《道德真經集註(二)》Vol. 15

This passage elucidates the profound nature of the Dao as the origin of all things and its function for different types of people.

The Dao is the most profound root of all existence (the character "奥" meaning inner chambers symbolizes its hidden essence). Chen Jingyuan explains that the Dao encompasses everything—all beings originate from it as their deepest foundation, with nothing existing beyond its scope. Su Zhe employs an architectural metaphor: what we perceive resembles a front hall, while the Dao is like the innermost chamber, existing yet invisible to ordinary sight. Liu Ji quotes the Western Ascension Scripture (Xisheng Jing) describing the Dao as a void-like abyss containing all things, mirroring heaven and earth's all-encompassing capacity.

Regarding the generative process of "the Dao gives birth to all things": Huang Maocun clarifies that beings emerge from Three (heaven, earth, humanity), which originate from Two (Yin-Yang), derived from One (Taiji, the Supreme Ultimate), itself born from the Dao—thus confirming the Dao as ultimate source. Cheng Dachang elaborates that the Dao manifests as "being" (existence), then as "form" (appearance), finally crystallizing into concrete entities. In humans, this manifests as De (Virtue), benevolence, righteousness, and ritual propriety.

The interpretation of "treasure of the virtuous, refuge of the unvirtuous": Chen Jingyuan observes that superior practitioners (shangshi) cherish the Dao as precious and cultivate it diligently, while inferior practitioners (xiashi) initially mock the Great Dao yet ultimately rely on its protection when calamity strikes. Sima Guang states that following the Dao brings stability. Su Zhe adds that the wise truly possess the Dao, while fools, though incapable of full comprehension, cannot find peace without it. Wang Anshi concludes that nothing in existence stands apart from the Dao.

This passage discusses the universal inclusiveness of the Dao (the Way) toward both virtuous and non-virtuous individuals. Master Cao Daochong (known by his Daoist name Zhenren Jing) states: Even petty individuals of poor character can preserve themselves if they gain slight understanding of the Dao's true essence. Huang Maocun explains: The Dao itself makes no distinction between good and evil—it becomes a treasure for the virtuous, while even the non-virtuous find stability through it.

Cheng Dachang further elaborates: Good and evil are relative concepts. Logically, what virtuous people cherish as the Dao should be rejected by the non-virtuous, yet why can the latter still retain it? As Confucius said: "Who can go in and out except by the door?" The Dao is like this indispensable gateway, open to all people alike.

Chen Jingyuan (the Song Dynasty Daoist master known as Bixuzi) clarifies: The reason non-virtuous individuals can preserve the Dao lies in the fact that even those without genuine ability—if they can speak eloquently and act respectably—can secure status in worldly society, let alone those who truly attain the Dao. Su Zhe (styled Yingbin) adds: The Dao never distances itself from humanity—it is people who distance themselves from the Dao. If someone can speak virtuous words and perform good deeds, even if they did wrong in the morning but heard the great Dao by evening, when delusions fade and original nature returns, one would find no grounds to condemn their shortcomings—how could such a person be abandoned?

Liu Ji (known as Qingyuanzi) observes: Pleasing speech gains acceptance, noble conduct influences others—thus sages excel at saving people without rejecting anyone. Yet Huang Maocai cautions: What the world recognizes as "virtuous words and deeds" remains superficial, not yet touching the Dao's essence.

The text then employs the典故 of the Son of Heaven's Three Dukes (highest ancient offices) to illustrate: When establishing imperial rule and appointing the Three Dukes, rather than recruiting worthies with jade bi-discs held in both hands and chariots drawn by four horses (the highest ceremonial protocol), it would be better to directly offer this "Dao." Wang Anshi (of Linchuan) explains: Though such precious gifts can attract worthies, they pale beside the value of directly comprehending the great Dao. Su Zhe concludes: The very institution of the Son of Heaven and Three Dukes exists to save people through the Dao—no material gift compares to genuine attainment of the Way.

Cao Daochong (Daoist name "Master Zhenrenjing") said: Rather than using chariots drawn by four horses and precious jade discs to seek out worthies everywhere, it is better to sit quietly cultivating the Great Dao—then sages will come of their own accord without being summoned.

Ye Mengde explained: Though a grand carriage with four horses is valuable, and adding precious jade discs makes it even more so—what ordinary people treasure as precious—these are not what we Dao cultivators consider true treasures.

