《道德真經集註(二)》Vol. 6

This chapter discusses the seemingly paradoxical yet profoundly interconnected wisdom of living. Bending actually preserves oneself, just as bamboo yields to the wind without breaking; temporary humility allows one to advance further, like a river detouring around obstacles yet ultimately reaching the sea. Low-lying areas naturally fill with water, and worn-out things often find renewal.

Chen Jingyuan (a Song Dynasty Daoist master known as Bixuzi) explains: Truly wise individuals often conceal their depths, appearing simple yet preserving their true nature. As the Yijing (Book of Changes) states, the way of Earth is to level the high and fill the low. Water naturally gathers in valley depressions, while towering peaks are eroded by wind and rain. Those who remain humble attract others willingly, whereas arrogance invites misfortune.

When one possesses talent yet appears unassuming, people gladly support them; maintaining simplicity renews one's De (Virtue) daily. As the Yijing says, simplicity brings clarity, and restraint makes one easy to follow. The Xisheng Jing (Scripture of Western Ascension) similarly teaches: Holding fast to the fundamental "One" (the Dao) surpasses reading ten thousand volumes.

Excessive knowledge can obscure the mind. Zhuangzi warns that ornate rhetoric veils truth, and erudition may drown one's innate nature. The Liezi compares this to losing one's way on branching paths—overly diverse studies lead astray. Like countless arrows shot at a single eagle ensuring its strike, life's myriad distractions deplete vitality until it falters. Thus, silence often speaks louder than words.

The "One" born from the Dao is Taiji (the Supreme Ultimate), also called Primordial Qi—the purest energy. Sages uphold this foundational "One" as their guiding principle for engaging with the world.

This passage expounds the core Daoist concept of "embracing the One (Dao) through non-action (Wuwei)." Laozi observed that heaven and earth maintain their clarity and tranquility precisely by following the natural law of the "One" (Dao) without deliberate striving. Zhuangzi similarly remarked that heaven remains clear through non-action, and earth stays peaceful through non-action.

Su Zhe explained that sages invariably act in accordance with heavenly principles—what may appear circuitous ultimately proves most direct. True straightness isn't superficial alignment but conformity with cosmic order. Just as low-lying areas naturally gather water, and worn objects paradoxically renew themselves. By grasping the fundamental "One," one comprehends all phenomena; studying excessively without returning to unity only breeds confusion. "Embracing the One" means returning to original nature—seemingly roundabout yet thoroughly complete, apparently bent yet intrinsically straight, ostensibly hollow yet substantially full, superficially worn yet essentially renewed.

Wang Anshi illustrated through metaphors: square shapes break easily while circles remain intact; straight lines snap readily whereas curves endure. The ocean, by occupying the lowest position, receives all rivers; only by relinquishing attachment to seasonal flourishing and decay can true renewal be attained. Taking less brings fulfillment, while craving more creates bewilderment.

Wang Pang supplemented that realized individuals resemble water—naturally placid and yielding, never forcibly opposing external things, thus preserving themselves whole. This principle resonates with Zhuangzi's teachings in "The Essentials for Nurturing Life."

Lu Dian observed that by adapting to external changes without compulsion, one who appears to bend ultimately preserves heavenly principles intact. Master Dazhen concluded: Even when already perfected, one should feel incomplete to sustain progress; even when utterly upright, maintaining humility embodies the true meaning of "bending leads to wholeness."

This passage expounds the Daoist wisdom of "embracing the One" (holding fast to the fundamental Dao). What is bent may yet be preserved; low-lying places naturally become filled; taking less may yield greater gains—these reveal the essential patterns of natural law. What appears crooked may straighten, the worn-out renews itself, while excessive grasping leads to confusion—these demonstrate the inevitable tendencies in the development of phenomena.

Laozi states that the sage (one who has attained the Dao) takes "holding to the One" as the fundamental principle to govern all under heaven. The "One" is the Dao itself—simple yet all-encompassing: capable of bending yet preserving, being low yet filling, appearing worn yet renewing, taking less yet gaining more. Small things contain the seeds of greatness; darkness holds the sprouts of light—this is the natural order.

Ye Mengde further explains: bending avoids conflict and thus preserves; remaining unfilled allows low places to be replenished; taking less without boasting leads to true gain—these are inevitable truths. One does not bend to become straight, yet extreme bending naturally straightens; one does not wear out to seek renewal, yet extreme wearing inevitably renews; one does not grasp excessively to invite confusion, yet excessive grasping necessarily brings confusion—these are irreversible tendencies.

