《道德真經集註(一)》Vol. 6

This passage primarily discusses the distinction between "superior De (Virtue/Power)" and "inferior De," as well as the true realm of virtuous attainment.

Authentic "superior De" (the highest level of Virtue/Power) does not deliberately manifest virtuous conduct. Heshanggong explains that the sage rulers of antiquity governed not through moral indoctrination but by following nature's course, nourishing the people's inherent character. Their De remained unexpressed externally, hence termed "non-virtuous." Wang Pang further clarifies that those who fully embody De have already merged with the Dao (the Way), leaving nothing beyond De itself—thus requiring no designation as virtuous. Precisely because they refrain from deliberate virtuous display, they genuinely possess De.

By contrast, "inferior De" (the secondary level of Virtue/Power) clings to maintaining virtuous appearances. Heshanggong observes that rulers of this category fall short of ancient sages—their virtuous manifestations are conspicuous, their merits praiseworthy. Emperor Xuanzong of Tang (Minghuang) explains that De represents the concrete manifestation of Dao. As Zhuangzi states, all things exist through attaining Dao—this is De. Historical periods vary between simplicity and decadence, hence De manifests differently across eras. In antiquity's age of pristine simplicity, De's function remained hidden; later, as virtue declined, its efficacy became visible. Though such practitioners may still comprehend Dao in heart, their actions already bear traces of contrivance. By clinging to praiseworthy virtue, they ironically lose authentic De.

Wang Pang elaborates further: When De reaches its ultimate state, it requires no virtuous labels, while those fixated on virtue merely linger on De's superficial forms. True Dao-realized individuals (zhenren) integrate their innate nature and life with Dao-De. Though worldly circumstances may assign them various designations, they transcend distinctions of sameness and difference—this constitutes the profound mystery of De. Authentic De lies not in acquisition but regards "non-attainment" as virtue. The highest realm of De emerges precisely through non-attachment to virtue itself—this characterizes those who embody Dao's essence, rather than merely possessing virtuous qualities.

This passage examines the graded manifestations of De (Virtue/Power) in moral cultivation. The highest level, "supreme De" (shangde), operates with complete naturalness, requiring no deliberate action. Like a river flowing effortlessly, those embodying supreme De follow the Dao's principles with inner serenity and wuwei (non-action), their external conduct free from contrived displays. This state isn't achieved by consciously pursuing wuwei's reputation, but emerges from one's innate simplicity and natural harmony with the Way.

The next level, "lower De" (xiade), involves conscious effort. While the mind may aspire to wuwei, the practical demands of teaching and governance necessitate outward engagement. Here, inner stillness coexists with active external involvement.

Further down lies "supreme benevolence" (shangren). Though benevolence expresses De, consciously practicing it already falls within the realm of "deliberate action." However, the sage's benevolence flows spontaneously from their nature, requiring no artificial construction—thus while manifesting as action, it remains a natural emanation.

Finally, "supreme righteousness" (shangyi) demands clear judgments and decisive actions, inherently involving conscious effort. At this stage, both inner intention and outward conduct require active engagement.

Through this hierarchy, the text reveals that genuine supreme De manifests through effortless alignment with the Dao—the more one strives deliberately, the further one strays from the Way. As the river commentary observes, those of supreme De emulate the Dao's quiescent nature without forced action, while lower De requires concrete expressions like governance and instruction to manifest virtue.

This passage describes the devolution from Dao (the cosmic primordial principle) to ritual propriety. When Dao (the universal law of origin) is lost, then De (virtue of natural non-action) becomes necessary; when De is lost, then humaneness (conscious benevolence) emerges; when humaneness is lost, then righteousness (standards for judging right and wrong) appears; and when righteousness is lost, then ritual (codified behavioral norms) must be established.

Regarding "righteousness": It refers to making judgments about right and wrong. When people begin consciously distinguishing right from wrong and establishing standards, it indicates they have already deviated from the state of natural Wuwei (non-action). Though such human judgments may seem reasonable, they are fundamentally artificial constructs.

Concerning "ritual": The highest form of ritual (superior ritual) involves establishing ceremonial systems and behavioral codes. But when ritual becomes overly elaborate and hypocritical, it breeds conflict instead. Like summer foliage that grows lush yet drifts from its roots, excessive emphasis on external ritual forms causes the loss of inner sincerity.

Heshang Gong (the Han dynasty commentator) observed: When society requires ritual to maintain order, it signifies the loss of genuine sincerity, causing people to accuse one another. While ritual can regulate behavior, overemphasis makes it a source of contention. Just as seasons necessarily include summer, ritual serves a purpose in certain periods—yet ultimately we must return to the fundamental.

This text reflects the Daoist devolutionary view of "Dao-De-humaneness-righteousness-ritual": The ideal state is natural harmony with the Dao, while De, humaneness, righteousness and ritual represent increasingly external constraints necessitated by humanity's moral decline.

In the pristine antiquity when Dao and De (Virtue) remained pure, the emphasis on ritual propriety was either arrogance or contrary to natural principles. Yet in eras of moral decline where rituals are abandoned, such neglect reflects either foolishness or self-deception. The truly wise adapt to their times: when rituals become empty formalities, they return to righteousness; when righteousness proves difficult to practice, they return to benevolence; when benevolence cannot be universally applied, they return to natural authenticity—ultimately transcending moral conventions to reunite with the primordial Dao. When humanity rediscovers this uncarved simplicity, the highest state of "supreme De's wuwei (non-action)" is attained.

