《道德真經集註(二)》Vol. 14

To govern a state, use the orthodox way; to wage war, employ extraordinary strategies; to win the world, do so without disturbing the people. How do I know this is so?

(The imperial commentary explains:) The orthodox way is the constant norm of the Dao, extraordinary strategies are the adaptive variations of the Dao, and not disturbing the people is the true essence of the Dao. A state is stabilized through orthodox governance, victory in battle is achieved through extraordinary tactics, and the true essence of the Dao lies in being free from selfish motives—by following nature's course, peace prevails under heaven.

(Chen Jingyuan of Bixuzi notes:) "This is so" means "thus it is." Laozi asks and answers his own question—"How do I know the way of heaven and human affairs is like this?"—to introduce the following discourse.

(Su Zhe observes:) The ancient sages treated both distant lands and neighboring states with benevolent policies, resorting to military action only when absolutely necessary. To govern a state, use the orthodox way; to wage war, employ extraordinary strategies. Yet even this is insufficient to win the world, for the world is a sacred entity that cannot be seized by force—attempting to do so leads to failure, and clinging to it results in loss. Only those who embody the great Dao maintain open-hearted non-action (wuwei). Though they make no deliberate effort to claim the world, the world naturally turns to them.

(Ye Mengde points out:) All things have their own principles of governance: a state must be ruled by orthodox methods, warfare must employ extraordinary strategies. Using extraordinary tactics to govern brings chaos, while applying orthodox principles to war invites defeat. But how different are the sage's extraordinary strategies from the deceitful tricks of later ages! They represent infinite wisdom that adapts to changing circumstances.

(Huang Maocai remarks:) The great Dao does nothing (wuwei), yet nothing is left undone. The orthodox way, extraordinary strategies, and not disturbing the people are all manifestations of the Dao. Who but those who comprehend the Dao can achieve this? Governing states and waging wars to win the world are merely superficial applications of the Dao. Ancient figures like Yi Yin, Jiang Taigong, Fan Li, and Zhang Liang all acted accordingly.

(Cheng Dachang analogizes:) The orthodox way is like walking the main road, extraordinary strategies are like taking shortcuts, and not disturbing the people means following nature's course without forcing or agitating.

The more prohibitions in the world, the poorer the people become; the more weapons among the populace, the greater the state's disorder; the more clever techniques people possess, the stranger occurrences multiply; the stricter the laws and ordinances, the more rampant banditry grows. Therefore the sage says: Through my non-action (wuwei), the people transform themselves; through my tranquility, they become upright of their own accord.

When rulers refrain from arbitrary interference, the people naturally prosper; when rulers are free from desire, the people naturally retain their simplicity.

Master Bi Xu (Chen Jingyuan) explains: "Prohibitions" refer to restrictive laws. If a ruler fails to govern through Wuwei (non-action) but instead imposes harsh decrees, excessive restrictions will leave the people constantly fearful of breaking the law, unable to focus on their livelihoods, ultimately leading to widespread poverty. "Sharp tools" symbolize political scheming. If a ruler is not tranquil and Wuwei but indulges in manipulation, deception will spread between superiors and subordinates, and the people will imitate these tactics—outwardly compliant but inwardly treacherous—leading to increasing social disorder. "Craftsmanship" refers to excessive ingenuity and extravagance. If a ruler does not follow the natural Dao but obsesses over intricate devices and luxury, the people will chase after superficial treasures like gold and jade, flooding society with bizarre and useless objects. Ancient texts record that such conditions cause the people to grow cunning while heresies flourish. "Laws" denote penal codes and decrees. If a ruler is consumed by desires and relies on severe punishments to assert authority, even if the people temporarily avoid penalties, their discontent will fester, breeding deceit and crime. Thus, the sage says... Laozi (Lao Shi) humbly refrains from arbitrary judgment, hence quoting the words of sages. Some also suggest that Laozi once served as the Zhou dynasty's Archivist (Zhuxia Shi), studying ancient texts including the San Fen and other classical works, allowing him to verify these truths.

