《道德真經集註(一)》Vol. 3

The ancient practitioners who truly understood the Dao (the Way) attained a state of profound subtlety and mystical communion with celestial principles. This profound realm was utterly beyond ordinary comprehension.

Precisely because it defies description, we can only approximate their state through metaphorical language:

They moved with such caution that it resembled crossing a river on thin winter ice ("Yu xi ruo dong she chuan")—simultaneously careful and composed. Master Heshang Gong (the Sage of the Riverbank) explained this as handling affairs with exceptional prudence. Wang Bi further noted this state resembled hesitating at a riverbank, making one's true intentions inscrutable.

They maintained vigilance as if wary of surrounding neighbors ("You xi ruo wei si lin"). Emperor Xuanzong of Tang (the Illustrious Emperor) interpreted this as depicting cultivators who appeared leisurely yet acted with utmost circumspection. Heshang Gong likened it to someone fearing discovery by neighbors after wrongdoing, while Wang Bi explained it as being perpetually alert like one besieged from all directions.

(Note: "Heshang" refers to Heshang Gong, the renowned Han dynasty Daoist scholar; "Minghuang" denotes Emperor Xuanzong of Tang; "Bi" indicates Wang Bi, the Three Kingdoms-period metaphysician; "Fang" refers to Wang Fang, the Song dynasty scholar. All were celebrated commentators on the Daode Jing.)

This passage describes the spiritual state and outward manifestation of those who have attained the Dao. The realized person dwells in profound stillness within, as if residing in a secluded courtyard without venturing out, maintaining constant vigilance and restraint—their conduct disciplined as though wary of disturbing their neighbors.

Their dignified bearing resembles that of a guest ("solemn as a guest"), not from affectation but because they remain unburdened by worldly affairs, hence their serene countenance. This state is like springtime melting ice ("melting as ice about to thaw")—outwardly composed yet not rigid, with a mind as clear and unobstructed as dissolving ice. Human nature is originally empty as the void, only congealed by the acquired sense of "self"; cultivating the Dao means returning to this original state.

Though their attainment is profound, they retain simplicity ("solid as uncarved wood"). This signifies guarding the spiritual essence within while revealing no sharp edges outwardly. Just as melting ice returns to water's fundamental nature, Dao cultivators preserve their heavenly endowment without contamination by artificial constructs.

Their mind resembles a vast valley ("open as a valley"), expansive and all-embracing. Because their original nature remains complete yet never self-satisfied, they maintain the valley's receptivity, embracing all things.

Finally, their merging with the mundane world ("merged as muddy water") appears turbid yet is fundamentally pure. Water's nature is clarity that appears murky when mixed; realized individuals make no show of purity, thus blending naturally with the dust of the world. All these metaphors illustrate how the state of Dao attainment cannot be concretely described—only suggested through such imagery.

This passage explores the dialectical relationship between stillness (静) and movement (动) in Daoist cultivation. Emperor Xuanzong of Tang explains: Who can become clear like turbid water that gradually settles through stillness? This mirrors how practitioners achieve mental clarity through meditative stillness, allowing distracting thoughts to naturally subside. Master Heshang Gong adds: Just as muddy water clarifies through stillness, cultivators who maintain tranquility can gradually attain longevity.

Wang Bi observes: Obscurity brings understanding, turbidity clears through stillness, and stability gives rise to vital activity—this is the natural order. The character "徐" (gradual) emphasizes cautious progression. Wang Anshi (Pang) suggests: Only by returning to profound stillness can one resonate with all phenomena; the slow unfolding of transformation ensures continuous movement without stagnation. Those who achieve this do so by aligning with the natural rhythms of Yin-Yang transformation.

The key to maintaining this cultivation path lies in avoiding the pursuit of perfection. Emperor Xuanzong notes: To preserve this Dao of gradual purification and organic vitality, one must refrain from attachment. Forcing stillness or artificially generating vitality constitutes excessive striving that deviates from the true path. Heshang Gong clarifies: Maintaining this gradual process requires avoiding extravagance or extreme pursuits. Wang Anshi reflects: What appears incomplete is truly whole—those who believe they've fully attained the Dao after glimpsing it will inevitably distance themselves from genuine realization.

Precisely because it doesn't seek perfection, this practice preserves primordial simplicity without striving for new attainments. Emperor Xuanzong states: Only those who don't chase perfection can regard cultivation achievements with detachment, never stagnating due to new realizations. Heshang Gong explains: Non-seeking practitioners abide in simplicity without contriving fresh accomplishments—the term "敝" (worn) signifies maintaining original authenticity.

This passage elucidates the nature of the Dao (the Way) and methods for cultivating it.

Regarding the essence of Dao, the text clarifies that Dao has no fixed form and cannot be contained by any physical vessel. When applied, its resources are inexhaustible, yet deliberate pursuit yields nothing. Those who truly attain Dao never become complacent, hence its efficacy never diminishes. Dao's function permeates all things without decline, being neither old nor new, neither succeeding nor failing. If practitioners become arrogant upon initial achievement, they deviate from Dao's fundamental meaning.

