《道德真經集註(二)》Vol. 9

This passage primarily explains the meaning of "The Great Dao (the Way) flows everywhere and can go left or right" from Chapter 34 of the Daodejing. Several commentators interpret the characteristics of the Dao from different perspectives:

The Great Dao (the cosmic primordial law) flows extensively like water, unbound by any constraints—it can turn left or right. The Song Dynasty emperor's commentary explains that the Dao moves freely like water, active or still as it pleases, coming and going endlessly, able to shift in any direction. Chen Jingyuan states that the Dao fills the vast emptiness yet does not cling to anything; whether left or right, one can find its origin—it is omnipresent. Su Zhe suggests the Dao is unrestricted, capable of moving freely in all directions.

Wang Pang points out that the Dao is not fixed to any single thing, allowing it to penetrate everything. Ye Mengde references the Yijing's Yin-Yang concept, proposing that "left" represents Yang and "right" Yin—the Dao does not favor either side but transitions freely between them. Lin Dong offers another interpretation, suggesting "left and right" signifies assistance, akin to Laozi's idea of "supporting all things in their natural development."

The latter part discusses how the Dao nurtures all things without claiming credit. Su Zhe observes that there are two kinds of existence in the world: one that claims what it creates as its own, and another that shirks responsibility. The Dao, however, creates all things without possessing them. Wang Anshi notes that all things rely on the Dao to grow, yet the Dao never refuses; it accomplishes all without boasting, like a towering mountain achieving greatness in silence. Cao Daochong emphasizes that the Dao achieves all through Wuwei (non-action), neither rejecting abundance nor flaunting its power. Chen Xianggu concludes that the Dao neither boasts of its creative achievements nor claims ownership over them.

Ye Mengde said that all things depend on the Dao for their existence, yet this is not my achievement, but rather the natural operation of yin and yang energies. After all things come into being, I cannot claim credit for them. Not even nominal merit can be appropriated, let alone actual control over them.

Huang Maocai pointed out that the growth of all things manifests the Dao, thus no one can claim its accomplishments as their own. Though the virtue of nurturing all beings is immense, the Dao never takes credit after bringing things to completion. Like garments that cover all things without proclaiming ownership, this desire-free state may be called "small"; while all beings return to the Dao without knowing its rulership, this all-encompassing quality may be termed "great." Therefore, sages never consider themselves great, yet thereby achieve true greatness.

Emperor Huizong of Song's imperial commentary explains: When the Dao manifests in subtlety, it appears small and distinguishable from things; when manifesting through transformation, it appears great and merges with all existence. Being distinguishable, it shows no desire; being merged, all things return to it. Though nourishing all beings, the Dao displays no signs of rulership—thus it acts as no master. Though inspiring all life, it leaves no traces of dominion—thus remains unnoticed as sovereign. The Dao itself cannot be measured by greatness or smallness—these terms merely describe its manifestations among the myriad things.

Chen Jingyuan (Master Bixu) and Du Guangting observed: When sages care for the people and cherish all creatures, bestowing kindness regardless of size, this may be called "small"; when letting all things follow their nature while attributing merit to heaven, this may be called "great." Following the Dao's principles to implement teachings, influencing others through simple harmony, governing with wuwei policies, and never boasting of achievements—thus they accomplish enduring greatness. Cultivators should be like aimless floating clouds or water adapting to its vessel, flexible in all circumstances. Though assisting countless beings, they claim no merit; though their benevolence pervades all, it stems from no selfish intent; though all goodness returns to the Dao, they assume no lordship. Only thus can they embody the Dao's nature—neither small nor great—avoiding self-aggrandizing judgments to merge with the supreme Way.

Su Zhe added: Those who consider themselves great and deliberately display it actually appear small. Wang Pang noted: Deliberately seeking rulership creates opposition with all things. Only by not forcing dominion over beings can one truly become their refuge.