Ritual propriety emerges precisely when loyalty and sincerity wane. The commentator Heshang Gong explains: when society begins emphasizing ceremonial decorum, it signals the gradual decline of inner faithfulness and trustworthiness. Emperor Xuanzong of Tang further clarifies: ritual laws were established to compensate for the loss of loyalty and trust—using etiquette to remedy disorder, though ironically these very rituals mark the beginning of chaos. True application of ritual aims to stabilize society and educate the people—how could it merely value jade and silk as ceremonial objects? Heshang Gong observes: ritual prioritizes form over substance, causing genuine integrity to diminish while corruption proliferates. The scholar Wang Pang adds: the ancient Dao first transformed into imperial virtue, then declined further until rulers employed ritual governance—since then, the degeneration of worldly customs has become evident.

Those who claim "foresight" merely grasp superficial manifestations of Dao. Heshang Gong interprets: pretending to know what one doesn't comprehend constitutes so-called "foresight"—such people lose Dao's essence while clinging to its empty trappings. Emperor Xuanzong notes: establishing external ritual constraints before natural human understanding develops may appear to correct contemporary ills, but actually destroys innate simplicity. Overemphasis on ritual—originally intended to save chaotic times—when divorced from its true purpose, leads people to flaunt ceremonial treasures like jade and silk, breeding cunning among the populace. Wang Pang illustrates with metaphor: wisdom should reside in the virtue of sages like essence stored in a plant's roots. Premature displays of "prescience" resemble excessive flowering that inevitably damages the root. Confucius' admonition—"neither suspect deceit beforehand nor presume dishonesty arbitrarily"—precisely condemns such artificial posturing.

The truly wise ruler (the "great man" who has attained the Dao) establishes himself upon the foundation of simplicity and genuineness. They do not dwell in superficiality and ostentation, but abide in their authentic nature, without pursuing flashy external adornments.

Emperor Xuanzong's commentary explains that deliberate action represents the shallowness of the Dao, while ritual propriety constitutes the superficial ornamentation of De (Virtue/Power). Thus, the sage acts through Wuwei (non-action), which embodies true substance; only by transcending the formal trappings of ritual can one preserve inner authenticity. The Heshang Gong commentary further clarifies: this means not indulging in empty rhetoric.

Therefore, one should discard superficial glitter and choose this substantial, grounded quality. "De" means attainment - maintaining it without loss, benefiting without harm. How does one attain De? Through the Dao. How does one fully realize De? By applying it through Wuwei, thus becoming capable of bearing all things. When all things appear nonexistent, they can contain everything; when fixated on concrete forms, one actually endangers life. Thus, though heaven and earth are vast, they take Wuwei as their root; though sage-kings are great, they take emptiness as their guide.

Those possessing superior De completely follow the Dao's principles without flaunting their virtue, neither clinging nor forcing, thereby truly embodying De that accomplishes all things effortlessly. They obtain without seeking, achieve without striving, possessing De yet leaving no trace of its name. Those of inferior De attain through pursuit and accomplish through action, using good deeds to govern affairs, thus leaving behind the name of virtue. But what is pursued will inevitably be lost; what is forced will inevitably fail; where good reputation appears, its opposite follows. Therefore, inferior De represents action through deliberate doing.

The supreme state is Wuwei - action without partial striving. All who cannot reach Wuwei and must act deliberately belong to inferior De, including specific virtues like humaneness, righteousness, and ritual propriety. To illustrate the distinction between superior and inferior De, inferior De is presented here in contrast to superior De. The realm of Wuwei represents De's ultimate expression, while even supreme humaneness (the highest form of benevolence) already belongs to the category of inferior De.

This passage expounds the core Daoist concept of "governing through non-action" (Wuwei). Laozi teaches that the highest form of governance resembles a mother nurturing all things—completely spontaneous and effortless. When we abandon this fundamental principle of non-action to pursue specific achievements, even the greatest accomplishments remain incomplete, and the finest reputations inevitably contain artifice.

The highest benevolence gives naturally without partiality; the next level of righteousness requires conscious efforts to uphold justice, already carrying human intention; the lowest form of ritual becomes mere superficial formality, often breeding conflict. The Dao (the cosmic source and its laws) stands supreme, while all other virtues are secondary.

The greatness of heaven, earth, and the myriad things arises precisely because they follow the natural principle of non-action. Losing this foundation leads to degeneration: from Virtue (De) to benevolence, from benevolence to righteousness, and from righteousness to ritual. The emergence of ritual norms, in fact, stems from a lack of inner sincerity, requiring external regulations. Those who pride themselves on foresight may appear wise, yet the more they scheme, the further they stray from the essence.

Laozi employs the metaphor of mother and child: non-action is the root (mother), while deliberate action is the branch (child). Excessive focus on specific deeds is like abandoning the mother to chase after the child—ultimately losing what is most precious. True wisdom lies in aligning with nature, accomplishing all without striving.

In governing society, even when exhausting the wisdom of sages, the people often suffer more harm. By relinquishing subjective will and following the innate nature of all things, one attains the realm of wuwei (non-action) and peaceful stability. Preserving one's pure and simple nature frees one from the constraints of rigid institutions; listening to the natural state of all things allows one to abandon artificial attachments. Those who only grasp the superficial brilliance of the Dao are, in truth, at the beginning of folly.

