《道德真經集註(二)》Vol. 7

This chapter examines the relationship between "weightiness" and "lightness," as well as "tranquility" and "restlessness." Numerous Song Dynasty scholars provided commentaries on this topic.

Weightiness serves as the foundation for lightness, while tranquility governs restlessness. Just as objects too light cannot bear heavy loads, or small things cannot stabilize large ones, movement requires a stable base, and control of action demands governing principles. Therefore, lightness must be rooted in weightiness, and restlessness must be governed by tranquility.

Wang Anshi remarked: Light things must rely on weightiness, and restless states must be guided by tranquility. Ye Mengde used trees as an analogy: From sapling to mighty tree, deep roots are essential for lush foliage. Seeking abundant branches without deep roots will ultimately destabilize the foundation. The human heart operates similarly—it cannot lack steadiness. Like fire's nature to blaze upward, unchecked flames grow fiercer; restless people often act without restraint, hence the necessity of maintaining inner tranquility.

Huang Maocai observed: Those who are light and restless struggle to comprehend the Dao (the Way). Weightiness stabilizes the foundation, thus serving as lightness's root; tranquility pacifies the Shen (spirit), thereby governing restlessness.

Thus, although gentlemen may travel abroad all day, they never abandon their loaded carts (symbolizing steadfastness). Maintaining inner serenity and stability minimizes errors. Like journeying with a weighted vehicle, even perilous paths can be traversed safely.

Chen Jingyuan interpreted "supply wagons" as either screen-carriages or large carts. Cao Daochong considered them protective treasures to be carried without momentary separation. Daoist Master Da Zhen explained that gentlemen never travel without their supply wagons precisely because movement becomes impossible without weightiness—demonstrating how lightness depends on weightiness as its foundation. Liu Ji concluded that gentlemen value weightiness and tranquility in conduct, guarding against lightness and restlessness; thus like loaded carts, they never act recklessly when moving.

Even amidst splendid prosperity, one should maintain a transcendent state of mind like swallows returning to their nest. The Imperial Commentary explains: Glory and wealth are external things, while inner tranquility is fundamental. Only with peaceful body and mind can one truly enjoy worldly pleasures.

Master Cao Daochong (Daoist title: Zhenren of Benevolent Stillness) adds: Even when faced with enviable scenes of splendor, true Dao cultivators remain unshaken. They wander through worldly prosperity yet remain unbound, enjoying comfort without clinging. Liu Ji (Daoist name: Qingyuanzi) further elaborates: External glory belongs to the material world, while inner peace stems from self-cultivation. Dao practitioners never alter their nature with external things, nor damage their life for beautiful objects. They transcend material desires, finding freedom beyond the dust of the world, seeking only fulfillment of body and spirit.

The discussion then turns to governance: Why would a ruler of ten thousand chariots treat the realm lightly? Frivolity loses ministers, while impatience forfeits sovereignty. The Imperial Commentary notes: The realm is of utmost importance—governing it is like driving six spirited horses with rotten reins, requiring constant vigilance against careless action. If a ruler lacks dignity, he loses authority (loses ministers); if he demands compliance without first setting an example, he violates his proper role (loses sovereignty).

Su Zhe (Yingbin) observes: Both frivolity and impatience are unacceptable. When a ruler acts lightly, ministers know him unreliable; when ministers act hastily, the ruler sees their self-interest. Wang Anshi (Linchuan) analyzes through movement-stillness dynamics: Ministers assist while the ruler leads. Stillness governs movement; weightiness supports lightness. Frivolity that forgets to return to steadiness loses its support; agitation that forgets to return to stillness loses its guidance.

Wang Pang emphasizes: Rulers must treat the realm as their foundation, never belittling it for personal reasons. Chen Xianggu notes: Kings governing the world must maintain steadiness and stillness to restrain frivolity and prevent rash overreach—never indulging desires or recklessly pursuing pleasure while forgetting governance.