Principle (li) and tendency (shi) interact dynamically—sometimes as beginning and end, sometimes alternating in gain and loss, endlessly transforming. Yet the sage transcends these fluctuations precisely by holding fast to the fundamental "One." The earlier mention of "harmonizing hun and po spirits" refers to the internal "One," while the discussion of "interwoven principle and tendency" here refers to the "One" that governs all phenomena. The "One" is the root of all methods, thus it can truly serve as the pattern for all under heaven.

Huang Maocai said: The world bends itself to conform to customs, so I bend with it—this is how one preserves oneself. The world distorts its true nature, so I distort with it—this is how one cultivates uprightness. Everyone desires perfection, yet who is willing to dwell in the lowly places? By remaining low, I attain true perfection. Everyone craves novelty, yet who is willing to embrace the worn and old? By accepting the old, I attain true freshness.

The path of cultivating the Dao (the Way) involves diminishing desires daily—the more one diminishes, the closer one draws to the Dao. In contrast, the pursuit of worldly knowledge involves accumulating learning daily—the more one accumulates, the farther one strays from the Dao, leading to confusion. The six concepts of "perfection," "uprightness," "fullness," "freshness," "gain," and "confusion" may appear as separate states, but in truth, they form a unified whole. Understanding this fundamental principle allows one to comprehend all things—why cling to these six distinctions? Thus, the sage holds fast to the great Dao, becoming a model for all under heaven.

By not displaying oneself, one becomes manifest; by not asserting oneself, one becomes distinguished; by not boasting, one achieves merit; by not exalting oneself, one endures. Precisely because one does not contend, no one in the world can contend with them.

The Imperial Commentary explains: Free from the obscuration of personal biases, one sees with clarity; free from stubborn opinions and aligned with truth, one attains accomplishment and universal recognition. While others rush ahead, the sage willingly lags behind, enduring the world's misunderstandings. Such a person dwells eternally in non-contention—who could possibly contend with them?

Master Bi Xu (Jade Void) Chen Jingyuan said: These four things—clarity, distinction, merit, and endurance—are all manifestations of Wuwei (non-action). The sage governs through Wuwei, never deliberately showcasing ability, yet the world naturally praises his wisdom. He Shang Gong (Master of the River) adds: Though the sage perceives with utmost clarity, he does not rely on his own intelligence but instead sees through the eyes of all under heaven—thus, he attains true understanding. One who skillfully employs the vision of the world harbors no intention of self-display. Though the phrasing of various commentaries may differ, their essential meaning converges.

The sage abides in emptiness and stillness, never asserting himself or negating others. When the distinction between self and other is forgotten, the world naturally acknowledges his correctness, and his De (Virtue/Power) shines forth. The sage is serene and free from desire, never boasting of his virtues, yet the world naturally praises his merits. The sage embraces solitude, never esteeming himself highly, yet the world naturally reveres his worthiness, ensuring his enduring presence.

Su Zhe (Master Yingbin) states: Not displaying oneself, not asserting one's own views, not boasting of one's merits, and not being complacent—these are all manifestations of "non-contention" (buzheng), hence it serves as the concluding principle.

Wang Anshi (Master Linchuan) explains: By not deliberately showcasing oneself, one can perceive all things clearly and thus maintain wisdom; by not insisting on one's own correctness, one can discern truth and falsehood, thus revealing true principles; by not boasting of one's virtues, good deeds will not be lost, enabling genuine achievement; by not being arrogant, one does not rely on one's own abilities, ensuring longevity. The Book of Documents says, "If you do not boast of yourself, none in the world will contend with you for ability."

Master Dazhen elaborates further: If one always believes oneself to be perfect, the pursuit of perfection ceases, leading to the loss of true wisdom; if one always considers oneself upright, the pursuit of righteousness halts, making it impossible to manifest true integrity. Only by remaining unsatisfied with the present and continuously striving for perfection and righteousness can one ultimately attain genuine wisdom and manifestation. Extending this principle, one should never be complacent about any of one’s virtues—even if one has merit, not boasting preserves it; even if one has strengths, not being arrogant maintains them. The reason sages are sages lies in their perpetual self-dissatisfaction.