Liu Ji (Daoist name "Qingyuanzi") held that: The Son of Heaven was established to educate the people, with the Three Dukes (Grand Preceptor, Grand Mentor, Grand Guardian) appointed to assist governance. Though one may possess the glory of jade discs and four-horse chariots when going forth to govern the people, it still cannot compare to sitting quietly cultivating the Great Dao.

Huang Maocai cited an anecdote: After hearing Tian Zifang's discourse, Marquis Wen of Wei found his body so relaxed he didn't wish to move, his mouth so still he didn't wish to speak, sighing: "What I learned before was nothing but useless clay figurines—my status as Marquis of Wei has instead become my burden." This shows that even the honor of being Son of Heaven with Three Dukes assisting and enjoying jade discs and fine horses cannot compare to the state of quietly cultivating the Great Dao.

Cheng Dachang explained the meaning of "sitting" (坐): Here "sitting" refers to abiding in one's original mind without seeking externally, just like the "sitting" in "sitting in forgetfulness" (zuowang, the Daoist meditative state of forgetting external things).

Why did the ancients value the Great Dao so highly? Was it not precisely because seeking it brings attainment, and having faults brings forgiveness? Therefore all under heaven treasure it.

Emperor Huizong of Song (Imperial Commentary) explained: Sincere seeking brings attainment because the Dao resides within us. The ancients sought answers from yin-yang divination arts but found no essence because they looked outward. The wicked can turn to goodness, the foolish can gain wisdom—this demonstrates the Dao's power to forgive faults, showing how the Great Dao excels at saving beings.

Chen Jingyuan (Daoist name "Bixuzi") pointed out: The character "邪" here functions as an exclamation praising beauty.

Su Zhe (literary name "Yingbin") said: The Dao is originally within our hearts—the only fear is that people won't seek it; seeking will certainly bring attainment. The Dao itself has no merits or faults—the only fear is that people won't awaken; once awakened, no fault can stain the mind.

Wang Pang summarized: Because seeking brings attainment, the virtuous treasure it; because faults find forgiveness, the non-virtuous rely on it.

Ye Mengde further clarified: Even foolish men and women will attain the Dao if they seek it sincerely. Upon hearing the Great Dao, all past faults are washed clean. Thus the Dao's preciousness truly lies here, not in external glory and wealth.

Liu Ji (Qingyuanzi) added: Ancient Dao attainers transcended the patterns of heaven-earth and yin-yang—calamities wouldn't befall them, blessings weren't deliberately sought—fundamentally unaffected by worldly fortune or misfortune.

Cheng Dachang finally emphasized: If someone once indulged in evil conduct, now...

When a person turns their heart toward the Dao, even sages will accept and guide them without dwelling on past transgressions.

Chapter 63 on Wuwei (Non-action) states: Act through non-action, handle affairs through non-interference, and savor through flavorless perception. Whether matters are great or small, many or few, respond to resentment with De (Virtue).

Emperor Huizong of Song explains in his imperial commentary: When sages interact with all things while maintaining the essence of Dao, these three principles manifest most clearly. "Great and small" refers to form, while "many and few" refers to quantity. The transformations of all things are boundless—one must not cling to appearances. What is great may not be numerous, and what is small may not be scarce—thus the distinction between resentment and gratitude becomes difficult to discern. The sage's ability to unify all things in the realm of "nothingness" stems precisely from this vast capacity for inclusion.

Master Bixu (Chen Jingyuan) observes: When the mind remains unmoved, it achieves serene clarity; through serene clarity, one perceives all mysteries. When the body avoids excessive strain, it becomes substantial and steady; through substantial steadiness, one preserves Shen (spirit) without depletion. When speech abstains from craving flavors, it attains quietude; through quietude, the numinous fluids never dry. He further explains "savoring the flavorless" as transcending distinctions between right/wrong or beautiful/ugly in speech, instead tasting the seemingly flavorless truth of the Great Dao. As the scripture states: When Dao is spoken through the mouth, it becomes so bland as to seem tasteless.

Su Zhe (Yingbin) remarks: Sages act through wuwei (non-action), thus accomplishing all things; handle affairs through non-interference, thus attending to all matters; savor through flavorless perception, thus experiencing all tastes. They meet all things—whether great or small, many or few—with the principles of Dao. The human heart finds resentment hardest to release, yet when both love and hatred are forgotten, responding to resentment becomes as natural as repaying kindness.

