《道德真經集註(二)》Vol. 10

This passage discusses the distinction between "higher De (Virtue)" and "lower De." True higher De (the supreme level of virtue) does not consciously display virtuous behavior, thus embodying genuine virtue. Conversely, lower De (a lesser level of virtue) constantly strives to maintain the appearance of virtue, thereby losing its authentic essence.

Those with higher De follow nature without deliberate action (Wuwei), while those with lower De act with conscious effort. Just as Confucius never proclaimed himself a sage yet became the most timely and appropriate sage, this exemplifies true virtue. If one deliberately flaunts their virtue, they risk losing the Dao (the Way) due to selfishness—how could this be considered genuine De?

The characteristics of higher De are: understanding without contemplation, achieving balance without strain, and accomplishing without action. Lower De, in contrast, cannot attain anything without thinking, striving, or acting. This is the difference between sages and ordinary people.

Master Chen Jingyuan of Bixu explains: "De" means "to obtain"—an inner realization that manifests outwardly, remaining constant without loss, benefiting all things without harm, and nurturing the growth of all beings. This is De. As the Dao has varying depths, so too does De have higher and lower levels.

Higher De represents the supreme level—profound and mysterious, contrary to ordinary understanding. People cannot perceive its traces and assume it lacks virtue, yet it is like hidden radiance. Though seemingly fragmented, it subtly benefits people in their daily lives without their awareness, making them believe it occurs naturally. This is the mark of complete virtue.

Lower De, however, is more visibly apparent, emerging as the Dao disperses, accommodating all things so each finds its proper place. Though it may bring stability to the world, with people praising and crediting the individual, it has already strayed from the highest form of De.

Those who embody higher De possess a nature that is inherently profound, their life-force (Qi) subtly connected to primordial essence (Jing), their spirit (Shen) permeating heaven and earth, and their wisdom luminous as the sun and moon. Without thought or deliberation, their mind remains naturally Wuwei; forgetting fame and achievement, their actions leave no trace. They accomplish effortlessly, hence the saying: "Higher De acts without acting and achieves without striving."

Those with lower De, by contrast, must exert deliberate effort to attain their goals.

This passage discusses the distinction between "superior virtue" (shangde) and "inferior virtue" (xiade). The highest form of De (Virtue/Power) manifests as a state of natural compliance without deliberate action, much like the effortless movement of heaven and earth. Those who embody this possess unadorned simplicity, their Shen (spirit) harmonizing with yin-yang as luminously as the sun and moon. Such individuals inspire spontaneous reverence among the people, accompanied by auspicious signs like qilin and phoenixes.

Sima Guang observes: When rulers practice wuwei (non-action), the people become naturally cultivated. "Having no deliberate purpose" means no forced effort is required. Su Zhe elaborates: Sages follow their hearts without transgressing boundaries—they don't consciously pursue virtue, yet their De becomes perfectly complete. Those of lesser attainment (xiade), recognizing virtue's value, strain to pursue it through willful effort. Though they may maintain virtue, it remains contrived.

Lu Dian contends: Those who deliberately seek understanding pale before those who forget understanding; those who forcefully pursue fall short of those who flow naturally. Supreme virtue means forgetting virtue's very existence. Liu Gai further explains: Shangde represents complete wuwei in body and mind, attaining the realm of "true emptiness," while xiade involves deliberate striving in both, belonging to the realm of "marvelous existence."

Chen Xianggu cites the Book of Documents: Those who never boast of virtue find others reverently drawn to them, whereas those anxious about losing virtue inevitably commit transgressions. Ye Mengde concludes: The Dao itself has no hierarchy—both shangde and xiade express its manifestations. Even humble weeds and tiles contain the great Dao.

Through layered commentaries by multiple scholars, this text progressively reveals the core Daoist principle of "governing through wuwei," emphasizing that supreme virtue flows spontaneously without conscious pursuit.