The text cites the Daode Jing's teaching that "great perfection seems defective," illustrating how true completeness appears imperfect, thereby maintaining its continuous function. The path of cultivation progresses gradually, ultimately reaching a state of perfection that paradoxically appears incomplete.

In the section corresponding to Chapter 16 on "Attaining Ultimate Emptiness," it describes cultivation methods:

Achieve a state of extreme emptiness (referring to eliminating all distracting thoughts and desires, attaining complete mental purity). The commentary by Heshang Gong explains that those who attain Dao purify their internal organs to the utmost by eliminating emotional desires.

Maintain profound stillness. Emperor Xuanzong's commentary suggests that ultimate emptiness constitutes Dao's origin. All humans receive this origin at birth, but gradually lose it through worldly engagement. To reclaim it, one must completely abandon worldly distractions and steadfastly preserve this tranquil, substantial state.

Observe the growth and transformation of all things. All beings emerge from emptiness and stillness, eventually returning to it, following nature's cycle like spring growth and autumn decay. Laozi states that by observing the activity of all things and their eventual return to stillness, one comprehends the importance of preserving tranquility.

Both Heshang Gong and Wang Bi emphasize observing the cyclical patterns of existence with an empty, still mind. Since all activity originates from emptiness and all movement begins from stillness, practitioners should prioritize this fundamental principle.

All things in the world, though constantly moving and changing, ultimately return to a state of emptiness and stillness—this is the fundamental law of existence. Just as a tree's flourishing branches and leaves (芸芸 denoting lush abundance) eventually shed and return to their roots, everything finds its way back to the origin.

Laozi uses the metaphor of "returning to the roots" to illustrate that coming back to the source is the state of "stillness." Heshanggong explains: the roots of a tree are quiet, soft, and humble, dwelling below—thus they attain eternal life. Emperor Xuanzong of Tang (Minghuang) elaborates further: when the splendor fades and returns to the root, all movement ceases. If a person can return to this root and reach perfect stillness, they restore their innate true nature (性命 referring to one's original, inborn essence).

Wang Anshi (Pang) interprets this through the lens of nature and life (性命学说): the activity of life is called "nature" (性), which originates from the more fundamental "life" (命, the primordial essence bestowed by the Dao). As the Yijing states: "Exhausting principle to fulfill nature leads to life"—observing the patterns of all things is exhausting principle, returning to the origin is fulfilling nature, and restoring life means reuniting with the source of the Dao. Attaining the state of "life" is the highest level, yet it never departs from one's inherent nature.

This law of returning to the origin is eternal (常). Heshanggong states that preserving life from death is the Dao's eternal principle. Wang Bi notes: returning to the roots brings stillness, stillness restores one's nature, and restoring nature means grasping the eternal law of life. Wang Anshi expresses this more philosophically: though all things are in constant flux, only by returning to the source can one reach the eternal stillness, undisturbed by external influences.

Understanding this eternal law is called "illumination" (明). Emperor Xuanzong of Tang says that maintaining stillness and returning to one's nature means comprehending the eternal, and those who uphold this law grow wiser. Heshanggong concludes: recognizing the Dao's eternal principle is true wisdom.

This passage discusses the relationship between "true wisdom" and the "constant Dao (the Way)." Genuine knowledge is not ordinary cognition, but rather an understanding of eternal and unchanging principles. Those who fail to comprehend this constant Dao will act recklessly and invite misfortune. Various commentaries note that reckless actions and cunning schemes lead to the loss of divine protection (Shen), while deviation from the right path results in peril.

Those who understand the constant Dao possess expansive minds capable of embracing all things. Like an empty valley that echoes all sounds, a tranquil and open heart can receive everything. Such inclusiveness is not forced but arises naturally. Attaining this state eliminates selfish thoughts and allows one to act with impartiality and selflessness.

The impartial and selfless naturally become the gathering point for others, just as rivers flow into the sea. Such leaders align with heavenly virtue (De), their moral power as vast as the sky that shelters all things. When human virtue reaches its pinnacle, it merges with the heavenly Dao. The term "king" here does not refer to political power or status but to the perfected state of a sage-king.

The commentaries mention the "ultimate essence of life" (xingming zhi ji) as the fundamental nature of human existence, while the "calamities of Yin-Yang" refer to the disasters that arise from violating natural laws. All schools emphasize returning to one's original nature and aligning with the natural Dao to avoid the dangers brought about by reckless actions.

This passage primarily discusses the relationship between De (Virtue/Power) and the Dao (the Way), as well as different levels of governance.

First, it explains the relationship between De and Dao: Only when a ruler's virtue becomes as vast as heaven can they truly practice the Great Dao. When virtue communicates with heaven, it becomes united with the Dao. Achieving this state of heavenly virtue allows one to comprehend the Dao and enter the ultimate state of emptiness and nothingness. Because one possesses the Great Dao, they can equal heaven, and only by reaching this state of heavenly equality can one fully embody the Dao. At this stage, the distinction between heavenly Dao and human Dao disappears.