Wang Pang elucidates: "Great and small, many and few" means treating minor matters with the gravity of major ones, and few things with the care of many—as Zhuangzi advised against belittling others. "Repaying resentment with De": While justice may address resentment in practice, only De (Virtue) can resolve it fundamentally. Practical methods must share the people's joys and sorrows, hence no approach should be neglected; yet the realm of De transcends particulars—how could resentment persist there? These three matters all manifest realization of the Great Dao. When one truly embodies Dao, such actions arise spontaneously. By applying De to resentment, one understands its universal applicability.

Master Cao Daochong (the Dao-Realized and Serene) states: All worldly things and affairs are merely variations of scale and quantity, yet Dao penetrates them with a single principle. Repay resentment with De, and enmity ceases; repay resentment with resentment, and the cycle of vengeance becomes endless.

Liu Ji (Master Qingyuan) concludes: When sages embody Dao within themselves, they unite with heaven and earth.

This passage expounds the Daoist concept of "governing through non-action (Wuwei)." The core teaching is that the highest state of virtue (De) involves complete harmony with heaven, earth and nature—appearing to do nothing yet accomplishing everything.

Laozi held that the most skillful action is the action of "non-action" (deliberate inaction), the most effective work is the work of "no work" (unforced activity), and the most profound flavor is the "flavorless" taste (natural simplicity). Though the Dao is vast, its root is minute; though its functions are manifold, its essence is refined. It's like containing the entire cosmos within a fingertip, or unifying all things in the "True One" (the origin of Dao).

Huang Maocai explains that Dao appears inactive yet accomplishes through inaction, seems unoccupied yet achieves through non-striving, tastes bland yet contains the ultimate flavor. From the Dao's perspective, the tip of an autumn hair can outweigh Mount Tai, and an infant who dies young may outlast the long-lived Pengzu. Just as people don't resent roof tiles blown down by wind, those truly awakened to Dao remain unattached to gain and loss.

Chen Jingyuan (Master Bixu) observes that difficult matters should begin with what's easy, and great undertakings must start with small steps. Sages never crave grand achievements, thus they accomplish greatness. Those who promise lightly often break faith; those who deem things easy frequently encounter hardship. Sages always anticipate difficulty, hence they ultimately face no true obstacles.

Yan Junping employs a medical analogy: When great calamity approaches, it's like illness first entering the body—treatable with hot compresses at the skin-and-hair stage, still manageable with acupuncture when reaching muscles, requiring herbs when penetrating organs, but becoming incurable upon reaching the marrow. Thus all under heaven's difficulties begin in ease.

Su Zhe concludes that worldly people often fear great matters while neglecting small ones, dread difficulties while underestimating ease. Only when affairs become difficult do they plan; only when situations grow large do they act—thus they seldom succeed.

The sage is able to regard all things—whether large or small, many or few—with equanimity. They neither fear anything nor perceive difficulties, and thus is there anything they cannot accomplish?

Lu Dian explains: All difficult matters in the world begin from simplicity; all great undertakings originate from subtle beginnings. One must act with caution while maintaining humility. Therefore, the sage never considers themselves great, yet precisely because of this, they achieve greatness.

Chen Xianggu adds: Simplicity is the foundation of difficulty, and subtlety is the root of grandeur. Difficulty and ease, greatness and smallness form an endless cycle. The sage understands this principle and thus remains consistently humble and unassuming.

Liu Ji (Qingyuanzi) further elaborates: The sage embraces within their heart the Dao (cosmic principle) and De (noble virtue), maintaining constant self-awareness. They know self-respect without arrogance. Precisely because of this, they never deliberately pursue greatness, yet within the realm of their mind—spanning just a few inches—lies infinite potential. This state of serene detachment that embraces all things embodies the movement of heaven and earth and the virtue of sages. Those who make promises lightly often struggle to keep them; those who view matters as too simple will inevitably encounter greater difficulties later. The sage reverently cultivates the Dao (truth) with diligence, thus penetrating the essence of all things. Ultimately, they attain a state of understanding heavenly destiny, where nothing seems difficult.

Chapter 64 states: What is stable is easily maintained; what has not yet manifested is easily planned for; what is fragile is easily resolved; what is subtle is easily dispersed. Prepare before problems arise; govern before chaos emerges.

