《道德真經集註(二)》Vol. 12

Chapter 45 of the Daode Jing presents seemingly paradoxical yet profoundly insightful truths. The most perfect thing appears incomplete ("Great completion seems lacking"), yet its efficacy never diminishes; the most abundant thing seems empty ("Great fullness seems hollow"), yet its function is inexhaustible. True straightness appears crooked, the most skillful art seems clumsy, and the most eloquent speech seems halting.

Emperor Huizong of Song (in his imperial commentary) explains: Among the four greats in the cosmos (Dao, Heaven, Earth, and the King), Dao stands supreme. Those who truly embody the Dao do not cling to achievements, hence they appear flawed. This is why Confucius was called the "Grand Synthesizer"—he could adapt to circumstances without rigid attachments.

Chen Jingyuan (Master Bixu) elucidates: A gentleman of complete virtue is like a deep valley—inexhaustible when drawn upon; like a bright mirror—never weary of reflecting. The truly upright person yields to external conditions without stubbornness, appearing compliant yet genuinely straight; the truly skillful craftsman follows the natural grain of materials, appearing awkward yet supremely competent.

Sima Guang (the Historian of Sushui) analyzes through common principles: When things reach their extreme, they reverse course, but Daoist adepts maintain this "seemingly insufficient" state, thus avoiding decline. Su Zhe (of Yingbin) adds: Ordinary people chase superficial perfection and thus easily fail; sages pursue inner fulfillment and therefore endure. Like working wood along its grain—seemingly crooked yet truly straight; like acting in accordance with natural patterns—seemingly clumsy yet profoundly skillful.

Wang Anshi (of Linchuan) contends: All things originate from Dao and return to Dao—this constitutes true "great completion." Lu Dian concludes: Genuine perfection shows no outward signs, hence appears lacking; true abundance makes no display, hence seems empty. These apparent contradictions precisely reveal the profundity of the Dao.

Master Liu Ji of Qingyuan said: The Dao (the cosmic origin and principle) knows neither completion nor deficiency, thus it is called "Great Completion"; it recognizes neither fullness nor emptiness, thus it is named "Great Plenitude." Precisely because it does not cling to achievement, it appears deficient; because it does not display fullness, it seems empty. When things reach their extreme, they inevitably reverse. Precisely because it appears deficient, its function never wanes; because it seems empty, its efficacy is inexhaustible.

True Great Straightness (ultimate integrity) is upright yet unobtrusive, thus appearing bent; Great Skill (supreme craftsmanship) accomplishes naturally without forced action, thus seeming clumsy; Great Eloquence (supreme persuasion) teaches through wordless guidance, thus appearing inarticulate. Huang Maocai added: Without understanding this principle, who would willingly display submission, clumsiness, or inarticulateness?

Restlessness can overcome cold, while stillness can conquer heat. However, the Imperial Commentary notes that restlessness belongs to Yang and stillness to Yin—both are partial extremes. Only by maintaining a state of pure serenity, free from the opposition between restlessness and stillness, can one become the standard for all under heaven. Master Chen Jingyuan of Bixu explained through natural phenomena: In spring and summer, the restless Yang Qi (vital energy) stimulates growth, but when things reach their peak, they reverse—the Yin Qi begins to emerge at the summer solstice. Excessive restlessness leads to decline, while those who embody perfect clarity and stillness maintain their true nature even amidst chaos.

Su Zhe (Yingbin) argued that clinging to singular states—perfection, plenitude, straightness, cleverness, or eloquence—is as one-sided as restlessness that cannot be still or stillness that cannot be restless. Restlessness can ward off cold but not heat; stillness can resist heat but not cold. Only by preserving tranquil serenity, free from all extremes—neither pursuing perfection nor fixating on deficiency—can one embody the Middle Way. As Zhuangzi said: When the spirit is calm, the body naturally becomes upright; without exhausting the body or disturbing the Jing (essence) and Qi (vital energy), one attains long life and enduring vision.

This scripture elucidates the philosophy of "clarity, stillness, and non-action (Wuwei)," using natural phenomena and human cultivation to demonstrate the principle that the great Dao (the Way) is supremely simple.

The text begins with seasonal changes as metaphor: When spring and summer reach their peak of agitation, cold energy arrives to restore balance; when autumn and winter reach their extreme stillness, warm energy comes to harmonize. This illustrates how when things develop to their limits, opposing forces inevitably emerge to counterbalance them. True great wisdom always appears incomplete ("the greatest perfection seems defective"), the fullest state paradoxically seems empty ("the greatest abundance seems vacant"), the most upright expression seems bent ("the straightest appears crooked"), the most skillful technique seems clumsy ("the greatest skill appears awkward"), and the most eloquent person seems taciturn ("the most persuasive seems inarticulate"). This is because such individuals harbor no extreme competitive thoughts in their hearts. Their inner clarity remains untainted by external things, their stillness undisturbed by agitation—such a mental state naturally maintains perfect equilibrium.