The discussion of Dao (the cosmic origin and its laws) hinges on distinguishing between the ordinary and extraordinary states, while De (the manifestation of Dao) requires personal practice. De manifests in action as implementation, in governance as order, in attainment as gain, in loss as diminishment, in auspiciousness as blessings, and in adversity as misfortune. Thus, it is essential to discern the varying levels of De.

Though De is derived from Dao, it remains not too distant from it. There are still those who embody Dao without consciously recognizing their possession of De. Hence, the highest form of De is that which is naturally present without deliberate pursuit. Beyond this boundary, one becomes fixated on De and forgets Dao, even exhausting effort to seek it, fearing its absence—thereby diminishing De. Thus, while lower forms of De may retain its outward appearance, they lose its intrinsic essence.

Wuwei (non-action) is the nature of Dao. De can embody Dao while maintaining a desireless and unattached mind, preserving its presence. Yet once deliberate action and intention arise, the level of De gradually declines.

Liu Ji, the Daoist master Qingyuanzi, explains: Serenity, tranquility, and wuwei are the principles of heaven and earth and the virtue of sages. In harmony with a state of unknowing and unconsciousness, De does not depart; in unity with Dao, one no longer perceives its existence. Thus, the highest De does not consciously display itself—it is precisely this that makes it truly De. This state transcends form and intellect, merging completely with the Great Dao, neither questioning names nor probing conditions, allowing all things to flourish naturally. If one deliberately seeks to recognize De, they lose it, for such attachment and possessiveness lead to the loss of Dao. Therefore, while lower forms of De may not lose its outward expression, they lack its true substance. The highest De arises spontaneously, attained without thought and achieved without action—thus, it is wuwei, free from contrivance. Lower forms of De emerge from forced effort, unattainable without thought and unachievable without action—thus, they are deliberate and purposeful.

Huang Maocai observes: Dao and De are separated by only a single step. Maintaining equilibrium is Dao; impartiality is De. To follow is Dao; to endure is De. Dao resembles an infant who has yet to smile, while De resembles a child who has just begun to laugh. "Mysterious De" (Xuande) is so named for its boundless profundity; "Constant De" (Changde) for its enduring nature; "Supreme De" (Shangde) for its rarity among ordinary people—all these align with the essence of Dao. The highest De does not consciously display itself, acting without purpose—is this not Dao itself? As for lower forms of De, they stray far from Dao.

Lin Dong adds: The highest De approaches Dao, thus naturally embodying De without deliberate pursuit. Lower forms of De, however, diligently strive for it, fearing its loss.

The "virtue without virtue" (the highest form of De) cannot be attained through deliberate pursuit.

The highest benevolence (shangren) is practiced naturally, without any ulterior motive; the highest righteousness (shangyi), though actively performed, carries clear intentions. As for ritual propriety (li), when people perform ceremonial gestures without receiving reciprocation, they roll up their sleeves to compel a response. Thus it is said: When Dao is lost, De must be emphasized; when De is lost, benevolence must be emphasized; when benevolence is lost, righteousness must be emphasized; when righteousness is lost, ritual propriety must be emphasized.

Emperor Huizong of Song's commentary explains: Sages like Yao and Shun possessed inherently benevolent natures—their virtue covered all under heaven yet sought no personal gain, hence it is called "wu yi wei" (without purpose). "Righteousness" involves weighing appropriateness according to circumstances, establishing norms and handling affairs—can this be done without deliberate effort? "Ritual propriety" serves for social interaction and demonstrating norms, adorning the practical application of benevolence and righteousness. Yet excessive reliance on it breeds contention and chaos. During the Spring and Autumn period, a single improper phrase or ritual oversight could ignite wars between states—showing how even forced ritual observance produces milder consequences. Sages valued benevolence while downplaying righteousness and ritual, because constraining behavior through ritual is not the fundamental way.