The Dao is something that appears minute yet encompasses all things, seemingly vast yet never departing from the subtle. When people observe the Dao, they often perceive only one aspect of it. Ultimately, the Dao cannot be described as either small or large, nor can it be fully expressed in words—it can only be truly grasped through intuitive understanding. If one deliberately emphasizes the vastness of the Dao, they inadvertently limit its true nature. Precisely because the Dao does not assert its own greatness, to reluctantly describe it as "great" is to acknowledge its genuine immensity.

Cao Daochong (known by his Daoist name Master Renjing) remarked: The Dao never proclaims its own greatness, yet it becomes the source of all things. It does not contend for precedence, yet it is the ancestor of heaven and earth.

Chen Xianggu explained: All things arise from the Dao, yet the Dao does not claim dominion over them. Its function is omnipresent. When people abandon desire and observe the Dao's profundity, it may be called "small"; yet when it remains whole in its original nature, all things receive its grace without it taking credit. Its influence is profound and immeasurable, and in this sense, it may be called "great."

Huang Maocai observed: The Dao itself has no inherent distinction between small and large. When we relinquish desire and observe it, it appears subtle; when all things unknowingly follow its governance, it seems vast. The sages, having grasped this principle in their engagement with the world, are indeed magnificent—yet they never presume their own greatness.

Chapter 35 speaks of "holding fast to the Great Dao": If one grasps the fundamental principle of the Great Dao, all under heaven will turn to them without suffering harm, attaining a state of peace, harmony, and unimpeded flow.

The imperial commentary explains: The "Great Image" (Daxiang) is like the movement of celestial phenomena—seemingly wuwei (non-action) yet full of power, silent yet revealing its patterns. The sage governs the world in the same way, acting with wuwei and teaching without words, so that the people naturally turn to them as they would to their parents. When yin and yang are harmonized, spirits and ghosts cause no disturbance, all things flourish in peace, and though the people possess wisdom, they have no need to use it—how could there be any harm? Peace means no fear of peril, harmony means no danger of obstruction, and unimpeded flow signifies smooth and balanced prosperity.

Wang Anshi said: The "Great Image" is a metaphor for the Dao. By grasping its root, one becomes the destination to which all things return. If one can follow the true principles of life, accepting without resistance, they will reach a state free from harm. Peace precedes harmony, and only with harmony can there be unimpeded flow.

Cao Daochong pointed out: The true "Great Image" has no concrete form.

The relationship between mother and child is such that there never exists a mother in one place without the child naturally drawing near. All things adhere to those who possess De (Virtue), just as children return to their mother's embrace. So long as nothing harms their interests, they mutually nourish each other, maintaining a state of harmony and tranquility.

Da Zhenzi (Daoist scholar) explains: The "Great Image" is the manifest form of the Dao. Yet the Dao itself cannot be forcibly grasped. The sage comprehends the essence of the Dao—appearing to hold it while actually just following nature. Precisely because sages follow the Great Dao, all things under heaven naturally return to them. Hence the saying "Hold fast to the Great Dao, and all under heaven will turn to you." "Turning" here means returning to the source. When nothing can shake this state, it's called "tranquility"; when nothing can create danger, it's called "peace"; when nothing can destroy it, it's called "serenity."

Ye Mengde (Song Dynasty scholar) considers the "Great Image" as the most immense existence. Between seeming presence and absence, there truly exists an essence—profoundly concealed, impossible to simply define as "great." Only by relinquishing attachments can one perceive true greatness. Then all things under heaven begin to follow it. Though we receive nourishment from the Dao, we cannot see its form. All things exist according to their inherent nature without mutual interference, hence no mutual harm. Maintaining authenticity brings tranquility, following one's fundamental nature brings peace, and conforming to innate character brings serenity.

Liu Ji (Daoist master Qingyuanzi) states: "Image" represents things in their initial manifest state, still not far removed from the Dao, thus serving as its metaphor. The "Great Image" is imageless "image"—the true principle within emptiness. When the body maintains emptiness, all things naturally return; when the mind maintains voidness, harmonious Qi naturally gathers. Therefore, those who master the Dao of the Great Image find all under heaven turning to them. As scriptures say: "The Supreme Void contains divine luminosity; heaven and earth pay homage to the true Dao." Even the essence of all things and the existence of Wuji (the Infinite) will return—like pouring without filling, like dipping without exhausting, benefiting without harming, acting without contending. Thus returning to the Dao brings no harm, achieving states of tranquility, peace and serenity—"tranquility" means abiding in one's nature, "peace" means internal-external harmony, and "serenity" means vertical-horizontal integration, merging with heaven, earth and nature.