If one can master the root (Dao) from which all things are created, then all things grow naturally without deliberate intervention, and all affairs unfold effortlessly without toil. True governance does not rely on external forms or empty reputations—only then can genuine benevolence and righteousness manifest, and reverence arise naturally. When the Great Dao carries all things and the "nameless" (the original state of Dao) stabilizes everything, then beings will not pursue empty fame, and human hearts will not scheme for selfish gain. Each preserves their innate purity, acting from sincerity—thus, virtue (De) deepens naturally, righteous conduct aligns effortlessly, and reverence remains untainted.

But if one abandons the root of the Dao and discards natural essence, focusing only on outward forms and misusing cleverness, then benevolence loses its sincerity, righteousness turns into contention, and reverence becomes hypocrisy. True virtue is profound—it cannot be achieved by deliberate pursuit of "benevolence." True righteousness is upright—it cannot be accomplished by flaunting "righteousness." True reverence is pure—it cannot be realized through forced rituals.

To govern all things with the Great Dao is to hold fast to the root (the "mother"). Thus, when manifesting, there is no need for deliberate display; when revealing, there is no cause for conflict. By abiding in the "nameless," names become truer; by adhering to the "formless," forms become more complete. Guard the root (mother) to preserve the branches (children); honor the source to perfect the details. In this way, both form and name are fulfilled, evil thoughts do not arise, great beauty matches the Heavenly Dao, and superficial ornamentation does not flourish.

The root (mother) must not be forsaken; the source must not be lost. Benevolence and righteousness emerge from the root, but they must not be mistaken for the root itself. Just as tools are crafted by artisans, they must not be confused with the artisan. To discard the root and chase the branches, to abandon the source and pursue the trivial—this fractures names and confines forms. Even if pursued to the extreme, there will inevitably be insufficiency; even if adorned with outward beauty, there will surely be hidden anxieties. How can one find true peace by striving for artificial achievements?

Wang Pang (Northern Song scholar) commented: "To transcend worldly conventions and aspire to the virtue of the highest sage—who but a true great man could achieve this?"

(Chapter 39) Since ancient times, those who attained the "One" (i.e., the Dao):

Emperor Xuanzong of Tang explains: "The 'One' is the harmonious state of the Dao, referring to the blended qi (vital energy) of yin-yang. Because its wondrous function in all things is undivided, it is called the 'One.'"

Heshang Gong notes: "'Of old' refers to antiquity; the 'One' is what arises from the Dao of wuwei (non-action)."

Wang Bi states: "'Of old' signifies the beginning; the 'One' is the origin of numbers and the ultimate of all things. All things arise from this 'One,' thus it is the sovereign of the myriad beings."

All things come into being by attaining the "One" (the essence of Dao), yet once formed, they often abandon this "One," clinging only to their manifested forms. When one clings solely to the formed, the root is lost, ultimately leading to division, collapse, exhaustion, and decay.

Heaven attains the "One" and thereby remains clear (Heshang Gong notes: Heaven attains the "One" and thus manifests its clarity; Earth attains the "One" and remains steady and unmoved). The spirits attain the "One" and thereby become efficacious (Heshang Gong notes: The spirits attain the "One" and thus transform without form. Wang Pang comments: "Spirit" refers to the numinous power of ghosts and deities, while "efficacy" is its manifestation). The valleys attain the "One" and thereby remain full (Heshang Gong notes: The valleys attain the "One" and thus stay abundant without drying up. Wang Pang adds: The "One" is omnipresent—the valleys are empty yet responsive precisely because the "One" resides within them).

All things attain the "One" and thereby grow (Heshang Gong notes: All things require Dao to come into being). The lords and kings attain the "One" and thereby become models for the world (Heshang Gong notes: The lords and kings attain the "One" and thus bring justice to the world). These are all states achieved through single-minded focus on the "One" (Emperor Xuanzong of Tang comments: Things establish their names through the function of Dao—when Dao is present, names are established; when its function is lost, substance perishes).

If Heaven could not maintain its clarity, it might shatter (Heshang Gong notes: Heaven must have the alternation of Yin and Yang, the cycle of day and night—it cannot seek only perpetual clarity, or it risks breaking apart and ceasing to be Heaven. Wang Bi remarks: One uses the "One" to attain clarity, not clarity itself to preserve clarity. Hold fast to the "One," and clarity will not be lost; if one seeks only clarity, it may lead to rupture). If Earth could not maintain its steadiness, it might collapse (Heshang Gong notes: Earth must have heights and depths, firmness and softness, the transformations of climate and the Five Phases).

This scripture elucidates the profound principle of "things reversing upon reaching their extreme" through comparisons between natural phenomena and social dynamics. All things between heaven and earth must maintain dynamic equilibrium, as excessive pursuit of any singular state ultimately leads to decline.

Just as divine spirits (referring to natural laws) would exhaust their spiritual power and become ineffective if they persistently sought manifestation without rest; or as valleys would dry up if they only sought fullness without depletion; so too would all creatures face ecological extinction if they only lived without dying. The text employs the "five phases of growth and decline" (Wang-Xiang-Qiu-Si-Xiu-Fei, representing the developmental stages in ancient Five Phases theory) to illustrate how all things must complete their cyclical transformations.