The Imperial Commentary explains: Stability is the opposite of danger; the unmanifest is the opposite of the formed; fragility is the opposite of solidity; subtlety is the opposite of prominence. Maintaining stability prevents danger; planning before manifestation prevents formation. The sage knows how to seize the moment—resolving fragility prevents it from hardening into ice; dispersing subtlety prevents it from becoming prominent. This is how the worthy approach the sage’s state. For overturned carriages and sunken ships, the sage does not waste their wisdom—their intelligence is applied before events occur. This is the meaning of "acting before things arise and governing before disorder appears."

Su Zhe (Yingbin) observes: Before events occur, one need only remain vigilant and plan accordingly; when they are about to occur, timely resolution is essential. Yet even this is better than dealing with them after they have happened. Thus, the highest wisdom lies in prevention before occurrence; the next best is governance before chaos.

Lu Dian concludes: The phrase "What is stable is easily maintained; what has not yet manifested is easily planned for" reveals the fundamental principle of how all things develop.

This scripture expounds the wisdom of cultivating the Dao for health preservation and preventing calamities before they arise.

Master Liu Ji of Qingyuan explains: The human body is like a vehicle and dwelling for the spirit (Shen), serving as its host. When the host remains tranquil, the spirit resides peacefully; when the host becomes restless, the spirit departs. Therefore, one should maintain control during times of stability and perceive disturbances before they take form. Addressing problems while they're still small and fragile makes resolution easier. Waiting until calamities fully manifest before seeking solutions would be like trying to stop a galloping horse or salvage a sunken ship—even sages would find it difficult to apply their wisdom. Thus, sages always employ their wisdom before problems emerge and implement governance before chaos arises, with the key being to eliminate factors that harm the great Dao (Dao).

Huang Maocai further elaborates: Maintaining control during stability—without waiting for danger to arrive—makes it easy to manage. Planning before signs appear—without waiting for problems to form—makes it easy to strategize. Resolving matters while they're fragile—without waiting for them to harden—makes solutions effortless. Eliminating issues while they're minute—without waiting for them to become obvious—makes removal simple. By acting before events occur, what cannot be accomplished? By governing before disorder arises, what cannot be managed? These are called "easy" precisely because they seize the optimal timing.

The scripture illustrates this principle with three metaphors: A giant tree that takes both arms to encircle grows from a tiny sprout; a nine-tiered tower rises from basketfuls of earth; a thousand-mile journey begins with the first step beneath one's feet. The Imperial Commentary explains: All tangible things—the large necessarily develop from the small, the high must be built from the low, and the distant invariably starts from the near. Matters begin simply but often end complexly. Sages can foresee conclusions by observing beginnings and comprehend outcomes by noticing signs.

Chen Jingyuan of Bixu uses these metaphors to demonstrate: If one neglects subtle signs, fails to prevent calamities, or doesn't gradually eliminate harmful causes, it's like uprooting a tree when it's just sprouting—easy to remove, but when grown into a towering tree with deep roots and sky-shading foliage, it becomes extremely difficult to fell. It resembles kicking over a basket of earth during tower construction—simple to topple, but when the nine-tiered structure pierces the clouds, destruction becomes arduous. Similarly, turning back at the first step of a long journey is effortless, but returning after traveling a thousand miles proves nearly impossible.

This passage elucidates the core wisdom of cultivation and worldly conduct in the Daodejing through annotations by several Daoist scholars.

Master Liu Ji of Qingyuan observes that the sacred path of cultivation requires long-term accumulation. Although sudden enlightenment of truth is possible, genuine attainment cannot be achieved overnight. Just as the movement of the sun and moon follows its natural rhythm, and all things grow according to their inherent timing, the skills and divine states of sages are built up gradually from small beginnings—a towering tree starts as a tender sprout, a nine-story terrace rises from piled earth, and a thousand-mile journey begins with a single step.

Huang Maocun further explains: People only see the grandeur of a massive tree but forget it originated from a tiny shoot; they marvel at the height of a nine-story terrace but overlook that it was built basket by basket of earth; they admire the distance of a thousand-mile journey but fail to recognize that every step is a starting point. Therefore, nothing small or foundational should ever be dismissed.

Master Chen Jingyuan of Bixu emphasizes the importance of wuwei (non-action) and wuzhi (non-attachment). Deliberate action often leads to failure, and forceful grasping makes loss more likely. Sages take emptiness, stillness, and simplicity as their foundation, naturally avoiding failure and loss. Ordinary people often start strong but falter near completion, undermining their efforts at the final stage. If one can remain consistently cautious, as the Book of Songs says, "People often begin well, but few can persevere to the end."

