《道德真經疏義(一)》Vol. 7

Here we discuss how those who assist rulers with the Dao never rely on military force to dominate the world. Emperor Huizong of Song commented that mobilizing armies and weapons represents the most inferior application of virtue (De) in the Daoist tradition. While ancient sages occasionally employed military means, they never considered it a primary choice. True advisors who serve rulers through the Dao focus on fundamental principles, thus never resort to brute strength.

Zhuangzi, when discussing governance, mentioned five secondary methods, among which military force stands as the least significant aspect of virtue. The fundamental principles refer to spiritual cultivation and inner refinement. Though weapons cannot be entirely abolished (as even the ancients used them occasionally), noble individuals prioritize essential Daoist practice, never placing military might first. Those who assist rulers through the Dao already represent the finest among noble individuals—how could they drive common people into peril or intimidate the world with force? When King Hui of Liang sought vengeance for his fallen soldiers, Mencius taught him that the benevolent face no enemies—doesn't this demonstrate the impossibility of domination through violence?

The use of force inevitably invites retribution. Mencius said, "As you treat others, so shall you be treated." Kindness begets kindness, while cruelty invites cruelty. Those obsessed with warfare and slaughter—what retribution might they expect? This illustrates the principle that "such actions return upon themselves."

Areas where armies encamp become desolate, and great wars inevitably bring years of famine. Emperor Huizong explained: conscription exhausts the people's vitality, leaving fields overgrown with thorns; warfare violates celestial timing, thus causing natural disasters. The Book of Songs states, "When all states are pacified, abundant harvests follow year after year"—only when the world lives in harmony, with people at peace, do heaven and earth naturally align in seasonal harmony.

Farming cannot be careless, nor weeding haphazard—this is called fulfilling human effort; favorable weather and timely rains—this is called attaining celestial harmony. Warfare neither properly employs human effort (causing fields to lie waste) nor aligns with celestial timing (bringing repeated famines). The Book of Songs' mention of "pacifying all states" creates harmony among people, and since humanity shares fundamental Qi with heaven and earth, worldly peace naturally resonates with cosmic harmony.

This passage discusses the distinction between how sages and ordinary people approach military strategy. The sage's art of war emphasizes harmony (unity) rather than numerical superiority, focusing on achieving maximum results with minimal cost.

The text points out that ordinary military leaders often expend great effort for little gain because they fail to grasp the fundamental principles. The sage's method lies in mastering the key to governing the world, thus achieving twice the result with half the effort. Flaunting military might and bullying the weak is not the auspicious virtue (De) of a true ruler. The ancient kings remained ever-victorious precisely because they understood this principle.

The Zuo Zhuan states, "An army prevails through unity, not numbers." Mencius similarly remarked, "Favorable terrain is less important than human harmony," while Xunzi argued, "If soldiers and civilians are not united, even enlightened rulers like Tang of Shang or King Wu of Zhou would struggle to win." These teachings all affirm that the key to military success lies in internal cohesion.

True success should be achieved without boasting, victory without arrogance, and goals attained without pride—recognizing that these actions are taken only out of necessity. Sages act only after deep contemplation, ensuring success every time. As the second yang line of the Shi (Army) hexagram in the I Ching (Yijing) reveals: maintaining the Middle Way brings good fortune, and adhering to the correct path prevents error.

The art of war lies in following the natural order (Dao), acting with caution, and upholding the principle of the Mean (Zhongyong). Like a hunter encountering prey, one must seize the moment without excess. By remaining flexible yet steadfast in righteousness, one can guide the masses toward the proper path—upholding justice without inviting calamity.

The sage employs arms not for militaristic aggression or to satisfy insatiable desires. Weapons are used only when absolutely necessary, when the state faces imminent peril. Those who are self-righteous, boastful, and complacent cannot maintain victory for long. Truly adept at mastering triumph are those who, even after defeating enemies, refrain from self-praise—thus none in the world can contend with them; who, having achieved military success, avoid ostentation—thus none can dispute their merits; and who, upon attaining accomplishment, remain free from arrogance—thus their achievements endure. Therefore, genuine accomplishment is that which no one in the world can rival.

All things, upon reaching their zenith, inevitably decline. As Emperor Huizong of Song noted in his commentary, this mirrors the natural transition from summer's lushness to autumn's withering. The transformations of heaven and earth proceed silently—who can perceive them? When things reach the peak of strength, they begin to age, signifying their departure from the essence of the Dao (the Way).

The Dao itself has neither beginning nor end and remains unaffected by the changes of all things. It has existed eternally since ancient times, driving the transformations of all things yet remaining unchanged itself. Thus, while all things undergo cycles of prosperity and decline, the Dao remains constant. The aging of all things stems precisely from their deviation from this unchanging Dao.

Fine weapons are inauspicious objects, detested even by all things—thus those who embody the Dao do not wield them lightly. Emperor Huizong explains: Auspicious events bear omens, whereas weapons are instruments of calamity, hence their inauspicious nature. Those who follow the Dao store weapons away in ordinary times, using them only when absolutely necessary. They manifest De (Virtue/Power) rather than flaunt military might.

All transformations have their origins, and fortune or misfortune arrives with omens. According to natural law, the harbingers of good fortune are called "auspicious signs," hence the Yi Jing (Book of Changes) states that auspicious events have forewarnings. But how could weapons, instruments of calamity, bring good fortune? Though military training and sacrificial rites (such as the ancient "leima" ceremony before campaigns) must be timed appropriately...