For rulers (Houwang), the scripture particularly emphasizes: those who relentlessly pursue lofty status without understanding humility as their foundation are like builders constructing tall towers without proper foundations—eventually destined to collapse and lose their position. Historical sage-kings serve as examples: Yu the Great personally plowed fields, Hou Ji worked the farmlands, Shun made pottery by the riverbank, and the Duke of Zhou visited commoners' thatched cottages (baiwu denoting humble dwellings), demonstrating how true nobility must be rooted in humility.

The core teaching ultimately reveals: the fundamental essence of all things lies in the "One" (a central Daoist concept denoting cosmic origin), which itself embodies clarity and Wuwei (non-action). Like water—which occupies the lowest position in the Five Phases system—yet becomes the source of life precisely through its soft, yielding, and low-dwelling nature. Rulers should emulate water's qualities, understanding that nobility must take humility as its foundation, just as construction must begin from the ground up.

This passage elucidates the concept in the Daode Jing that "nobility takes humility as its root." The Dao of Yin-Yang emphasizes non-contention. Those who understand this principle, even when occupying high positions, never forget their foundation, thus maintaining stability in their status. It resembles how nurturing one's spirit (Shen) allows the primordial spirit to endure eternally.

Ancient rulers referred to themselves as "solitary," "desolate," or "unworthy" (毂 originally meaning the hub of a wheel)—terms denoting lowly status. Heshang Gong (a commentator) explains: When rulers adopt these self-deprecating titles, they demonstrate taking humility as their foundation. Emperor Xuanzong of Tang notes that these were words ordinary people despised, yet rulers used them for self-reference, embodying the principle of basing themselves in modesty.

Just as in crafting a chariot, only when wheels, shafts, and axles combine do they form a complete vehicle—individually, none constitutes a chariot. Similarly, true nobility lies not in empty titles. Wang Pang (another commentator) adds that those who understand the Dao (the Way) take humility as their root while inwardly embodying the highest virtue (De), making them impervious to worldly judgments of honor or disgrace. Deliberately seeking praise cannot yield genuine honor.

The passage concludes with a jade-stone metaphor: Don't stand out like rare jade (琭琭如玉), nor be commonplace like ordinary stone (落落如石). Heshang Gong clarifies that jade's scarcity makes it precious, while stone's abundance renders it humble—the ideal state lies between. Wang Bi (a foundational commentator) further observes that purity cannot exist alone, nor can fullness endure permanently; both rely on their roots to maintain form.

This passage elucidates two core concepts from the Daode Jing concerning "reversal" and "softness." Laozi posits that the movement of the Dao often manifests through complementary opposites.

Regarding "Reversal is the movement of the Dao":

The Dao's motion frequently appears as a return to the origin. Just as nobility finds its root in humility, height is founded upon depth, and being arises from non-being. Emperor Xuanzong of Tang (Minghuang) explained that this seemingly paradoxical "reversal" actually embodies the sage's wisdom of adaptive change. The Heshang Gong commentary notes that returning to the root is the very impetus through which the Dao generates all things—departing from this foundation leads to dissolution. Wang Pang further illustrates this with the metaphor of autumn and winter nurturing the vitality of spring and summer: beneath apparent stillness lies dynamic potential.

Concerning "Softness is the function of the Dao":

The Dao's concrete workings often reveal themselves through gentle means. Emperor Xuanzong observed that sages maintain a state of softness and quiet receptivity in worldly affairs, which constitutes the Dao's practical application. The Heshang Gong adds that softness is the Dao's most frequent mode of operation, hence its enduring nature. Wang Bi argues that gentleness penetrates all things without obstruction.

The text employs jade as a metaphor: though hard and precious, jade's fixed nature causes it to lose the Dao's true essence. The authentic "One" (the Dao) should resemble water—adapting to all forms while preserving its fundamental nature. This paradoxical quality of maintaining constancy while remaining infinitely adaptable constitutes the Dao's profound mystery.

Finally, the passage clarifies that while the Dao generates all things (the "One"), De (Virtue) is its complete manifestation. Understanding this principle reveals the essence of the De Jing: seemingly opposite states actually complement each other, and softness proves to be the most effective way the Dao operates.

The Dao's function is all-encompassing and can be said to be supremely powerful, yet it does not manifest through force but rather takes weakness as its foundation. This principle of strength and weakness mutually generating each other will be further explained below regarding its origin.

All things under heaven arise from "being" (concrete existence). As Heshang Gong's commentary states: All things are born of heaven and earth, which themselves possess form - thus it is said "born of being." Yet "being" itself originates from "non-being" (the formless source). Emperor Xuanzong of Tang explains: Just as temporary adaptations must return to the root, the production of all things emerges from "non-being" giving birth to "being." Therefore, when employing "being," one must rely on the foundation of "non-being." The supreme Dao is empty and quiescent, transcending names and concepts; all phenomena are intrinsically empty and interdependent. By simultaneously transcending the duality of "expedient means" and "ultimate truth," "being" and "non-being," one attains transcendent realization. Heshang Gong notes: Celestial deities, earthly spirits, flying and crawling creatures all arise from the Dao, yet the Dao itself has no form - thus it is said "born of non-being." This illustrates how essence surpasses appearance, weakness overcomes strength, and humility exceeds complacency. Wang Bi explains: All things depend on "being" for existence, yet the source of "being" is "non-being." To preserve "being," one must return to the root of "non-being." Wang Pang elaborates: "Non-being" gives birth to "being," and "being" returns to "non-being" - this cyclical movement reveals the fundamental unity of all things.