Ye Mengde provides a lexical interpretation: The character "见" (jian) should be understood as "manifestation." Though those who attain the Dao (Dao) conceal their traces and do not display themselves, they shine even more brightly; though they do not flaunt their talents or assert themselves, they become even more evident. Not boasting leads to true achievement; not being arrogant ensures endurance. This aligns with the earlier statement that "the crooked shall be made straight, the hollow shall be filled." The transformations of all things are ever-changing—those who cling to contention find themselves constrained everywhere, whereas those who maintain a non-contentious mindset encounter no opposition from the myriad things.

Huang Maocai concludes: Those who embody the Dao in the world carry no concept of "self" in their hearts. Precisely because they are selfless, they can refrain from self-display, self-assertion, self-boasting, and self-complacency.

This passage expounds the Daoist wisdom of "non-contention" (不争) and "yielding leads to wholeness" (曲则全). Laozi employs vivid metaphors to illustrate that when one does not contend with all things, all things will not contend with him. It's like when an empty boat bumps into yours—even a hot-tempered person won't get angry. Not showing off actually makes one stand out; not boasting actually ensures longevity. This is the natural principle.

Commentators through the ages have offered profound interpretations:

Emperor Huizong of Song (Imperial Commentary) explains that sages move like water, accommodating all things without compromising their own wholeness. They respond like an inked carpenter's line, following heavenly principles without losing uprightness. Knowing that low places will eventually fill keeps them from pride; understanding that decay leads to renewal prevents boasting. This state of natural non-action (Wuwei) constitutes the realm of "complete virtue" (全德).

Chen Jingyuan (Master Bixu) observes that sages maintain childlike simplicity in pure non-action—so genuine that even poisonous insects and fierce beasts won't harm them. The ancient teaching that "yielding leads to wholeness" is no empty saying; earnest practice truly yields complete virtue.

Su Zhe (Yingbin) adds that people often mistake blunt directness for correctness. True "wholeness" isn't just self-preservation but preserving external things too, achieving mutual completeness between self and world. Only this return to original nature's "straightness" constitutes great wisdom.

Ye Mengde emphasizes tracing back to the root: first attain complete original nature before returning to the Dao, and one will naturally understand yielding's true meaning.

Huang Maocai uses the metaphor of a drunkard falling from a carriage unharmed to show how spiritual wholeness offers protection. If even drunkenness provides this, how much more so the ancient perfected ones wholly united with the heavenly Dao.

The core teaching is this: through humble, yielding, non-contentious engagement with the world, one ultimately attains the fulfilled state of mutual completeness between self and things. This isn't empty theory but verified life wisdom.

In this chapter of the Daode Jing, Laozi emphasizes that "speaking little accords with the Dao of nature." Ancient commentators offer profound insights on this passage:

Emperor Huizong of Song (Imperial Commentary) explains that "xi" (rare) refers to transcending all things without becoming entangled in their dichotomies. Like the Liezi's concept of "doubtful solitude," one should abandon cleverness and artificiality, following natural patterns without deliberate interference—this is what constitutes "ziran" (naturalness).

Chen Jingyuan (Master Bixu) interprets "xi" as meaning sparse, quoting the Yijing: "The virtuous speak concisely." Sima Guang observes that those who truly understand the Dao need not speak much to enlighten others—this is naturalness.

Su Zhe (Yingbin) states: The great Dao seems bland when spoken, invisible to the eye, inaudible to the ear, yet inexhaustible in application—this is the realm of "rare speech." Wang Anshi argues conversely: Excessive speech leads to predicaments, hence speaking little aligns with naturalness.

Cao Daochong (Master Daozhen Renjing) explains: Verbal teachings leave artificial traces that cannot accord with all things' inherent nature. Thus sages practice "wordless teaching," following natural principles. Master Dazhen further clarifies: The Dao cannot be heard by ears, hence called "xi"—meaning detachment from sound-attachment.

Laozi then employs natural phenomena as metaphors: A raging wind cannot last all morning; a torrential rain cannot persist all day. These are acts of heaven and earth—if even their extreme manifestations cannot endure, how much less can human willfulness? Emperor Huizong notes: Heaven and earth nurture all things through gentle breezes and mild rains that allow natural growth without force, thus achieving permanence. Violent storms manifest yin-yang imbalance, inevitably causing harm and therefore unsustainable.

Through the concrete example of "speaking little," this passage reveals Daoism's core teaching of "wuwei" (non-action): reducing human interference and aligning with natural patterns is the way of enduring harmony.