The ancient sage-kings never abandoned military force, yet they never displayed it lightly. They understood that flaunting military power invites calamity, thus they emphasized manifesting De (Virtue/Power) instead. As recorded in the Zuo Commentary, weapons should be stored away and only deployed when absolutely necessary. King Wu of Zhou famously returned his shields and spears to the armory and sealed away his bows and arrows, devoting himself to cultivating virtue to govern the realm. This embodies the principle of "shining with De rather than parading military might."

The original meaning of the character "武" (martial) reveals profound wisdom: its upper component "止戈" signifies restraining weapons, while the lower "footprint" symbolizes abandoning their use. Thus, those who truly embody the Dao never resort to arms lightly.

In daily life, the noble person honors the left (yang, representing life and De), while in military matters they honor the right (yin, representing death and punishment). Weapons are inauspicious instruments, not tools a noble person should routinely employ. As Emperor Huizong explained: Yang qi nurtures life, while yin qi governs execution. The noble person reveres the life-giving power of De yet stands in awe of the death-bringing nature of punishment—hence weapons are not the instruments of nobility.

The Dao's operation permeates all things, manifesting as yang on the left and yin on the right. This Yin-Yang polarity constitutes the fundamental principle of all creation and destruction: yang governs growth while yin governs dissolution. De resembles yang qi nourishing life (as Guan Zhong stated, "yang manifests as De"), while punishment resembles yin qi bringing death (Guan Zhong called it "yin manifests as punishment"). The sanctity of De must never be violated, hence the noble person exalts it; when administering punishments, even music ceases—demonstrating the noble person's solemn reverence for their gravity.

Though weapons remain inauspicious, sages governing chaotic eras must sometimes suppress violence and quell rebellions. When defiant lords challenge the Son of Heaven's authority, military action becomes unavoidable. Yet mobilizing armies always represents the last resort after exhausting moral transformation—the sage deploys weapons with profound reluctance. They maintain a mindset of Wuwei (non-action), never initiating conflict nor taking pleasure in victory. Those who delight in killing can never truly rule All-under-Heaven.

(Note: "恬淡" describes a serene mind free from competitive desire; "三军五兵" collectively denotes military forces and weaponry; "不庭" refers to feudal lords who refuse submission to the imperial court.)

Emperor Huizong of the Song Dynasty commented on the Dao De Jing (Classic of the Way and Virtue) thus: If a ruler truly honors benevolent virtue (De), none in the world can oppose him. Those who dwell in peril yet consider themselves secure, encounter calamity yet deem it advantageous, and indulge in actions leading to ruin while finding pleasure in them—such individuals ultimately become objects of collective resentment and focal points for accumulating misfortune.

The explanatory notes elaborate: A person of benevolent virtue is indeed invincible under heaven. Therefore, if a ruler sincerely cherishes benevolence, he will be without peer in the world. Those who fail to understand this principle are quick to beat war drums and raise armies, reveling in martial prowess and conflict. Such behavior is, in truth, dwelling in danger without realizing it, encountering misfortune while mistaking it for gain, and marching toward destruction while delighting in the process. Naturally, such individuals invite resentment and accumulate calamity. It must be understood that the sage-kings’ fundamental approach to warfare was guided by the principles of benevolence and righteousness—launching campaigns only when necessary and resting arms when there was no cause. This is the path to enduring peace and stability.

The Dao De Jing states that auspicious affairs favor the left, while inauspicious affairs favor the right. Thus, the lieutenant general stands on the left, and the senior general stands on the right. This signifies that those in high positions should treat warfare with the solemnity of funeral rites. When many lives are lost, it should be mourned with grief, and even in victory, the proceedings should be handled as a funeral.

Emperor Huizong comments: The Yijing (Book of Changes) compares the military to poison. Though victory may be achieved in war, someone must inevitably suffer its toxicity. Therefore, both those in high positions and the victorious must treat the matter with funeral rites.

The explanatory notes further clarify: The Shi (Army) hexagram in the Yijing states, "With this, one poisons the world, and the people follow." Though the armies of sage-kings are meant to protect the people and nurture the populace, just as a physician uses poison to cure illness, warfare inevitably inflicts harm. Thus, the Yijing likens the military to poison, demanding that victors observe funeral rites.

Regarding the chapter "The Dao is eternally nameless": The Dao is the origin of heaven, earth, and the myriad things—how could it be confined by names? The explanatory notes state that the nameless is the beginning of heaven and earth, and the Dao is the root from which they arise; thus, it cannot be named.

On the phrase "Though the Uncarved Block (Pu) is small, none in the world dare claim mastery over it," Emperor Huizong uses the "Uncarved Block" as a metaphor for the Dao in its wholeness. From the perspective of form and name, the great governs the small, yet the Dao’s wholeness does not depart from its inherent nature. Though seemingly minute, it can discern the myriad things—much like Zhuangzi’s saying, "Within it, there is a true ruler." The explanatory notes quote Zhuangzi: "To be identical with the desireless is to be in the state of the Uncarved Block." The scripture states, "When the Uncarved Block is fragmented, it becomes vessels," using the Uncarved Block to symbolize the Dao’s undivided totality. The great occupies the superior position—though few in number, it prevails; the small occupies the inferior position—though numerous, it is governed by the myriad things.

