《道德真經集註(一)》Vol. 2

Heaven and Earth endure because they do not exist for themselves. Emperor Xuanzong of Tang explains that their longevity stems precisely from their selflessness and lack of desire. Master Heshang Gong (a Han dynasty Daoist scholar) adds that Heaven and Earth quietly bestow upon all creatures without seeking repayment, unlike humans who anxiously struggle for personal gain.

Wang Bi (a Wei-Jin period metaphysician) observes that if Heaven and Earth existed solely for their own preservation, they would contend with all beings. Precisely because they don't exist for themselves, all things naturally return to them. Thus they achieve enduring vision and eternal life. Emperor Xuanzong further elaborates: though Heaven and Earth's virtue (De) in nurturing all things is immense, they never boast of their creative power—this is the true way of permanence. Wang Pang (a Song dynasty scholar) analyzes philosophically: clinging to self-preservation actually causes loss of life's essence. Only by transcending attachment to survival can one reach the state of living without being burdened by life itself.

Sages emulate Heaven and Earth's principle by putting others before themselves, yet ultimately find themselves elevated above the multitude. Heshang Gong explains that the sage's humility instead earns universal reverence. Wang Pang contends that though sages transcend ordinary sanctity, their outward appearance remains indistinguishable from common people—precisely because they follow the Dao's principle of non-contention (Wuwei), they become truly extraordinary. Those who deliberately seek novelty are more easily surpassed by ordinary folk.

When sages place themselves beyond concern, the people protect them as they would their own parents. Emperor Xuanzong reveals the subtle wisdom here: humility inspires willing support, while detachment preserves one's true self. Heshang Gong explains this worldly wisdom as "being stern with oneself yet generous with others," demonstrating how seemingly paradoxical phenomena actually align with the Dao's profound operational patterns.

The divine spirits (referring to the numinous powers between heaven and earth) protect selfless individuals as tenderly as they would guard an infant, thus granting them longevity. Wang Pang (a Song dynasty scholar) explains: If one clings to the notion of "self," all things become oppositional. Only those who transcend selfhood and relinquish attachments remain unshaken by the myriad phenomena.

Is this not precisely because of their selflessness?

Heshang Gong (Han dynasty commentator) annotates: The sage is beloved by people and protected by the spirits—is this not due to his impartial selflessness? Thus, he paradoxically achieves true self-realization.

Emperor Xuanzong of Tang elaborates: Heaven and earth nurture all beings without claiming merit; appearing selfless, they thereby attain eternity. The sage places himself last, appearing selfless yet gaining reverence and preservation. Heshang Gong adds: Ordinary people understand "self-interest" as serving personal desires, whereas the sage, through selflessness, attains genuine self-fulfillment. Wang Bi (Three Kingdoms philosopher) observes: Selflessness means not deliberately pursuing personal gain, yet thereby taking precedence and preserving oneself. Wang Pang further states: The sage harbors no selfish intent and never fixates on "I." Calculative striving only leads to deeper selfishness.

Chapter Eight speaks of supreme goodness resembling water. Emperor Xuanzong explains: Here, water’s nature illustrates the highest virtue of one who embodies the Dao (the Way). Heshang Gong says: One possessing supreme goodness (De/Virtue) embodies water’s qualities. Wang Pang reflects: Water, foremost among the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water), emerges from emptiness yet assumes form, closest to the Dao’s essence. Once water departs from the Dao, it manifests as "goodness"—this "supreme goodness like water" follows nature’s law.

Water nourishes all things without contention, willingly settling in places people disdain. Heshang Gong clarifies: In heaven, water becomes mist, clouds, rain, and dew; on earth, springs and streams. Wang Bi adds: People shun low-lying places. Wang Pang notes: Water’s nature nearly mirrors the Dao.

Emperor Xuanzong states that "nearly" (几) means approximation. Heshang Gong considers water’s nature closest to the Dao. Wang Bi observes: The Dao is formless while water has form—hence "nearly." Wang Pang explains: The human heart belongs to Fire, whose upward-tending nature breeds contention. Only by forgetting the self and embodying the Dao can one, like water, nurture without strife.

Regarding dwelling in goodness, Emperor Xuanzong says: One of supreme goodness, like water, abides in humble gentleness, enriching all without struggle. Heshang Gong annotates: Water always flows downward.