Liu Ji (Qingyuanzi) laments how people fail to cherish themselves—harming life, damaging nature, courting death. Like rulers of ten thousand chariots acting carelessly toward their realm. Frivolity brings reckless action that loses ministers; impatience causes public disturbance that forfeits sovereignty. Sages remain steady without frivolity, calm without agitation—thus governing through wuwei (non-action) to perfect the world.

Huang Maocai concludes: Noble persons maintain steadiness in daily affairs (like armies never abandoning their supply trains), remaining serene amidst prosperity. Sadly, some rulers treat the realm lightly—here implying the human body as a microcosm of the realm, equally requiring careful attention.

This passage elucidates the correspondence between the human organs and state governance. The heart resembles a nation's ruler, the lungs serve as the prime minister assisting the sovereign, the liver functions like a commanding general, the gallbladder acts as an impartial judge, the pericardium region (Dantian) serves as the messenger conveying orders, the spleen and stomach operate like warehouse administrators, the large intestine manages material transportation, the small intestine handles storage duties, the kidneys constitute the source of power, the triple burner (Sanjiao) regulates water passages, while the bladder resembles local magistrates. Should the ruler (heart) become disordered, the entire kingdom (body) will descend into chaos.

The subsequent section interprets the meaning of "skillful action" from Chapter 27 of the Dao De Jing (Tao Te Ching):

Truly masterful action leaves no traces, as Su Zhe remarked: acting in accordance with natural principles inherently leaves no marks. Perfectly measured speech contains no flaws, resembling Wang Anshi's observation: words flowing like water naturally harmonize with the Dao. Genuine wisdom requires no counting rods, for the patterns of all things are thoroughly understood within.

The adept Dazhenzi further explains: Those who act through the Dao manifest action from inner authenticity without forced display, thus leaving no traces; those who speak through the Dao express words with uprightness free from distortion, thus committing no faults; those who strategize through the Dao comprehend through mindful observation without relying on external calculations. When the mind unites with the Dao, external things cannot intrude - thus needing no bolts to secure closure; when the mind concentrates on the Dao, undisturbed by external matters - thus requiring no ropes to maintain connection.

Liu Ji summarizes: Precisely because one acts naturally without forced action, the most skillful actions leave no traces. This resembles how a mother treats her child - seemingly permissive yet never truly separated, therefore maintaining connection effortlessly without constraints.

The traces left by a cart's wheels can be followed precisely because the path itself reveals them. The most profound words bear no fault to criticize, for they flow naturally from the Dao. Those skilled in strategy need no counting tools—by grasping fundamental principles, they comprehend all things. Those with whole forms and abundant spirit remain unswayed by desires. Thus, those adept at closing require no bolts yet none can open them, for their spirit is concentrated and their Qi settled, undisturbed even by heaven and earth. Those skilled at binding use no ropes yet cannot be undone, for this is the natural fusion of Yin and Yang energies.

Huang Maocai explains: Actions that do not defy the Dao leave no traces; words that do not stray from the Middle Way bear no faults. The truly wise need no calculations—grasping the "One," they understand the myriad things. True closure requires no bolts, for Jing and Qi are firmly guarded and not dissipated. True union needs no ropes, for it is the natural harmony of Yin and Yang.

Therefore, the sage is always skilled at saving others, so none are abandoned; always adept at utilizing all things, so nothing is discarded. This is what is called "inherited brightness" (Xi Ming, the subtle illumination received from the Dao). Emperor Huizong of Song comments: "Inherited" means receiving without ostentation—this brightness exists without dazzling.

Chen Jingyuan (Master Bixu) holds that "constant goodness" (Chang Shan) refers to upholding the eternal Dao and penetrating the principles of nature. "Inherited brightness" is the sage's subtle application of the constant Dao, enabling enlightened alignment with the innate nature of all things.

Su Zhe (Yingbin) states: Those fixated on counting with tallies, blocking with gates, or binding with ropes possess truly limited ability. The sage not only embraces others but excels in saving them. If I do not abandon others, how could they not turn to me? Rescuing people in crisis isn't true salvation—when beings are obscured by external things in the cycle of life and death, illuminating them with my light transforms all darkness into radiance, like an unbroken transmission of torches. Only this deserves to be called skilled salvation.