Master Bi Xu Zi Chen Jingyuan said: In this world, nothing surpasses Heaven and Earth in magnitude, and nothing exceeds Yin-Yang in the vastness of Qi. When the two energies of Yin and Yang clash and the movements of Heaven and Earth intersect, even they cannot sustain such turbulence for a full day—how much less can humans, who dwell between them, tiny as a single hair on a horse's flank? If one still dares to indulge in desires, give free rein to emotions, and pursue paths leading to swift ruin, is this not profoundly lamentable?

Su Zhe of Yingbin observed: When Yin and Yang harmonize without contention, winds and rains arrive seasonably—neither too hasty nor too sluggish—continuing until their natural course is exhausted. But when Yang Qi accumulates excessively above while Yin Qi stagnates obstructed below, violent storms arise. Though fierce in momentum, they cannot last even a single day. The words of ancient sages may seem plain, their actions ordinary, yet because they accord with the Dao of nature, they endure without decline. Ordinary people disdain such simplicity, preferring clever rhetoric that pleases the ear and bizarre conduct that startles the eye, unaware these cannot last.

Master Cao Daochong, known as the Serene Benevolent Truth-Realizer, pointed out: The very reason violent storms cannot endure is their deviation from constant Dao. If the human heart fluctuates like this, how can it maintain constancy?

Ye Mengde added: Even the power of words has such limitations—how much more so other things.

Huang Maocai expounded: The true Dao cannot be fully expressed in words—its essence lies in spontaneity (Ziran). Accord with spontaneity and you endure; violent storms defy it, thus failing to last a day, let alone humans. Humans emulate Earth, Earth emulates Heaven, Heaven emulates Dao, and Dao emulates spontaneity. This cycle ultimately returns to spontaneity, yet who can easily attain this realm?

Therefore, those who follow the Dao: Align with Dao and you attain Dao; align with De (Virtue) and you attain De; deviate and you reap deviation. Those united with Dao are embraced by Dao; those united with De are embraced by De; those united with deviation are followed by deviation.

Chen Jingyuan explained "engagement" as compliance and adherence. Human affairs should conform to the Great Dao—speak sparingly, nurture your Qi, and you'll preserve eternal harmony. How can this resemble transient storms?

Su Zhe quoted Confucius: "Those devoted to benevolence (Ren) do no wrong." Thus, the faults of benevolent people are easily corrected. If commitment to benevolence achieves this, how much more so commitment to Dao? With sincere pursuit of Dao, aligning with it brings attainment; aligning with De brings its power—even occasional missteps become part of the cultivation journey.

Master Cao Daochong, the Daoist adept known as "Benevolent Stillness," explains: The sage follows the natural course of the Dao, never forcibly altering the innate nature of things. When we speak of "being one with the Dao," we mean the practitioner's complete harmony with the supreme Way—only such a person can truly discuss the Dao. Similarly, "being one with De (Virtue)" describes those who have attained this state of power, making them worthy interlocutors on virtue. It's like trying to explain the distinction between day and night to nocturnal owls—their inverted perception makes genuine understanding impossible.

Ye Mengde offers this insight: Enlightenment doesn't require losing everything. Correcting one's errors can equally lead to the Dao. Huang Maocai employs a maritime metaphor: The Dao resembles the boundless ocean that embraces all. Those seeking the Dao merge with its currents, cultivators of De align with its virtues, and even the lost find their place within its depths. Just as myriad creatures thrive in different ocean zones, the Dao practitioner declares "I've attained it," the virtue cultivator claims "I've attained it," and the confused soul likewise insists "I've attained it." When we lose the Dao and pursue De, isn't this virtue gained through loss? When we subsequently lose De and seek humaneness, isn't this compassion also born of deprivation? The pattern continues through righteousness to ritual propriety—each represents attainment through relinquishment. This is the true meaning of "great unity."

Regarding "lack of faith begets disbelief," Master Chen Jingyuan of Bixu Temple clarifies: The immortal path values life, while ghostly ways emphasize endings—this demonstrates nature's principle of like attracting like. Those who believe in the Dao attain it; those who believe in De achieve it. Those who scorn these principles receive neither the Dao's response nor virtue's approval, nor will the world place trust in them.

Su Zhe observes: Those unacquainted with the Dao possess shaky conviction—their failures breed doubt, which in turn deepens their skepticism. Only genuine knowers of the Way remain unshaken by gain or loss. Master Dazhen adds: Abundant faith in the Dao leaves no room for doubt; complete trust in De prevents disbelief.