The innate nature of water is to flow downward, always moving from high places where plants grow toward the earth. Several Daoist scholars have interpreted this phenomenon from different perspectives:

Wang Pang (Northern Song scholar) observed that water's downward movement mirrors how humans should maintain a deep and tranquil state of mind. Emperor Xuanzong of Tang (Minghuang) commented that practitioners should cultivate inner stillness like the profound calm of a deep pool. Heshang Gong (Han dynasty commentator) added that while deep waters appear empty, they are in fact clear and luminous; Wang Pang further explained this state as embodying inner clarity with outward reserve.

Regarding water's nourishing quality, Minghuang noted that water's moistening of all things manifests the highest form of benevolence. Heshang Gong remarked that all beings depend on water for growth, yet it gives without seeking reward. On constancy, Minghuang observed that water never breaks its course even through treacherous terrain, while Heshang Gong likened this to water's faithful reflection of images, and Wang Pang emphasized its unwavering eastward flow.

In governance, Minghuang suggested rulers should cleanse society as water purifies all it touches. Heshang Gong described water's ability to cleanse while remaining undisturbed, and Wang Pang advocated following cosmic principles rather than personal bias—appearing yielding yet capable of bearing great weight. Concerning adaptability, Minghuang pointed to water's capacity to take any container's shape, Heshang Gong noted its ability to be square or round, and Wang Pang saw this flexibility as enabling limitless potential.

On timing, Minghuang observed water's seasonal rhythms—thawing in spring and freezing in winter without deviation. Heshang Gong added its summer dispersion and winter congealment, while Wang Pang highlighted its wisdom in flowing or pausing as needed. The scholars collectively concluded: precisely because water never contends with things (stopping when blocked, flowing when channeled), it remains free from resentment. Minghuang advised Dao cultivators to emulate water's humble responsiveness, Heshang Gong noted its flawless virtue, Wang Bi (Three Kingdoms scholar) recognized it as the perfect manifestation of Dao (the Way), and Wang Pang summarized that water's constant humility ultimately achieves the noblest De (Virtue/Power).

This scripture passage expounds the principle of knowing when to stop in human conduct.

The first line states that trying to fill a vessel to overflowing is not as wise as stopping in time. As Emperor Xuanzong of Tang (Minghuang) explains, stubbornly maintaining a state of fullness invites overturning, and excessive accumulation of wealth becomes a burden, inevitably leading to regret. Both Heshang Gong and Wang Bi argue that rather than forcing fullness to the point of danger, it is better to stop at the right moment. Wang Pang further elaborates that deliberate pursuit of possession often leads to loss, and only by treating "having" with a mindset of "non-having" can one truly retain.

The second line explains that honing a blade too sharp makes it difficult to maintain for long. Emperor Xuanzong points out that excessive pursuit of glory and riches inevitably leads to arrogance, inviting disaster. Heshang Gong uses the metaphor of meticulously carving an object only to discard it in the end. Wang Bi compares it to a blade that is too sharp and easily broken. Wang Pang contends that relying on personal cleverness to handle the endless changes of the world will ultimately prove insufficient—thus, the sage aligns with the times and dissolves self-attachment to respond effortlessly.

The third line says that even a house filled with gold and jade cannot be kept forever. Emperor Xuanzong observes that this further illustrates how fullness is unsustainable. Heshang Gong notes that greed harms the spirit (Shen) and wealth burdens the body. Wang Pang argues that clinging to external things for security is futile, as those things were never truly one's own to begin with.

The fourth line warns that arrogance amid wealth and honor invites calamity. Emperor Xuanzong cites this as proof that "sharpness cannot be tested indefinitely." Heshang Gong emphasizes that those in prosperity should aid the needy, or else disaster will surely follow. Wang Pang notes that pride stems from dependence on external conditions—such people are not even worth engaging with.

The conclusion summarizes: When achievements are made and fame is at its peak, one must know to withdraw at the height of success, for this aligns with the Dao of Heaven. Emperor Xuanzong uses the metaphor of "stepping back from glory," much like.... Through these five real-life examples, the chapter progressively unfolds the profound truth that "things turn into their opposites when they reach extremes."

This passage elucidates the operational principles of the celestial Dao (Tian Dao) and the philosophy of self-cultivation.