Ye Mengde observes: "Constant" (Chang) means being so at all times; "salvation" (Jiu) means responding when needed, never imposed. Liu Ji (Master Qingyuan) adds: Not only sages possess this mind—all people and things share this nature. When falsehood obscures innate authenticity or external things distort original nature, the inherent truth becomes hidden. The sage, ever skilled in salvation, abandons neither person nor object, guiding all to return to their source, recover their nature, withdraw scattered senses, and settle into inner stillness.

When the mind reaches utmost purity, the inner light of wisdom naturally manifests like a luminous lamp. This radiance can be transmitted through generations without ever extinguishing—this is what we call "inheriting the light" (Xi Ming).

Huang Maocai explains that these are actually innate potentials within the human body, attainable through cultivation. The Dao De Jing states, "Within the indistinct and hazy, there exists genuine reality." All people inherently possess this nature, but ordinary individuals lose sight of it unknowingly. Sages excel at saving all beings, never abandoning any person or thing—they simply help people awaken to themselves. Hence, it is called "inheriting the light."

The virtuous serve as teachers for the unvirtuous, while the unvirtuous serve as mirrors for the virtuous. The Imperial Commentary explains that "Zi" (资) means deriving lessons from them. Precisely because the unvirtuous exist, the value of virtue becomes even more apparent.

Chen Jingyuan (Master Bixu) believes that the establishment of positions such as the Son of Heaven and the Three Dukes was intended to educate the unvirtuous. Virtuous individuals can influence the unvirtuous through their own conduct, as the scripture says: "I treat the virtuous with virtue, and I also treat the unvirtuous with virtue." By transforming the unvirtuous through De (Virtue/Power), they can be made useful.

Master Dazhen further elaborates that "virtuous people" are those who embody the Five Virtues, while "unvirtuous people" lack these qualities. The virtuous can save the unvirtuous, hence they are teachers; the unvirtuous serve as cautionary examples, hence they are mirrors. The two influence each other: the unvirtuous emulate the virtuous and thus gain teachers, while the virtuous observe the unvirtuous and gain warnings—both come to understand truth through mutual interaction.

Liu Ji (Master Qingyuan) states that because the virtuous are worthy of emulation, they serve as teachers for the unvirtuous; because the faults of the unvirtuous provide opportunities for correction, they serve as mirrors for the virtuous.

Lin Dong adds that the virtuous conduct of good people can set an example, and seeing unvirtuous behavior without imitating it demonstrates the value of reflection. If one neither respects teachers nor values reflection, even intelligence will lead to great confusion—this is a profound mystery.

The Imperial Commentary concludes by noting that when all under heaven recognize what is virtuous, the unvirtuous arises. Those who truly comprehend the Dao transcend distinctions of good and evil, abiding in a state of no-mind—this is the essential wonder of unity with the Great Dao.

This passage discusses the transcendent attitude Daoist practitioners should maintain toward "teacher" (师) and "disciple" (资) in master-disciple relationships. Chen Jingyuan (Bixuzi) observes that although sages have attained inner freedom, they still establish lineages of transmission. Yet excessive reverence for teachers or doting on disciples can become fetters that hinder realization of the Dao (道).

Just as the legendary horse trainer Bole couldn't transform inferior steeds into thousand-mile stallions, nor could the most skilled carpenter carve beams from inferior wood, true cultivators must transcend attachment to formal teacher-disciple roles. The Daoist master Liezi attained the state of "wind immortal" (风仙) through studying with Lao Shang and befriending Bo Gao, yet later remarked he couldn't distinguish whether his attainment came from his teacher's guidance or the wind itself. Such complete self-forgetfulness represents the highest realization.

Su Zhe (Yingbin Xiansheng) suggests that sages impart teachings without leaving traces, thus showing no partiality toward disciples; likewise, seekers don't deliberately revere particular teachers. The sage not only forgets the world but enables the world to forget them. This mysterious state eludes even the comprehension of the wise.