Chen Xianggu notes: Chaotic speech coupled with impoverished reasoning naturally fails to inspire trust. Huang Maocai laments: The supreme Dao is profoundly ordinary, yet believers are few and skeptics numerous. Laozi's repeated emphasis on this point reflects his grief over worldly delusion and his hope for awakening.

The chapter on "the tiptoer cannot stand" (Chapter 24) illustrates how forced postures prove unsustainable, metaphorically showing how striving defeats its own purpose. This continues the preceding theme of natural Wuwei (non-action), demonstrating how conscious efforts that violate natural principles are doomed to fail.

Those who stand on tiptoe to appear taller cannot maintain balance; those who take giant strides to move faster cannot go far. It's like those who seek quick results—always grasping for things beyond their rightful portion. Even if temporarily obtained, it's as unsustainable as stretching one's neck while standing on tiptoe.

Sima Guang observed that when the human mind fixates on a single goal, it becomes incapable of attending to other matters. Su Zhe pointed out that people are naturally capable of standing and walking normally, but if they deem ordinary standing insufficient and rise on tiptoe, or find regular strides inadequate and overextend their steps, they ironically lose their innate abilities. The same principle applies to those who self-display, self-assert, boast of achievements, or swell with pride.

Cao Daochong explained that "overextending steps" refers to wavering instability—neither focused inward nor outward, unable to uphold the principles of Dao (the Way). Master Dazhen considered tiptoe standing and exaggerated strides as unnatural postures, forced distortions of one's inherent nature. Huang Maocai summarized: attempting to stand taller through tiptoe inevitably fails; trying to move faster through overstriding must end in stumbling.

Cheng Dachang analyzed in detail: normal standing distributes weight across the whole foot, while tiptoe standing forcibly elevates; regular walking involves natural step alternation, whereas overstriding deliberately lengthens gait. Such superficial grasping at form ironically makes one lose their original mobility.

As for self-exhibitors who cannot perceive truth, self-righteous individuals who gain no recognition, self-promoters who actually accomplish nothing, and the prideful who cannot endure—these behaviors appear to Dao cultivators like leftover food or bodily tumors: utterly superfluous.

Chen Jingyuan employed metaphors: leftovers induce nausea; tumors provoke disgust. Sima Guang noted these all stem from external competition creating internal emptiness. Huang Maocai added: those clinging to personal views cannot comprehend truth; the opinionated cannot manifest true Dao. Cheng Dachang specified: flaunting talent constitutes "self-display"; obstinacy in views constitutes "self-assertion"; boasting merit constitutes "self-promotion"; showing off skill constitutes "self-exaltation." These behaviors not only create self-satisfaction but perpetually inflate it.

Those who are self-righteous and exaggerate their abilities actually possess very limited understanding and receive no assistance from others. Such people can neither perceive the truth of things nor manifest true Virtue (De), and they find it difficult to establish lasting achievements. Even heaven, earth, and the myriad things despise such conduct—thus, those who have truly attained the Dao (comprehending cosmic principles and moral truths) would never act this way.

Chen Jingyuan (a Daoist master of the Song Dynasty, known as Master Bixu) explains: Even ordinary things detest such behavior—how much more should those cultivating the Dao? Ye Mengde (a Song Dynasty scholar) adds: Those lacking wisdom may not realize how detestable such conduct is, hence the saying "the myriad things despise it." Only those who have truly attained the Dao understand how to avoid it—this discernment does not require full mastery of the Dao. Cheng Dachang (a Confucian scholar of the Song Dynasty) observes: Those who boast and show off are beneath the notice of genuine Dao attainers.

Regarding the chapter "There was something undifferentiated and yet complete" (Chapter 25 of the Daodejing): Before the formation of heaven and earth, there existed an undifferentiated primordial origin. The Imperial Commentary explains: When the three elements—Qi (vital energy), form, and substance—were blended yet undivided, this state was called "Hunlun" (the undifferentiated chaos of the primordial universe). This complete state is what the Book of Changes refers to as the "Supreme Ultimate (Taiji)." Heaven and earth emerged from it, hence it is said to precede them. Though it truly exists, it transcends concrete existence—thus it is called a "thing."