The text first explains the patterns of celestial movement: All phenomena in nature follow cycles of flourishing and decline, just as the sun begins its descent after reaching its zenith, and the moon wanes after becoming full. When things reach their peak, they inevitably turn toward decline; when joy reaches its extreme, sorrow emerges. This constitutes the immutable law of nature. The four seasons rotate seamlessly—each completing its purpose before yielding to the next. Heat and cold alternate, as all developments reverse direction upon reaching their limits. Ordinary people, however, become attached to transient circumstances, mistaking temporary conditions for permanence, thereby sinking into endless distress. The truly wise differ—they neither overvalue gold and jade possessions nor take pride in wealth and status, regarding external things as fleeting shadows that blur the boundary between self and other. Such individuals need not deliberately maintain perfection or sharpness, having already attained the state of "no-self" (Wuwo).

The subsequent "Nurturing the Hun and Po" chapter discusses soul cultivation: The "Hun and Po" refer to the human spiritual souls (ancient belief held that the Hun governs consciousness while the Po governs the physical form). Human existence relies on these souls, hence their careful nourishment is essential. Excessive joy or anger harms the Hun, while sudden fright damages the Po. The Hun resides in the liver and the Po in the lungs—overindulgence in food and drink injures these organs. Only through maintaining the souls' tranquility can longevity be achieved. The Po, belonging to Yin, dominates the physical form; the Shen (spirit) is originally vast and free but becomes constrained by its attachment to the Po (physical body). Practitioners must first expand their consciousness beyond bodily limitations, allowing the spirit to govern the form rather than being confined by it—this achieves the state of "embracing unity" (Baoyi, maintaining mind-body harmony). The distinction between ascension and descent after death stems from whether one's spirit submits to the physical form—ordinary people sink because their spirits become enslaved to their bodies, while sages experience death as their spirits' liberation from temporary physical vessels.

Emperor Xuanzong of Tang (Emperor Ming) explains: The yin energy formed at birth is called "po" (corporeal soul). After po is established, yang energy forms "hun" (ethereal soul). As po belongs to yin, it requires nourishment and enrichment, while hun, being yang, must remain full and vibrant. The human body carries this delicate po which requires constant care and regulation.

When yang energy fully permeates po, it transforms into hun. When hun can circulate freely, life achieves complete preservation. "One" represents a state of pure, unadulterated unity. Restoring yang energy and preserving life both demand absolute purity—thus one must hold fast to the undivided Dao, never letting it depart from the body.

Heshang Gong's commentary states: If a person can maintain this "One" without letting it leave the body, they will attain longevity. "One" is the primordial harmonious Qi (vital energy) first produced by the Dao. Thus it is said that "One's" fame spreads throughout the world: Heaven becomes clear by attaining "One," Earth becomes tranquil by attaining "One," and rulers become just by attaining "One." Internally it manifests as intention, externally as action. When extended to others, it becomes De (Virtue). All these are collectively called "One"—meaning single-minded focus without distraction.

Wang Bi's commentary explains: "To carry" means to dwell. "Hun-po" is the abode where humans permanently reside. "One" is humanity's true nature. If people can peacefully dwell in their constant residence (the body), maintaining purity and clarifying their Shen (spirit) without letting it depart, all things will naturally return to them.

Lü Huiqing's commentary states: "One" is the fundamental state of Jing (essence). We say "One" rather than "essence" because by holding to "One," essence remains unshaken. The ultimate goal of Daoist practice is returning to one's original nature, which requires realizing the primordial Shen. The reason people cannot manifest their spiritual nature is that they chase branches while forgetting the root, allowing external things to alter themselves—thus losing essence and spiritual clarity, sinking into ignorance.

The spiritual manifestations of yin-yang are hun and po: Hun, being yang, wanders, and can remain in the body only when matched with po; Po, being yin, is stable. Therefore practitioners must first stabilize their will, making essence, Qi, hun and po tranquil and unified. When po is settled, hun becomes steady; when essence is unified, Shen becomes complete.

"One" generates water, which represents essence. At birth, people possess complete Shen through gathered essence, but later often lose this wholeness through dispersion—this condition is called "wangliang": "wang" meaning unclear Shen, "liang" meaning divided essence. As Zhuangzi said, "Do not disturb your essence"—this speaks precisely of holding fast to "One."

The relationship between Shen and essence resembles that of fire and water: Fire has no fixed form and relies on oil to shine; Shen is vast and formless, impossible to work with directly—one can only cultivate it through nurturing essence, just as adding oil brightens fire and strengthening roots enriches branches. When hun, po, Shen and essence remain undiminished, willpower strengthens, Qi flows smoothly, and one ceases to be driven by external things. In stillness, one comprehends the great Dao; in action, one aligns with heavenly principle. At the ultimate stage, one unites with primordial Shen, transcending all names and distinctions.