Thus the highest benevolence approaches De, while the highest righteousness still retains clear purpose, and ritual often meets with non-reciprocation. Dao cannot be compelled—hence when Dao is lost, De is spoken of; De too is difficult to fully attain—hence when De is lost, benevolence is emphasized; benevolence can be actively practiced, and such practice approaches righteousness—hence when benevolence is lost, righteousness is emphasized; where righteousness proves insufficient, ritual serves as ornamentation—hence when righteousness is lost, ritual is emphasized. By the time only ritual remains, one drifts ever farther from Dao, having lost progressively more.

Chen Jingyuan (Bixuzi) elucidates: Benevolence means universal love, attainable by all. To achieve it without partiality makes it "highest benevolence"; having the mind to relieve all beings makes it "deliberate action"; accomplishing without claiming credit or dominating outcomes makes it "without purpose." Righteousness means appropriateness—where there is appropriateness, there must also be inappropriateness. Handling myriad affairs with perfect measure makes it "highest righteousness"; acting where appropriate benefits exist—this action manifests through judging right and wrong, hence called "purposeful action." "Rangbi" means rolling up sleeves to bare arms; "reng" implies pulling or compelling. Ritual means treading the proper path—acting according to norms that distinguish high and low, establish nobility and humility, cultivating humility and gentleness to prevent contention. This is ritual's root. The exchange of jade and silk, dignified responses, bows and obeisances—these are but ritual's superficial forms.

Zhuangzi states that true ritual (Great Rites) aligns with the natural patterns of heaven and earth. He further explains that rituals serve as auxiliary tools to facilitate worldly affairs. The ancient sages established rituals to help people calm their minds and cultivate proper demeanor, which shows that rituals are human-made conventions.

However, those of middling or lesser understanding often miss the essence, becoming fixated on trivial ritual details while failing to respond appropriately to actual circumstances. This represents the loss of ritual's original purpose. More severely, some may grow furious, raising their arms in dispute or pointing fingers to argue right and wrong—completely deviating from ritual's true nature and descending into the beginnings of conflict.

Sima Guang (Master Sushui) argued that forcibly restraining people with rigid systems and intimidating them with punishments when they disobey only produces the opposite effect. Su Zhe (Master Yingbin) observed that both benevolence (ren) and righteousness (yi) inevitably involve deliberate effort, though with a distinction: true benevolence arises spontaneously, while righteousness requires conscious practice. Virtue (De) has both higher and lower manifestations, but benevolence and righteousness belong solely to the noble aspect—what falls beneath them isn't worth discussing.

From virtue downward to ritual, this represents the sages' final means to guide the people. When ritual norms go unheeded, they become coercive restraints; when coercion still fails, punishments and force are employed—marking the complete loss of proper governance.

Cheng Dachang held that benevolence, righteousness, and ritual are fundamentally one. Ritual simply manifests benevolence and righteousness through codified rules and forms. Since Laozi disparaged benevolence and righteousness, he naturally dismissed ritual's quantifiable, delineated expressions.

Lin Dong mentioned that some ranked "foresight" (precognitive ability) after ritual, considering it wisdom. But Laozi viewed ritual itself as evidence of eroded loyalty and trust, hence he didn't discuss "trust." Regarding wisdom, he advocated "not governing with cunning," believing excessive cleverness harms the state—a stark contrast to Confucianism's Three Bonds and Five Constants.

True ritual should embody loyalty and trust, but when reduced to empty form, it becomes the seed of chaos. So-called foresight is merely the superficial ornamentation of the Dao (the Way), the beginning of folly. Thus, the great man anchors himself in substantial simplicity, rejecting hollow embellishments to embrace the genuine essence.

This passage explores the relationship between "ritual propriety" (礼) and the Dao (道). Laozi observes that all things in the world cannot simultaneously reach their peak state, just as yin and yang wax and wane in alternation. True majestic virtue (威德) often appears plain in outward manifestation, much like the seemingly simple yet profoundly meaningful etiquette between father and son.

Here we see that excessive emphasis on elaborate formalities actually signals the decline of inner substance. When substance deteriorates, hypocrisy arises, leading to contention and chaos. Thus, an overemphasis on ritual propriety indicates a deficiency in loyalty and sincerity (忠信) and marks the beginning of disorder.