Huang Maocai (Daoist scholar) observes: The Dao originally has no form—who could truly grasp it? Yet there must exist that which governs it, hence all things under heaven turn toward it. "Turning" means its omnipresence. In the ancient eras of Fu Xi and the Yellow Emperor, people ate while playing and patted their bellies in leisure—every moment lived within the Dao. This was true tranquility, peace and serenity—how could there be any harm?

Here we use the metaphors of music and fine food to illustrate the characteristics of the Dao. Pleasant music makes people stop to listen, and delicious food makes passersby pause to taste, yet prolonged listening fatigues the ears, and overindulgence in delicacies dulls the palate. Just as guests who stay too long wear out their welcome, so too do people initially support newly established laws and customs, only to grow weary of their flaws over time. Zhuangzi said that benevolence and righteousness were like the temporary lodgings of ancient kings—meant for brief stays, not permanent residence, lest they invite reproach.

The Dao operates entirely differently. When spoken, it seems bland and flavorless; when observed, it appears unremarkable; when heard, it sounds unmelodious. Yet its efficacy is inexhaustible. The true Dao doesn't rely on sweet words ("faithful words are not beautiful"), and its Wuwei (non-action) allows people to live in peace, much like ancient times when people ate their fill and wandered contentedly, with no need to deliberately pursue pleasing sounds or exquisite flavors.

Su Zhe supplements this: When the music ends and the food is consumed, guests depart. But when the Great Image (Dao) governs the world, though people may not recognize its beauty, neither will they grow to resent it. Though lacking seductive colors, aromas, or flavors to please the senses, its function never diminishes.

Wang Anshi further explains: People become addicted to the Five Flavors and Five Tones precisely because they delight the senses. Only the Dao, flavorless to the tongue and silent to the ear, makes no appeal to sensory pleasure. Precisely because it doesn't chase after sensory gratification—appearing unremarkable to the eye and unmelodious to the ear—its marvelous efficacy remains eternally inexhaustible.

Cao Daochong concludes: Music ("乐") and delicacies ("饵") can only attract temporarily, while the Great Dao, though seemingly plain, contains eternal value. This metaphor vividly illustrates the fundamental difference between worldly pleasures and the eternal Dao.

This scripture conveys two main teachings:

The first part uses the metaphor of food and music: Music delights the mind while food nourishes the body. When both inner and outer needs are satisfied, even passersby will stop to partake—how much more so for those who dwell there permanently. Though the Dao (the fundamental truth of Daoism) is vast and profound, its expression appears simple and plain. At first hearing it seems bland, but careful contemplation reveals its depth. Without mystical insight one cannot see it; without quiet listening one cannot hear it. Though it brings no immediate benefits, sustained cultivation shows its inexhaustible nature.

Huang Maocai supplements: Music and fine food can make travelers pause—worldly pleasures can delight people thus. But when the Dao is spoken, it has no flavor; when observed, no color; when heard, no sound. Yet for those who comprehend and apply it, its efficacy is boundless—how could external things compare?

The second part explains the principle of "desiring to contract" (xi, meaning to gather or withdraw): To contract something, one must first expand it; to weaken something, one must first strengthen it; to abolish something, one must first promote it; to take something, one must first give it.

Imperial commentary explains this as the sage's ability to perceive subtle signs. Chen Jingyuan notes that while historical interpretations abound, none are systematic. Some liken it to Confucius' saying "One may join them in pursuing the Dao, but not necessarily in exercising discretion," while others explain it through statecraft, resembling strategies of political maneuvering. In truth, it aligns with the celestial mechanism described in the Yinfu Jing (Scripture of Hidden Correspondence), requiring the wise to apply it flexibly.