This passage explains how Daoist practitioners can attain a state of purity akin to an infant by regulating Jing (essence), Qi (vital energy), and Shen (spirit). The core principle lies in the four-character phrase "concentrating Qi to achieve softness," which means harmonizing and focusing the primordial Qi within the body to reach its most pliant state.

Commentators offer varied interpretations: Emperor Xuanzong of Tang suggests focusing on balancing the innate Qi (Chong Qi), becoming like an infant free from discriminating thoughts; Heshang Gong emphasizes preserving Jing and Qi without dispersion, allowing the body to naturally soften; Wang Bi advocates aligning with natural Qi to attain ultimate softness; while Wang Pang systematically analyzes the relationship between Jing, Qi, and Shen—preserving Jing stabilizes Shen, stabilized Shen governs Qi, otherwise emotions become dominated by Qi and blood.

Three examples illustrate this: Mencius describes willpower as the commander of Qi; Yang Xiong compares Qi to a horse capable of both good and evil deeds; Confucius particularly praises Yan Hui for controlling anger (not transferring anger)—all manifestations of "concentrating Qi." Ordinary people, as they age and their Qi scatters, drift further from the Dao. Only by holding fast to the "One" (the origin of Dao) can one maintain the innocence and wholeness of an infant.

The latter part, "cleansing the mysterious mirror," discusses methods of mental cultivation. "Mysterious mirror" refers to the mind's capacity to reflect all things—like polishing a mirror, one must clear away distracting thoughts (cleansing) to achieve flawless clarity. Heshang Gong explains this as purifying the heart and intentions; Emperor Xuanzong adds that the mind-mirror must be cleansed of all flaws; Wang Bi describes it as stripping away all false adornments to return to the fundamental essence.

In short, this passage presents two layers of practice: externally, harmonizing Qi to make it soft and yielding; internally, purifying the mind to achieve lucidity. Only through cultivating both can one return to the pristine state of an infant.

This passage discusses the principles of self-cultivation and state governance, emphasizing the concepts of governing through non-action (Wuwei) and maintaining softness and stillness.

Regarding self-cultivation, the text states that by focusing on breath regulation (concentrating Qi), one can stabilize the mind. A stabilized mind leads to clear wisdom, which in turn eliminates distracting thoughts and allows one to perceive profound truths (mysterious insight into ultimate principles). Once these truths are understood, one can see through the essence of all things. If one still fixates on individual flaws, it indicates a lack of true comprehension of the Dao (the Way). In self-cultivation, one should maintain a natural state like breath regulation (inhaling vital essence and Qi), without excessive striving.

Concerning state governance, the passage advocates governing the people and administering the state through non-action. Rulers should emulate the soft and still qualities of the feminine (holding to the female principle), functioning naturally like the celestial movements of the North Star's Purple Palace (symbolizing the Heavenly Gate). When bestowing benefits upon the people, rulers should act spontaneously without making the populace feel manipulated (without letting subordinates perceive intention). By abandoning clever stratagems (discarding wisdom), rulers can foster simplicity among the people and bring stability to the nation.

The text cites various commentaries: Heshang Gong's notes emphasize that self-cultivation requires stillness and softness, while state governance should follow natural harmony; Emperor Xuanzong of Tang's commentary suggests that rulers who conform to heavenly mandate and maintain softness will endure; Wang Bi's interpretation indicates that governing should adapt to circumstances like the natural opening and closing of the Heavenly Gate. Collectively, these commentaries illustrate that whether in self-cultivation or state governance, one must follow the natural Dao, preserve softness and stillness, and avoid deliberate action—this represents the highest state of wisdom.

This passage elucidates the core Daoist concept of "governing through Wuwei (non-action)." The opening and closing of the Heavenly Gate (referring to the natural Dao) resembles the yielding receptivity of the feminine—responding harmoniously without active assertion, aligning with nature without forced interference. When rulers emulate this feminine tranquility and inclusiveness, all beings naturally return to them, and the world achieves stability of its own accord.