As the Dao gradually recedes, people begin to pursue outward appearances, giving rise to various forms of cleverness. Using such cleverness to speculate about things is like forcing a chisel to carve—it depletes the spirit (神) and leads to reckless conjecture. This is what is called "premature judgment" (前识). Such "premature judgment" causes people to chase trivialities while forgetting the root. Though it may seem like the radiance of the Dao, it actually exhausts the mind, leading to increasing foolishness.

Confucius criticized his disciple Zigong precisely because Zigong was overly focused on outward displays. The truly admirable Dao is substantial rather than shallow, genuine rather than superficial. Only those with sufficient wisdom can know their own nature, return to the root, and avoid being misled by external things. The Yijing states, "Returning with sincerity brings no regret" (敦复无悔), emphasizing the importance of returning to one's innate, sincere nature.

Chen Jingyuan (also known as Bixuzi) adds that neglecting moral virtue (德), humaneness (仁), and righteousness (义) while fixating on ritual propriety indeed indicates a lack of loyalty and sincerity and heralds disorder. However, if one upholds moral virtue, humaneness, and righteousness while appropriately applying ritual propriety, this represents the highest form of ritual—and with this, there is nothing that cannot be properly governed.

True virtue (德) is harmonious, and the Dao is inherently reasonable. When virtue embraces all things without exclusion, it is humaneness (仁); when the Dao orders all things without exception, it is righteousness (义). Clarity in righteousness fosters closeness with all beings, while sincerity and purity allow one to return to one's nature. Proper speech and conduct constitute ritual propriety (礼). This shows that Laozi and Zhuangzi’s philosophy does not entirely reject moral virtue, humaneness, righteousness, ritual propriety, music, loyalty, or sincerity. Overemphasizing ritual propriety is a manifestation of cleverness, and this kind of "foresight" can become a detriment to governance. True sages should restrain cleverness and return to simplicity.

Excessive ritual leads to chaos, and excessive cleverness leads to deception—this is an inevitable principle. The so-called "great man" (大丈夫) is one who is strong, pure, and attuned to the Dao. Such individuals can embody tranquility and wuwei (无为), preserving their innate authenticity.

This passage explores the Daoist dialectical perspective on "loyalty and sincerity" versus "ritual propriety and righteousness." The core argument suggests that excessive focus on superficial ritual norms can lead to the loss of one's authentic nature.

It first describes the ideal state: a mind free from worldly concerns, actions flowing without constraint, with spirit inwardly collected and all affectation abandoned. This preserves one's innate simplicity and honest character, attaining the realm of supreme De (Virtue), while avoiding shallow cleverness and deceit.

Three scholarly commentaries then expand the discussion:

Sima Guang observes that loyalty and sincerity form the root of ritual. Those who rigidly adhere to ritual forms while forgetting this foundation breed hypocrisy and cunning. Some worldly people appear clever through conjecture and speculation, yet their excessive words ultimately reveal folly.

Su Zhe maintains that loyalty and sincerity require ritual for their expression, but overemphasis on external forms erodes inner authenticity. The key to social harmony lies in balancing this tension—conformity brings peace while violation causes chaos, with the distinction being exceedingly subtle.

Cao Daochong directly criticizes ritual norms: using Confucian propriety to constrain people and shame to enforce regulations creates artificial constructs that foster falseness. When sincerity weakens, it breeds rebellion. True Dao cultivators should pursue unadorned simplicity, rejecting flashy pretense.

These scholars collectively advocate abandoning ornate ritual trappings to return to the root of Dao and De. The truly wise perceive the essence of all things, while ordinary people—limited by sensory perceptions—fall into folly by using cleverness to seek understanding. Worldly individuals often chase trivial gains while forgetting fundamentals; only genuine Dao practitioners can discard falsity and preserve authenticity.

This passage elucidates the paramount importance of the concept of "One" (一). Here, "One" refers to the pure state of the Dao (the fundamental cosmic principle), through which all things attain their proper existence.