This passage elucidates the intrinsic nature and function of the Dao (the Way). The Dao cannot be grasped physically (eluding all touch), and can only tentatively be described as "subtle." It is perfectly self-sufficient yet profoundly mysterious (perfectly integrated with its nature and unfathomably profound). The Dao does not depend on physical form (not attached to form), nor is it constrained by quantity (not confined by number)—it is the true sovereign governing all things (the genuine ruler).

If rulers and kings can uphold the Great Dao, all things will naturally submit to them (all beings will spontaneously pay homage). Emperor Huizong of Song commented: The Dao is inherently the ruler of all things, hence all beings naturally submit to it. Zhuangzi also said: Preserve the original simplicity of nature, and the people will maintain their innate disposition. Governing all things requires neither intimidation nor punishment—this is the wondrous function of the Dao.

Further commentary explains: The Dao resembles the ancestor of all things (like the progenitor of all beings), and nothing fails to revere it. As long as one holds fast to the root of the Dao, all things will naturally return to it. Just as the Yijing states: The sage uses the divine Dao to teach the world, and the world naturally submits. Why would governing all things require coercive measures?

When the Yin and Yang energies of heaven and earth harmonize, sweet dew descends (heaven and earth unite to send down sweet dew), distributed evenly without human command. Emperor Huizong noted: By preserving the pure and simple Dao without losing it (guarding the Way of purity and simplicity without fail), not only will all things submit, but one will also resonate with heaven above and earth below (flowing in unison with heaven and earth). In this state, the Yin and Yang energies blend harmoniously (interacting to create harmony), and all beings receive its blessings. Sweet dew is the condensation of this harmonious energy between heaven and earth—an ancient legend tells of emperors whose virtue moved heaven and earth, causing sweet dew to descend.

The commentary elaborates: Purity (chun) preserves the spirit from depletion, while simplicity (su) prevents chaotic disturbances. By upholding this pure and simple Dao, the spirit becomes one with the Dao (united with the divine). This subtle state of unity (the refined penetration of oneness) aligns perfectly with the principles of nature (in accord with celestial order)—how could it merely bring about the submission of all things? Aligning with heaven above (joining with heaven above), one participates in the workings of creation; attuning to earth below (connecting with earth below), one embodies its profound virtue. When the spirit permeates all directions (the spirit extends everywhere), linking heaven above and earth below (reaching up to heaven and down to earth), it flows in unison with heaven and earth (flowing with heaven and earth). The harmonious interaction of Yin and Yang energies (the two blending in harmony) naturally brings forth sweet dew—how could all things not receive its blessings? Sweet dew is born from the harmonious energy of heaven and earth. When sages preserve the pure and simple Dao, they move heaven above and earth below (reaching both heaven and earth), naturally eliciting this harmonious energy.

This passage elucidates the relationship between imperial virtue and the natural order of heaven and earth, while emphasizing the importance of "knowing when to stop" (zhi zhi).

When an emperor's virtue (De) reaches its supreme state, it connects above with the Great Purity (Taiqing, the highest celestial realm), resonates below with the Great Peace (Taining, earthly tranquility), and harmonizes at the center with all living beings. At this stage, sweet dew descends from heaven. The sky, through its natural non-action (Wuwei), remains clear and empty - thus when imperial virtue ascends to Taiqing, it resonates with heaven. The earth, through its natural non-action, maintains peace - thus when virtue extends to Taining, it aligns with earth. Humans, as the spiritual essence of all things, connect with all beings when virtue reaches all creatures. This explains why sweet dew descends.

Regarding the principle of "knowing when to stop": After names and social distinctions were established in the world, though various concepts emerged, one must understand moderation. Emperor Huizong of Song's commentary notes that when the Dao evolves to its fifth stage, forms and names appear, marking the beginning of virtue's decline and the gradual dissipation of primordial simplicity. Benevolent people worry about worldly affairs because they cannot perceive the essence, while the unvirtuous indulge their desires pursuing wealth and status. Sages differ - though dwelling in a world of distinctions, they preserve their innate nature unchanged by external things, maintaining inner tranquility and self-sufficiency. Thus they know when to stop without falling into peril.

Zhuang Zhou described cosmic evolution in nine stages, with forms and names emerging at the fifth stage. By this point, true virtue has become distant, and primordial simplicity fragments into concrete things. The benevolent worry due to obscured vision, while the unvirtuous chase wealth driven by greed. Yet sages maintain independence, neither conforming to external things nor losing their connection with the divine spirit (Shen). By preserving their authentic nature and remaining still amidst change, they avoid falling into danger.

The Dao (the Way) of the world operates like rivers and streams that ultimately flow into the great ocean. Emperor Huizong of Song explained that all things in the universe are fundamentally interconnected—the movement of the Dao in the world is as natural as water seeking the lowest point. When sages govern the world, they simply follow the inherent nature of all things, just as the ocean, by virtue of its low position, naturally draws all rivers to it.

Though living beings take myriad forms, they all originate from the same source. The complete manifestation of the Dao always resides within the intrinsic nature of all things, and the sages fully comprehend this truth. Thus, those who possess genuine wisdom act in accordance with this inherent nature. Just as water flows downward by natural law, like attracts like. When sages govern the world, they appear to practice Wuwei (non-action), yet in reality, they guide the people by aligning with their innate tendencies.