The text then cites interpretations from several Daoist scholars: Master Dazhen observes this as the inevitable manifestation of natural law; Ye Mengde points out that uprightness means correcting what is crooked, and clarity is the true standard of the world; Huang Maocai explains that the human body contains its own microcosm, and understanding the way of clarity allows connection with the Taiji (Supreme Ultimate, the cosmic origin), eliminating any need for deliberate conquest.

Finally, the text contrasts "when the world follows the Dao" with "when the world lacks the Dao": In times of peace (when the Dao prevails), warhorses are used for plowing fields; in times of chaos (without the Dao), warhorses are bred on battlefields. This demonstrates how governance through the Dao brings prosperity without contention, while its absence leads to survival of the fittest, where even territorial boundaries cannot be maintained.

This passage discusses the relationship between the Dao and warfare as well as desires. When society deviates from the Great Dao, conflicts between the strong and weak emerge, people become displaced, and warfare naturally breaks out—warhorses (rongma) then appear in the borderlands.

Cao Daochong (a Daoist master of the Song Dynasty) explains: Ceasing the use of warhorses (zouma) to quell warfare and allowing people to peacefully till the land is akin to stilling the "horse of thought" (a metaphor for distracting thoughts) during cultivation—when the mind settles, the Dantian (energy center) naturally becomes replenished. If one abandons the Dao and indulges in force, warhorses will inevitably appear in the borderlands.

Da Zhenzi (a Daoist master of the Yuan Dynasty) further distinguishes: Zouma refers to horses used for fleeing battle, while rongma are those bred for warfare. Conflicts between nations all stem from abandoning the Dao and indulging desires. When the world follows the Dao, warfare becomes unnecessary, and warhorses return to the fields like manure; when the world loses the Dao, preparation for war becomes inevitable, and warhorses appear in the borderlands.

Liu Ji (styled Qingyuanzi, a Song Dynasty scholar) quotes Zhuangzi, using the metaphor of "wild horses and swirling dust" to describe human Qi (vital energy). The rise and fall of Qi depends on the movement or stillness of the mind: when the mind is calm, Qi becomes harmonious; when the mind is agitated, Qi surges wildly. Practitioners of the Dao with purified thoughts will find their Qi gradually clarifying, their breath slowing until it ceases, reaching a state of deep stillness. This is the deeper meaning of "returning warhorses to manure"—a return to the root. When the world loses the Dao, people chase external things, their minds become restless, and perverse Qi runs wild, much like warhorses appearing in the borderlands. This is what Zhuangzi meant by "the body sits while the mind gallops."

Huang Maocai (a Song Dynasty scholar) argues: In times of peace, governing the world with the Dao naturally eliminates the need for warhorses, making their return to farming proper. But when rebellion arises in chaotic times, keeping warhorses near the capital becomes unavoidable—just as people who neglect health cultivation only seek medicine when illness strikes, already far from the Dao of nurturing life.

Finally, the passage quotes a famous saying from the Daode Jing: The greatest sin is indulging desires, the greatest calamity is discontent, and the gravest fault is insatiable greed. Only those who know contentment can attain true fulfillment. Emperor Huizong of Song notes in his commentary: When people see what they desire, they become discontent; discontent breeds possessiveness, sparking conflict and disaster, ultimately leading to war. Only by understanding contentment can each person abide peacefully in their proper place.

This passage illustrates how insatiable greed inevitably brings calamity.

Master Bi Xu (Chen Jingyuan) explains that when greed arises in people, they abandon moral principles to chase external possessions. It's like pursuing a single strand of hair while losing sight of the entire mountain. Greed is the root of all transgressions. He recounts Liezi's parable: A man from Qi dressed formally and stole gold from a shop in broad daylight. When caught, he confessed seeing only the gold, blind to all witnesses. Like muddy water obscuring clear depths, desire clouds human judgment. The perpetually dissatisfied view everything as potential plunder, inevitably courting disaster.

Su Zhe (Master Yingbin) adds that while greed destroys ordinary people, an unsatisfied ruler provokes wars. The contented find sufficiency in all circumstances.

Wang Anshi (Master Linchuan) quotes Mozi: "It's not that we lack shelter, but that hearts feel insufficient; not that goods are scarce, but that greed is boundless." Those who attain the Dao understand true wealth lies in contentment.