Su Zhe of Yingbin observes: When a ruler imposes too many prohibitions, grievances cannot be voiced, leaving the people impoverished with no means to seek redress. "Sharp tools" represent political scheming. Under a wise ruler, the people should remain simple and free from excessive desires. If the people become obsessed with scheming, the ruler will be dazzled and confused. When people abandon farming and sericulture to pursue clever craftsmanship, they produce useless objects. Fearing deception, rulers enact intricate laws to control the people, but these only leave them bewildered, driving some to theft.

Master Da Zhen notes: Desire is an outward dispersion that disrupts innate simplicity; freedom from desire is an inward convergence that preserves it. Hence, "I am without desire, and the people remain simple." Earlier, it states, "Governing the world through Wuwei"—this is the principle. Only those who truly comprehend the Dao can grasp this truth.

Huang Maocun adds: In ancient times, the people grew like branches on a tree, moving instinctively—what need was there for prohibitions? Without scheming, what need was there for sharp tools? Dwelling in caves and drinking from springs, what need was there for clever craftsmanship? Unaware of distinctions between ruler and subject, what need was there for laws? Only after primal simplicity faded did artificial constructs multiply, reaching their peak by the late Shang and Zhou dynasties.

This scripture discusses principles of governance and the interdependence of fortune and misfortune.

When rulers establish too many prohibitions and regulations, the people will only grow poorer; excessive reliance on schemes and tactics will plunge the state into chaos. If craftsmen pursue extravagant and excessive skills, it will foster a culture of extravagance; when laws become overly intricate and harsh, thieves and bandits will multiply instead. The sage seeks to return the world to a state of simplicity and naturalness—there is no special secret to this, only the need for stillness and non-action (Wuwei), reducing desires. Cheng Dachang explains that the term "sage" here is borrowed from ancient discourse, and Laozi uses it to express his own philosophy.

Chapter 58 illustrates through contrast: when governance is broad and unobtrusive (闷闷, "muddled"), the people remain honest and sincere; when governance is strict and scrutinizing (察察, "sharp"), the people become cunning and flawed. The Imperial Commentary clarifies that the best rule is one where the people do not even feel governed, and thus there is no forced joy. Chen Jingyuan (Bi Xuzi) points out that the more detailed the laws, the more thieves emerge, and the people gradually decline. Cao Daochong suggests that "muddled" governance resembles the movement of the Dao of Heaven—seemingly obscure and silent, yet naturally orderly—while "sharp" governance involves excessive and burdensome decrees, making it easy for people to transgress and thus become flawed. Liu Ji adds that "muddled" governance reflects a state of serene non-action, free from external entanglements, while "sharp" governance relies on cleverness to rule. Huang Maocai further states that the true Dao is profound and mysterious—those who govern with harsh scrutiny do not understand it at all. Hence, water that is too clear has no fish, and a person who is too shrewd has no companions.

Fortune and misfortune are interdependent—who can know their ultimate outcome? The Imperial Commentary explains that light is born from darkness, form from formlessness, and human wisdom often arises from adversity. In prominent households, even ghosts and spirits watch closely. Recognizing that time does not stand still, that circumstances are ever-changing, and that beginnings and endings cannot be forced, one understands that the transformation of fortune and misfortune has no fixed pattern. Chen Jingyuan argues that a ruler who embodies the Dao remains tranquil and follows nature—not coveting wealth, not yearning for high status, neither rejoicing in longevity nor grieving at early death, neither proud of prominence nor ashamed of poverty, not monopolizing benefits, nor taking pride in ruling the world. Under such governance, how could fortune or misfortune even arise? Lu Dian remarks that when Heaven brings forth the people, fortune makes them simple, while calamity makes them flawed—is there any other reason for this? It all depends on the ruler’s way of governance.

Misfortune and fortune are interdependent, with the seeds of misfortune hidden within fortune, and the sprouts of fortune nurtured within misfortune.

Liu Ji (Qingyuanzi) explains: When people lose their original simplicity, they fall into confusion and chaos, unable to return to their innate nature. At this point, the transformation between misfortune and fortune becomes endlessly complex.