Chapter 33 states that those who can perceive others clearly possess wisdom. It is like the eyes that can see objects a hundred paces away but cannot see their own lashes. Distinguishing good from evil in others is like separating black from white—this indeed demonstrates wisdom, but only in understanding others.

True self-awareness is called enlightenment. The Yijing (Book of Changes) teaches that self-reflection leads to self-knowledge, while Daoism speaks of "inner vision" (neishi, inward contemplation) as genuine clarity. When wisdom is used to observe others, one easily becomes entangled in disputes over right and wrong; but through self-reflection, one returns to the stillness of the original source. This awakening is like the mirror of heaven and earth, revealing the essence of all things. Just as the sharpest eyesight may discern tiny objects at a distance yet fail to notice the lashes right before them, human wisdom often follows the same pattern—perceiving others clearly while remaining blind to oneself. Mencius said that distinguishing right from wrong is the beginning of wisdom, and Xunzi likewise held that true wisdom lies in discerning truth from falsehood. Yet, like eyes that can only look outward, this wisdom remains limited to observing others.

This scripture passage discusses the cultivation state of returning to one's original mind and attaining self-realization through tranquil observation. The text states that by returning to the fundamental origin, one can achieve a state of serenity, and this stillness generates the light of wisdom, mirroring the essential nature of all things like a polished mirror. The Book of Changes speaks of "returning to the original mind to know oneself"—referring precisely to this inner contemplation of one's true nature. It is not about using cleverness to judge others' rights and wrongs, but about calming the mind and reflecting inward to perceive deeper truths that ordinary people cannot see. The fundamental principles of heaven, earth, and all things become manifest in this state of tranquil observation.

Regarding the phrase "one who conquers others has strength, but one who conquers oneself is mighty," Emperor Huizong of Song explains in his commentary that those who attain the Dao (the Way) focus on inner virtue (De) rather than brute force, seeking to overcome their own selfish desires rather than triumph over others. The wise deceiving the foolish or the brave oppressing the weak—these rely on external power to subdue others. But using upright Qi (vital energy) to restrain selfish desires and preserve the integrity of one's innate nature—this is true strength. Those who can conquer themselves remain inwardly peaceful whether they withdraw from the world or live in seclusion, embodying the highest form of fortitude.

Finally, concerning the phrase "one who knows contentment is rich," Emperor Huizong explains that true wealth lies in inner fulfillment. The contented person focuses on inner cultivation, already possessing everything within themselves (referring to spiritual completeness), as if they held the wealth of an entire nation. Though the myriad things differ in form, to maintain one's original authenticity without losing oneself—this is the most precious kind of abundance.

(Note: Here, "returning" refers to turning back to the original mind; "inner vision" is the Daoist practice of internal observation; "perfected person" refers to one who has attained the Dao; and "withdrawing from the world" means living in seclusion.)

Zhuangzi teaches that true abundance lies in being content within oneself. What is called "wealth" means possessing all things yet remaining unattached—only those who are content can achieve inner fulfillment. Such individuals stand with their heads reaching heaven and feet planted on earth, embrace the four directions within their hearts, harmonize yin and yang, and encompass all things in their being. How could the material riches of Jin or Chu compare to this? The contented are forever abundant—this is the true wealth of the nation.

Only those who persevere unceasingly possess true aspiration. Emperor Huizong of Song comments: "Strengthening oneself without ceasing means dedicating oneself to the Dao." A deeper interpretation explains: Diligent study expands wisdom and insight, while devoted practice of the Way daily enhances one's De (Virtue). The key to accomplishment lies in self-strengthening, and self-strengthening is the mark of true aspiration. The Daodejing states that superior scholars, upon hearing the Dao, diligently practice it—these are precisely those who dedicate themselves to the Way. To hear the Dao and practice it earnestly, accumulating progress through unceasing self-cultivation—is this not what those with genuine aspiration achieve?

Only by not losing one's root can one endure. Emperor Huizong notes: "Holding fast to constancy is how one endures." Those who drift with the current exist only briefly. The commentary explains: If one can abide steadfastly in the eternal Dao without wavering, one will walk with the Dao endlessly. The Yijing's Hexagram Heng (Constancy) states that the noble person establishes themselves without changing—this is precisely the meaning of sages enduring through long practice of the Way. As for those who shift with the times and fluctuate with external conditions, can they truly avoid losing their fundamental root?

When the physical form perishes yet the spirit (Shen) remains undiminished—this is true longevity. Emperor Huizong comments: "All life has its beginning and end. The sage who understands the nature of life and death comprehends the Dao of day and night, knowing that death is not different from life." When the form dissolves yet the spirit endures eternally, existing with heaven and earth without limit—is this not genuine longevity? The essential meaning of this chapter begins with illuminating principle, centers on contentment, and culminates in the spirit's indestructibility to fulfill heavenly destiny. Unless one transcends past and present to enter the realm of neither dying nor being born, who could accomplish this? The commentary observes: The birth of all things is their manifestation; their death is a return to the source.

All things in their beginning originate from the "One" (Dao), and in death return to the "One." By tracing the origin of life, one comprehends the meaning of death, just as Zhuangzi said: In the chaos and indistinctness, transformation gives rise to Qi (vital energy), which then condenses into form, and finally, form undergoes change and moves toward death. Conversely, by reflecting on the end of life, one understands the meaning of birth, as Zhuangzi also remarked: How do we know that the dead do not regret their former pursuit of life? Life and death are like an endless cycle, their essence fundamentally the same, unified in the "Dao."