Su Zhe of Yingbin extends this wisdom to life’s circumstances: Order and chaos, fortune and misfortune, all develop gradually like the growth of a tree, from small to great. Sages approach them with wuwei and guard them with wuzhi, allowing blessings to flourish naturally and misfortunes to dissolve on their own. Just as deep plowing and careful tending lead to a bountiful harvest in autumn, or as remaining calm when facing a thief can preserve one’s safety.

People often fixate on immediate gains, only to lose far more in the process. The world fails to understand that all things follow their own natural rhythms, mistakenly believing that forceful intervention is necessary for success. Clinging stubbornly to outcomes, they often end up wrestling with misfortune, turning blessings into burdens. Thus disasters frequently escalate beyond remedy, while true good fortune remains elusive—such is the way of nature.

The sage who has attained the Dao (the Way) understands the harm of artificial interference and never uses human effort to disrupt heaven's course. By consistently aligning with natural laws, they never fail in their endeavors. Ordinary people obsess over gains and losses—when matters first arise, they pay little attention, letting things take their course; yet when success seems imminent, fear of loss arises, and without exception they spoil everything through clumsy interference. Therefore, if one could maintain the same caution at the end as at the beginning, nothing would be ruined.

Chen Xianggu observed: When actions are forced to extremes, they inevitably fail; when attachments become too rigid, loss becomes certain. Ye Mengde noted: The world knows no absolute success or failure—our very striving turns success into failure; no absolute gain or loss—our very grasping makes possession into deprivation. This is why people must act with prudence.

Thus the sage pursues what others neglect (namely, stillness and wuwei [non-action]), valuing not rare treasures like gold and jewels. They learn what others ignore (the natural Way) to correct common errors. Simply assisting all things in their natural development, they dare not impose force. Chen Jingyuan (Master Bixu) explains: These rare treasures refer to gold, jade, pearls, and rhinoceros horn. While worldly people suffer from not pursuing them, sages find joy in their absence. The sage embodies purity and frugality, while the world wallows in greed and extravagance—thus what the world despises, the sage embraces, regarding gold and jewels as mere dirt.

Worldly people exhaust their innate true nature pursuing external knowledge, thereby losing their inner essence. The sage maintains the natural Way without such learning, preserving intrinsic harmony. What the world considers ignorance, the sage recognizes as true wisdom. Hence "learning the unlearned" means rectifying common deviations.

Su Zhe (Yingbin) adds: People indulge desires that harm all things, clinging to learning that violates heavenly principle. The sage isn't without desire, but restrains it to avoid harming creation; not without learning, but remains unbound by knowledge to avoid defying natural law. Thus achieving perfect clarity within and without, with tranquil mind and wuwei [non-action], they assist all things' natural development, awaiting their spontaneous fulfillment.

Liu Gai explains: What the sage pursues is precisely what ordinary people do not desire, hence the saying "desire non-desire" (yu bu yu). What the sage does not pursue is exactly what common people crave, hence the phrase "not valuing rare goods" (bu gui nande zhi huo). What the sage learns is what ordinary people neglect, thus "learning the unlearned" (xue bu xue); what the sage does not study is precisely what the masses obsess over, hence "correcting the mistakes of the multitude" (fu zhongren zhi suo guo).

Da Zhenzi elaborates: People's greatest desire lies in chasing rare objects, while their gravest error in learning comes from following collective mistakes. Acting without understanding stillness, doing without knowing cessation—these are all faults. The sage pursues the state of "non-desire," thus not valuing treasures; studies the wisdom of "non-learning," thus able to correct the errors of the masses. Only then can one avoid the delusion of clinging to external things, hence the saying "to assist the natural course of all things" (yi fu wanwu zhi ziran).

Qingyuanzi Liu Ji adds: The sage is not without desire but seeks what others disregard, remaining unaltered by external things; not without learning but studies what others neglect, keeping the original heart from being drowned in knowledge. They return to pure innate nature, neither forcing growth nor interfering, following spontaneity without selfishness—thus the world naturally attains peace. Hence the phrase "assisting the natural development of all things without daring to interfere" (fu wanwu zhi ziran er bugan wei).