Chen Jingyuan (Bixuzi) observes: Does the transformation of fortune and misfortune lack pattern? In truth, it follows its own Dao. Only an enlightened ruler, maintaining a state of wuwei (non-action) and transcendence beyond form, can grasp its essence. Deliberately pursuing what is "correct" may instead produce what is "strange" (abnormal); consciously seeking "goodness" may instead create what is "ominous" (unnatural) - this is the principle to be discussed later. Chen Xianggu adds: All things fundamentally exist within the correct Dao.

The Imperial Commentary further elaborates: Heaven, earth, and the myriad things are interconnected through the same qi (vital energy). Today's correctness may become tomorrow's error; former contradictions may transform into later harmonies. The miraculous and the decayed mutually transform, the orthodox and the strange generate each other, good and evil alternate - all are manifestations of natural qi's movement. Ordinary people often change direction due to minor confusion and alter their nature due to major confusion. When selfish tendencies prevail, people frequently fail to perceive how fortune and misfortune give rise to each other. Instead, they govern with harsh measures - how then can the people return to their original simplicity?

Bixuzi laments how worldly people cannot naturally maintain integrity and goodness, but artificially pursue "correctness" and forcibly seek "goodness" against their nature, ultimately becoming abnormal and ominous. This confusion has persisted since ancient times.

Su Zhe (Yingbin) uses the alternation of day and night, the rotation of cold and heat to illustrate the interdependence of fortune and misfortune, and the succession of youth and age, life and death to symbolize the transformation between orthodox and strange, good and evil. The sages transcend superficial appearances, perceiving beginnings and endings, grasping the whole while overlooking details. They appear muddled yet enable people to preserve their simple nature. Ordinary people, failing to comprehend the Dao's wholeness, believe only what they see - when they think they've obtained fortune, they remain unaware of the lurking misfortune.

People often believe they are doing good deeds, yet remain unaware that calamity is quietly taking root within them. Those who pride themselves on keen discernment, by scrutinizing too harshly, end up harming the very things they examine—yet they never realize their mistake. Is this not lamentable?

Wang Anshi (Master Linchuan) explains: People create illusory attachments by excessively distinguishing between good and evil. Huang Maocai observes: The world's fortunes and misfortunes, the abnormal and the normal (qi-zheng), good and evil—these are like an endlessly revolving circle. Who can truly discern their boundaries? Only sages comprehend the subtle principles of advance and retreat, survival and demise. Moreover, misfortune and fortune depend on each other, the abnormal and normal transform into one another, good and evil shift between states—how could ordinary people possibly see through this? Thus, this truth has been evident since ancient times.

Therefore, the sage is square-edged yet does not wound, pure yet not harsh, upright yet not overbearing, bright yet not dazzling. Emperor Huizong of Song (in his Imperial Commentary) notes: This encapsulates the sage's essential method of governing the world. Chen Jingyuan (Master Bixu) adds: Deliberately pursuing purity paradoxically breeds defilement. A ruler who embodies the Dao maintains innate purity, allowing all things to transform naturally. He does not use his own immaculateness to expose others' filth, but rather lets people awaken to goodness themselves, voluntarily cleansing their impurities. These are governing principles rooted in magnanimity and tolerance, not in harsh scrutiny.

Su Zhe (Master Yingbin) argues: Understanding that trivial distinctions cannot exhaust truth, the sage—though possessing squareness, purity, uprightness, and brightness—never deliberately displays these virtues, fearing they might lead to rigidity and obstruct the return to the Dao. To worldly eyes, this may appear muddled. Wang Anshi elaborates: The sage has no fixed form, hence can be square without wounding; possesses principles that inspire no fear, hence pure without harshness; embodies true straightness that appears curved, hence upright without overbearing; wields brightness that ultimately returns to the source, hence luminous without dazzling.

Lu Dian concludes: Not wounding is true squareness; not being harsh is true purity; not overbearing is true uprightness; not dazzling is true brightness. Cao Daochong (Master Dao Zhen Ren Jing) states: Never exposing others' flaws because of one's own purity, never highlighting others' filth because of one's own immaculateness. Ye Mengde finally clarifies: The people wander daily through right and wrong without realizing it, so the sage must naturally find ways to save them. Thus, squareness without wounding preserves one's nature; purity without harshness maintains one's essence; uprightness without overbearing understands adaptability.