The alternation of day and night mirrors the cycle of life and death, with all things in the world bound by this rhythm. Only those who have realized the Dao understand that life and death are one. Though the physical form continuously changes with time, the true nature (original innate essence) remains pure and unchanging, and the Shen (spirit) never perishes. Such individuals transcend the alternation of day and night, attaining the state of "Supreme Oneness," enduring eternally like heaven and earth. True longevity knows no limits.

The core teaching of this scripture unfolds in three parts: first, comprehending human affairs to exhaustively explore heavenly principles; second, knowing contentment to perfect one's innate nature; and finally, achieving the state of indestructible Shen to align with heavenly destiny. Exhaustively exploring heavenly principles prevents delusion, perfecting one's nature eliminates desires, and aligning with destiny liberates one from worldly constraints. This progression mirrors the cultivation stages described in the Yijing: "Exhausting principles, perfecting nature, and thereby reaching destiny."

Those who truly attain the state of heavenly destiny can grasp the profound mysteries of creation, unite with the Dao, and transcend the confines of time and space. Zhuangzi's words—"no past, no present; neither death nor life"—refer precisely to this realm. The great Dao flows everywhere, omnipresent, capable of moving left or right (illustrating its universality and inclusiveness).

This passage elucidates the characteristics of the Dao (the cosmic origin and governing principle) and its relationship with all phenomena.

The Dao flows freely like the transformations of Yin-Yang, unconstrained by any fixed direction. As the Taixuan Jing states, the sage's realm is precisely about being bound by nothing. Zhuangzi similarly observes that precisely because it is unbound, the Dao can freely respond to all situations. Thus, the alternation of movement and stillness is entirely self-directed by the Dao, as naturally harmonious as the waxing and waning of Yin-Yang without deviation; its cyclical operation flows completely unimpeded, as ceaseless as the alternation of sun and moon without exhaustion. The Dao can turn left or right, having no fixed gateway yet connecting everywhere, reaching all realms without exception.

All beings depend on the Dao for existence, yet the Dao neither claims credit nor refuses service. Like the four seasons fulfilling their roles before withdrawing naturally, all phenomena receive what they need from the Dao without encountering stinginess. Zhuangzi remarks that while the Dao appears empty, it satisfies all needs. The Dao enables beings to grow and transform spontaneously, never claiming their achievements as its own—just as spring's arrival means winter's retreat, or abundant trees causing streams to diminish. Fulfilling one's purpose then withdrawing is the Dao's natural rhythm.

The Dao nurtures all yet never presumes dominion, hence it may be called "small" (indicating humility); all things return to it unknowingly, hence it may be called "great" (indicating all-encompassing nature). When concealed in subtlety, the Dao appears minute and distinct from phenomena; when manifesting through transformations, it appears vast and interpenetrating with all existence. It shelters beings without displaying sovereign authority, thus never presuming lordship; it inspires creation without revealing traces of governance, thus remaining unrecognized as ruler. The Dao itself transcends measurements of size—these "nameable" aspects merely describe its functional manifestations within the phenomenal world.

This passage elucidates the subtle workings of the Dao and the wisdom of sages in navigating existence.

The Dao operates with exquisite refinement (yao jing), yet manifests vast efficacy. In its most obscure depths, it appears infinitesimal; in its most transformative expressions, it reveals immensity. Consider the movement of celestial Dao: when Yang energy ascends in the north, it signals the time of return; when descending in the south, the moment of separation. The south represents communion while the north signifies discernment. Thus when the Dao returns to its profoundest depths, it appears minute and distinct from all things; when manifesting in transformation, it appears vast and merges with all existence.

In distinction from phenomena, the boundaries between self and objects dissolve, hence it remains constantly desireless. In communion with all things, it follows their transformations effortlessly, and thus all beings return to the Dao. The Dao shelters and nurtures all creation without claiming lordship, never presuming to dominate—this describes the Dao's own perspective. It inspires and moves all beings, yet none can trace its workings, so people know not who governs—this describes the human perspective.

The Dao bears all things, shaping myriad forms without pursuing artifice. Precisely because it claims no merit, it never becomes a ruler; precisely because its method of inspiring creation remains mysteriously unfathomable, people find no trace of it. The Dao neither resides in greatness nor smallness—such measurements cannot define it. Whatever can be named and bounded is not the eternal true Dao, but merely its manifestation in material form.

Therefore, the sage never presumes personal greatness, and thus achieves true greatness. As Emperor Huizong of Song noted in his commentary: "His merit covers all under heaven yet appears as if done by none—thus his achievements become vast and abundant." Mencius said, "Only what can transform all things deserves to be called sagely." True greatness resolves all things, unburdened by the obsession to "pursue greatness."

Further exegesis clarifies: Only by maintaining humility while possessing great virtue can one truly preserve that virtue; only by not claiming credit for great accomplishments can one sustain those achievements. Profound substance radiating splendor may be called "great," yet still remains within the realm of form. Only what transforms ceaselessly without fixed patterns attains the sagely state, unconstrained by notions of "seeking greatness." By not clinging to manifestations of greatness, one accomplishes true greatness. This embodies the philosophy expounded in Chapter 35 of the Daode Jing, "Holding the Great Image."