Cao Daochong (Master Dao Zhen Ren Jing) states succinctly: "The insatiable never have enough; the contented always feel abundant despite lack."

Master Da Zhen analyzes through karmic lens: Transgressions invite human punishment, reckless desires summon ghostly retribution, and excesses incur heavenly wrath. True contentment means finding fulfillment in the Dao itself—when the inner self is nourished, external gains or losses matter not.

When external material conditions are fulfilled, one's actions will never fall short. Thus, only those who understand contentment can attain true fulfillment. How, then, could misfortune or calamity ever befall them?

Master Liu Ji of Qingyuan explains: When human desires escalate to the point of harming life itself in pursuit of gain, no greater evil exists than indulging these cravings. Those who never know satisfaction will resort to plunder and deceit without restraint—hence the greatest disaster stems from insatiability. To insist on obtaining whatever one desires, indulging to the extreme, invites particularly grave misfortune. In truth, these three faults (indulging desires, lacking contentment, and compulsive acquisition) are nothing more than excess beyond the basic needs of food, clothing, and warmth. Therefore, the text proceeds to discuss the principle of contentment—those who are content remain settled in their proper place, wandering freely between heaven and earth with fulfilled hearts. What calamity could possibly reach them? Thus it is said: The contented are forever abundant.

Huang Maocai identifies three great human afflictions: indulging desires, lacking satisfaction, and insatiable greed. Human nature is originally complete and flawless—understanding this truth alone prevents any sense of deficiency.

Cheng Dachang interprets the "permissible" (可) in "permissible desires" as "sanctioned." When people harbor desires yet impose no restraint, pardoning and indulging themselves while dismissing potential harm, misfortune inevitably follows. Consider the First Emperor of Qin: after unifying the realm, his relentless militarism destroyed his dynasty—such is calamity. Contrast this with Emperor Wen of Han, who abandoned plans for a terrace, declaring: "Living in my predecessor's palace already shames me—why build more?" When generals urged military campaigns, he replied: "I feel unworthy even wearing these robes—how could I contemplate such things?" Though he might sigh while touching his thigh, wishing for generals like Lian Po or Li Mu, or recall the Battle of Julu during meals, he consistently rejected pleas for vast armies to dominate the world. When Emperor Wu succeeded him, his extravagance surpassed all predecessors as his territories expanded to distant frontiers—yet still he remained unsatisfied. Posterity judges: Emperor Wen knew contentment—did Emperor Wu?

Chapter 47 discusses understanding the world without stepping outside:

Without leaving your gate, you comprehend the world's affairs; without peering through your window, you perceive the Dao of heaven.

Master Chen Jingyuan of Bixu clarifies: While eating, think of those starving; while dressing, remember those freezing. Cherishing your own parents reveals the plight of elders everywhere; loving your children illuminates the condition of all young ones. Why then must one go abroad to understand the world?

Sima Guang (Master Sushui) stated: Grasping the fundamental essence of the Dao is of utmost importance. Su Zhe (Master Yingbin) observed: The nature of the Dao (Dao-xing) permeates all heaven and earth, transcending the constraints of time and space. The ancient sages could comprehend all things without leaving their dwellings precisely because their Dao-nature remained whole and unimpaired.

Lu Dian proposed: All things are contained within my mind, encompassing the principles of celestial order, terrestrial laws, and human ethics. Ye Mengde added: Not even towering mountains and vast rivers can obstruct the movement of the Dao—how much less mere doors and windows? Huang Maocai pointed out: Heaven, earth, and the myriad things all follow the same fundamental law. Lin Dong illustrated with a metaphor: Treating the people with kindness makes one a wise ruler, while oppressing them makes one an enemy—the inclinations of human hearts are easily understood; virtuous deeds bring blessings, while indulgence invites calamity—the patterns of the Dao of heaven are equally clear. Thus, the sage has no need to step outside to observe, nor to peer through windows.

The farther one travels, the less one truly knows. Emperor Huizong of Song (Imperial Commentary) explained: The farther one strays from the Dao, the shallower one’s understanding becomes. Sima Guang saw this as a case of neglecting the root while chasing the branches. Su Zhe further analyzed: Ordinary people are blinded by external things—their inner selves are disturbed by sensory desires, while outwardly they are obstructed by mountains and rivers, confining their perception to a narrow scope. Unaware that the sage attains fulfillment by restoring his innate nature, they instead seek outwardly, and thus the farther they go, the less they comprehend.