Chapter 41 describes different attitudes toward the Dao: Those of superior capacity who hear the great Dao will diligently cultivate it. Emperor Xuanzong observes this is because they genuinely comprehend it. Heshang Gong states these advanced practitioners willingly endure hardships in practice. Wang Bi considers this a mark of resolute determination. Wang Pang explains that "scholars" (shi) are seekers who must establish their aspiration before discussing cultivation. Those of middling capacity who hear the Dao will waver in uncertainty. Emperor Xuanzong notes their ambivalence leads to doubt. Heshang Gong describes how they find the Dao reasonable for self-cultivation and governance, yet vacillate when faced with fame and profit. Wang Pang identifies this as the state Confucius described as "delighting upon hearing the Dao." Those of inferior capacity who hear the Dao will laugh at it. Emperor Xuanzong attributes this to ignorant disbelief. Heshang Gong points out such people are burdened by desires, mistaking the Dao's weakness for cowardice and its simplicity for crudeness. Wang Pang concludes that precisely because the Dao is profound, it appears incompatible with vulgar views.

The common people cannot comprehend the true principles, so they mock them. As the following text states, how could these profound truths be understood by worldly people? If no one laughs at them, it would indicate these are not the true Dao.

Emperor Xuanzong of Tang (Emperor Ming) comments: If not mocked by ordinary people, it cannot be considered the profound and sublime Dao. Master Heshang says: If not ridiculed by those of inferior capacity, it does not deserve to be called the Dao. Wang Pang remarks: Things that deliberately seek novelty or court popularity—how could they be the true Dao?

Therefore, the ancients in establishing their teachings said:

Emperor Xuanzong explains: "To establish" means to set forth doctrines explaining how superior, average, and inferior scholars differently comprehend the Dao. Master Heshang says: "To establish" means to formulate teachings that clarify what the Dao is. Wang Bi states: "To establish" simply means to set forth.

The truly illuminated Great Way appears instead dim and obscure. Master Heshang says: Those who understand the Great Way seem as if ignorant. Wang Bi comments: It has light but does not dazzle. Wang Pang observes: True illumination appears as darkness—those who excessively discriminate beauty from ugliness or good from evil may seem understanding but don't truly comprehend the Dao.

The level path seems full of hollows. Emperor Xuanzong says: Superior practitioners diligently cultivate the Dao yet appear to regress; walking the smooth path seems like encountering obstacles—thus average scholars become doubtful while inferior ones laugh aloud. Master Heshang explains: "Level" means even—those who attain the Dao don't seek novelty, appearing no different from ordinary people. Wang Bi notes: "Hollows" signify flaws—the most level Way follows all things' nature without artificial carving, making true evenness seem flawed. Wang Pang quotes Zhuangzi: Using uneven means to achieve balance—this is true evenness.

Seeking the Dao appears as regression. Master Heshang says: Dao seekers seem to move backward. Wang Bi observes: Putting oneself behind actually leads; disregarding oneself ensures preservation. Wang Pang cites Mencius: Those advancing too fiercely retreat quickly—thus cultivating the Dao requires following timing and principle without haste, appearing like regression. Like those who pull up sprouts to help them grow—they fundamentally misunderstand this principle.

The highest virtue resembles a valley. Emperor Xuanzong says: Empty as a valley, it embraces all things. Master Heshang comments: The virtuous are like deep valleys, rejecting no impurity. Wang Bi notes: Without flaunting virtue, they contain everything. Wang Pang says: The highest virtue doesn't deliberately manifest yet functions boundlessly—like empty valleys echoing all sounds.

The purest white appears stained. Emperor Xuanzong remarks: Though pure, it embraces defilement. Master Heshang says: The truly pure seem sullied yet never self-promote. Wang Bi observes: Though knowing brightness, they dwell in obscurity.

This passage describes several important realms of cultivating De (Virtue/Power) in Daoist practice:

Knowing brightness yet dwelling in obscurity is like Confucius' saying "dyed blue, one becomes blue; dyed yellow, one becomes yellow." Those with genuine De can adapt to their environment without losing their essential nature. The most expansive De appears insufficient because true perfection resembles emptiness—it can never be filled. Those who consider themselves abundant in De are still far from attaining genuine greatness.

Establishing De should be done as inconspicuously as a thief. The Ming Emperor's commentary explains that one should accomplish merits without showing off, while Wang Bi states that establishing De must follow natural principles without forced action. Wang Anshi further elaborates that those who rush for quick results cannot build great De—only those who follow circumstances and appear idle can achieve great things. Zhuangzi said true action arises only when compelled by necessity.

The genuinely simple and authentic appear to follow the crowd. The Ming Emperor notes their inner purity harmonizes with external things, while Wang Bi observes that truly simple people don't deliberately advertise their authenticity. Wang Anshi gives an example: the Hermit of Hanyin who deliberately flaunted his authenticity was considered fake by sages, while genuine Daoist adepts mingle in society without losing their true nature.

The most square appears to have no corners. The Ming Emperor says truly great vessels don't deliberately display their squareness, while Wang Bi explains that real squareness doesn't cut others. Wang Anshi argues the Dao itself is boundless—having corners would limit it.