The operation of heaven and earth follows its natural order, just as the celestial bodies display their trajectories in the sky—appearing to act through wuwei (non-action) yet maintaining perfect harmony. The sage governs the world in the same manner, emulating the Dao's way of operation, achieving the transformation of all people without deliberate action. Like parents naturally caring for their children, the people will naturally follow, just as water flows downward.

What is referred to as the "great image" (the manifestation of the Dao) can be perceived but cannot be grasped through concrete form, as stated in the Daode Jing: "The greatest music is barely audible; the greatest form has no shape." When the sage governs the world by mastering this formless principle of the Dao, all things coexist in harmony.

When yin and yang energies are balanced and tranquil, spirits and ghosts do not cause disturbances, living beings remain unharmed, and all things grow naturally. Through the sage's governance by the Dao, yin and yang move in orderly cycles, and spirits remain in their proper places. Though the people possess wisdom, they have no need to employ it deliberately, for everything exists in natural harmony.

The Liezi describes this ideal state as "the constant harmony of yin and yang" and "spirits making no supernatural disturbances." Whether it be the profound transformations of yin and yang, the subtle realm of spirits, or the multitude of living beings—all find their proper place and abide in perfect order. This is the most sublime state of harmony.

This passage elucidates the wisdom of state governance and personal cultivation.

Regarding state governance, if rulers can maintain the people's state of natural simplicity ("without knowledge or desire"), even when people possess intelligence, they will have no occasion to misuse it, thus allowing the world to reach its most beneficial state. This ideal condition comprises three levels: "security" refers to freedom from existential threats, "equality" means absence of inequitable calamities, and "harmony" indicates unimpeded implementation of policies and smooth governance. The progression from security to equality, and from equality to harmony—such governance outcomes can only be achieved by following the ancient Dao.

Concerning personal cultivation, the scripture critiques obsessive indulgence in sensory pleasures. People become bound by the five tones (the pentatonic scale of gong, shang, jiao, zhi, yu) and five flavors (sour, sweet, bitter, spicy, salty)—the ears pursuing beautiful sounds yet losing true hearing, the mouth craving delicacies yet spoiling genuine taste. This attachment to materiality resembles a traveler entangled by external objects, preventing liberation.

Finally, it describes the characteristics of the Dao: when spoken, it seems bland and flavorless; when observed, it appears inconspicuous; when heard, it sounds unremarkable—yet its application is inexhaustible. Like something that can harmonize all flavors while maintaining its essence, manifest all colors without displaying them, produce all sounds without clamoring. The Dao appears to practice wuwei (non-action), yet accomplishes everything; seems unknowing, yet comprehends all. This mysterious nature ensures the Dao's efficacy never depletes.

(Note: The "Five Phases" (Wuxing) refer to the fundamental elements of metal, wood, water, fire, and earth; the "five flavors" derive from these phases; the "five tones" constitute China's ancient pentatonic scale—all integral components of Daoist philosophical systems.)

This passage presents Daoist philosophical reflections on sensory experience and the ontological nature of the Dao, divided into two parts:

The first part discusses the relationship between sensory perception and the Dao. Various flavors, colors, and sounds are concrete phenomena we can perceive ("the flavors we taste," "the colors we see," "the sounds we hear"), but their originating source ("that which flavors flavors," "that which colors colors," "that which sounds sounds") is itself formless. As Zhuangzi speaks of "true flavor," the Yijing mentions "adornment without color," and the Daodejing states "the greatest music has no sound" - the authentic Dao transcends specific sensory experiences. Though the Dao itself has no taste, no form, and no sound, appearing devoid of knowledge or capability, it generates all variations of flavors, colors, and sounds in the world, embodying infinite potentiality.

The second part examines Chapter 36 of the Daodejing concerning developmental patterns in all phenomena. The lines "That which will shrink must first expand" reveal the principle of oppositional transformation: to contract something, one must first expand it; to weaken something, one must first strengthen it; to abolish something, one must first elevate it; to take something, one must first give it. Emperor Huizong of Song's commentary adds that these patterns of gathering/dispersing, flourishing/declining, rising/falling, and waxing/waning operate as subtly as the alternation of yin-yang or the cycle of seasons, with only sages capable of discerning their mysteries. For instance, when yang energy peaks during summer's height, yin energy has already begun its nascent emergence.

This passage elucidates the natural law of Yin-Yang waxing and waning, the cyclical transformation between prosperity and decline, and how sages discern subtle omens of change.

The movement of Yin-Yang resembles the alternation of sun and moon - while complementary, they also mutually constrain each other. In the cycle of seasons, cold and heat transform into one another, and all things undergo continuous birth and decay according to patterns of mutual generation and restraint. When any force reaches its zenith, its opposite begins to germinate - just as when Yang Qi peaks in summer, Yin Qi quietly emerges; when Yin Qi dominates winter, Yang Qi is already gesturing. As Yang Xiong (Han Dynasty philosopher) observed: "Unless Yang Qi reaches its extreme, Yin Qi cannot sprout; unless Yin Qi culminates, Yang Qi cannot budge."

This principle of cyclical transformation manifests equally in human affairs. When King Goujian of Yue sought to weaken Wu, he first encouraged Wu to attack Qi (thereby depleting its strength). When Zhi Bo plotted to conquer Chouyou, he first presented them with grand chariots (lulling them into complacency). As Han Feizi noted, Duke Xian of Jin similarly courted favor with Yu before launching his invasion. These examples illustrate how all phenomena reverse upon reaching their extremes, and how the wise perceive future transformations through subtle signs.