Huang Maocai posits that all phenomena throughout time share the same essence. When people attempt to comprehend the Dao through intellectual contrivance, they merely grasp fragmented knowledge and become complacent—a profound folly indeed. The truly awakened individual transcends worldly views, neither blindly following conventions nor prioritizing form over substance.

The section "昔之得一" (In ancient times those who attained the One) enumerates how various entities manifest the One: Heaven attains the One and achieves clarity; Earth attains the One and finds tranquility; Shen (divine spirits) attain the One and gain numinous potency; valleys (emptiness) attain the One and become abundant; all creatures attain the One and flourish; rulers attain the One and establish proper governance. Though these manifestations differ, they all stem from the same unifying principle of the One.

The imperial commentary cites Zhuangzi to explain: comprehending the One leads to understanding all phenomena. By maintaining the One, one never strays from the true path. The One represents the most refined existence between Heaven and Earth—no other entity can match its perfection. Heaven preserves its purity through the One; Earth maintains its stability through the One; Shen retain their numinous awareness through the One; valleys embody their all-embracing emptiness through the One. All beings take form through the transformation of Jing (essence) and Qi (vital energy), just as rulers govern the people through the principle of the One.

Chen Jingyuan further clarifies that this "One" is none other than primordial Qi (the fundamental energy constituting all existence)—precisely what Zhuangzi referred to as "Qi." Whether considering Heaven and Earth or rulers, though their positions and functions differ, the root cause of their clarity, tranquility, and proper governance lies in maintaining this singular principle.

This passage explains how the Dao (the Way) nurtures all things through the state of "emptiness." The term "emptiness" resembles an empty house that can accommodate everything—only the Dao can gather this void. The text lists five manifestations of the Dao's presence:

Heaven represents pure Yang Qi (vital energy). Because it attains the Dao, it operates with strength and vigor, arching expansively to cover all things, displaying a clear and luminous appearance, becoming the fundamental origin of all existence. Earth embodies pure Yin substance. Because it attains the Dao, it bears all things with gentle compliance, remaining stable and unmoving, serving as the foundation for the growth of all beings. The divine (referring to the wondrous workings of creation) attains the Dao, enabling it to transform endlessly and resonate with all things. Valleys attain the Dao, allowing their Qi to flow ceaselessly and their waters to remain inexhaustible. All things attain the Dao, enabling them to flourish and multiply. Rulers (or lords) attain the Dao, ensuring their authority endures and the world remains peaceful.

Sima Guang explains: "One" is the fundamental principle the Dao bestows upon all things—everything relies on it to achieve completion. Su Zhe elaborates further: The reason all things can become what they are lies in the Dao's function. People often fixate on concrete objects while forgetting the Dao behind them. Heaven knows to maintain clarity, Earth knows to remain tranquil, the divine knows to preserve its numinous wonder, valleys know to stay full, all things know to grow and multiply, and rulers know to uphold the world's proper order—yet they remain unaware that these attributes exist solely because of the Dao.

Lu Dian cites Daoist scriptures: Entering the state of "One" brings attainment, while departing from it leads to loss. "One" marks the boundary between existence and non-existence. The Liezi states that "One" is the beginning of form's transformations, while the Zhuangzi describes the primordial state of "One" as formless and without appearance. Heaven is lofty and Earth lowly, hence Heaven is mentioned before Earth. The space between Heaven and Earth appears empty yet contains boundlessness—the more it moves, the more it reveals unfathomable divine wonder, hence the discussion of the "divine" follows. All things fill Heaven and Earth, their life and death governed by the divine, hence the discussion of "all things" follows. Rulers govern the world by emulating these four natural principles.

This scripture primarily explores the core concept of "One" (Yi) in Daoist philosophy. "One" represents the fundamental state and highest realm of the Dao (the Way), serving as the source of all generation and transformation in the universe.

Daoist master Da Zhenzi explains: When the Dao exists in a state of undifferentiated unity, it returns to the realm of "One." Therefore, those who comprehend "One" have grasped the unified essence of the Dao.