Great vessels take time to complete. The Ming Emperor states great achievements can't be rushed, while Heshang Gong compares great vessels to the Nine Tripods and precious ritual objects that require slow forging. Wang Bi explains that a vessel capable of holding the world must be complete, hence necessarily late in formation. Wang Anshi contrasts this with the quicker results of hegemonic rule compared to imperial accomplishments.

The greatest sound is inaudible. The Ming Emperor says true principles need no ornate words, while Heshang Gong compares the greatest sound to thunder that manifests only when the time is right.

This scripture elucidates the profound characteristics of the Dao (the Way). It begins with the notion that "the greatest sound is inaudible" — the true Dao resembles silent music, for once specific tones emerge with distinguishable musical notes, the holistic unity is lost. This echoes Zhuangzi's teaching of "hearing harmony in silence," referring to this mystical state of perception.

Next, it discusses how "the greatest form has no shape." Though the Dao gives form to all things, its essence remains formless and imageless. Just as the true "great image" (the Dao's complete manifestation) cannot be confined to specific attributes like heat or cold, any concrete form would compromise its wholeness.

The text then explains how "the Dao conceals itself and has no name." Though omnipresent, the Dao cannot be defined by any particular designation. It manifests as substance in the realm of "being" and as emptiness in the realm of "non-being," yet words fail to capture its nature.

Finally, it states that "the Dao excels in giving and perfecting." Though hidden and nameless, the Dao nourishes all things through its mysterious workings. Unlike a craftsman who deliberately carves, it accomplishes everything spontaneously. Like a loan that not only meets temporary needs but enables lasting virtue, all beautiful things are manifestations of the Dao. Yet the Dao itself remains formless, soundless, and nameless in its essence.

The Dao (referring to the cosmic origin and ultimate truth), while capable of fulfilling all beings' needs and bringing them to completion, ultimately sees all things return to their source. Thus although the Dao nourishes the myriad things, it never considers this as expenditure. This resembles lending money to others—while temporarily meeting their needs, it will eventually be returned.

I have contemplated the meaning of this chapter: The Dao is actually very close to humans, yet people cannot see it because they fail to comprehend its profundity. Therefore, one must first understand the essence of the Dao. The Great Dao is actually perfectly level—only those who understand can walk upon it, which is the meaning of the "level path" (Yi Dao). Walking this path and returning to the original state of life constitutes the highest Virtue (Shang De), which is not obtained through deliberate pursuit but attained naturally.

Those possessing Shang De maintain their own purity without conforming to worldly ways. But if one looks down upon others due to one's own purity, this becomes narrow-mindedness, like Bo Yi's excessive fastidiousness. True De should embrace all like a valley—unconcerned even when sullied—only then can it become vast. Those who can maintain both noble character and broad-mindedness may become teachers and leaders of others.

Establishing De should occur as naturally as if done in secret, without deliberate display. Forced cultivation of De instead leads one astray from authenticity toward artificiality. Most crucial is preserving one's original true state. Achieving this allows one to comprehend the complete form of the Dao—just as the most perfectly square thing paradoxically has no corners (Da Fang Wu Yu). Based on this complete form, one can adapt to all changes and accomplish great achievements (Da Qi).

Those who attain the Dao can accomplish great things even with the coarsest materials. Confucius said Guan Zhong had small capacity—then should we consider an emperor's achievements as Da Qi? Yet though the Dao accomplishes all this, it ultimately claims no merit nor possession—this is the realm where "the greatest sound is scarcely heard, the greatest form has no shape." Reaching this state allows complete unity with the Dao, fulfilling all beings' needs and perfecting their natures.

Ah, this Dao—it cannot be understood through ordinary cognition, nor adequately expressed in words. What I explain here remains but the most superficial interpretation.

Chapter 42 discusses "the Dao begets the One": The Dao first gives birth to "One" (the undifferentiated primordial state). Heshang Gong (a renowned Han dynasty Daoist scholar) comments: What the Dao first generates is precisely "One." This "One" then begets "Two" (the Yin and Yang energies).

This passage expounds the Daoist fundamental principles of cosmic generation. "One" refers to the primordial Dao (cosmic origin), which first differentiates into the complementary opposites of Yin and Yang. The interaction of these two Qi (vital energies) produces a third harmonizing force (chonghe miaoqi, the subtle qi of harmonious blending), thus forming "Three." This "Three" represents the triad of Heaven, Earth and Humanity, as well as the three qi states of clarity, turbidity and harmony.

These three forces further interact to generate all phenomena in the world. All things contain both Yin and Yang attributes while relying on the harmonizing qi to maintain equilibrium. Just as all beings turn their backs to shade while facing the sun, they internally contain primordial qi (life energy) that sustains their gentle vitality. In the human body, this manifests as the five viscera and six bowels; in bones as marrow; in plants as hollow spaces - all embodiments of qi circulation.

Interestingly, though people generally dislike terms like "orphan," "widower," or "the unworthy" (ancient royal self-deprecations), nobles deliberately use these for self-reference. This reflects how all things take the harmonizing qi as their foundation, and maintaining humility and softness embodies the preservation of origin. Thus the higher one's status, the more one should use modest titles to remind oneself of this gentle essence.