Those who attain the Dao do not act with deliberate intention; their spiritual activities align with natural rhythms without compulsion, much like Zhuangzi's description of "being gathered by things" in perfect spontaneity. Laozi considered autumn—representing the virtue of Metal among the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water)—as embodying stillness, unity, and the return to original nature. Those who truly comprehend the Great Dao remain aligned with it, whether in the primordial state before creation or the manifested world thereafter.

The radiance of the Great Dao illuminates all directions like the sun and moon shining upon the world, extending even beyond the Eight Extremities (the farthest reaches of space). Though invisible and inaudible, its brilliance manifests throughout the ten directions (the entire cosmos). True wisdom does not stem from deliberate seeking of knowledge but from maintaining a state of no-knowledge and no-desire. If rulers preserve feminine softness and clarity, the people will naturally support them; even while shining as brightly as the sun and moon, they must forget their achievements and refrain from arbitrary control.

The Dao gives birth to and nourishes all things without claiming possession, just as it neither blocks water sources nor suppresses innate nature. When one fully realizes the Great Dao, one becomes capable of generating and nurturing all beings like the Dao itself. The Dao creates without ownership because all things are fundamentally one with it. Its actions never anticipate reward; even when it appears to act, it does so only by following necessity in accordance with temporal conditions.

This passage expounds the supreme state of Daoist governance through "non-action" (Wuwei). Laozi employs two vivid metaphors to illustrate this principle:

First, consider the construction of a wheel: Ancient wheels had thirty spokes (symbolizing the lunar cycle) converging upon the central hub. The hub must remain hollow to allow the wheel to turn. Governing a state should mirror this axle—maintaining receptiveness like an empty vessel, enabling all forces to operate naturally. Forced control ("butchering") would only undermine effectiveness.

Then observe the profound virtue (Xuan De) of the Dao: True virtue nourishes all beings like springtime without claiming merit, just as the hub bears the entire carriage without ostentation. When sages govern the world, they should let people flourish naturally ("things grow spontaneously") without suppressing their innate nature ("not restricting their essence"). This seemingly inactive approach paradoxically achieves the highest accomplishment—"the merit of no-thought and non-action."

The text references Emperor Shun's (ancient sage-king) "profound virtue," denoting this unpretentious yet transformative power that influences all effortlessly. For Daoist practitioners cultivating body and mind, the same principle applies: maintain inner emptiness ("hollowed five viscera") like the vacant hub, allowing the spirit (Shen) to return naturally. Whether governing a state or refining oneself, the key lies in mastering the wisdom of Wuwei—appearing non-interventive yet accomplishing all.

This passage elucidates the dialectical relationship between "being" (you) and "non-being" (wu) through three examples: the wheel, pottery, and a house. The hub at the center of a wheel can integrate its thirty spokes precisely because it is hollow—this state of "non-being" creates space for the axle, enabling the wheel to turn. Similarly, when a potter crafts vessels from clay, what proves truly useful isn't the clay itself but the empty space within the vessel that holds contents.

When building a house, doors and windows are carved out—what truly serves function isn't the wall material but the spatial openings allowing passage, light, and habitable interior. These three examples demonstrate that while physical forms ("being") provide foundational structure, it's the voids ("non-being") that enable practical utility.

The text further explains: concrete objects (the "below-form" realm) depend on material existence, yet the highest principle (the "above-form" realm, i.e., the Dao) manifests its function through emptiness. Just as the body requires Shen (spiritual energy) to sustain life—if one focuses solely on physical form while losing inner spirit, vitality perishes. The true profundity lies in the interdependence of "being" and "non-being"—"being" provides material basis while "non-being" realizes practical function; only their union generates infinite marvels.

Ultimately, the highest realization transcends the duality of "being" and "non-being," recognizing that "non-being" isn't absolute void but contains boundless potential, while "being" isn't merely matter but shares essence with "non-being." This state—neither exclusively being nor non-being, yet simultaneously both—constitutes genuine "mysterious existence" (xuanmiao zhi you).

This chapter explains how excessive pursuit of sensory pleasures damages one's inherent nature. When dazzled by too many colorful sights, the eyes become dimmed (Heshang Gong's commentary: obsession with beauty depletes Jing-essence and Qi-energy, leading to blindness). Constant exposure to elaborate music makes the ears lose their sensitivity (Heshang Gong notes: indulgence in music dissipates harmonious Qi, rendering one deaf to the silent music of heaven). Overindulgence in fine flavors dulls the palate (Emperor Xuanzong of Tang remarks: eyes craving vibrant colors, ears addicted to musical scales, mouths gluttonous for rich meats—such excesses inevitably harm the body).