Cao Daochong (Master Dao Zhen Ren Jing) remarked: Traveling far only leads to greater confusion. Ye Mengde likened it to having one’s vision obscured by chaff—even the directions of heaven and earth become confused. Liu Ji (Master Qingyuan) observed: Turning away from stillness to pursue external things naturally diminishes understanding. Therefore, the sage knows without experiencing firsthand, understands without seeing with his eyes, and accomplishes through non-action (Wuwei). Chen Jingyuan (Master Bixu) explained: This is because the sage apprehends the great Dao through inner realization, enabling him to respond effortlessly to all things.

Sima Guang emphasized: The highest truth is eternal and unchanging. Su Zhe added: A complete Dao-nature not only discerns and names all things but also aligns with natural principles to achieve goals effortlessly. Cao Daochong said: If one is in harmony with the Dao, why must one see with one’s own eyes? Lin Dong concluded: This is like searching afar when the Dao is right at hand.

The chapter "Increasing Knowledge Through Study" (Chapter 48) unfolds layer by layer, revealing the essential practice of "turning inward and illuminating the self"—external pursuits only distance one from innate wisdom, while returning to the stillness of one’s true nature allows one to perceive the profound principles of heaven and earth.

In acquiring knowledge, one accumulates daily, while in cultivating the Dao (the Way), one diminishes daily. Continue diminishing until reaching the state of Wuwei (non-action). Only upon attaining Wuwei can one then accomplish all things effortlessly.

Emperor Huizong of Song (in his imperial commentary) explains: Learning is the pursuit of the great Dao, beginning as a scholar and ultimately becoming a sage. By accumulating knowledge daily, the Dao gradually settles within oneself. Confucius said of Yan Hui: "I observe his progress." Those who seek the Dao must relinquish attachment to the senses, discard intellectual cleverness, transcend physical form and conscious thought, and allow all things to dissolve naturally into oblivion—hence the principle of "daily diminishment."

Su Zhe (Yingbin) remarks: Once one comprehends the Dao in a single moment, looking back upon the myriad things of the world, none will appear as anything but illusory.

Wang Anshi (Linchuan) states: The purpose of study is to exhaustively investigate principle, while the purpose of cultivating the Dao is to fully manifest one's innate nature. This nature expresses itself through phenomena as principle—thus, mastering the principles of all things is called "daily accumulation." Yet all principles ultimately return to emptiness—hence the term "daily diminishment." To exhaust principle and fulfill one's nature is to ultimately return to the Mandate of Heaven. However, this return does not happen instantly; it requires continuous refinement and repeated practice—hence the phrase "diminish and diminish again, until Wuwei is attained." Once Wuwei is realized, action arises spontaneously—hence "through non-action, nothing is left undone."

Lu Dian observes: Daily accumulation in learning is the method of the wise, while daily diminishment in Dao cultivation is the method of the benevolent. To diminish ceaselessly until reaching Wuwei, where nothing remains unaccomplished, is the realm of the sage. The wise exhaust principle to acquire what they lack, while the benevolent fulfill their nature to shed what they already possess. As for the sage, they embody the Mandate of Heaven—already possessing all, they need no "daily accumulation"; already perfected, they require no "daily diminishment."

Cao Daochong (Master Daozhen Renjing) explains: "Diminishment" means reduction. Ordinary people pursue learning outwardly, chasing the complexity of external affairs—thus they esteem erudition and daily expand their skills in pursuit of fame and profit. Practitioners of the Dao turn their aspirations inward, seeking simplicity and directness, emphasizing stillness to nourish Qi (vital energy). They practice daily, wandering freely in the realm of Dao and De (Virtue). They must pare away the exhaustion of Qi and blood caused by mental strain, diminishing continuously until reaching the state of Wuwei, where no effort is needed.

Chen Xianggu notes: Learning is a gradual process, moving from little to much—hence it is called "accumulation." Yet once the Dao is realized, one must conceal its function and withdraw its brilliance—hence it is called "daily diminishment."

Huang Maocai said that one must first attain omniscience before one can truly speak of learning. Thus, study requires daily accumulation of knowledge. However, to comprehend the true meaning of the Dao, one must gradually forget acquired knowledge, because the realm of the Dao demands the continual shedding of attachments. Reducing attachments may seem easy, but truly forgetting is difficult. If one superficially diminishes attachments while still clinging to them inwardly, it does not count as genuine reduction. Only when one completely forgets that they are reducing can they attain the state of Wuwei (non-action).

Su Zhe (styled Yingbin) added that true Wuwei is not about doing nothing but maintaining a Wuwei mindset while acting. Therefore, those who govern the world often appear to do nothing, while deliberate action makes them unworthy of leadership.