Dazhenzi adds that without respecting teachers, the unvirtuous wouldn't know to cultivate; without caring for disciples, the virtuous wouldn't remain vigilant. Yet transcending such attachments allows one to grasp the Dao's essence.

Huang Maocai further explains: take the virtuous as teachers and the unvirtuous as mirrors. Ordinary people inevitably revere teachers and cherish disciples, but those who attain the Dao (得道者) rise above such distinctions, regarding virtue and non-virtue with equal detachment. This seemingly paradoxical wisdom embodies the Dao's profound mystery.

The subsequent chapter ("Know the Masculine" from Dao De Jing Chapter 28) teaches: knowing strength yet dwelling in gentleness like a mountain stream ensures purity like an infant's; understanding brilliance yet abiding in obscurity as the world's model makes one's eternal Virtue (德) unerring, returning to primordial undifferentiated unity.

This scripture expounds the Daoist wisdom of "maintaining softness and dwelling below." Laozi employs the metaphor of male and female: the male represents strength and assertiveness, while the female embodies gentleness and yielding. Though sages know how to prevail, they consciously choose an attitude of softness, stillness, and humility—like a valley that accommodates all streams, where all things naturally return without exhaustion.

By preserving this virtue of humility, one's innate nature remains in harmony with celestial virtue (De), as pure and unspoiled as an infant—breathing calmly without agitation, with a heart sincere and undistracted. Mencius' teaching that "the great person never loses the heart of a newborn child" conveys the same truth. The sage's inner radiance silently aligns with the Dao (the Way), and their actions are as precise as the orderly progression of the four seasons. This state is profound and boundless, referred to as the "Supreme Ultimate" (Wuji).

The "valley" symbolizes the virtue of emptiness and inclusiveness; attaining this state brings perfection. "Uncarved wood" (Pu) represents the Dao in its most authentic form—only by returning to simplicity can the Dao be fully embodied. Just as rulers humbly refer to themselves as "solitary" or "unworthy," this very humility wins the hearts of the world.

Chen Jingyuan further explains: the male signifies nobility and dominance, while the female denotes lowliness and gentleness. Those who embody the Dao understand that forceful competition invites disaster, so they actively maintain a posture of humility and softness. Thus, people naturally gravitate toward them like rivers flowing into a valley, turning away from aggression and haste to preserve eternal virtue.

The text speaks of how spiritual cultivators should return to the pure and natural state of an infant. The infant metaphor represents a realm free from distracting thoughts, utterly simple and uncontrived—where all dualistic notions of right and wrong have dissolved. Just as streams naturally flow into rivers, those who attain the Dao (the Way) understand that their mental state should be as empty as a valley. Only when the inner mind is clear and tranquil can the light of wisdom arise.

A truly accomplished practitioner maintains a state of deep stillness and silence. Though inwardly illuminated, they do not deliberately display it. This realm can serve as a model for all under heaven. When people take such virtue (De) as their standard, they embody the unchanging nature of De and become fully aligned with the Dao. The term "ultimate" refers to the profound boundlessness of the Dao. When people sincerely submit and emulate it, the cultivator must remain humble, willingly taking the lower position to bear the world's impurities. Thus, the hearts of all under heaven will naturally return to them like water flowing into a deep valley.

Inner virtue is as receptive as a valley—open and empty. When virtue becomes so abundant that it transcends names and forms, one returns to the original truth of the Dao. "Uncarved wood" (Pu) refers to concealing one's abilities and avoiding deliberate display. Su Zhe (also known as Yingbin) adds: In the world, opposing concepts like strength and weakness, priority and posteriority, black and white, honor and disgrace, nobility and baseness are all external entanglements. Though people instinctively seek prominence, brightness, and high status, the sage understands that such attachments obscure their true nature.