Chen Jingyuan elaborates further: The ultimate truth is clear and eternal, hence "there was something"; the true Dao encompasses the transformations of all things yet remains indivisible, hence "undifferentiated and yet complete." This state of undifferentiated completeness cannot be grasped through ordinary cognition, yet all things arise from it. The phrase "before heaven and earth" refers to the origin of the Dao. The Daodejing states, "I do not know whose child it is; it seems to have existed before the Lord." Similarly, the Zhuangzi says, "The Dao is not high in the Supreme Ultimate, nor deep beneath the six directions; it is not ancient before heaven and earth, nor aged beyond the most distant past"—all describing the fundamental nature of the Dao.

Su Zhe (a Song Dynasty literatus, also known as Yingbin) observes: The Dao is neither clear nor turbid, neither high nor low, neither coming nor going—good and evil are undifferentiated within it. For humans, it is innate nature—hence "there was something undifferentiated and yet complete." No one knows how it came to be; it simply exists eternally, and within it, heaven and earth were born. Chen Xianggu (a Song Dynasty scholar) uses a metaphor: "Undifferentiated and yet complete" describes the great Dao. The Dao has no fixed form, while heaven and earth possess physical substance—yet it was the Dao that gave birth to them, making the meaning of "before heaven and earth" evident.

Ye Mengde, quoting the Book of Changes—"In the Changes there is the Supreme Ultimate, which generates the Two Modes (Yin-Yang)"—points out: What produces the Two Modes is the "Changes" (the principle of transformation), yet rather than naming it directly, the intermediate concept of the "Supreme Ultimate" is used. This is because the "Changes," as the source of all things, is difficult to name directly—hence "Supreme Ultimate" serves as its expression.

This discussion explores the relationship between "Taiji" (the cosmic origin) and "Yi" (the principle of change). When we say Taiji gives rise to the two modes of Yin-Yang, Yi already exists within Taiji itself; yet if we claim Taiji emerges from Yi, no discernible separation exists between them. Thus when we reluctantly speak of "presence," Yi actually resides in a state of "absence."

Laozi's statement "There was something formless yet complete, born before heaven and earth" refers to how the cosmos emerged from primordial chaos, yet this chaos itself has its own source. Laozi deliberately avoids naming its origin, instead using the abstract phrase "that which gives birth to the birth-giver," because the true creative source cannot be precisely defined.

Huang Maocai once asked: What exactly is this "something"? It is the primal source existing prior to heaven and earth. Lin Dong explained that this chaotic entity contains all phenomena without displaying edges or corners, perfectly describing Dao's essential nature. By stating it precedes heaven and earth, we acknowledge Dao's immeasurable antiquity. Some claim Dao existed before Taiji—this not only asserts Dao's precedence over the cosmos but emphasizes the profundity of its origin.

The passage "Silent and empty, standing alone without changing, circulating without ceasing, it may be considered the mother of all under heaven" describes Dao's characteristics: soundless silence (ji), formless emptiness (liao), unique and unchanging ("standing alone without changing"), eternally moving without exhaustion ("circulating without ceasing"), capable of becoming the generative mother of all things ("mother of all under heaven").

Imperial commentary explains: Silence and emptiness indicate absence of movement, non-interaction with other things, maintaining a lucid tranquility (zhanran). The great Dao preserves itself without being altered by external phenomena ("not transforming with things")—this is Dao's substance; its capacity for infinite manifestation within all things ("emerging and entering without limit") constitutes Dao's function. All beings depend on it for existence.

Master Bi Xu (Chen Jingyuan) further elaborates: Dao is profoundly empty, without form or substance ("without image or materiality"), hence called silent and empty. It stands peerless ("nothing compares to it"), boundless without counterpart ("what could pair with it?"). Though the myriad things undergo endless transformations of life and death, Dao itself never changes ("never shifts"). When Dao's function unfolds, harmonizing Qi (chonghe zhi qi) permeates the great void (bian yu taiwu); when withdrawn, its refined essence (jingchun zhi wu) hides within minute millet-sized particles. It circulates through the six directions (liuxu) with inexhaustible application. All things great and small rely upon it—gaining Dao they become whole, losing Dao they perish. Since all generation depends on it, we call Dao "mother of all under heaven."

Su Zhe (Yingbin) interprets: Ji means without sound, liao means without form. Dao stands unique yet never changes ("without peer yet unchanging"), operates within all existence yet never wearies ("moving through all beings yet never exhausted"). It nurtures all things below, thus serving as their mother.

Master Da Zhen states that the ultimate state of emptiness is called "stillness" (Ji), while the ultimate state of expansiveness is called "boundlessness" (Liao). These two states constitute the original essence of "the undifferentiated unity that precedes all things" (referring to the Dao).