Next, it explains how practicing the Dao leads to longevity: Only when the Great Dao prevails under heaven can blessings be enjoyed eternally. Union with the Dao brings everlasting endurance. Reaching the ultimate state of emptiness and grasping the constant patterns of all things leads to perfection. This is what's called the "Constant Dao."

Attaining this state ensures lifelong safety: Walking the same path as heaven means no danger throughout one's life. By achieving these four qualities—impartiality, kingship, heavenly connection, and Dao union—one's virtue becomes vast and profound, free from calamity, coexisting with heaven and earth without peril. The Dao of emptiness is such that water and fire cannot harm it, metal and stone cannot destroy it. Applied to inner cultivation, rhinos and tigers find no place for their claws, weapons find no place for their edges—where could danger arise? Being born with heaven and earth, united with all things—who could cause harm?

Chapter Seventeen, "The Supreme Chapter," discusses different levels of governance:

The highest governance (Taishang) is when the people merely know the ruler exists. This refers to the ancient era of simple, virtuous rulers when subjects knew their sovereign existed, revering him like heaven, yet the ruler didn't deliberately teach or act, so the people couldn't praise him with virtue. These were great rulers who didn't display titles or fame—the people simply knew of their existence without conscious submission. "Taishang" refers to rulers of supreme virtue who practice Wuwei (non-action) and wordless teaching, letting all things operate naturally without interference, so the people merely know of their existence. Like the era of the Three Sovereigns who governed through non-action, letting people develop naturally without awareness—how could the people consciously draw close to praise them?

The next level of governance is when the people feel close to and praise their ruler. This marks the beginning of virtue's decline—when rulers practice benevolent governance, the people draw near because they feel their kindness and praise them for their remarkable achievements.

This passage discusses different levels of governance and their effects. The highest realm is governing through "Wuwei" (non-action), where no deliberate efforts are made, no words are used to teach, and no virtuous deeds are flaunted—yet the people naturally feel closeness and affection. However, commentator Wang Bi notes that if one cannot truly achieve governance through non-action but instead deliberately sets up virtuous models to educate the people, though it may earn their praise and admiration, this already deviates from the wholeness of the "Dao."

The next level relies on the deterrence of laws and punishments. Heshang Gong explains this as establishing penal codes to manage society, while Wang Bi adds that at this stage, governance can no longer rely on benevolence to inspire but must depend on authority. Wang Pang calls this "rule by law," acknowledging its effectiveness but noting that the people obey out of fear rather than genuine devotion.

A worse form of governance leads to the people's contempt. Emperor Xuanzong of Tang (Minghuang) comments that when a ruler's virtue declines and governance becomes chaotic, relying solely on punishments to compel the people results in superficial fear while deception festers beneath. Heshang Gong further points out that excessive and burdensome prohibitions prevent sincere allegiance, leading to deceit and disrespect. Wang Bi sees this as governing through cunning rather than the true Dao, teaching the people evasion and rendering decrees ineffective.

Finally, the passage addresses the issue of "insufficient trust." Heshang Gong states that when rulers lack sincerity toward the people, the people respond with deception. Wang Bi uses a bodily metaphor: just as losing one's nature leads to illness, losing sincerity in governance invites disorder. Wang Pang quotes Mencius—"What is within oneself is called trust"—arguing that rulers who stray from the Dao in governance lose their true nature, resulting in a lack of trust. This inevitably breeds cunning and hypocrisy among the people, becoming the root of great chaos.

Emperor Xuanzong concludes that the people's attitude toward their ruler—whether closeness and praise, fear, or contempt—depends entirely on whether the ruler embodies genuine virtuous governance. Just as precious things are not casually displayed, the true Dao does not rely on many words but on inner sincerity that naturally inspires transformation.

This scripture primarily expounds on how the "Supreme Sovereign" (the highest ruler) should govern the world. A ruler must be cautious in speech, for words are like wind and waves that easily stir chaos. When sages speak, they always appear hesitant, neither daring to speak lightly nor act rashly. The reason people become difficult to govern is precisely because rulers are too interventionist. Thus, when sages govern the world, they exercise extraordinary prudence.

When the world is at peace and achievements are accomplished, the people will feel these things occurred naturally, completely unaware of the ruler's actions. This illustrates that the highest form of governance allows people to live in peace and prosperity without realizing it, believing instead that they achieved it themselves.

The text then discusses how when "the Great Dao is abandoned," artificial benevolence and righteousness emerge. When society's simple and honest customs fade, and people begin deliberately promoting benevolence and righteousness, this signals societal problems. True benevolence and righteousness should flow naturally, requiring no forced advocacy. When people start valuing clever strategies and schemes, hypocrisy and deceit inevitably follow. For when governing through cunning intellect, numerous laws are created—and the more laws there are, the more crafty individuals will exploit loopholes.