Cao Daochong (styled Daozhen Renjing Xiansheng) believed that cultivating oneself with the Dao and maintaining a desireless heart naturally brings the world into harmony. If one relies on laws, force, schemes, or coercion, there will always be dissent. Here, "the world" refers to all things in existence.

Da Zhenzi pointed out that a desireless heart naturally gives rise to Wuwei, and Wuwei naturally leads to non-interference. Shun and Yu possessed the world without striving for it precisely because they maintained a desireless heart, achieved Wuwei, and thereby attained non-interference.

Su Zhe further explained that ordinary people have a desire to compete for the world, thus creating disturbances through forceful demands. This overt desire invites resentment and ultimately leads to failure. Sages maintain Wuwei and thus remain free from affairs. When their mental state manifests outwardly, all things naturally settle into place. Though they do not strive, the world submits to them.

Huang Maocai concluded that those deeply versed in the Dao appear to take no action when acting and seem effortless when handling affairs. If one acts deliberately, how can they be worthy of governing the world?

Chapter 49 of the Daodejing states: "The sage has no fixed mind; they take the mind of the people as their own." The imperial commentary explains that the sage's mind is like a mirror reflecting all things—empty and tranquil, capable of receiving everything; calm and composed, able to respond to all changes. They understand reality by observing all things and fully comply with the needs of the people. Zhuangzi also said: "What seems lowly yet must be followed is precisely the people."

Chen Jingyuan (styled Bixuzi) elaborated that sages embody the Wuwei state of the Dao, treating all things with an open mind. When things resonate, the sage responds accordingly. Because perceptions vary, responses also lack fixed patterns. Zhuangzi said: "The mind of the ultimate person is like a mirror—it neither sends nor welcomes, reflects without leaving traces, and thus can respond to all things without harm." This is the meaning of the sage having no fixed preconceptions.

Su Zhe used the mirror as a metaphor: emptiness itself has no form but borrows the shapes of things to manifest images; the sage has no subjective will but acts entirely in accordance with the will of the people.

This scripture discusses the way of being for sages. Wang Anshi explains that sages have no fixed mind, therefore they neither deliberately think nor act (Wuwei). However, "no thought" does not mean complete absence of thought, nor does "non-action" mean complete inaction. Rather, they think and act in accordance with the will of the people, sharing both joy and hardship with them.

Huang Maocai further elaborates: one should possess constant virtue (Chang De) and principles (Chang Dao), yet need not cling to personal opinions (Wu Chang Xin). People under heaven are all different—if one insists that everyone must think alike, it will only create chaos. Therefore, sages do not stubbornly hold to their own views but take the people's hearts as their measure, aspiring to achieve harmony with all under heaven.

Regarding how to treat good and evil, sincerity and deception: the scripture states that I treat the good with goodness, and I also treat the not-good with goodness—this is true "virtuous goodness" (De Shan); I trust the trustworthy, and I also trust the untrustworthy—this is true "virtuous trust" (De Xin). Emperor Huizong of Song (in his Imperial Commentary) notes that worldly people always distinguish between good and evil, truth and falsehood, accusing one another, but those with perfected virtue transcend such distinctions, treating all with sincerity—just as Shun treated his brother Xiang.

Su Zhe (Yingbin) argues that regardless of whether others are good or trustworthy, sages treat them with the same unchanging kindness and trust. If one only treats the good with goodness and only trusts the trustworthy, it violates the principle of "constantly saving people without abandoning anyone." Both Cao Daochong and Huang Maocai emphasize that if one only approves of goodness and trustworthiness while rejecting the not-good and the untrustworthy, the scope of acceptance becomes far too narrow. Faced with the vast multitude of people under heaven, who can clearly distinguish who is good and who is not, who is trustworthy and who is not? The sage's heart should embrace all.

This passage from the Daode Jing describes the attitude of sages (those who have attained the Dao) toward all things. The sage's heart is as all-encompassing as heaven and earth—they treat the virtuous with kindness, and likewise treat the unvirtuous with kindness; they grant trust to the trustworthy, and also grant trust to the untrustworthy. This is because the "kindness" and "trust" in the sage's heart are not directed at specific individuals but are the natural expression of their innate nature, representing the highest form of De (Virtue/Power).

When sages dwell in the world, they always maintain a cautious and diligent attitude, regarding the hearts of all people as one. The common people observe the words and actions of the sage, while the sage nurtures everyone as if they were infants. As Emperor Huizong of Song noted in his commentary: The sage shares both joy and suffering with the people. Though their inner mind is empty and unattached, they remain ever vigilant. They maintain strict self-discipline while treating the world with impartiality, seeing beyond distinctions of good and evil, truth and falsehood—eliminating all discriminating thought.

