, externally unshaken"). This state is described as "wandering freely within the bounds [of the Dao]."

The text criticizes those who pursue superficial splendor and focus on external embellishments ("elaborate ornamentation and artificial appearances"), pointing out that such practices not only fail to aid governance but instead bring the calamities of excessive striving and extravagance. True governance lies in accordance with nature ("embodying non-action") and harmonizing with the Great Dao ("revolving with the Dao"). Thus, one avoids the failures caused by forced action and the losses resulting from stubborn self-opinion.