Heshang Gong (a renowned Daoist scholar of the Han dynasty) explains that in eras when the Great Dao flourished, every household naturally produced filial children and trustworthy individuals—there was no need to specially promote benevolence and righteousness. Only when the Dao is abandoned and wickedness arises must benevolence and righteousness be emphasized to salvage the world. Wang Bi (a Wei-Jin period metaphysician) adds that when rulers abandon Wuwei (non-action) governance and begin ruling through intellectual means, hypocrisy inevitably proliferates.

This passage reveals the Daoist political philosophy of "governing through non-action," maintaining that the highest form of rule makes the people unaware of the ruler's presence, with everything following its natural course. Deliberately promoting benevolence and righteousness or employing intellectual cunning ultimately disrupts society's natural harmony.

Wang Bi (a Three Kingdoms period philosopher) explains: When rulers employ political tactics and keen observation to detect deception, people will deliberately craft appearances to avoid punishment. Thus when society esteems wisdom and strategy, it paradoxically breeds greater hypocrisy.

Regarding the phrase "When the six relationships are discordant, filial piety and parental affection arise":

Emperor Xuanzong of Tang comments: When the six familial bonds—father and son, husband and wife, elder and younger brothers—lose their natural harmony, discord emerges. The appearance of filial sons and kind fathers actually signifies the degeneration of the Dao (the Way), becoming mere superficial reputations. Heshang Gong (Han dynasty commentator) observes: Only when kinship ties are broken do people conspicuously champion virtues like filial devotion. Wang Pang (Song dynasty scholar) adds: In the golden age of perfect virtue, people's innate purity made filial affection naturally abundant among relatives—no conscious promotion was needed. Today's veneration of filial piety precisely indicates ruptured family relations.

On "When the state is in chaos, loyal ministers appear":

Emperor Xuanzong notes: In times of peace, rulers and ministers fulfill their roles effortlessly—no one praises loyalty. Only during national turmoil do ministers earn renown for dying in service. Heshang Gong states: When governance fails, when resentment festers between rulers and subjects, when treacherous ministers seize power—then loyal ministers emerge to rectify the throne. Wang Bi offers an analogy: Just as fish in rivers needn't moisten each other with saliva, such desperate kindness only appears when the waters run dry.

The meaning of Chapter 19's "Abolish sageliness, discard wisdom":

Heshang Gong interprets: Reject the ritual systems created by sages and return to primordial simplicity. Civilizational inventions like Cangjie's writing system prove inferior to the primal knot-records of antiquity. Abandon cunning stratagems to resume natural wuwei (non-action), and the people will gain hundredfold benefits.

Emperor Xuanzong elaborates: Eliminate the formal trappings of sagehood's teachings, and people transform spontaneously; discard worldly cleverness and deceit, and human hearts regain innocence. Wang Pang argues: Human nature was originally pristine—only after losing this authenticity did people require sages to establish norms. But chasing these superficial forms distances us further from the root. Though sagely wisdom may bring temporary improvement, it ultimately creates greater harm.

This scripture primarily discusses how to govern society by abandoning certain artificial norms and returning to natural simplicity.

Laozi believed that if people lose their original, unspoiled nature, society will descend into chaos. Conversely, by "rejecting benevolence" (ren, or forced acts of kindness) and "discarding righteousness" (yi, or rigid moral codes), people can restore genuine filial piety and compassion. Excessive emphasis on benevolence and righteousness disrupts human nature, just as a tree that overextends its branches risks harming its roots.

Regarding "rejecting cleverness and abandoning profit," this means eliminating opportunistic behavior and relinquishing the pursuit of personal gain. Heshang Gong explains that cunning deception obscures truth and falsehood, while greed opens the door to power struggles. If these are eliminated, there will be no thieves. When people no longer compete in skill, they will not fight over benefits; when they abandon greed, they will naturally be content and thus have no reason to steal.

These three principles—rejecting benevolence and righteousness, and forsaking cleverness and profit—must be abandoned because superficial embellishments and norms are insufficient to truly educate the people. Just as excessive ornamentation diminishes substance, so too must people return to more fundamental forms of cultivation.

Finally, the text proposes the solution of "embracing simplicity and holding to plainness" (jian su bao pu), meaning to maintain a state of unadorned authenticity. Heshang Gong explains that one should preserve innate purity without seeking flashy appearances. This is akin to a tree preserving its roots rather than chasing luxuriant foliage. It represents Laozi’s advocated path of governance—returning to the natural simplicity of human nature.

This passage discusses the core Daoist concept of returning to original simplicity. "Pu" (the Uncarved Block) refers to the most primal and pure essential state of things, akin to the plain white hue revealed when all things return to stillness in autumn. Humans should emulate this natural state, maintaining inner purity uncontaminated by external influences.

Regarding "reducing selfishness and desires," various commentators offer interpretations: Emperor Xuanzong of Tang suggests revealing one's authentic nature and embracing simplicity; the Heshang Gong commentary explains that "reducing selfishness" means being impartial and selfless, while "diminishing desires" means understanding contentment. Wang Bi (Bi) adds that although a sage's wisdom, compassion, and skill are all virtuous, excessive attachment to these superficial practices may cause one to lose the fundamental essence. Wang Pang (Pang) further points out that selfish desires all stem from ego-attachment—once the concept of "self" arises, one becomes preoccupied with external things and loses one's original nature.