Reckless hunting drives the Shen-spirit into frenzy (Emperor Xuanzong observes: constant chasing after external things resembles hunting's single-minded slaughter—such mentality is itself a kind of madness. Heshang Gong adds: the human spirit should remain serene and clear; excessive activity scatters and depletes it). Rare treasures distort one's conduct (Emperor Xuanzong points out: forcibly seeking what isn't rightfully yours obstructs Dao cultivation. Heshang Gong illustrates: insatiable craving for gold, jewels and treasures only invites calamity).

Therefore, the true Sage (one who has attained the Dao) seeks only basic sustenance, never chasing external indulgences. They understand that inner fulfillment is fundamental, while pursuing material things leads only to losing one's true nature. As Wang Pang remarked: those content within remain unmoved by external temptations, while those craving sensual pleasures are actually wounding their heaven-endowed original nature.

This scripture primarily expounds the principles of self-cultivation. It begins by emphasizing the need to preserve the five inherent virtues (humaneness, righteousness, propriety, wisdom, and faithfulness) while eliminating the six emotional desires (joy, anger, sorrow, pleasure, love, and hatred). One should regulate willpower and Qi-blood circulation while nurturing the Shen (spirit). Particular attention is given to restraining visual desires, as indiscriminate gazing dissipates inner emotions. Therefore, one must abandon external distractions and focus on internal refinement.

Regarding the concept of "favor and disgrace," the scripture explains that both conditions cause agitation. The human body itself is the root of various afflictions, and excessive attachment to it only invites greater calamity. While favor may appear glorious on the surface, it actually represents a debased state because it implies subjugation to others. Truly wise individuals remain unattached to external judgments of honor or disgrace.

The text cites multiple commentators: Heshanggong (a renowned Han dynasty annotator) warns against calamities befalling the self; Emperor Xuanzong of Tang clarifies that overvaluing the physical form constitutes the fundamental calamity; Wang Pang (a Song dynasty scholar) adds that mental attachments inevitably bring misfortune, just as possessing a body naturally entails burdens. These interpretations collectively demonstrate that one should transcend external evaluations of honor and disgrace, returning instead to the cultivation of inner nature.

This scripture discusses the human attitude toward favor, disgrace, gain, and loss. Laozi points out that people often become anxious about external evaluations—trembling with fear when receiving favor and panicking when losing it. This is the state described as "being startled by favor and disgrace as if facing danger."

Heshanggong (a Han dynasty commentator) explains: Feeling alarmed when receiving honors is because high position feels precarious, making one dare not become arrogant or extravagant. Panicking when losing favor stems from fear that misfortune may strike again. Emperor Xuanzong of Tang further elaborates: Favor and disgrace form a cycle—today's honor may become the source of tomorrow's humiliation. Ordinary people are easily deceived by appearances, while sages warn us to regard favor with the same vigilance as disgrace.

Wang Bi (a Three Kingdoms period metaphysician) adds: Where there is favor, there must be disgrace; where there is glory, there must be anxiety, for they share the same essence. If rulers (those who govern) worry about favor and disgrace like common people, they will bring chaos to the world. Wang Anshi (Wang Pang) observes: It is precisely because people feel alarmed during gains and losses that they experience shame.

Regarding the discussion of "great calamity seems like the body": Laozi rhetorically asks why people treat favor as importantly as life itself? Heshanggong says this reflects confusion when examining oneself. Wang Bi explains: The greatest calamity is favor itself—excessive pursuit leads to peril. Wang Anshi uses a metaphor: Just as excessive attachment to one's body brings countless afflictions like seasonal illnesses.

Finally, quoting Shinanzi from Zhuangzi's Miscellaneous Chapters: Emperor Yao neither possessed others nor was possessed by others. The truly noble depend on no one, while the favored must curry favor. Only sages transcend both states. Laozi concludes: Our great suffering stems precisely from overvaluing this "self." Emperor Xuanzong clarifies: The body is fundamentally illusory—attachment to it is the root of all affliction.

This scripture primarily discusses the dialectical relationship between "having a body" (youshen) and "being without a body" (wushen), extending to principles of governance.