This passage expounds the Daoist wisdom of "concealing one's brilliance and biding one's time" (taoguang yanghui). Those who possess true radiance understand the importance of restraining their锋芒 (sharpness), maintaining humility—like closing doors and windows without sealing them completely, appearing outwardly simple yet inwardly luminous.

Liu Ji (Daoist name Qingyuanzi) explains that this seemingly simple approach to governance actually helps people relinquish cunning schemes and align with natural laws. Huang Maocai contrasts this with figures from the Xia and Shang dynasties like Boyi and Shuqi, Weisheng, and Shentu Di—men of excessive rigidity who ultimately harmed themselves through their unbending principles. Laozi, serving as the Zhou dynasty's Archivist (equivalent to national librarian), maintained moral integrity without displaying锋芒, thus preserving himself.

Cheng Dachang uses the metaphor of "integrity" (lian): like the edges of stairs, excessive sharpness tends to wound others. The truly cultivated remain square-cornered without causing harm, virtuous without being harsh, upright without overstepping, and luminous without dazzling.

Chapter 59 of the Dao De Jing teaches that "in governing people and serving heaven, nothing surpasses frugality (se)." Here "frugality" doesn't mean stinginess, but rather moderation and accumulation. Preparing early and accumulating De (virtue/power) ensures unimpeded progress. This profound, concealed accumulation forms the foundation for governing states and pacifying nations.

Emperor Huizong of Song (in his imperial commentary) explains: using wisdom to follow heavenly principles and deliberation to handle human affairs—both require moderation. Not overexerting one's intellect constitutes the true meaning of "frugality." Sima Guang (Master Sushui) adds that "frugality" means conserving spiritual energy (shen), while "early return" (zaofu) signifies timely realignment with the Dao. Su Zhe (Master Yingbin) further elaborates: sages maintain their character without harming others precisely because they practice "frugality"—possessing capability without abuse. When the world competes aggressively, the truly cultivated who restrain their锋芒 naturally command respect. Such accumulated De ultimately reaches the realm of governing all under heaven.

This passage discusses the Daoist wisdom of "restraint" (se, meaning conservation and moderation) and its vital importance in governing a state and cultivating the self.

No force, however hard and powerful, is truly insurmountable, and thus nothing in the world can fathom its ultimate limits. Only by embodying this principle can one properly govern a nation. Petty individuals who recklessly wield even the slightest power will, upon failing to suppress others, expose their limitations—prompting the masses to rise against them. At that point, preserving the state becomes impossible. Hence, I understand that true governance lies in restraint, which safeguards the nation and forms its very foundation.

Wang Anshi explains: Human faculties—the eyes' ability to see, the ears' to hear, and the mind's to think—are innate gifts of nature. Yet achieving clarity of vision, sharpness of hearing, and rectitude of thought requires deliberate cultivation. However, the physical form must not be overworked, nor the spirit excessively depleted, lest they wither. Only through restraint—preventing excessive expenditure of body and mind—can one fully realize one's innate nature and thereby align with the Mandate of Heaven (Tianming). "Early return" (zaofu) refers to this reconnection with Heaven's decree.

Wang Pang observes: Governing others hinges on rectifying oneself; serving the Dao (Way) depends on fulfilling one's nature. Both converge on the wisdom of "restraint." To seek stillness only after reaching the extremes of agitation is to return too late. Those who practice restraint avoid exhausting themselves and thus remain close to the root, enabling an early return to tranquility. When virtue (De) is not squandered outwardly, it accumulates inwardly. Profound inner accumulation allows for boundless capacity, and this accumulation is ceaseless. Those who fulfill their nature can participate in the transformative workings of Heaven and Earth, becoming capable of all things. Fulfilling nature is vastness; vastness that nurtures is sagely wisdom; and nurturing without limit renders one unfathomable.