The text reveals Daoist understanding of cosmic generation and the nature of existence: all phenomena consist of Yin-Yang and harmonizing qi, with balance among these three being the fundamental law. It simultaneously demonstrates the Daoist wisdom of valuing softness and humility in worldly conduct.

This passage explores the profound meaning behind the self-deprecating terms like "orphaned" and "desolate" used by rulers in Laozi's Daodejing. When nobles adopt these seemingly inauspicious titles, they are emulating the emptiness of the Dao, maintaining a humble and yielding attitude.

The law of Yin-Yang transformation dictates that when Yin reaches its extreme, it turns to Yang, and vice versa. Just as tall structures are prone to collapse, low-lying areas naturally become filled. Though rulers occupy the highest positions, this very elevation makes their situation most precarious. By deliberately using terms people normally shun, they align with the principle of Yin-Yang harmony. Hence the scripture later states: Sometimes what appears as loss may bring gain, while apparent gain may ultimately cause loss.

Emperor Xuanzong of Tang explains: Those who humble themselves will be exalted by others, while those who exalt themselves will be humbled. Like rivers flowing to the sea because it willingly stays below, yielding softness is the key to survival—isn't using "orphaned" and "desolate" perfectly appropriate?

Heshang Gong's commentary notes: Piled too high, things will crumble; craving wealth invites disaster. Wang Bi further elaborates: Though all things differ in form, they return to "the One." This "One" is "Non-Being" (Wu), for only through "Non-Being" can all things be united. Yet calling it "One" already gives it a name, and with naming comes the distinction between "One" and "many." From "Non-Being" emerges "Being," and numbers arise—once surpassing three, we stray from the Dao's origin. Though all things have their masters, they are fundamentally unified in Qi (vital energy). People have diverse thoughts and nations varied customs, but only the ruler can unify them. The ruler takes "One" as foundation, yet this "One" cannot be forcibly grasped—the more one pursues it, the farther it recedes. Only through continuous reduction can one approach it; reducing to the utmost reaches the Dao's state.

Lü Huiqing (Pang) adds: Low-lying marshes become fertile while towering peaks grow barren; the sun declines past its zenith as the moon waxes after extreme waning. All things governed by Yin-Yang transformation—born from "One" dividing into "Two"—reverse when reaching their extremes. Those who understand the Dao follow the rhythms of rise and fall, maintaining constant humility—how could they force strength and invite calamity?

Regarding the "what people teach" passage, Heshang Gong explains: Ordinary teaching urges turning weakness to strength and softness to hardness, but Laozi's teaching reverses this. Emperor Xuanzong says: Rulers establishing teachings should use this yielding truth to guide the people. Heshang Gong continues: I (Laozi) teach people to abandon strength for weakness, discard hardness for softness. Wang Bi observes: This isn't about compelling obedience but aligning with the Dao's natural course, revealing the fundamental patterns of things.

This scripture expounds two core principles: first, that violating natural laws inevitably invites calamity; second, the wisdom of how softness overcomes hardness.

It begins by stating that aligning with the Dao's patterns brings fortune while defiance brings ruin. Thus people warn each other not to oppose the Dao, lest they court self-destruction—just as I teach others not to transgress natural laws. Those who act tyrannically often meet untimely ends. The Tang Emperor Xuanzong's commentary explains that the aggressive constantly struggle against all things, seemingly pursuing gain but actually incurring loss, potentially provoking fatal retaliation. Master Heshang Gong further clarifies that such people disbelieve the Dao's profound mysteries, betray natural principles, and ignore classical teachings, relying solely on brute force. Ultimately, they perish by heavenly punishment, warfare, or legal execution, denied peaceful deaths.

Therefore, Laozi establishes "gentleness in worldly conduct" as fundamental teaching. Emperor Xuanzong observes that the strong perish while the soft endure, hence establishing yielding as the root of all instruction. Heshang Gong explains that "father" here means origin—Laozi uses the violent man's fate as the starting point for instruction. Wang Bi adds that citing the tragic outcomes of aggressors serves to educate; those who heed the teaching find fortune, while the disobedient become cautionary examples.

Chapter 43 illustrates softness's power through water and emptiness: "The softest things in the world (like water) penetrate the hardest." Emperor Xuanzong notes humanity's original nature is supremely gentle, but worldly desires harden it. Heshang Gong exemplifies how water wears through metal and stone, while Wang Bi compares it to Qi permeating all things. Water's nature reveals why sages conquer hardness through yielding.

"The formless (the Dao) enters where no gap exists." Heshang Gong explains the Dao, being shapeless, penetrates everything to nourish all beings. Like absolute emptiness—the slightest impurity creates obstruction. This demonstrates the formless Dao's penetrative power far surpasses physical objects.

The reason sages are able to comprehend the void (the essence of Dao) and respond to all things lies in their understanding of the benefits of wuwei (non-action, or following nature without forcing). Emperor Xuanzong of Tang explains: "Having nothing" means remaining untainted by worldly desires, keeping the mind empty and luminous; "without gaps" refers to the purity of Dao's nature, where its mysterious substance forms a seamless whole. When one is undisturbed by desires and maintains purity of body and mind, one can unite with Dao and reach this gapless state. Therefore, the sages say: When my body and mind are pure, I can unite with Dao—from this we know that deliberate, forced teachings are less beneficial than natural wuwei.