Laozi posits that human suffering fundamentally stems from excessive attachment to the physical form. Heshang Gong's commentary observes that people constantly worry about hunger, cold, and exhaustion while indulging carnal desires, thus inviting misfortune. Wang Bi states more directly: all suffering originates from possessing this body.

Attaining the state of "no-body" (wushen), as Wang Bi explains, means returning to one's natural state. Emperor Xuanzong of Tang elaborates: realizing that neither heaven, earth nor the myriad things truly belong to oneself, one transcends physical and mental limitations to unite with the Dao, thereby eliminating suffering. Heshang Gong adds that practitioners who liberate themselves from bodily constraints can merge with the Dao in perfect freedom.

Lü Huiqing's commentary delves deeper: when humans unite with all things, they harmonize with the Dao, rising above concepts of fortune and misfortune. Ordinary people create their own troubles through bodily attachment. Laozi first demonstrates how worldly honors and wealth become burdens through physical obsession, using "valuing the body" (guishen) as metaphor before revealing the wonder of "no-body." This resonates with Zhuangzi's "forgetting what should be forgotten" and Confucius' teaching of "no ego" (wuwo).

"Being without a body" doesn't mean abandoning the physical form, but maintaining it without bondage. Like sages who dwell amidst wealth yet remain transcendent, they benefit the world without personal entanglement.

The discourse concludes with governance principles: Heshang Gong warns that rulers who prioritize themselves over others may temporarily control the realm but cannot sustain it. Wang Bi asserts only those unswayed by external things deserve the empire's stewardship. Emperor Xuanzong synthesizes that this chapter begins analyzing how honor and disgrace affect people, ultimately revealing the true art of governance—only those unattached to personal glory or shame can genuinely shoulder the responsibility of ruling All-under-Heaven.

This discussion explores Daoist wisdom regarding "forgetting the self" and "governing the state." When a ruler cherishes himself, it is not for personal gain but to become the parent of all people. Only those who truly understand how to cherish their original nature (Benxing) are worthy of ruling the world. Such individuals remain unshaken by favor or disgrace, gain or loss, and do not allow external things to harm their innate essence (Xing). Thus, the world can be entrusted to them with peace of mind. Like the ancient virtuous lords Zhou Zhifu and Prince Sou, they did not seek honor and status but prioritized preserving the authenticity of life (Zhenxing).

Next, we explain the mysterious characteristics of the Dao (the Way): When you look at it with your eyes, you cannot see it—this is called "Yi" (indicating the Dao's formless and imageless nature). Because the Dao is not a concrete form, it contains all forms within what appears as emptiness. When you listen for it with your ears, you cannot hear it—this is called "Xi" (indicating the Dao's soundless and silent nature). Because the Dao does not rely on specific sounds, within stillness lies the source of all sound. The true "Great Dao" does not collide with concrete things; if one deliberately seeks it through sensory perception, one strays further from it. This is the realm described in the classics as "the greatest sound is faintly heard" (Dayin Xisheng)—the grandest sound has no audible noise.

When you try to grasp it with your hands, you cannot seize it—this is what we call "subtle" (referring to the ineffable profundity of the Dao). Emperor Xuanzong of Tang explains that "grasping" means attempting to hold it with one's hands. The Dao is too refined and mysterious; it has no fixed form, and thus cannot be grasped. Precisely because the Dao exists without form yet gives birth to all things, we use the term "subtle" to describe it.

Heshang Gong (a Han Dynasty Daoist thinker) comments: "Having no form is called 'subtle,'" meaning the Dao lacks concrete shape and cannot be obtained through physical grasping. Here, the three descriptors—"even" (夷, flat), "rare" (希, scarce), and "subtle" (微, refined)—cannot be fully articulated in words. Because the Dao has no color, no sound, and no form, the mouth cannot speak of it clearly, nor can writing fully express it. One can only silently contemplate it with the spirit (Shen) and cannot attain it through questioning.

Thus, these three are actually fused into one. Emperor Xuanzong points out that if we use these three aspects to inquire into the nature of the Dao, we find that it is neither sound, color, nor form—no amount of questioning yields an answer. We can only perceive it as seemingly existent yet non-existent, as if there yet not there. But the Dao itself transcends even this state of "rare, even, and subtle," ultimately merging into a single unity. Heshang Gong says this is the convergence of the three descriptions into one. Wang Bi (a Wei-Jin Dynasty Neo-Daoist scholar) adds that the Dao has no shape, no image, no sound, and no echo—thus it is all-pervasive and omnipresent. We cannot comprehend it through the senses of sight and hearing, so we cannot exhaustively define its essence. Instead, we can only understand it as an undivided whole.