Lu Dian elucidates: "Restraint" means cherishing and nurturing—akin to Han Feizi's notion of "cherishing the spirit (Shen) and moderating knowledge." Only by treasuring vital essence (Jing-Qi) and nourishing the spirit can one govern the people below and serve Heaven above. Hence the saying: "In governing people and serving Heaven, nothing surpasses restraint."

Dazhenzi further expounds: Restraining thoughts quiets agitation and returns it to stillness; restraining innate nature gathers scattered intentions back to no-mind. Returning agitation to stillness fulfills nature; gathering intentions to no-mind rectifies nature. Perfecting the heart and rectifying nature represent the pinnacle of human Dao (Way); achieving this naturally enables governance. A tranquil heart follows spontaneity; a rectified nature rests in its original state—this is the zenith of Heaven's Dao.

This passage elucidates the importance of the Daoist cultivation principle of "restraint" (se, meaning frugality and inner conservation). Laozi considered maintaining internal frugality as the supreme method for governing human affairs and aligning with the Dao (the Way). If one can return the mind to stillness and restore consciousness to its original nature at an early stage, this constitutes what is called "accumulating De (Virtue/Power) profoundly."

When inner De accumulates to profound depths, governing people will proceed smoothly, aligning with the Dao will elicit responses, interacting with all things will achieve harmony, and guiding transformations will naturally find perfect balance. This is akin to all things returning to their mother's embrace with effortless ease. As Zhu Xi explained, "early preparation" (zaofu) means focusing on self-cultivation before body and mind suffer damage—only De accumulated in this manner constitutes true "profound accumulation of Virtue."

Huang Maocai further elaborated that "restraint" means preserving the inner without external dissipation, thereby enabling return to the origin (benyuan). Lin Dong supplemented that although "restraint" may appear as miserliness, it actually embodies the principle of simplicity and temperance. When facing governance challenges and the inscrutable Dao of Heaven, only through simplicity and restraint can one return to authentic De—the very foundation of enduring vision and lasting life.

Finally, Emperor Huizong of Song's imperial commentary concludes: Only deeply rooted foundations endure; only by restoring original nature can form be perfected. Existing in harmony with Heaven and Earth brings lasting life; shining alongside sun and moon grants enduring vision. While all things undergo transformation, only those who attain the Dao achieve eternal existence. This is the true essence of the Dao.

Through multiple commentators' interpretations, this text systematically expounds the essential Daoist cultivation method of "restraint": internal frugality, early cultivation of De, returning to the origin, and ultimately attaining unity with the Dao.

Master Bi Xu (Chen Jingyuan) and Du Guangting held that Dao cultivators should cherish their Shen (spirit) to stabilize the body and accumulate Qi (vital energy) to preserve their inner essence. By stabilizing the Three Passes (referring to the three Dantian energy centers: upper, middle, and lower) and eliminating distracting thoughts, one can harmonize the hundred spirits within, allowing all actions to naturally achieve perfection. In this way, one attains infinite transformation, prolongs life, takes root in the primordial state of chaos, and establishes deep foundations in the realm of formless emptiness, reaching the same level as the Nine Elders and Seven Originals (Daoist deities). In ancient texts, the character "蒂" (pedicle) was written as "柢" (root), both conveying the same meaning.

Su Zhe (Master Yingbin) quoted Mencius: "To fully develop one's heart-mind and nourish one's nature is to serve the Dao." Governing people with frugality preserves the state; serving the Dao with frugality establishes deep roots. The ancient sages preserved the authenticity of life and nature, never allowing external things to deplete their inner essence, thus establishing roots so deep they couldn't be shaken. Only then could the pursuit of longevity and vision become possible. Though governing human affairs and serving the Dao differ as internal and external practices, both fundamentally rely on the principle of frugality.

Lu Dian explained that the root represents the profound essence of life, while the pedicle manifests one's innate nature. When all things cannot fathom its depth, we call it "profound"—only life attains this state; when all things cannot shake it, we call it "firm"—only innate nature reaches this state. This is the meaning of "deep roots and firm pedicles."

Huang Maocai pointed out that establishing deep roots and securing the foundation is the path to longevity and clear vision. The scripture states that returning to the root is stillness, and stillness means returning to one's nature—a principle also reflected in the Fu (Return) hexagram of the Yijing.