Chen Xianggu elaborates: "One" is the most subtle function of the Great Dao and the manifestation of ultimate truth. Ye Mengde supplements this by noting: Although earlier discussions separated Dao and De (Virtue/Power), presenting them as two distinct concepts, this was merely to prevent people from seeing only superficial differences while forgetting they fundamentally originate from the same "One."

Zhuangzi describes in the Nanhua Jing (Classic of Southern Florescence): The primordial universe existed in a state of "non-being" (Wu), before even the concepts of "being" (You) and "non-being" emerged—this marks the origin of "One." When "One" begins to manifest but has not yet taken form, this represents the critical moment when the Dao is about to differentiate and all things begin to gestate. The Yijing (Book of Changes) begins its cosmological progression from "Heavenly One" (Tian Yi), ultimately returning to "One" as the hidden fundamental principle.

Huang Maocai further clarifies: All phenomena between heaven and earth, regardless of their vast multiplicity (even as numerous as the sands of the Ganges), fundamentally derive from "One." All things originate from "One"; "Two" is the combination of two "Ones," "Three" is three "Ones" combined, and so forth ad infinitum.

The scripture concludes with parallel phrasing to emphasize: If heaven loses its clarity, it will collapse; if earth loses its stability, it will quake; if spirits lose their numinous power, they will vanish; if valleys lose their fullness, they will dry up; if all things lose their vitality, they will perish. Similarly, if rulers cannot uphold the correct Dao, their noble positions will topple. This demonstrates that all existence must adhere to the fundamental principle of "One" to sustain its development.

This passage primarily discusses the importance of "One" (the Dao) and the dialectical relationship between nobility and humility.

It first explains Qi as the origin of all things—by attaining the "One" (Dao), beings survive; by losing it, they perish. Only by holding fast to the correct path can one master all transformations and stand independent above the myriad things. If the root is lost, even the most exalted position cannot ensure self-preservation.

Commentators offer various interpretations:

Chen Jingyuan cites Yin-Yang theory, explaining that cracked heavens symbolize insufficient Yang Qi and a ruler's waning virtue, while earthquakes signify excessive Yin Qi and ministers failing their duties. These natural phenomena serve as warnings to rulers—if even marquises and kings must heed them, how much more should common people.

Su Zhe argues that heaven doesn't immediately crack upon losing the "One," nor does earth instantly quake, but both ultimately reach that point. Similarly, marquises and kings won't collapse immediately after losing the "One," but will inevitably face ruin.

Chen Xianggu observes that division leads to incompleteness, turmoil to instability, and exhaustion to collapse—all consequences of losing the Dao. Ye Mengde adds that even magnificent entities like heaven and earth cannot endure without their foundation.

Huang Maocai concludes that heaven, earth, spirits, valleys, all creatures, and rulers face destruction when losing the "One." The use of "will" rather than "must" indicates the "One" never truly disappears.

Finally, the dialectic of nobility and humility: the noble take humility as their root, the exalted build upon the lowly. Thus rulers call themselves "orphaned," "solitary," and "unworthy" (ancient royal self-deprecations), demonstrating their understanding of fundamentals. Ordinary people see only surfaces, while sages perceive essence. Rulers maintain nobility without ruin precisely because they grasp this truth.

Master Bi Xu (Empty Jade) Chen Jingyuan said: How can true nobility be achieved through self-praise? It must be supported by those of humble status to attain genuine honor. Those in high positions—how can they regard themselves as lofty? They must rely on their subordinates' support to maintain their elevated station. The three self-designations—"orphaned" (without support), "virtue-deficient," and "unworthy"—are terms people normally despise, yet feudal lords and kings use them for themselves. This demonstrates the cultivation of virtue through humility, refusing to flaunt their noble status. Is this not the embodiment of taking the lowly as fundamental?