Lü Huiqing (a Song Dynasty scholar) argues that these three are originally one, but people, through different means of perception—such as sight, hearing, or touch—force different names upon it. In truth, the method of inquiry and the object of inquiry have always been the same. Only by understanding this "oneness" can one fully align with the Dao.

The Dao above is not dazzlingly bright (Heshang Gong comments: The Dao exists in the heavens yet does not glare); below, it is not dark (Emperor Xuanzong explains: Ordinary things are necessarily bright above and dark below, but the Dao is neither bright above nor dark below). Heshang Gong says: "The Dao exists beneath heaven yet is not dark." Lü Huiqing elaborates: Ordinary physical things all contain the duality of Yin and Yang—brightness above and darkness below is their inevitable pattern. Only the Dao, lacking material form, remains an undivided unity. Zhuangzi says: "Those who truly attain the Dao can perceive light above and transform into dust below."

The Dao stretches endlessly yet cannot be named (Heshang Gong comments: Like a rope, it is continuous, its movement and transformation without end). It cannot be named because: It is not a single color—it cannot be distinguished by blue, yellow, white, or black; it is not a single sound—it cannot be classified by the five notes of the pentatonic scale (gong, shang, jue, zhi, yu); it is not a single shape—it cannot be measured by length, shortness, largeness, or smallness.

This scripture discusses the profound characteristics of the Dao (the Way, cosmic origin and principle). Using the metaphor of an endlessly moving rope, it illustrates how the Dao operates ceaselessly—neither dazzling nor dim, it gives birth to all things within infinite motion while remaining intangible itself. Though the Dao generates all phenomena, it preserves its fundamental nature of emptiness, ultimately returning to a state of non-being.

Commentators offer varied interpretations: Emperor Xuanzong of Tang (Tang Minghuang) likens the Dao to an unbroken chain of knots; Heshang Gong (Heshang) emphasizes that while formless, the Dao bestows form upon all things; Wang Pang (Pang) observes that though the Dao follows constant laws, it has no fixed shape. This paradoxical state of seeming presence and absence is called "huhuang" (indistinct and elusive)—neither wholly nonexistent nor concretely existent.

The Dao has neither beginning nor end: looking back, one cannot perceive its origin; looking forward, one finds no terminus. Just as the ancients grasped this eternal Dao to address immediate affairs, the text demonstrates how its principles transcend temporal constraints. The term "yu" (to govern) here does not imply forceful control but rather aligning with the Dao's patterns to manage worldly matters.

Through layered negations ("neither dazzling nor dim," "form without form") and paradoxical phrasing ("present yet invisible"), the passage reveals the Dao's transcendence beyond ordinary perception, setting the stage for later discussions on applying the Great Dao to statecraft and self-cultivation.

This passage discusses how sages (those who have attained the Dao) uphold the eternal and unchanging fundamental Dao. Heshang Gong (commentator) explains that sages adhere to the ancient Dao transmitted from antiquity, using "the One" (referring to the origin of Dao) to govern all things, understanding that even now we should return to this "One." Wang Bi (commentator) adds that although the world contains countless concrete phenomena.

Lü Huiqing (commentator) elaborates: The so-called "ancient Dao" refers to the eternal principle that remains unchanged throughout past and present. Precisely because this principle is unchanging, it can respond to the myriad transformations of the world. Only by tracing all things back to their primordial origin—even beyond the very concept of "origin" itself—can one truly comprehend that all things fundamentally have no source. This is genuine realization of the Dao's truth.

Emperor Xuanzong of Tang (commentator) states: Those who can know the state of the ancient origin have grasped the guiding principle of the Dao's operation. Heshang Gong further explains: If a person understands that the ancient origin is "the One," they comprehend the essential outline of Dao. Wang Bi points out: That which is formless and nameless (referring to Dao) is the root of all things. Though eras change and customs transform, all phenomena must rely on this root to function properly. Therefore, we can grasp the unchanging Dao to respond to present circumstances. Though antiquity seems distant, Dao always exists—thus we can still perceive the ancient origin in the present moment.

Lü Huiqing concludes: The guiding principle of Dao is that eternal, unchanging law—what Zhuangzi called "the record without beginning" (the timeless principle that has no origin or endpoint).