The section on "abandoning learning to be free from worries" discusses relinquishing worldly knowledge: Heshang Gong considers false learning incompatible with the Dao (the Way); Emperor Xuanzong states that only by discarding artificial studies of humaneness and righteousness can one preserve one's simple nature. Wang Pang explains that true learning aims to return to the source of life—once this state is attained, deliberate study becomes unnecessary, and even distinctions between fortune and misfortune cease to matter. Confucius's saying "rejoicing in Heaven and knowing destiny," if pursued with deliberate intent, still falls short of comprehending the Dao.

Finally, concerning the distinction between "wei" (a respectful response) and "e" (a dismissive response): Heshang Gong observes that while both are forms of reply, their essence differs greatly, criticizing contemporary society for prioritizing superficial form over substance; Emperor Xuanzong considers respectful responses good and dismissive ones evil, emphasizing the transformation of mental attitudes. Wang Pang, from the philosophical height of the Dao's fundamental unity, explains that such distinctions are phenomena emerging after the differentiation of yin-yang.

The myriad distracting thoughts and discriminations in the world all stem from the deluded mind. When viewed through the lens of Dao's ultimate truth, these attachments appear as illusory as dreams. Both the respectful "wei" (affirmative response) and the dismissive "a" (negative response) originate from the same mouth—there's no essential difference between them. Yet worldly people consider "wei" as respectful and "a" as arrogant, thus generating emotions of right/wrong and joy/anger. If one inquires what fundamental distinction truly exists between "wei" and "a," the same applies to the illusory division between good and evil.

Laozi said: "What people fear, I cannot but fear." Emperor Xuanzong of Tang (Minghuang) comments: Ordinary people fear arrogance and wicked deeds, while Dao cultivators fear worldly learning and forced action—all these should be severed, hence one must remain vigilant. Heshang Gong explains: Even Dao practitioners must fear what worldly people fear, especially rulers who refuse to abandon conventional knowledge. Wang Bi states: The second part of the Daode Jing mentions "Those who study gain daily, those who practice Dao lose daily"—pursuing learning aims to increase knowledge, but if one achieves desireless contentment, why seek augmentation? Those who force progress without understanding this principle are like sparrows having their own mates, doves their own partners, or northerners naturally wearing fur coats—all being inherently complete. Forced seeking brings only sorrow. What difference exists between lengthening a duck's legs and shortening a crane's shanks? How dissimilar is striving from fear of praise compared to suffering punishment? Ultimately, how great is the gap between "wei" and "a," or beauty and ugliness? Therefore, what the world fears, I too must fear, not daring to consider myself uniquely correct.

Wang Pang (son of Wang Anshi) observes: Those who attain Dao perceive no distinctions among things, yet don't negate the world's standards of good/evil—they simply transcend unaffected. The passage from "how much difference exists" upward describes the mind's liberation from constraints. This transcendence isn't isolation from the world, hence differentiated views remain identical to ordinary people's—this is what the Yijing means by "sharing the people's joys and sorrows regarding fortune/misfortune." Could sages who transcend physical form possibly have such concerns? The Yijing presents omens of fortune/misfortune merely to accord with popular sentiment. Zhuangzi says: Never neglecting human affairs—having forgotten both self and objects, they seem indifferent yet never disregard worldly matters.

Laozi laments: "Desolate! As if without end!" Emperor Xuanzong interprets: Without vigilance in severing worldly learning, sentient beings' original nature becomes endlessly barren. Heshang Gong says: This describes worldly people's chaotic confusion—seeking knowledge yet finding no direction. Wang Bi suggests: It sighs at the vast difference between Dao and worldly ways.

All things in the world undergo mutual transformation in an endless cycle of perpetual recurrence. Yet ordinary people insist on imposing rigid standards of beauty and ugliness, good and bad upon everything—is this not profoundly confused? Only the sage understands that the vast river of eternity is but a fleeting moment, where notions of gain and loss ultimately hold no meaning.

Common people chase after desires with feverish excitement, like starving men at a lavish banquet who can never be satiated, or like those ascending high towers in springtime who greedily try to take in all the scenery. Blinded by fame and profit, they rush headlong after external things with the same exhilaration as attending grand feasts or viewing spring landscapes from lofty pavilions. In truth, the transformations of Heaven and Earth are boundless—all things change daily, yet only sages can transcend time to preserve their original mind, while ordinary people lose themselves chasing shifting externals. Spring is inherently the season of all things sprouting, and high towers naturally offer broad vistas, but those who don't comprehend the Dao (the Way) inevitably generate endless desires when encountering these things.