Sages comprehend emerging trends before they become manifest, discerning pivotal moments through faint traces. Though less perceptive than sages, worthy men can still take preventive measures before calamities arise. Whether observing nature's Yin-Yang fluctuations or humanity's power shifts, all follow the principle of "reversion upon reaching the extreme" - seemingly dominant forces often conceal seeds of decline, while faint omens may herald significant transformations.

This passage expounds the Daoist wisdom of observing the developmental patterns of all things. As the ancients said, "To take something, one must first give"—this principle applies not only to human affairs but also aligns with the fundamental laws of the Dao's operation. The sages could foresee grand trends from subtle signs, just as seeing frost signals the coming of winter, demonstrating their insight into the essential rhythms of growth and decline in all phenomena.

Truly enlightened individuals do not cling to superficial appearances but grasp the inner mechanisms of things. When a trend has yet to fully manifest, ordinary people may miss it, while the wise already perceive its inevitable unfolding. Like water that appears calm yet conceals undercurrents, or trees that seem still yet grow silently—the virtuous comprehend these subtle transformations, whereas common observers see only surface phenomena.

Daoism particularly emphasizes how the soft and weak overcome the hard and strong. Water, seemingly the softest substance, can penetrate the hardest rock. The sages understood the principle of accumulating small victories into great triumphs, avoiding brute-force confrontations in favor of aligning with natural patterns, quietly amassing strength within apparent gentleness. This foresight—the ability to discern significant truths within the most delicate signs—is what we call "subtle illumination" (weiming).

Yang Xiong illustrated this in his Classic of Supreme Mystery (Taixuan Jing) through the metaphor of water and trees: as water recedes from deep pools, tree branches flourish. Ordinary people see only isolated events, but the wise perceive the interconnected cycles of waxing and waning. Such profound understanding of developmental laws embodies the essence of Daoist wisdom.

In the Outer Chapters of the Zhuangzi, the story of the one-legged creature Kui, the snake, and the wind envying one another states: "The wind can point at me and surpass me, tread upon me and overcome me, even break giant trees and topple great houses—these are things only the wind can achieve."

From specific examples, it indeed appears that strength can overcome weakness. Yet from the perspective of the Dao (the Way), it is actually the soft and weak that ultimately prevails over the hard and strong. The triumph of weakness over strength is a truth aligned with the natural order. Accumulating softness transforms into strength, while maintaining strength requires guarding it with softness. This method of using softness to conquer hardness and weakness to overcome strength embodies the eternal, unchanging path to victory. As Zhuangzi says, "Accumulating many small defeats to achieve great victory" is something only sages can accomplish.

Nothing comes closer to the great Dao than water. Though water appears soft and slow, it is the most yielding substance under heaven, yet it can erode the hardest things. As the Daode Jing states: "Nothing in the world is softer than water, yet nothing is better at overcoming the hard and strong." The wind follows the same principle—its nature is pliant and penetrating, yet it can shake all things with unmatched swiftness, another demonstration of weakness conquering strength. The Zhuangzi's story of mutual envy between snake and wind illustrates this: the wind seems weak yet overcomes the snake, breaks mighty trees, and overturns grand houses. Here, "pointing at me" and "treading upon me" represent softness, while "breaking giant trees" and "toppling great houses" signify overcoming strength. Thus, softness is the Dao's true strength, and weakness is the Dao's power.

Fish cannot leave deep waters, just as a state's stratagems cannot be carelessly revealed. Emperor Huizong of Song comments: "Deep pools are where fish hide, just as statecraft is the ruler's tool. A leviathan capable of swallowing boats, when stranded, can be harmed even by ants—hence fish must not leave the depths. If a ruler displays rewards and punishments, ministers will exploit their power. Rewards and punishments are merely governance tools—if even these cannot be shown lightly, how much more the fundamental Dao of rule?" Sages wield statecraft without revealing it, relying not on brute force but on profound principles. They govern the world without leaving traces of cleverness, subdue all things without displaying martial prowess, and attain the eternal path of victory without deliberate pursuit. Like the endless transformations of yin-yang's opening and closing, they command ministers and steer the world in ways none can fathom—this is true mastery.

This passage elucidates the core principles of statecraft. The ruler (sovereign) wields authority like fish hidden in deep waters or sharp weapons controlling men—the essence lies in maintaining an unfathomable presence. Just as fish cannot survive without water, humans cannot exist apart from the Dao. Should a ruler lose this strategic advantage, they become like a beached whale devoured by ants—utterly vulnerable.

Rewards and punishments serve as instruments of governance, yet must never be openly displayed. When a ruler overtly dispenses rewards, ministers will exploit these opportunities for personal gain: they'll claim the ruler's generosity as their own benevolence, and the ruler's penalties as their own might. Han Feizi similarly observed that rewards and punishments constitute the state's sharp weapons—never to be fully revealed to subordinates.

The sage-ruler (ideal sovereign) maintains authority without ostentation, not through brute suppression but by abiding in an inscrutable realm, acting through formless means. They wield supreme power without attachment, govern all things without loss—not for lack of wisdom or strength, but because these capacities operate beyond perception. They awe the world without displaying military feats—not for absence of valor, but because such achievements manifest without visible traces.