Huang Maocai argues: The Dao itself has no desires—pursuing "non-desire" is to preserve the original mind. All things follow their own natural patterns, which the foolish cannot reach while the clever overshoot. Better to fall short than to overdo. Therefore, one must empty the intellect, discard cleverness, and learn the wisdom of "non-learning," assisting the natural course of all things without presumptuous action.

In Chapter 65 of The Ancients Who Excelled in Practicing the Dao, those in ancient times skilled in the Dao did not use cleverness to educate the people but kept them simple and genuine. Emperor Huizong of Song annotates: Let the people follow the Dao—there is no need for them to understand excessive reasoning. After the Three Dynasties, people abandoned serene non-action (wuwei), favoring elaborate doctrines instead. They restrained behavior with rituals and music, pacified hearts with benevolence and righteousness—seemingly enlightening the masses but in truth bringing greater disorder.

Sima Guang states: One must reject superficiality and return to simplicity. Su Zhe points out: What the ancients called wisdom was grasping the whole of the Dao, perceiving the beginning and end of things—hence its value. Ordinary people rarely attain this state.

This passage discusses the dangers of rulers excessively relying on cunning strategies to govern a nation. Laozi believed that when rulers employ clever schemes to manage the people, it instead creates more problems. Just as using sophisticated hunting tools (bows, traps, nets) disrupts the natural order among birds and beasts, when society becomes permeated with craftiness and deceit, it leads to moral decay and the failure of laws.

Several commentators elaborate on this perspective from different angles: Cao Daochong points out that cunning breeds deception, while simplicity allows a return to authenticity; Daoist master Da Zhenzi explains that ancient sages never sought to make people shrewd, but rather hoped they would restrain their sharp edges and return to simplicity; Ye Mengde adds that human society is inherently prone to hypocrisy, and excessive cleverness proves harmful.

The text particularly emphasizes: governing through cunning is like opening Pandora's box of "human artifice" ("opening the human"), which only breeds more deceit; whereas governing without cunning aligns with the natural Dao ("opening heaven"), the only way to cultivate true Virtue (De). Just as destroying symbols of power like official seals and breaking measurement tools can actually help people return to their original simple and non-contentious nature.

Sima Guang highlights the disastrous consequence of "mutual deception between rulers and subjects" in cunning governance, while Su Zhe illustrates with "using cleverness to counter cleverness" how this approach creates a vicious cycle. The ultimate conclusion is clear: relying on cunning to govern brings calamity to the state, while following nature's way constitutes true blessing.

Master Liu Ji of Qingyuan said: Governing a state without resorting to cunning artifice allows one to transcend emotional desires and return to the original state of primal simplicity—this is the true blessing for a nation. Understanding both the methods of employing wisdom and abstaining from it constitutes mastery of statecraft.

Emperor Huizong of Song (imperial commentary) explains: Comprehending these two approaches means understanding governance; when the ruler masters this Dao of governance, the people will emulate and follow, establishing social norms. Master Chen Jingyuan of Bixu notes that "these two" refer precisely to the distinction between employing cunning and abstaining from it. Master Cao Daochong, the Daoist scholar of Zhenren Jing, asserts that this method of governance can serve as a model for later generations, while Chen Xianggu emphasizes that such norms are immutable.

To maintain these norms enduringly is to embody "Mysterious Virtue" (Xuande). This Virtue is so profound and unfathomable that it appears contrary to worldly conventions, yet it achieves the greatest harmony. Emperor Huizong elaborates: "Mysterious" (Xuan) is the color of Heaven and Earth. By upholding norms without resorting to cunning, one aligns with the Dao of Heaven—a state so deep it transcends all things. Master Bixu adds that when a ruler understands what brings fortune and what brings harm, guiding the people toward prosperity and longevity, they possess this profound Virtue. Though seemingly at odds with the mundane, it resonates deeply with the people's hearts.

Sima Guang (of Sushui) analyzes: Most people in the world prize cunning, but those with Mysterious Virtue disdain it. This seemingly contrary approach is, in truth, in accordance with the Great Dao. Su Zhe (of Yingbin) observes: I value Virtue, while the world values cunning. Though Virtue and cunning appear opposed, cunning can only manage trivial matters, whereas Virtue aligns with the Great Dao. Master Dazhenzi concludes: Only those who transcend worldly conventions can return to the Great Dao. To follow the Dao is to achieve great harmony; to oppose it is to invite great disorder.