Chen Xianggu explains that "mother" signifies the Dao as the source from which all things are born. Ye Mengde further elaborates: Within the realm of stillness and boundlessness, the Dao operates independently yet pervades all things, fundamentally manifesting through the interplay of movement and stillness. Many scholars misunderstand the meaning of "boundlessness" (Liao), conflating it with "stillness" (Ji) as mere inactivity—this is incorrect. The ancients described the sound of great winds as "boundlessness" (Liao). When wind howls through hollow spaces, "boundlessness" encompasses these sounds—how could this be considered stillness? "Stillness" (Ji) refers to quiescence, while "boundlessness" (Liao) denotes movement. Precisely because of its stillness, the Dao remains eternally unchanging; precisely because of its boundlessness, the Dao circulates ceaselessly. This is why the Dao can be the mother of all things under heaven.

The Dao cannot be defined by any specific name. We reluctantly call it "the Dao," and further reluctantly describe it as "great" (Da). "Great" implies endless movement (Shi, "passing away"); "passing away" implies limitless expanse (Yuan, "far-reaching"); and "far-reaching" implies ultimately returning to the source (Fan, "reversion").

Emperor Huizong of Song explains in his imperial commentary: Because it moves without cease, we call it "passing away" (Shi); because it responds and transforms infinitely, we call it "far-reaching" (Yuan); because it returns to the root and fulfills destiny, we call it "reversion" (Fan). The essence of the Dao is vast and boundless, embracing all without distinction. Viewed from afar, it moves without rest; viewed from nearby, it returns to the stillness of its origin.

Master Bi Xu Zi (Chen Jingyuan) remarks: Ordinary things, no matter how large, have boundaries—only the greatness of the Dao is without limit. It extends into infinite distance ("passing away"), traveling so far that its source cannot be traced ("far-reaching"), yet it also gathers back, like a mirror reflecting all things without retaining traces ("reversion").

Su Zhe observes: The Dao originally has no name. The sages, seeing that all things follow it, named it "the Dao"; seeing that nothing surpasses it, they reluctantly described it as "great." In truth, the Dao cannot be precisely defined. Pursuing its "greatness," we see its ceaseless movement ("passing away"); pursuing its movement, we see its boundlessness ("far-reaching")—yet turning inward, it can be fully realized within one's own mind.

Master Dao Zhen Ren Jing (Cao Daochong) points out: The Dao cannot be defined by names—it can only be reluctantly described.

The name "Dao" (the Way) is a forced designation, for the Dao itself transcends concepts of size. Yet since it must be named, we reluctantly call it "great." What we term "passing" refers to its ceaseless movement—the Dao is not only vast and boundless but also perpetually circulates through all things. To say it moves without cease means there is nowhere it does not reach. Though we speak of the Dao as distant, it never departs from its root; thus we say it "returns" to the source.

Master Liu Ji of Qingyuan explains: Being beyond precise naming, I know not how to address it. Since all things arise from it, we reluctantly use the word "Dao"; since nothing can surpass it, we reluctantly name it "great." Probing from this "greatness," we find the deeper we measure, the more profound it becomes—hence we say it "passes" (ceaseless movement). Tracing its "passing," we discover it is neither lofty before the Taiji (Supreme Ultimate) nor deep beneath the six extremes—thus we call it "distant." Though extending infinitely beyond heaven and earth, when we turn inward, it resides within the space of a single thought—hence we say it "returns" to the origin.

Lin Dong adds: We reluctantly name it "Dao" and reluctantly call it "great," yet it defies accurate description. Not only is it boundless, but it also moves without cease; not only does it move without cease, but it also returns to the source. This is no idle speculation. The character "return" reveals how the principle of the Great Dao is separated from Confucian thought by only the thinnest veil—we should not regard Laozi’s and Confucius’s teachings as opposing.

Thus it is said: The Dao is great, heaven is great, earth is great, and the king is also great. Within the cosmos are four greatnesses, and the king occupies one among them.

Emperor Huizong of Song annotates: The Dao encompasses and upholds heaven and earth. Heaven covers all things; earth supports all things. The king stands between heaven and earth, equal to them—thus he too is called "great."