Master Yingbin Su Zhe observed: The vastness of heaven and earth, the nobility of feudal lords and kings—all originate from the "One" (the Dao). What is this "One"? It cannot be seen when looked at, nor grasped when reached for. It may be called the most subtle existence under heaven—this is what we mean by lowly and humble. The ancients used these modest terms precisely because they grasped the root while discarding superficial appearances.

Chen Xianggu pointed out: This exemplifies the application of the way of humility. Calling oneself "orphaned, virtue-deficient, and unworthy" represents ultimate modesty. The Book of Changes states: The Dao of heaven diminishes the full to augment the humble; the Dao of earth transforms the full to flow toward the lowly; spirits and deities harm the proud but bless the modest; human nature detests the self-satisfied but favors the humble. The humble, though occupying noble positions, can illuminate virtue; though dwelling in lowly stations, cannot be surpassed—this is the ultimate realm of the noble person. The phrase "is it not so?" means this principle cannot be denied.

Huang Maicai further explained: This truth of the "One" is not possessed solely by the noble—the humble also share it; not held exclusively by the high—the low also contain it. Like when Dongguozi asked Zhuangzi "where is the Dao," Zhuangzi first said it was in ants, then in weeds, next in tiles, and finally in excrement. Terms like "orphaned, virtue-deficient, and unworthy" don't even represent true lowliness.

Thus, excessive pursuit of reputation leads to its loss. Don't be like jade—radiant and conspicuous; nor like stubborn stone—unyielding and isolated. Emperor Huizong of Song's imperial commentary explains: Self-exaltation oppresses others; self-importance belittles others. Being strong without understanding softness, pure without comprehending darkness—those who chase worldly fame may gain empty praise, but will invite baseless slander, ultimately losing true honor. The distinction between jade and stone's nobility is fixed, but sages follow circumstances and adapt to things, maintaining the "One" within—this marks true attainment of the Dao, beyond worldly standards of value. As Mencius said: The error of clinging to "one" lies in fixating on a single point while neglecting all others.

This passage explores interpretations of the "highest virtue" (Shang De) in the Daode Jing, where several Daoist scholars elucidate the profound meaning behind the phrase "not wishing to glitter like jade nor to be dull like stone."

Chen Jingyuan (Bixuzi) employs metaphors of cart-making and statecraft: individual components like wheels and shafts each have their names when examined separately, yet only when assembled do they form a complete cart. Similarly, scholars, farmers, artisans, and merchants each fulfill their roles, collectively constituting a nation. He warns rulers not to neglect the common people, just as one cannot disregard components when building a cart. A truly Daoist ruler does not flaunt brilliance like precious jade but instead withdraws锋芒 like an unhewn stone, maintaining the "Way of Profound Unity" (Chong Yi Zhi Dao, the fundamental principle of wuwei). Only then can they become a model for the world.

Su Zhe (Yingbin) further explains: A cart consists of many parts, yet the cart itself is not any single component—this very "nothingness" (wu you) is precisely what makes the cart functional. The reason Heaven and Earth are what they are, or why lords and kings hold their status, lies not in their apparent grandeur but in their inner "One" (the Dao). Those who attain the Dao transcend distinctions of nobility and baseness, unlike jade which can only represent honor or stone which is confined to lowliness.

Dazhenzi analyzes from the perspective of reputation: People often gain praise due to their exalted status, but true rulers, though positioned high, forget their nobility and treat the humble as equals—as if they had no reputation at all. Both jade and stone are hard and unchanging, yet jade symbolizes nobility (like rulers) while stone represents lowliness (like the solitary and widowed), with neither able to transform into the other. Those who attain the Dao preserve the inner "One" (the fundamental Dao), rising above such dualities.

In synthesis, this passage describes how Daoist sages do not cling to external displays of honor and prominence. They can be as noble as jade yet as ordinary as stone—this state of transcending opposites constitutes genuine "highest virtue." Through everyday analogies, the commentators emphasize that rulers should value fundamentals and maintain humility.