The more a cultivator awakens to their innate nature, the more they must hold to humility. The deeper their virtue, the more they can embrace all things. This surpasses mere ignorance—it is the state of knowing what could be done yet maintaining wuwei (non-action). To understand the principle of strength yet abide in gentleness is the mark of one who truly knows their nature. When the impulse to compete ceases, those who strive for supremacy in the world will naturally submit. Yet this state is like that of an infant—able to receive all things without deliberate action. To know the principle of brightness yet abide in obscurity is the sign of one who has penetrated their nature. In darkness, they can perceive the essence of all luminous things, becoming the unchanging standard for all beings. Thus, it is said that one must ultimately return to the formless origin—the Dao, which has neither beginning nor end, neither limit nor boundary.

Understanding glory yet willingly abiding in humility is returning to one's original nature. When all deluded thoughts are eliminated, even dwelling in lowliness brings no regret, with a heart as expansive as an empty valley. When all things come, respond naturally; here virtue reaches perfection, and one's nature remains pure and unadulterated. This is called returning to the state of utmost simplicity.

Master Dazhen (a Daoist epithet) said: Human nature must first return to the purity of an infant before it can attain the realm of Wuji (the origin of Dao). Only after reaching Wuji can one return to the genuine and unadorned—this is the sequence of Dao cultivation. When virtue does not deviate from the Dao, there will be no errors; when virtue is free from errors, it is truly complete—this is the sequence of virtue cultivation. Like streams converging into rivers, one ultimately becomes a model for all under heaven. Once a model is established, all good deeds merge into oneself, just as a valley embraces all things—this is the inevitable process of cultivation. Maintaining constancy in nature leads to constancy in virtue; constancy in virtue allows one to realize the eternal Dao—this is the order of Dao cultivation.

Liu Ji, the Daoist adept Qingyuanzi, explained: "Heaven generates water" (a cosmological theory) corresponds to Jing (essence) in the human body, representing the Yang within Yin, hence called "the masculine." "Earth generates fire" corresponds to Shen (spirit) in the body, representing the Yin within Yang, hence called "the feminine." To know the masculine is to nurture essence; to guard the feminine is to preserve spirit. The pure method of cultivation lies in guarding the spirit, maintaining it without loss, unifying with it, and attaining the state of emptiness and naturalness. When the body is empty, all things return naturally; when the mind is void, harmonious Qi gathers of its own accord—like water flowing into a valley, arriving without summons. Thus, one becomes the valley of the world. As the valley of the world, virtue and nature merge inseparably, constant virtue remains unbroken, and one returns to the state of an infant. The infant's characteristics are: at rest, unaware of what to do; in motion, unaware of where to go. Thus, while the world appears clever, I alone seem dull; while others are sharp and calculating, I alone remain muddled. This is the state of knowing brightness yet abiding in darkness.

To know brightness yet abide in darkness is to possess wisdom without misusing it—seeming foolish yet profoundly wise. Concentration and wisdom nourish each other; the mind, tranquil and unforced, cultivates itself naturally. Guard the essence of the Dao and enter the profound mystery; hold fast to the ultimate Dao and reach the state of undifferentiated silence. Cultivate the body of emptiness to realize the true nature; harmonize with the virtue of heaven and earth and resonate with the radiance of sun and moon. Thus, one becomes the model of the world. As the model of the world, virtue and nature unite flawlessly, constant virtue remains unerring, and one returns to the realm of Wuji. Wuji is the boundless, interconnected with the Dao, united with the Dao. The sage is one who embodies this realization.

The true essence of Dao remains unchanged by external things and does not harm the innate nature of life for the sake of beautiful objects. Though the world may be filled with dazzling splendor, those who attain Dao dwell in transcendent serenity. The purest white appears as if stained, and the highest virtue (De) seems foolish in outward appearance. Thus, those who truly understand glory willingly abide in humility. Knowing glory yet choosing the lowly position allows one to embrace all flaws and imperfections, like a vast valley that contains everything without exception.

By becoming the "hollow valley" of the world (symbolizing all-encompassing acceptance), one returns to the realm of true emptiness and merges with Dao. Only then does eternal virtue become truly complete, reverting to the original state of pristine simplicity. "Simplicity" refers to the undivided state of Dao, akin to the primordial chaos-qi at the dawn of creation—the most fundamental form of all things.