Regarding the chapter "Governing a great state is like cooking small fish":

The Imperial Commentary explains that managing multitudes becomes difficult with constant policy changes, valuable objects get damaged when frequently moved, small fish fall apart when stirred too much while cooking, and governing a large nation with constantly changing laws leads to chaos. Therefore, the art of governance values tranquility, through which the people naturally settle.

Su Zhe said: one shouldn't stir small fish while cooking, nor harass people while governing a great state. Harassment wearies the people, just as stirring ruins the fish.

Cao Daochong (Master Dao Zhen Ren Jing) advocated balancing leniency and strictness with proper measure.

Huang Maocai observed that the Dao makes no distinction between great and small—the principles governing a great state and cooking small fish are identical. When the Dao governs the world, even ghosts and spirits lose their efficacy—not that they become powerless, but their miraculous workings cease to harm people.

This passage explains the principle that "when sages do not harm people, neither do spirits and ghosts harm them." Several Daoist scholars interpret this concept from different perspectives:

Chen Jingyuan cites the Xisheng Jing (Scripture of Western Ascension), stating that those who cultivate the Dao follow nature's flow without needing deliberate rituals for spirits, who will naturally avoid them. If humans refrain from evil, calamities won't occur; when people maintain constant De (virtue), spirits cannot harm the populace.

Heshang Gong explains that humans and spirits each abide in their proper realms: people dwell securely in the Yang world while spirits remain content in the Yin domain. Thus both preserve their intrinsic nature, allowing their De to harmoniously intermingle.

Du Guangting approaches this from governance, noting that the people form a nation's foundation—when their hearts are at peace, even deities enjoy the sacrificial offerings. Sages govern the world through the Dao, neither harming the people nor provoking spirits, who in turn are moved by the sage's merit and refrain from mischief, creating mutual harmony.

Su Zhe believes sages govern through Wuwei (non-action), letting everyone abide in their proper roles. Thus people neither seek externally nor fear internally, making them invulnerable to external harm. Spirits don't lack supernatural power—they simply have no need to display it; since sages never injure others, spirits find no cause to manifest malevolence.

Lu Dian describes the divine as omnipresent—manifesting as profound sagacity in humans and mystical spirituality in ghosts. Spirits don't display their powers not because they can't, but because they choose not to harm.

Ye Mengde quotes the Book of Songs praising King Wen of Zhou, illustrating that when people harbor no resentment toward spirits, the latter reciprocate by bestowing blessings rather than disasters.

Zhu Xi asserts that when the Dao governs the world, all aberrant Qi (referring to malicious spirits) dissipates naturally.

Huang Maocai observes that in well-governed eras, humans who cultivate their Shen (spirit) won't be oppressed by ghostly Qi. Like a treasured sword sheathed—its edge concealed yet its value enhanced.

This scripture elucidates two core principles: the way of the sage in navigating worldly affairs, and the wisdom governing interactions between great and small states.

Regarding the sage's cultivation, it resembles treasuring a precious sword—the sage never casually displays their wisdom or supernatural abilities. This doesn't imply such powers inherently harm others, but rather reflects the sage's understanding of inward refinement, ensuring their spiritual power won't inadvertently injure others. This state of mutual non-harm represents the highest manifestation of De (Virtue).

Concerning state relations, the text employs the metaphor of rivers and seas: precisely because they willingly occupy low positions, they become gathering points for countless streams. If a great state can emulate this humble inclusiveness like the ocean, smaller states will naturally gravitate toward it. The mention of "pin" (feminine) symbolizes quiet receptivity, while "mu" (masculine) represents assertive strength, illustrating the principle of using stillness to master movement and softness to overcome hardness.

Commentators offer varied insights: Imperial annotations observe how people constantly strive for elevation, yet climbing high risks painful falls; Su Zhe notes how smaller states aligning with greater ones resembles water flowing downward; Wang Anshi clarifies that a great state's humility isn't genuine inferiority but rather reflects noble cultivation; Cao Daochong emphasizes how modesty allows oceans to receive countless tributaries; while Liu Ji parallels personal cultivation with state governance—an empty mind naturally accommodates all things.