Only I maintain a state of serene detachment, as innocent and natural as an infant who has not yet learned to laugh playfully. My fundamental nature remains peaceful and stable, free from calculating thoughts, preserving the natural harmony of my original state. I move in accordance with circumstances, flowing forward like water without deliberately pursuing any particular destination. This condition resembles riding in a carriage without fixed direction—what appears to be aimless wandering is in truth complete alignment with the authentic state of nature.

(Note: "Grand Sacrifice" [太牢] refers to the ancient ritual offerings of ox, sheep and pig, here metaphorically representing sumptuous delicacies; "serene" [怕] is interchangeable with "detached" [泊], indicating a state of tranquil indifference; "riding along" [乘乘] describes movement in harmonious accordance with nature's flow.)

This passage vividly contrasts realized adepts with ordinary people. The Dao-realized person (one who has attained high spiritual cultivation) appears like a homeless wanderer, for he flows with the transformations of all things without attachment, thus seeming to have no fixed abode. Like water that takes the shape of any container, he has no rigid form.

Worldly people all consider themselves abundantly satisfied, indulging in material pleasures, flaunting cleverness, and constantly striving to appear superior to others. Yet the Dao cultivator always feels a sense of deficiency within - his mind is empty and luminous, free from desire, as if having forgotten all worldly pursuits.

The cultivator may appear foolish, but this is actually a manifestation of returning to original simplicity. His consciousness remains pure and unadulterated, like uncarved jade in its natural state. Ordinary people display sharp intellect outwardly, distinguishing everything clearly, while the cultivator seems muddle-headed and indifferent to worldly affairs.

Worldly people nitpick over trivialities, establishing countless rules to constrain others. The cultivator, however, maintains a state of benign confusion, treating all with magnanimity. This seemingly muddled condition actually represents a higher wisdom that transcends dualistic judgments of right and wrong. Just as turbid water naturally clarifies when left undisturbed, the cultivator preserves this inner state of primordial chaos to ultimately achieve true clarity.

This passage presents a collection of commentaries by various Daoist scholars on a particular chapter of the Daode Jing, showcasing their interpretations of concepts like "muddled" and "simple and dull."

Wang Pang comments: When applying a state of dim-witted non-intentionality to governance, it manifests as magnanimous and inclusive policies. "Muddled" refers to not pursuing immediate gratification of superficial benefits. Like the vast ocean's profound depth, water's nature fully reveals its authentic state (mentioning that another version's reading as "suddenly like dusk" is inaccurate).

Heshang Gong notes: Those who attain the Dao move alone in a trance-like state like rushing rivers and seas, with none knowing their ultimate destination. Wang Bi adds: This realm transcends the superficial appearances of worldly emotions. Wang Pang further explains: This seemingly muddled state actually returns to the original clarity and profundity of one's nature, akin to the accumulated waters of the ocean.

Regarding the description "blowing as if without cease": Emperor Xuanzong of Tang interprets this as appearing outwardly dim and unclear, while inwardly transcending the constraints of worldly knowledge. Heshang Gong describes it as drifting without fixed direction, yet with spiritual awareness already entering sacred domains. Wang Pang identifies this as describing the function of Dao attainers—like wind reaching everywhere yet bound by nothing.

When all others pursue external things (all have their purposes): Emperor Xuanzong says ordinary people are obsessed with worldly knowledge; Heshang Gong believes they cling to "deliberate action"; Wang Bi explains it as everyone wanting to accomplish something; while Wang Pang distinguishes: being controlled by external things makes one their slave, whereas controlling things without being controlled by them constitutes true utilization.

On "I alone am simple and dull": Heshang Gong says this refers to the wuwei (non-action) state of Dao attainers. Emperor Xuanzong interprets "simple" as non-discriminatory judgment and "dull" as outwardly clumsy yet inwardly penetrating. Wang Bi considers it a desireless, chaotic state. Wang Pang understands it as: external things cannot penetrate hence "simple," appearing sightless hence "dull."

Finally regarding "value feeding from the mother": Emperor Xuanzong explains this means being purely desireless like an infant (echoing earlier references to "like a baby that cannot yet smile" and later passages on "containing abundant De"). Heshang Gong emphasizes how Dao attainers differ from ordinary people by valuing nourishment from the fundamental source (mother).

This passage elucidates the meaning of the chapter "The Appearance of Great Virtue" (孔德之容) in the Daodejing. Laozi uses the metaphor of an "infant" (赤子) to depict the pristine state of one who has attained the Dao—a state distinct from ordinary people, as Dao-realized individuals do not pursue external adornments but return to the fundamental source of life. "Nourishing from the Mother" (食母) refers to sustaining life's root essence, which ordinary people often abandon in pursuit of superficial glamour.

Regarding "the appearance of great virtue," various commentaries explain that those possessing great De (德) embrace all things, endure impurity while maintaining humility. They do not conform to worldly customs but follow only the patterns of the Dao. The Dao itself is elusive and unfathomable—both existent and non-existent, hovering between presence and absence. Yet within this ambiguous state lies the essence of all things and their inherent order.