Huang Maocai explains: Dao itself is empty, tranquil, pure, and non-active (Wuwei), transcending all things. One might call it strong (masculine), yet why is it also described as yielding (feminine)? One might call it bright (white), yet why is it also called dark (black)? One might call it glorious (honored), yet why is it also deemed lowly (disgraced)? This is because the Great Dao always conceals itself, never flaunting its presence in the world. Though knowing strength, it rests in gentleness; though knowing brightness, it dwells in darkness; though knowing glory, it maintains humility. Thus, it becomes the valley of the world (symbolizing humble receptivity), serving as a model for all, embracing the myriad things.

The Great Dao is vast, and seekers of Dao are many, each entering through different paths: becoming the valley of the world enables virtue to endure eternally, returning to the purity of an infant; becoming the model of the world ensures virtue remains unerring, returning to the state of the limitless (Wuji); becoming the hollow valley of the world brings virtue to completion, returning to the original simplicity. These are various ways of cultivation through which one unites with Dao.

The Great Dao is difficult to articulate. Laozi repeatedly employs similar phrasing to emphasize this, making it easier for later generations to memorize and comprehend. When the original simplicity divides, it gives rise to concrete vessels. The sages applied this principle to establish systems of governance, hence the most perfect administrative system (great governance) does not sever the wholeness of Dao. Emperor Huizong of Song notes in his commentary: The formless and imageless is Dao; the formed and imaged are vessels. When Dao is whole, heaven and humanity are united; when vessels divide, heaven and humanity separate.

When sages cultivate their inner nature, the Dao (the Way) remains whole and undivided; but in governing the world, the Dao becomes dispersed and manifests through concrete affairs. All things in the world possess their own names and characteristics, allowing boundaries to be drawn for proper management. Thus, when sages establish official positions and oversee subordinates, the world achieves order—this is the principle behind instituting governance. The I Ching states: "One who perceives the subtle and discerns the obvious, who employs both gentleness and strength"—such a sage naturally becomes revered by all people, embodying the same principle discussed here.

Chen Jingyuan (Daoist name: Master Bixu) explains: When returning to the origin of the Dao, it is profound and indistinct—unseen, unheard—the realm of comprehending the true essence of the great Dao. Yet in statecraft, the Dao must disperse into concrete systems and methods. Master Heshang once said: The root of all things disperses into specific objects; the Dao scatters and transforms into divine spirits, flows as the sun and moon, and divides into the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water). When the human heart-mind scatters, it gives rise to thoughts; once thoughts stir, actions manifest, and affairs arise. These concrete matters require corresponding talents to manage. Thus, sages appoint worthy individuals to lead the hundred officials according to their abilities, thereby governing all things well—following their nature without forceful interference.

Su Zhe (style name: Yingbin) observes: After sages return to the Dao's origin, they again disperse this origin into concrete methods to respond to all things. Like a ruler establishing offices to govern the land, this follows natural tendencies—planned yet not forcibly fragmented.

Lu Dian clarifies: "Uncarved wood" (pu) refers to the Dao's undivided wholeness, while "vessels" (qi) denote separated, concrete things. Chaos is unity, and unity is the uncarved wood; division is separation, and separation creates vessels. Vessels are the opposite of the uncarved wood. Therefore, sages employ talent through reasonable division, instituting governance—thus the most enlightened systems cause no harm.

Liu Gai interprets "the great system does not cut apart" as leading without dominating. Governing the world through Wuwei (non-action) is the highest form of system. Such governance lets the small naturally fulfill the small, the great naturally fulfill the great, without forced intervention. Preserving softness is inferior to preserving chaos; preserving chaos is inferior to preserving humility—the ultimate humility enters the mysterious realm of the great Dao.

Cao Daochong (Daoist name: Master Renjing) once annotated: The highest systems bear no traces of deliberate carving. Liu Zhengzou of Shandong relayed this view to Wang Pang, who included it in his commentary. To expand: The greatest system resembles heaven and earth's creation—all things form according to their inherent nature, requiring no artificial shaping.