Chen Jingyuan (Master Bixu) explains that the term "diede" (惵惵) describes the sage's state of constant diligence and tireless effort, while "hunxin" (浑心) refers to a mind free from discrimination. Lu Xisheng adds that the sage responds to the transformations of all things while their inner being remains unified with heaven and earth. This resembles the state Confucius described as "free from willfulness, absoluteness, stubbornness, and ego," allowing them to follow the natural course and achieve Wuwei (non-action) that accomplishes all things.

The versions by Heshang Gong and Wang Bi differ slightly in wording but convey the same meaning: The sage teaches all beings through Wuwei, never violating their innate nature. Influenced by this, the people naturally follow the sage's way—the sharp-eyed employ their vision, the keen-eared employ their hearing. Yet the sage themselves lowers their gaze and stops their ears (symbolized by the jade beads of the imperial crown obscuring sight and yellow silk plugs blocking partial hearing), deliberately refraining from using cleverness or prying into hidden matters. Instead, they care for all beings like infants, unwilling to disturb them with worldly concerns.

Su Zhe (Yingbin) interprets it thus: In the world, good and evil, truth and falsehood each cling to their own views and attack one another. Troubled by this, the sage responds with a mind that merges all distinctions—transcending divisions of good and evil, truth and falsehood—embracing all with the same impartial heart.

This passage discusses the wisdom of sages in governing the world. The sage does not deliberately use senses to judge people's good or bad deeds, but maintains an innocent mind like that towards an infant—neither becoming overly joyful upon seeing good deeds nor easily angered by witnessing wrongdoing. Thus, virtuous people won't become arrogant, and wrongdoers won't harbor resentment. All are naturally influenced, and the world becomes peaceful.

Commentators offer various interpretations:

Wang Pang explains that "戒慎恐惧" (cautious vigilance) means the sage establishes laws while bearing the world's burdens, and people follow the sage's example to return to the Dao. The sage does not encourage discrimination but guides people back to the original state of undifferentiated unity.

Cao Daochong suggests the sage would prefer not to speak much but must instruct the world with concern. Using simple truths to enlighten people, they treat them like ignorant children needing compassion, hoping to eliminate competitive minds and restore infant-like simplicity.

Da Zhenzi points out that when governing, sages constantly worry people might not practice virtue or keep faith. Therefore, they treat both virtuous and unvirtuous, trustworthy and untrustworthy individuals equally—this is the state of "浑其心" (unifying the heart). People naturally focus on the sage because all are regarded as innocent children.

Other commentators add: people follow the sage's teachings as instinctively as infants cling to their mothers. The sage's ability to share the same heart-mind with the people stems from maintaining childlike purity. As Mencius said: "The great man never loses the heart of a newborn babe."

This passage explores two core concepts: the "Heart of a Newborn" and the "Dao of Life and Death."

Regarding the "Heart of a Newborn": This refers to a state of pure, natural innocence like that of an infant. Ordinary people become distracted by external phenomena ("fixating their eyes and ears"), while sages seek to return to this primordial state of purity ("the beginning of a newborn").

Concerning the "Dao of Life and Death": All things follow natural laws ("heavenly mechanism") in their arising and perishing. Birth marks the inception of creation, while death represents the transformation of Yin-Yang. Both life and death occur within the framework of natural order ("never departing from the cosmic domain").

The text particularly analyzes the significance of the number "thirteen":

• It refers to the thirteen bodily components (four limbs and nine orifices)
• Those skilled in nurturing life ("life-preservers") can master these organs: eyes avoiding lascivious sights, ears shunning wanton sounds, noses rejecting foul odors, mouths refraining from false speech, hands not grasping lethal weapons, and feet not treading wicked paths. Thus they avoid calamities and attain longevity.
• Conversely, those indulging sensory desires ("death-seekers") hasten their demise.

Sun Deng further explains: Among all worldly phenomena, few follow natural principles ("those complying with reason are scarce"), roughly only three in ten. Most people live contrary to these laws, hence only three in ten deaths constitute natural endings. Some interpretations suggest this refers to controlling the three karmic actions (body, speech, and mind) and ten evil deeds.

In essence, this scripture teaches returning to fundamental authenticity, extending life through sensory discipline, and living in accordance with natural laws.

Sima Guang (Northern Song statesman) observed that among ten people, roughly three types of situations exist: three preserve life through gentle interaction with the world, three hasten death through forceful actions, and another three, despite desiring longevity, still meet premature death. Those who seek longevity yet perish do so because of excessive pursuit of material comforts.