Heshanggong adds: I observe that though Dao is wuwei, it naturally nurtures all things—thus I know wuwei is beneficial to humanity. Wang Bi explains from a philosophical perspective: The state of emptiness and softness penetrates everywhere, and the softest things cannot be broken—from this we deduce the benefits of wuwei.

Regarding "teaching without words," Heshanggong points out that this follows Dao's natural principle, leading by example rather than verbal instruction. The benefits of wuwei manifest in self-cultivation nourishing the spirit (shen) and governing a nation allowing people to live undisturbed. Emperor Xuanzong laments how rarely the world attains such teaching, while Heshanggong emphasizes how few rulers truly practice wuwei to cultivate themselves and govern. Wang Pang further clarifies: This wordless teaching and wuwei's benefits cannot be fully conveyed through form or language—only those who truly embody Dao can understand them, making them exceedingly rare.

In Chapter 44's "Which is dearer, fame or life?", Emperor Xuanzong observes that fame is merely an appendage to reality, yet people often lose their true selves chasing empty reputation. His rhetorical question—"Which is more precious, fame or life?"—urges letting go of glory to preserve one's genuine nature. Heshanggong states that pursuing fame ultimately leads to self-loss, while Wang Bi notes excessive fame-seeking estranges one from their essence. On "life versus wealth," Emperor Xuanzong warns that chasing riches ends in life-destroying greed; Heshanggong bluntly says excessive wealth harms its owner, and Wang Bi argues insatiable craving depletes vitality. Wang Pang cites Zhuangzi to distinguish inner cultivation from external fame and wealth, clarifying the true boundary between honor and disgrace. He acknowledges that while inner and outer realms differ in authenticity, both require discernment.

This scripture primarily discusses the principle that one should focus on inner cultivation rather than external pursuits. Though social status may vary greatly, it is constantly subject to transformation—a truth one must understand. Those who lose their innate nature forget their most precious essence, chasing instead after external material things with insatiable greed. They believe they have gained much, unaware that what they acquire is nothing but filth and decay, unworthy of preservation. What they truly lose is the very essence that constitutes their being. Such calculations of gain and loss, intimacy and distance, are utterly foolish—is this not lamentable?

Those who truly comprehend the Dao (the Way) know they need not rely on external things but should devote themselves to inner cultivation. Take Yan Hui (Confucius’ most virtuous disciple) as an example: though he lived in a humble alley, eating from bamboo vessels and drinking from a gourd, Confucius praised his virtue. This illustrates where the focus of a noble person’s cultivation lies. Scholars today are not lacking in intelligence, yet they constantly chase fame and fortune, valuing the external while neglecting the internal. Their innate spiritual clarity is obscured by desires, drifting further from their true nature. Yet they still attempt to discuss the profound wisdom of the ancients—this is nothing but futile effort.

Laozi’s words may appear plain, but they are in fact the most crucial precepts for scholars and the key to self-cultivation. The scripture further elaborates through a question-and-answer format:

"Which is more harmful—gain or loss?" Emperor Xuanzong of Tang comments: Which harms the body more—the pursuit of fame and fortune or their loss? Heshang Gong says: Greed for profit damages virtue (De). Wang Bi states: Gaining great profit but losing oneself—which is worse? Lü Huiqing explains: To gain is to possess, and possession leads to dissatisfaction, requiring further mental exertion to protect it—this is the true great harm.

"Excessive miserliness inevitably leads to great waste." Heshang Gong explains: Excessive attachment to beauty depletes one’s spirit (Shen), while excessive greed for wealth invites disaster. What seems like minor gain is in fact great loss.

"The more one accumulates, the heavier the loss." Emperor Xuanzong remarks: Excessive pursuit of fame inevitably exhausts the spirit—is this not great waste? Accumulating too much wealth burdens the body—is this not a grave loss? Wang Bi adds: Excessive miserliness severs connection with all things; excessive accumulation prevents sharing with all things. When many pursue, many contend, and thus one becomes trapped by external things—hence the great waste and heavy loss. Lü Huiqing observes: This is an inevitable principle, yet regrettably, worldly people fail to understand it.

"Contentment brings no disgrace." Heshang Gong says: Those who are content rid themselves of greed and thus avoid disgrace. Lü Huiqing notes: True nobility lies within oneself—how could disgrace occur?

"Knowing when to stop prevents danger." This means that only those who understand contentment and moderation can avert calamity and peril.

To know when to stop means wealth and gain will not burden your body; beautiful music and dazzling colors will not disturb your ears and eyes—thus keeping one's person free from peril. Wang Pang (Northern Song scholar) adds: Only those who do not seek externally can maintain lasting peace and stability.

Emperor Xuanzong of Tang (Li Longji, who annotated the Daode Jing) explains: Those who understand contentment will not indulge in excessive desires; those who know moderation will not hoard beyond need. Being free from disgrace and danger, they naturally attain longevity. Master Heshang Gong (Han dynasty Daoist scholar) further clarifies: When people comprehend the principles of knowing limits and being content with sufficiency, blessings and prosperity will naturally accompany them. Cultivators who refine their Shen (spirit) will not suffer exhaustion; rulers who govern properly will not oppress their people—thereby achieving enduring tranquility.

(This commentary originates from Collected Annotations on the True Scripture of Dao and De, Volume 6, compiling multiple scholars' interpretations of the "knowing when to stop" and "contentment" concepts in the Daode Jing.)