This scripture explores the movement patterns and essential characteristics of the Dao (the Way). The most precious things often connect with the most ordinary, so those who truly attain the Dao neither shine brilliantly like jade nor remain stubbornly rigid like common stones. Only those who genuinely comprehend the Dao in their hearts can understand this principle.

Huang Maocai explains that just as constructing a carriage requires assembling wheels, axles, and crossbeams to form a complete vehicle, jade symbolizes noble virtue while stones represent steadfast will—yet those who embody the Dao do not deliberately pursue such external manifestations. Once something takes on a concrete form or name, it deviates from the essence of the Dao.

Chapter 40 states: "Reversal is the movement of the Dao." The Dao operates in cyclical and returning patterns, with softness being its mode of application. All things under heaven arise from "being" (you), yet "being" itself originates from "non-being" (wu). Just as the energy stored in winter revitalizes in spring, or water—seemingly soft—can penetrate the hardest objects, "being" and "non-being" transform into each other in an endless cycle: from nothingness to existence, and back again to nothingness.

Chen Jingyuan (Bixuzi) elaborates further: "Reversal" signifies return and transformation. Emptiness and stillness are the source of all things—before generation occurs, there must first be a return to stillness, after which movement and change arise. This mirrors the Book of Changes' Fu hexagram, where the return of yang energy leads to harmonious progression. Softness is the concrete manifestation of the Dao, for after returning to stillness, the Dao's operation inevitably exhibits gentle and yielding qualities.

All things originate from primordial Qi (yuanqi, the most fundamental energy). Primordial Qi belongs to the realm of "being"—it emits radiance yet lacks fixed form. This radiance emerges from emptiness, and emptiness itself is the substance of the Dao. As the Liezi states: "What has form arises from what is formless; heaven and earth are the same." Between movement and stillness, it is not physical bodies that are produced but shadows; not sounds but echoes. Thus, all things are born from "being," yet "being" itself is born from "non-being."

Sima Guang (Sushui) observes that the alternation of yin and yang is the Dao. Su Zhe (Yingbin) notes that returning to one's innate nature leads to stillness—but this stillness is not lifeless stagnation. Rather, it is an inner dynamism capable of perceiving the transformations of all things, which is the true source of movement.

The Dao, though formless, soundless, and seemingly the softest existence in the world, cannot be surpassed by even the most powerful forces. Precisely because of this, the Dao governs all things. Ordinary people often fail to comprehend that stillness contains movement within it, and softness encompasses strength. Hence, the mother-child relationship is used as a metaphor—all things in the world follow the principle of "the mother governing the child," and never has there been a case of "the child governing the mother."

Wang Anshi explains that speaking of "reversal" rather than directly mentioning "stillness," and discussing "softness" instead of overtly stating "strength," is meant to help people realize through movement that returning to the origin is stillness, and through softness, they may understand that its application constitutes strength. Ye Mengde further elaborates: From a singular perspective, the Dao is the source of all things; viewed through multiplicity, the Dao operates through reverse movement to propel the functioning of all things—this is the dynamic nature of the Dao. From the standpoint of the noble, the Dao appears soft, yet all things rely on it for their existence—this is the function of the Dao.

Liu Ji (Daoist name Qingyuanzi) cites scripture: The state of formless emptiness is the root of the Dao, and the shared origin of all things is the primordial beginning of the Dao. To oppose this principle is to deviate from the great Dao; to align with it is to perceive strength within softness—this is the efficacy of the Dao. Huang Maocai posits: From non-being comes being, and from being arises the myriad things—the reason for the generation of all things remains unknowable. If humans can investigate the origin of life and accord with the Dao of nature, can they not attain longevity?

Lin Dong concludes: The essence of the Dao is stillness, yet its reverse operation manifests as movement. All things emerge from "being" (as heaven and earth transform to produce the myriad things), yet "being" itself originates from "non-being"—this "non-being" is the Dao. It is precisely through these characteristics of reversal and softness that the Dao becomes the sovereign creator of all things. Without the process of "being arising from non-being," how could the myriad things come into existence?