The text ultimately reveals diplomatic wisdom: when great states approach smaller ones with humility, they gain allegiance; when small states approach greater ones with deference, they receive protection. Whether through active pursuit ("yi qu") or passive reception ("er qu"), the key lies in maintaining a posture of quiet humility. Sima Guang concludes that such alignment mirrors how all things ultimately return to stillness, just as mountains ultimately bow to valleys.

Wang Anshi explains that the character "交" (intercourse) refers to a gathering place for the multitude. By occupying the lowly position that others are unwilling to take, all things under heaven will naturally return to it. Thus it is said that all things under heaven are drawn together like females (牝), for the convergence of all things fundamentally tends toward the feminine state.

Cao Daochong (Daoist name Renjing) interprets that the feminine symbolizes the mother, to whom all things instinctively gravitate. The feminine (牝) is gentle and tranquil, while the masculine (牡) is strong and active, yet the masculine is often guided by the feminine. Therefore, the sage understands the principle of strength but abides in gentleness, maintaining humility, non-contention, and an open, receptive mind—thus all things naturally return to them.

Dazhenzi elaborates further: the feminine represents stillness, the masculine movement. Stillness becomes the destination of all movement, and the feminine becomes the goal pursued by the masculine. The reason is simple—because stillness resides below. Those who govern a nation, understanding this principle, can use stillness to control movement and softness to overcome hardness. If a great state humbles itself before smaller states, lowering its stature, it will instead win them over; if a small state reveres a great one, it will gain the great state’s trust. "以取" (actively taking) requires effort, while "而取" (naturally receiving) comes effortlessly. For a great state, relinquishing dominance demands exertion, hence "以取"; for a small state, yielding to circumstances is a natural response, hence "而取."

Liu Ji (Daoist name Qingyuanzi) explains from a cultivation perspective: the first celestial number (Heaven) generates water, corresponding to the body’s Jing (essence); the second terrestrial number (Earth) generates fire, corresponding to the body’s Shen (spirit). Shen is the Yin within Yang, hence called the feminine—the "牝" of the world. The sage comprehends the way of Yang but holds to Yin, using Yin to refine Yang, for when Yin reaches its limit, Yang is born. This profound mystery of Wuwei (non-action) is the pivot of heaven and earth’s movement and the hinge of all transformations. Thus, the feminine always overcomes the masculine through stillness, for stillness draws all things to return, and the low position draws what is high to flow toward it—this is the eternal principle of victory under heaven.

Huang Maocun adds: the profundity of the Dao lies not only in abiding below—though outwardly humble, it ultimately prevails. Though the feminine is soft, still, and lowly, it overcomes the masculine—is this not proof that abiding below leads to ultimate triumph? Just as Tang of Shang, with humble deference toward smaller states, ultimately won the allegiance of all under heaven.

This passage discusses the proper way for large and small states to coexist, with the core principle being "the strong should be even more humble." Historical examples illustrate this: King Goujian of Yue (a small state) humbly served the Wu kingdom (a large state), yet ultimately gained the upper hand. This success doesn't come from deliberate displays of weakness, but reflects natural law—just as the Dao (the Way) shines downward upon all things yet appears all the brighter, or how the lowly earth sustains all creation.

Commentators offer various perspectives:

Cao Daochong (the Daoist master known as "Truthful Benevolent Quietude") observes that when large states practice humility they prosper more, while small states find security by attaching themselves to greater powers—both achieve their needs. The key lies in the powerful voluntarily lowering themselves, after which the weak naturally submit.

Chen Xianggu emphasizes the practical dilemma: large states often refuse to condescend due to their might, making the admonition that "the strong should be even more humble" particularly precious and rare.

Huang Maocun elevates this to philosophical heights: those who desire something yet refuse humility will struggle to obtain it. Whether a large state seeks to absorb others or a small state seeks protection, both must first learn humility. While the Dao itself is without desire, the pursuit of it constitutes a kind of "desire." Though ostensibly discussing statecraft, this is ultimately using worldly affairs to illuminate the Dao—the greatest Dao is precisely the most humble.