Heshang Gong's commentary emphasizes that although the Dao is formless and imageless, it establishes the laws for all beings. Emperor Xuanzong of Tang's annotation points out that the Dao is neither wholly existent nor wholly non-existent, defying precise verbal description. Wang Pang (son of Wang Anshi) interprets the Dao as encompassing both Yin and Yang aspects, asserting that its existential state manifests precisely at the subtle intersection of these two forces.

The text also notes that one need not rigidly adhere to the conventional notion of the Daodejing as a fixed text of five thousand characters; what matters is comprehending its true meaning. Though differing in expression, all commentaries agree that those with great De should maintain boundless openness, harmonize with the natural Dao, and avoid attachment to external phenomena.

This passage elucidates the profound mysteries of Dao (the Way) as described in the Daode Jing. Various commentators have interpreted the intangible yet fundamentally real nature of Dao from different perspectives.

Heshang Gong (a Han dynasty commentator) suggests that although Dao is unfathomably deep and obscure (yaoming), it contains genuine Jing (essence), Qi (vital energy), and Shen (spirit). This subtle energy is not illusory ornamentation but the fundamental force behind the generation of all things. While Dao conceals its achievements and forms, its inherent principles remain reliable (xin zai zhong, "trust lies within").

Wang Bi (a Three Kingdoms period metaphysician) emphasizes that Dao creates all things in a formless state (yi wuxing shi wu). All things exist and take shape because of Dao, yet they do not comprehend how this occurs. Within this seemingly indistinct and elusive condition (huang xi hu xi) lies the pattern (xiang) that gives rise to all things. In the deep and invisible realm of obscurity (yaoming), there exists the subtle energy (jing) that determines the nature of all things. This energy is absolutely real (shen zhen) and can be verified through the transformations of all things (xin).

Emperor Xuanzong of Tang (Tang Minghuang) notes in his commentary that Dao contains the wondrous function of generation within its indistinct state, while the realm of yaoming holds the subtle creative power. This refined energy responds accurately to the needs of all things (wu gan bi ying) and operates without error (ying yong bu cha), hence it is deemed trustworthy (you xin).

Wang Pang (a Song dynasty scholar) further explains: the exquisite interaction of Yin and Yang (yi yin yi yang) gives form to all things, and this indistinct state precisely embodies the mystery of their transformation. Jing is the primordial energy from which all things arise; when Dao takes concrete form, it manifests as various phenomena. All things originate from the unfathomable Dao (yaoming), within which the subtle energy is absolutely real (shen zhen). The emphasis on "shen zhen" arises because people often lose awareness of this subtle energy by violating natural principles. When things come into being, they follow precise laws (du shu fa xiang), and this predictable regularity is what constitutes "xin" (trust).

In summary, this passage reveals the following characteristics of Dao: seemingly indistinct yet containing order, seemingly obscure yet holding subtlety, seemingly formless yet verifiable. From ancient times to the present, this generative nature of Dao has never changed (qi ming bu qu, "its name does not fade"). Collectively, these commentaries demonstrate that although Dao transcends sensory perception, its real existence and dependable operation can be confirmed through the orderly generation and transformative patterns of all things.

This passage elucidates the eternal and universal nature of the Dao. Though the Dao cannot be defined by specific names, it has functioned since ancient times as the generative source of all things. Classical commentators like Heshang Gong (a Han dynasty Daoist scholar) and Wang Bi (a Wei-Jin period metaphysician) both maintained that all beings receive their vital breath (Qi) from the Dao and operate according to its principles.

The scripture mentions "observing the origins of all things" (以阅众甫), indicating the Dao's capacity to perceive the fundamental source and transformations of existence. The character "fu" (甫) carries three layered meanings here: first as primordial origin, second as the receiving of Dao's Qi, and third as the wondrous state of all things' evolution. As the Zhuangzi states, the mystical and the mundane mutually transform, and only the unchanging Dao can fully witness these transformations.

The author rhetorically asks how one comprehends the patterns of universal change, answering "through this" - by realizing the Dao's eternity to understand worldly impermanence. Emperor Xuanzong of Tang (in his commentary) notes that since all things are born through the Dao's subtle workings, true knowledge arises from this recognition.

Chapter 22's "Yield to become whole" (曲则全) expounds wisdom for navigating life: that yielding may lead to preservation. Various interpreters explain this differently: Emperor Xuanzong suggests adapting oneself to circumstances ensures preservation; Heshang Gong states that avoiding self-assertion and following the collective leads to wholeness; Wang Bi maintains true preservation comes from not flaunting one's cleverness; while Wang Pang (a Song dynasty scholar) employs Zhuangzi's philosophy, describing the perfected person as water-like in pliancy - without competitive mind yet able to adapt harmlessly to all transformations. This resonates deeply with the Zhuangzi's philosophy of nurturing life.

This scripture expounds the Daoist wisdom of self-cultivation and worldly conduct through several contrasting principles that highlight the importance of "guarding the One" (守一).