Huang Maocai illustrates through contrast: While the multitude asserts strength, I hold to softness; while they are restless, I remain tranquil; while they chase superficiality, I embrace simplicity; while they hasten toward decline, I preserve vitality. This is not deliberate opposition to the world—only those who rise above it can attain true harmony.

Regarding the chapter "Rivers and Seas as Lords of All Valleys" (Chapter 66): Rivers and seas become lords of all valleys because they excel at occupying the lowest position. Emperor Huizong explains that "lord" (Wang) implies submission—if a ruler humbles himself before the people, they will naturally gravitate toward him like water flowing downward. Master Chen Jingyuan of Bixu cites Emperor Xuanzong of Tang's "Kaiyuan Imperial Commentary": The river and sea dwell in the lowest place, thus they receive all streams.

The reason rivers and seas can gather countless streams to flow into them and become the lords of all waterways is precisely because they excel at maintaining a low position. The Book of Changes states: "The way of Earth (the law of the land) causes the full to flow and the humble to be replenished."

Master Liu Ji of Qingyuan explains that sages emulate the virtue of rivers and seas by willingly occupying humble positions. Within, they embrace the subtle and profound Dao, preserving their simple, innate nature through emptiness, stillness, and Wuwei (non-action). They do not deliberately pursue the Dao, yet the Dao naturally returns to them. Even the essence of Heaven and Earth and the spiritual energy of all things automatically gather around them. This is the principle described in the Daodejing: "Hold fast to the image of the great Dao, and the world will naturally follow."

Huang Maocai points out that this chapter reiterates the principle that "a great state should be like rivers and seas, willingly staying downstream." Using rivers and seas as metaphors illustrates that the greatness of the Dao lies precisely in its humility—who, then, could contend with it?

Cheng Dachang quotes Mencius: "Merely relying on good deeds to win people's submission is insufficient. One must possess virtuous De (Virtue/Power) while remaining humble, and only then will the world follow like rivers returning to the sea."

Thus, when sages wish to stand above others, they instead use humble words. When they wish to lead the masses, they place their own interests last. Precisely because of this, people do not feel burdened when sages occupy high positions, nor do they envy them when they stand at the forefront. The world gladly supports them without resentment. Since they contend with no one, no one in the world can contend with them.

The Imperial Commentary cites the Book of Changes: "When the noble treat the lowly with humility, they greatly win the hearts of the people." Winning hearts means gaining their trust. Occupying a high position without making others feel burdened allows people to follow with ease. Standing at the front without inciting envy means more people benefit. Achieving this ensures universal admiration and naturally avoids resentment. As the Book of Changes says, "The people willingly assist the worthy."

Chen Jingyuan of Bixu quotes Lu Xisheng: "The way of Heaven diminishes the full and enriches the humble; the way of Earth makes the full flow and the humble abundant; spirits and gods bring misfortune to the proud and blessings to the modest; human nature universally despises arrogance and favors humility. The virtue of humility lies in cultivating oneself through a lowly stance. Thus, rivers and seas, by staying low, become the gathering place of all streams, and sages, by being humble, are exalted by the world. Do sages deliberately strive to be first? It is simply that the world gladly elevates them. Speaking of 'standing above and leading' uses the example of sages to encourage others. Could the lofty status of sages possibly be attained through contention? The Book of Documents states: 'Because you do not boast, no one in the world can contend with your abilities; because you do not pride yourself, no one in the world can contend with your achievements.' This is the principle at work."

Laozi here speaks of how the sage (one who has attained the Dao) conducts himself in the world. Su Zhe explains that sages do not deliberately seek to stand above others or push ahead of them. Rather, because they willingly take the lower position and practice humble yielding, this very way of being naturally elevates them to honored status.

Wang Pang further clarifies that the sage's conduct is never motivated by self-interest, but flows purely from their De (Virtue). When sages willingly position themselves below others, their Virtue paradoxically shines with nobility; when they consciously retreat, their character appears all the more advanced. This is precisely why sages are revered throughout the world.

Chen Xianggu provides concrete examples: sages refer to themselves with humble terms like "solitary," "desolate," and "unworthy" (ancient royal self-deprecations); they eat simply yet perform sacrificial rites with utmost reverence; wear plain clothes but ceremonial robes with dignity; maintain modest palaces while devoting full effort to flood control; always placing personal benefit last. These behaviors all embody the sagely way of "dwelling below" and "standing behind."