Su Zhe (Northern Song literatus) added: Using external things moderately to nourish the body constitutes the Dao of nurturing life, while indulging in sensual pleasures that harm oneself represents the path to death. These two roads clearly distinguish life from death. Yet people often know only labor without rest, excel in speech but understand not silence, overthink without releasing mental burdens—such behaviors only accelerate their march toward death. If we calculate the Dao of life and death among ten people, with each of the three conditions accounting for three, doesn't this suggest the ways of life and death occupy nine parts, while the state transcending life and death constitutes but one? That "neither-born-nor-dead" realm corresponds to what the Book of Changes describes as "tranquil and unmoving." Laozi only explained ninety percent, deliberately withholding the remaining ten percent to prompt people to realize for themselves the mystery of no-thought and Wuwei (non-action).

Wang Anshi (Northern Song reformer) analyzed: Among ten people, three desperately seek life yet achieve the opposite effect; three actively court death and detest existence; another three live as walking corpses. Precisely because they fail to comprehend the true Dao of life and death, they cannot escape cyclical rebirth. Thus seekers of life, seekers of death, and the living dead each account for thirty percent.

Cao Daochong (Daoist master) explained from an alchemical perspective: Roughly three in ten cultivate the Huang-Lao arts of longevity (Daoist cultivation methods), while three practice Buddhism's path of cessation (Buddhist cultivation methods). The remainder understand neither Daoist truths of eternal life nor Buddhism's intrinsic nature of non-birth, ultimately unable to escape death. As for those who indulge desires and violate natural laws—their every action hastens demise, and lacking methods to transcend life and death—three in ten thus bring about their own destruction.

Li Wenhe of Mount San'e (a sacred Daoist mountain) explains: The Kan trigram (one of the Eight Trigrams/Bagua, symbolizing water) corresponds to the midnight direction and represents the kidneys in the human body, which should remain full rather than depleted—this is the gate of life where primordial Yang (innate vital energy) returns. The Li trigram (symbolizing fire) corresponds to the noon direction and represents the heart in the human body, which should remain tranquil rather than agitated—this is the gate of death where Yin energy erodes Yang energy. Thus, practitioners who regulate Kan-water can attain longevity, while those driven by Li-fire will decline and perish.

Those who understand life cultivation know that the essence (Jing) and vital energy (Qi) nourish the body through the Kan trigram (kidneys), while distracting thoughts deplete the spirit (Shen) through the Li trigram (heart). From youth to old age, the human body undergoes the cyclical consumption of twelve time periods. If one emphasizes nurturing the Kan trigram, they gain vitality—this "three-tenths" of vitality is like adding fuel to a fire. Those unskilled in life cultivation fail to grasp this principle, indulging desires and being driven by Li-fire. Though they too experience the twelve time cycles, they move toward death through Li trigram depletion—this "three-tenths" path to demise resembles an oil-deprived lamp burning out.

Ye Mengde interprets "ten and three" as referring to the four limbs and nine orifices. Laozi once said the physical body is the root of suffering—fools fail to realize this, as all bodily afflictions stem from these thirteen parts. Recognizing the body as not truly one's own allows transcendence beyond physical constraints. Yet worldly people indulge desires, progressing from prime years to old age toward death. Not only do they misunderstand life's truth, their daily actions actively court destruction—all due to these thirteen bodily features.

Huang Maicai explains through trigram numerology: Kan belongs to water (number six); Li belongs to fire (number seven), totaling thirteen. Lin Dong adds that at birth, humans form life through four limbs and nine orifices, which persist as thirteen features even after burial. The body's upper seven orifices, lower two orifices, and four limbs make thirteen parts. Yet self-harm and destructive behaviors also manifest in thirteen ways—all resulting from misconduct that invites death.

Shao Ruoyu synthesizes Laozi's view: Taking ten as the whole, three-tenths represent the path of life, three-tenths the path of death, while common people ironically step into fatal terrain through excessive pursuit of longevity.

This scripture primarily discusses the path of life and death and the nature of Dao (the Way) and De (Virtue/Power).

Regarding life and death, the text states: If people become overly attached to life ("excessive pursuit of life"), they will instead become trapped in the cycle of birth and death. There are three types of attachments that bind people to this cycle: attachment to "being" (existence), attachment to "non-being" (emptiness), and attachment to external circumstances. Those who are truly skilled at nurturing life ("adepts at preserving life") are like travelers on land who never encounter rhinos or tigers, or warriors who enter battlefields yet remain unharmed by weapons—because they transcend the duality of life and death and no longer conceive of a "realm of death."

Commentators offer further insights: Chen Jingyuan explains that those who have truly attained the Dao ("perfected beings") rise above life and death; Su Zhe states that perfected beings dwell eternally in a state beyond birth and death; Da Zhenzi points out that "preserving life" means not clinging to life as personal property but seeing through the illusory nature of life and death.