True statecraft doesn't involve deliberately overpowering others, but naturally embodying the eternal principles of victory. Understanding the Dao's rhythmic expansion and contraction mirrors comprehending the interplay of Yin and Yang. By grasping the patterns of mystical transformation, one can command ministers and govern the realm while remaining impenetrable—perpetually controlling others without being controlled, attaining the supreme art of maintaining victory.

This passage elucidates the essence and function of the Dao. The Dao itself is quiescent and unmoving (Wuwei), yet it resonates with all things (effecting all transformations). If one merely pursues the Dao's quiescent non-action, one falls into emptiness; if one focuses solely on its responsive function, one becomes attached to concrete phenomena. The true Dao maintains its fundamental stillness while naturally responding to the transformations of all things.

Like a mirror reflecting objects or water surface mirroring images, there's no need for deliberate arrangement—it naturally manifests all forms as they are. If rulers (Houwang) can uphold this principle in governing, all things will naturally return to harmony. The key to governance lies not in forced action, but in aligning with the Dao's patterns.

The highest form of governance appears as non-action (Wuwei), yet actually operates through the Dao's natural rhythms. Just as a mirror maintains clarity to reflect and calm water naturally mirrors images, rulers who preserve the Dao's fundamental principles without forced intervention allow the world to find its own equilibrium. This is using the Dao's essence for self-cultivation, its residual power for statecraft, and its peripheral aspects for ordering the world. True governance naturally achieves effective action through the state of non-action.

This passage primarily explains how the Dao (道) spontaneously nurtures all things, and how sages use the "nameless simplicity" (referring to the primordial state of the Dao) to bring peace to the world.

The Dao operates like an invisible force, subtly guiding the growth and transformation of all beings. Flowers, trees, birds, and beasts all grow and multiply according to their inherent nature, unaware of what drives this process. This is the Dao's principle of "self-transformation" (自化), requiring no deliberate intervention.

When human desires arise, people deviate from the Dao's original nature. As Mencius observed, ordinary people require the sage's guidance to incline toward goodness. The virtue of those in high positions acts like wind upon grass—the grass bends where the wind blows. Thus, sages employ the "nameless simplicity" to settle human hearts.

"Nameless simplicity" refers to the Dao's most primal and authentic state—formless and beyond designation, yet containing the Dao's complete essence. Just as metal can be smelted into various implements and clay molded into diverse vessels, human nature can also be transformed through cultivation. The aggressive become gentle, the selfish turn fair, and the impatient grow serene.

Yet deliberate pursuit of virtuous conduct paradoxically leads one astray from the Dao's nature; excessive emphasis on De (德, Virtue/Power) causes loss of its true meaning. The Dao itself transcends concepts of good and evil, and De flows naturally. Governance through personal will only breeds contention. Only by returning to the Dao's authentic state—the "nameless simplicity"—can true peace be established in the world.

This passage elucidates the core Daoist concept of "governing through non-action" (Wuwei). Using metaphors of piled earth and gathered dust, it illustrates how even seemingly effortless actions still fall short of embodying the true Dao (the Way). Ancient practitioners' understanding of "non-action" often remained confined to specific phenomena, failing to fully manifest the wholeness of heaven and earth.

Laozi (Lao氏) deliberately deconstructed these partial interpretations to resolve later generations' confusion. The authentic Dao appears to take no action (Wuwei), yet accomplishes all things. Like the movement of heaven and earth that seems spontaneous yet contains supreme principles, forced attempts at "non-action" ironically fail to reflect cosmic perfection.

The text then employs water as another metaphor: when still, water naturally levels itself, becoming the carpenter's standard. Similarly, if rulers maintain clarity and desirelessness (不欲以静), first rectifying themselves, the world will naturally return to proper order. The Book of Changes (Yijing) states "the way of Qian transforms, each finds its correct nature and destiny," referring to this highest state of governance through non-action where all things develop according to their inherent nature.

The noble person contemplates water to comprehend the Dao, for water's nature most closely resembles the Dao's qualities. Though appearing in myriad forms—square or round, curved or straight—water inevitably levels itself when still. This demonstrates the principle that "without reckless movement, natural balance arises." Ancient sages took water as their model precisely because they understood: maintaining inner clarity and stillness (不欲以静) allows one to become like a carpenter's level (大匠取法), thereby influencing the world's return to proper order. As Zhuangzi observed, one must first rectify oneself before rectifying others, just as still water calms surrounding ripples.

This passage explains the principles of transformation and operation of the Dao (the Way) as discussed in the Daode Jing. The changes of the "heavenly Dao" (referring to the laws governing cosmic operation) manifest in all things receiving their inherent nature and destiny. What we call "sudden change" (bian) refers to abrupt transformation completely departing from original forms, while "gradual transformation" (hua) denotes progressive change building upon existing foundations. The heavenly Dao reveals itself through these transformations—appearing to practice non-action (wuwei), yet accomplishing all things effortlessly.

Every physical form contains its spirit (shen, the inner essence), each following its own operational patterns—this constitutes "inherent nature" (xing). The ceaseless, uninterrupted process of operation itself is what we term "destiny" (ming). When all things can develop according to their inherent nature and destiny without forced interference, the world will naturally return to tranquility.

The text begins by stating how the Dao always appears non-active yet accomplishes everything, and concludes by describing the world's natural return to peace—this represents the highest state of governance. Such governing effects have reached ultimate perfection, beyond which nothing greater can be achieved—this is what we mean by "perfect governance" (zhizhi).