Master Dazhen concludes: Ordinary systems enforce through division, but the great system (dazhi) needs no such measures.

This passage elucidates the core Daoist concept of "governing through non-action (Wuwei)." Laozi believed that ruling the world must follow the natural Dao, without forceful interference.

Chen Xianggu explains that just as raw wood (pu) naturally divides into various utensils, governing the world should accord with the innate nature of all things. A skilled ruler uses objects according to their size and material properties—joining what fits together and separating what doesn't—all following natural principles without requiring sages to forcibly divide them.

Huang Maocai further clarifies that "pu" represents the original substance of Dao, an undifferentiated whole. Sages govern all things by following Dao, and because Dao is supremely noble, they become true rulers. Since Dao is used to govern the world, why impose artificial divisions?

In Chapter 29, Laozi states: "Those who wish to seize and forcibly govern the world—I see they cannot succeed." Chen Jingyuan interprets that such attempts not only lose Dao but invite self-destruction. Su Zhe observes that sages gain the world not through seizure but through all things naturally submitting to them; their governance isn't forceful action but the natural resolution of harms through following cosmic patterns.

Huang Maocai illustrates with historical examples: even enlightened rulers like King Tang of Shang or King Wu of Zhou would fail through forceful governance. It's like someone disturbed by external stimuli—seeking purity amid sensory chaos through compulsion only creates greater confusion.

Cheng Dachang concludes that one must act according to natural laws without personal willfulness. Forcibly manipulating contrary to nature constitutes "seizing the world to act upon it," ensuring failure. "Having no alternative" refers precisely to wanting to seize but being unable to achieve it.

Finally, Chen Jingyuan employs parables: boring seven holes in Hundun (Chaos) kills it, whipping horses exhausts their strength—these are consequences of forceful action. Persisting in such willfulness while claiming sage-like governance loses both truth and original nature. Thus, the obstinate ultimately lose everything.

Su Zhe (Yingbin) observed: All things in the world cannot be forcibly altered. Even a small group, if manipulated against natural principles, will inevitably resist and rebel—how much more so when governing the world? Though minor matters may be conquered by force or seized through cunning, the vast world (here "the world" refers to the entire cosmos or nation) is secretly governed by divine spirits (shenming). Attempting to seize it before its natural submission invites rebellion; obstructing its natural flow breeds chaos.

Liu Ji (Qingyuanzi) explained: The "divine vessel of the world" refers to the instruments overseen by the celestial and earthly spirits. The human body mirrors heaven and earth in structure, aligns with yin-yang in transformation, and is inherently a sacred vessel. One should maintain a serene mind, harmonize qi (vital energy) with emptiness, follow the natural order of things, and refrain from selfish interference—thus the world naturally attains peace. Forcibly seizing the world to satisfy personal desires means disrupting the Dao (the Way) through human artifice and defying the Mandate of Heaven. Such efforts, I observe, are doomed to fail. Just as the Yellow Emperor lost his Mystic Pearl (a metaphor for innate authenticity) while gazing southward, and the primordial Hundun (Chaos) died when given seven orifices, forceful intervention ultimately backfires.

Huang Maicai further elaborated: The sacred vessel of the world can neither be forcibly altered nor held onto. Is the human body not also a divine vessel? Why do eyes see? Why do ears hear? Why do feet move? All are governed by the inner spirit (shen). Ancient cultivators nurtured this spirit, transcending all things to become what we call "spiritual beings" (shenren). How could such a state be achieved through force or control?

Thus, all things have their own nature: some lead while others follow, some move slowly while others swiftly, some are strong while others weak, some flourish while others decay. Hence, the sage (one who embodies the Dao) rejects extremes, extravagance, and excess. Emperor Huizong of Song (in his imperial commentary) explained: The movement of all things follows patterns—the alternation of sun and moon, the cycle of seasons, the waxing and waning of the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water), the withering and blooming of plants—all bound by time and destiny. Only the sage rises above worldly attachments, maintaining constancy while standing apart from all things. Observing the transformations of the world, the sage recognizes that excessive pursuit becomes a burden. Thus, they avoid over-nurturing life, indulging desires, or chasing extremes, instead dwelling within natural limits with effortless ease. How, then, could there be failure for those who force or loss for those who cling? Hence, all elaborate adornments are superfluous.