Chapter 51, "The Dao Gives Life," elucidates the relationship between Dao and De: Dao is the formless origin, while De is its natural function. Through formless movement, Dao generates all things, while De naturally nurtures them. Once things take form, they grow and transform with the changing seasons. Chen Jingyuan explains that Dao is like a father, endowing all things with their intrinsic nature, while De is like a mother, nourishing their physical forms. The reason all things honor Dao and value De is not due to any external decree, but because it is their natural inclination. Dao and De are like the parents of all things—they require no titles or ranks to be revered, for their reverence arises spontaneously.

(Note: The term "rhino" (兕) refers to a mythical beast resembling a rhinoceros; "preserving life" (摄生) means cultivating longevity; "perfected beings" (至人) refers to those who have realized the Dao.)

The Dao (cosmic origin) is the mother of all things, for it is the Dao that creates all beings. When the Dao manifests through De (its concrete operation), it nourishes all things without ever declining responsibility—thus it is De that nurtures creation. Yet the Dao and De themselves have no concrete form; they must reveal themselves through all beings. Nor can things generate themselves—they require distant and near elements to resonate, hardness and softness to intermingle, gradually accumulating shi (the inherent momentum of development) before the transformations of prosperity and decline, order and chaos can emerge.

De is the concrete expression of the Dao, all things are the vessels of De, and shi is the pattern of all things. The Dao stands supreme, De comes next, and all beings rank lowest—just as rulers stand above ministers, or gold and jade surpass common goods. The Son of Heaven receives his mandate from Heaven, feudal lords receive theirs from the Son of Heaven; in all cases of receiving commands, the issuer determines status. Only the Dao predetermines the fate of all things before their existence—who could possibly confer nobility upon it? Thus the Dao eternally abides in its natural state.

All things revere the Dao and treasure De, yet looking forward one cannot see its beginning, and following it one finds no end. Precisely because it cannot be deliberately revered, it cannot be debased; because it cannot be artificially exalted, it cannot be belittled. Therefore it needs no noble titles, forever maintaining its natural essence.

The Dao's supremacy exists independent of external things; De's value neither increases nor decreases because of externals—unlike worldly nobility requiring bestowal. Human honor is artificially constructed, while the honor of Dao-De is naturally so.

Thus the Dao generates all beings, nurtures them, makes them grow, cultivates them, perfects them, matures them, protects them, and shelters them. It gives birth without possessing, acts without claiming credit, guides without dominating—this is the most profound De.

Viewed separately, there are distinctions between Dao, De, shi, and things; spoken of together, all stem from the Dao. The Dao is the essential mystery within all things: when beings sprout, the Dao dwells with them; when they return to storage, the Dao remains with them. Beginning with the Zhen trigram (symbolizing stirring) and concluding with the Gen trigram (symbolizing completion), nourished by the Kun trigram (symbolizing earth) and covered by the Qian trigram (symbolizing heaven), hardness and softness mutually stimulate as the eight trigrams shift positions. Though appearing mechanically constrained, in truth the Dao governs all.

These eight functions (generating, nurturing, growing, cultivating, perfecting, maturing, protecting, sheltering) are all fundamental operations of the Dao—even tiny crawling creatures understand to honor it. Were the Dao to deliberately display its benevolence while transforming all things, it would instead lose true benevolence.

When a person takes pride in their accomplishments and becomes arrogant, they lose true De (Virtue/Power). Heaven and earth naturally give birth to all things, nourishing plants and trees, allowing all creatures to mature and multiply. If those who govern these processes (referring to rulers or cultivators) become complacent because of this, they violate the great Dao.

Those who possess genuine De conceal their actions, never displaying them before others—this constitutes the most profound "hidden virtue" (accumulated merit in secret). Wang Anshi of Linchuan (Northern Song statesman) commented: These three states of being (non-claiming of merit, non-boasting, and withdrawing into concealment) all stem from a state of "selflessness," hence they are called "primordial De" (the most fundamental virtue).

Huang Maocai (Song Dynasty scholar) explained: Dao and De complement each other. The beginning speaks of Dao's vast boundlessness, while the conclusion speaks of De's mysterious subtlety. "Primordial" here means mysterious—without this mystery, one cannot inherit the spirit of the great Dao.

This commentary reveals the profound meaning behind the Daode Jing passage: "It gives birth but does not possess, acts but does not claim." True virtue lies in selflessness, just as heaven and earth nurture all things without claiming merit. Practitioners should emulate this spirit—after achieving their work, they should withdraw and attribute all merit to the Dao itself.