Master Chen Jingyuan of Bixu explains: As the head of the people, the king dares not equate himself with heaven, earth, or the Dao—hence we say "also great." The "four greatnesses within the cosmos" refer to the Dao, heaven, earth, and the king. "Cosmos" denotes finite boundaries. The Dao is vast enough to contain the universe yet subtle enough to enter an autumn hair; it transcends form yet exists within limits. From the ground upward belongs to heaven (the azure sky); earth lies beyond heaven, yet heaven envelops what is within earth. The king, as the highest human authority, resides at the center of the nine provinces—all these exist within finite boundaries, hence "there are four greatnesses within the cosmos." Yet the king, capable of comprehending the Dao of heaven and earth and wielding authority over all things, claims his place among these four greatnesses.

Zhuangzi said there is nothing more divine than Heaven, nothing more abundant than Earth, and nothing greater than the sovereign ruler. The virtue (De) of a true sovereign matches that of Heaven and Earth, which is why the sovereign is considered one of the "Four Greats."

Master Su Zhe (Yingbin) observed from the perspective of the Dao that even Heaven, Earth and sovereign rulers cannot be considered truly great when compared to the Dao. Yet ordinary people only recognize the greatness of these three, failing to understand that the Dao is the supreme greatness.

Master Cao Daochong (Daozhen Renjing) explained that the Dao is called great because it generates all things, covers all existence, and supports the myriad beings. Humans form one of the Three Powers (Heaven-Earth-Humanity), and without rulers, territories cannot be governed. Though the term "domain" implies boundaries, in truth it is boundless and encompasses all things. Speaking of Heaven reveals the Creator, speaking of Earth reveals generation, and speaking of sovereigns reveals human governance. Human intelligence is the most remarkable, and since rulers govern people, they too may be called great.

Liu Ji (Qingyuanzi) proposed that when we call sovereigns "great," we refer to the human heart-mind. As scriptures state: "The heart is the ruler of the body, the sovereign of the five viscera." The human heart can comprehend Heaven's intent, which in turn is embedded in Earth's patterns. In moments of contemplation it can comfort all within the Four Seas; in flashes of insight it can organize the myriad directions—this too may be called greatness. Thus among the universe's Four Greats, the sovereign occupies one place, reminding humanity to value itself and not lose its fundamental nature.

Regarding the passage "Humans model Earth, Earth models Heaven, Heaven models the Dao, and the Dao models what is so-of-itself (ziran)," Master Chen Jingyuan (Bixuzi) explained this teaches rulers should emulate Heaven and Earth, follow the supreme Dao, and thus govern the world naturally. If rulers maintain softness and stillness, they match Earth's yielding virtue (De), supporting all impartially like the land—this is modeling Earth. Yet they must not remain rigid, needing Heaven's vigorous movement and impartial coverage—this is modeling Heaven. Further still, they must not cling to Heaven's movements but follow non-action (Wuwei), uniting with the Dao to let all things return to their natural state—this is modeling the Dao's spontaneity. When rulers thus emulate Heaven and Earth, they attain the ultimate Dao. Note that Heaven, Earth and the Dao don't literally imitate each other—we should grasp the sage's profound meaning beyond literal interpretation.

Master Su Zhe (Yingbin) added this ultimate truth teaches us: humans cannot match Earth, Earth cannot match Heaven, Heaven cannot match the Dao—the Dao simply is what is so-of-itself.

Laozi here expounds the progressive stages of cultivation through the sequence: "Humans emulate Earth, Earth emulates Heaven, Heaven emulates Dao, Dao emulates self-so (自然, ziran)." Cao Daochong (a renowned Daoist master of the Northern Song dynasty) explains: Humans live upon the earth, with physical forms manifest and social positions defined, thus they must first model themselves on Earth's qualities, comprehending the principle of harmonizing hardness and softness. Earth remains tranquil while supporting all things, yet it needs to emulate Heaven's attributes; though Heaven is clear, vigorous, and supremely exalted, its movements still follow discernible patterns, requiring further emulation of Dao's nature. Dao itself, being formless and imageless, can only follow the state of "self-so" (自然, ziran).

Dazhenzi (a Song dynasty Daoist) further elaborates: Dao inherently requires no emulation, yet all things depend on and generate one another, creating the appearance of observable laws. If a ruler fully embodies human virtue, their actions resonate with Earth (humans emulate Earth); Earth's nourishing function corresponds with Heaven (Earth emulates Heaven); Heaven's cyclical movements align with Dao (Heaven emulates Dao); while Dao's very existence completely accords with spontaneous naturalness (Dao emulates self-so). This layered progression ultimately points to that primordial "Dao" which generates all things from chaos, serving as the root of Heaven and Earth.