The Master of Azure Emptiness Chen Jingyuan explains that these eight matters refer to external things that cannot be forcibly sought—excessive luxury and indulgence all transgress natural boundaries. Because extravagance leads to such behaviors, Laozi specifically issues this profound admonition.

Su Zhe of Yingbin interprets: Yin and Yang mutually stimulate each other, heights and depths depend on one another, and great and small influence each other. Some walk ahead while others follow; some breathe warmth while others exhale chill; some strengthen while others weaken; some support creation while others bring destruction. These are all natural patterns of things, inevitable outcomes of circumstance. Yet foolish people in the world, obsessed with selfish gain, constantly try to resist and defy these principles, resulting only in calamity or failure. Only the sage understands that one must not oppose but rather comply with these patterns, eliminating extremes, eliminating extravagance, and eliminating excess, so that things do not become excessive and suffer harm. In this way, the world is free from disaster. This is the highest state of Wuwei (non-action). When Yao and Tang faced floods and droughts, though they could not entirely avoid them, no great catastrophe ensued—precisely because of this principle.

The Yi Jing’s Tai hexagram states: The ruler achieves the Dao of heaven and earth through regulation, assisting the natural order to govern the people. Three yang lines within and three yin lines without signify the peak of prosperity. The sage, fearing that excess brings harm, regulates and assists to prevent extremity. This is the elimination of excess, extravagance, and overreach.

Wang Anshi of Linchuan observes: By being content in stable circumstances, one eliminates extremes; by treasuring frugality, one eliminates extravagance; by consciously maintaining a mindset of insufficiency, one eliminates excess.

Chen Xianggu points out: These are all behaviors that exceed norms and overstep boundaries. The reason for this is failing to grasp the fundamental principle.

Liu Ji, the Master of Clear Source, illustrates: It is like the principle of all things in motion—where there is leading, there is following; where there is exhaling, there is inhaling; where there is strength, there is decline; where there is support, there is ruin. How can the transformations of things have fixed patterns? Only the sage can comprehend the constancy of the Dao, transcending past and present, uniting with the Dao and aligning with nature. Eliminating extremes, extravagance, and excess is to cultivate the mind by realizing the Dao’s natural order.

Huang Maocai concludes: All things either lead or follow, bring warmth or cold, strengthen or weaken—these are all manifestations of natural law.

This passage discusses the principle of moderation in human conduct. It begins by describing several extreme states: some people start their endeavors smoothly but gradually decline; others force themselves excessively, straining too hard; while some drift with the current, appearing overly passive. These tendencies—whether excessive or deficient—are not ideal states.

Thus, the sage (referring to a wise person) avoids three extremes: excess (shen), extravagance (she), and overindulgence (tai), instead pursuing the balanced "Middle Way." As the classic states: speaking too much often leads to trouble—it is better to maintain centered harmony.

The Song dynasty scholar Cheng Dachang explains: behaviors that have already reached the extremes of "shen, she, tai" must be eliminated, but those not yet at that point can be temporarily set aside without harsh judgment. He cites the example of Cao Can (a Western Han chancellor), who studied Huang-Lao Daoist teachings under Master Gai and advocated against excessive interference in prisons and marketplaces, as these places inevitably harbor deceitful individuals. Overzealous regulation would only leave such people with nowhere to go, potentially causing greater chaos.

This passage comes from Volume 7 of Collected Commentaries on the Dao De Zhen Jing (Daode Zhenjing Jizhu), primarily elucidating the Daoist wisdom of "guarding the center" (shou zhong). It emphasizes that both governance and self-cultivation should avoid extremes, maintaining balance and moderation.