Regarding "bending oneself to accommodate others" (枉己申人), Emperor Xuanzong of Tang explains that temporary self-abasement to fulfill others ultimately leads to true integrity. Wang Pang further elucidates that stubbornly imposing one's own standards of righteousness upon all things actually deviates from the Dao. Only by flowing with the transformations of all beings without fixed preconceptions can one truly apprehend the truth.

The principle "depressions become filled" (洼则盈) illustrates the virtue of humility: just as low-lying terrain naturally gathers water, maintaining humble virtue allows one to receive abundance. As Wang Bi comments, not boasting of oneself leads to genuine accomplishment.

"Worn-out things renew" (弊则新) demonstrates the cyclical law of renewal: the withering of autumn and winter makes possible the flourishing of spring and summer. Heshang Gong's commentary notes that those willingly occupying humble positions ultimately gain universal respect.

The contrast between "less brings attainment, more creates confusion" (少则得，多则惑) is striking. Wang Bi uses the metaphor of trees - the more branches proliferate, the further they stray from the root, while simplicity brings one closer to the essence. Wang Pang observes that excessive pursuits cause one to lose fundamental orientation.

The conclusion "the sage embraces the One" (圣人抱一) reveals that sages maintain unwavering connection to the fundamental Dao (where "One" signifies the root of the Way), thus becoming models for all under heaven. Heshang Gong interprets this as mastering the fundamental principle to comprehend all phenomena. Wang Bi states the "One" represents the ultimate in simplicity, while Wang Pang emphasizes that only through undivided focus can one fully realize the Great Dao, achieving the state of unity between self and all things.

These commentaries collectively illuminate core Daoist principles - guarding the One, maintaining humility, and flowing with natural processes - demonstrating that an attitude of simplicity, single-minded focus, non-contention and non-attachment constitutes the path in harmony with the Dao.

This passage elucidates the operational principles of the Dao (the Way) and the worldly wisdom of sages (those who have attained the Dao). Several ancient commentators—Emperor Xuanzong (Minghuang), Heshang Gong, and Wang Pang—offer interpretations from different perspectives.

Regarding "not self-displaying thus becoming enlightened": Truly wise individuals refrain from deliberately showcasing themselves, instead aligning with the inherent principles of things. Emperor Xuanzong remarks that those who avoid self-promotion preserve their De (Virtue/Power); Heshang Gong notes that sages perceive the world through the eyes of the multitude, thus gaining deeper insight; Wang Pang adds that fixation on self-display constrains one's adaptability to change.

Concerning "not self-asserting thus becoming distinguished": Relinquishing stubborn opinions paradoxically illuminates truth. Emperor Xuanzong holds that humility naturally reveals the right path; Heshang Gong states that sages, free from self-righteousness, earn universal recognition; Wang Pang explains that letting go of the ego allows alignment with heavenly principles—true distinction emerges without pursuit.

On "not self-praising thus achieving merit": True accomplishment arises from abstaining from boastfulness. Emperor Xuanzong observes that those who claim no credit ultimately receive it; Heshang Gong points out that sages let merits circulate naturally without monopolizing them; Wang Pang employs the metaphor of a vessel—only by maintaining emptiness can one remain perpetually replenished.

Regarding "not self-exalting thus enduring": Lasting greatness stems from eschewing arrogance. Emperor Xuanzong asserts that humility invites reverence; Heshang Gong suggests sages, by not esteeming themselves highly, attain lasting stability; Wang Pang warns that flaunting glory invites decline, while abiding humbly ensures renewal.

The passage culminates in the wisdom of "non-contention": Precisely because they contend with nothing under heaven, none can contend with them. Emperor Xuanzong notes that avoiding strife leaves no opponents; Heshang Gong clarifies that neither the wise nor foolish can rival those who embody non-contention; Wang Pang emphasizes the essence of "self-forgetting"—maintaining emptiness like water renders one invulnerable to contention. The ancient adage "to bend is to become whole" (qu ze quan) is cited to demonstrate this principle's veracity: its genuine practice leads to perfect fulfillment.

This commentary explains the principle in the Daodejing about how "bending leads to wholeness" (曲则全). Heshang Gong (a renowned Han dynasty commentator) states that truly sincere individuals can achieve preservation through yielding, much like protecting one’s body from harm, ultimately returning to the source of life.

Wang Pang (a Song dynasty scholar) elaborates further: "Bending" (曲) means letting go of the self, aligning with the natural order of things, adjusting to external changes, and avoiding conflict with the world. All these interpretations converge on a central idea—complete harmony with nature is the key to self-preservation, just as the butcher stores his knife carefully after carving an ox. This passage ultimately explores the fundamental principles of nurturing life.

The sage’s approach to life is unique: they do not deliberately pursue longevity, yet they preserve life most effectively. Those who do not flaunt themselves, assert their own views, boast, or grow arrogant are not forcibly restraining themselves to achieve wholeness—they embody it naturally. If one only bends, yields, or embraces humility and simplicity for the sake of perceived benefits, this remains the realm of the virtuous and the learned, indicating an incomplete understanding of the Dao.