Su Zhe observes: Attempting to take without first giving means insufficient strength and incomplete rationale. Without sufficient strength, taking becomes difficult; without complete rationale, persuasion fails. Yet this approaches scheming—how would it differ from the methods of Guan Zhong or Sun Wu? While sages and ordinary people may act similarly outwardly, sages follow heavenly principles whereas ordinary people employ cunning. Following principles resembles a doctor prescribing according to symptoms; employing cunning resembles merchants chasing profit.

Wang Anshi states: Ordinary people are often led by the transformations of Yin-Yang without understanding reversal. Thus to expand, one must first contract; to strengthen, one must first appear weak. Knowing masculine vigor manifests through movement, one should maintain feminine softness; recognizing whiteness symbolizes brightness, one should dwell in darkness. Therefore, by approaching life with contraction, all expansion under heaven will return to you rather than be contracted by others; by maintaining softness, all strength under heaven will gather to you.

When things reach their extreme, they inevitably reverse—this is the natural order of the Dao (the Way). Just as a bowstring stretched to its limit must slacken, or power at its zenith inevitably declines, what flourishes to the fullest will eventually wane, and excessive giving invites loss. The sun and moon, having reached their zenith at noon, begin their descent; the full moon, once complete, starts to wane. Even celestial bodies follow this pattern—how much more so the affairs of humanity?

Several Daoist practitioners have offered profound insights on this: Cao Daochong observed that those who perceive subtle transformations tend to act with caution and thoroughness; Chen Xianggu noted that extremes inevitably trigger countermovements; Liu Ji summarized this as the immutable law of Yin-Yang waxing and waning with the phrase "things reverse upon reaching their limit"; Huang Maocai likened it to the natural cycle of seasons—within peak strength lies the seed of decline, and within prosperity, the omen of decay.

True wisdom lies in discerning the subtle to foresee the obvious. Ordinary people only notice overt changes, but the wise anticipate trends from faint signs—perceiving expansion and foreseeing contraction, detecting strength and predicting decline. This insight is called "subtle clarity" (weiming)—a wisdom seemingly obscure yet profoundly lucid.

The secret of the soft overcoming the hard lies in aligning with nature. The sage understands that strength has its limits, thus maintaining a posture of gentleness. When the world exhausts itself in strife, those who do not contend are preserved. This is not deliberate victory but a natural choice born of understanding the Dao's patterns. The hard may temporarily suppress the soft, but the soft endures; in form, strength may overpower weakness, yet the Dao's movement ensures the soft ultimately prevails. True triumph lies not in conquering others but in transcending one's own limitations.

Huang Maocai explains: The soft never actively overcomes the hard, yet the hard often fails to subdue the soft—hence the saying "the soft and weak overcome the hard and strong." The small and weak do not deliberately seek to conquer the mighty, yet the mighty frequently cannot suppress the weak—thus we say "the weak can overcome the strong."

Just as fish cannot leave the deep waters, the core power of a state should not be casually revealed. Here, fish and the abyss serve as metaphors: the abyss is where fish conceal themselves, just as state power is the foundation of governance. Like a ship-swallowing leviathan stranded on shore—even ants can harm it—one must not abandon the environment that protects them. The sage (referring to a ruler who has attained the Dao) governs the world without displaying cunning, commands awe over all things without resorting to force, and thus the world naturally achieves peace.

Chen Jingyuan (Daoist name "Master Bixu") adds: If a state's strategies and schemes are leaked to the common people, even ordinary folk will resort to manipulation—let alone ambitious schemers.

Su Zhe (styled "Yingbin") elaborates further: Fish lack sharp claws or teeth for self-defense, yet when hidden in deep waters, even the strongest cannot catch them. Once they leave the water and are stranded on land, they become mere helpless prey. The sage abides in a state of softness and weakness, not only rendering the strong powerless to harm them but also gaining mastery over the situation—this is the highest form of "sharp weapon." Just as fish are only caught when they leave the water, the sage, precisely by maintaining a posture of softness, ultimately commands the world. How could such wisdom be casually shared with ordinary people?

Wang Anshi (of Linchuan) states: It is the nature of fish to dwell in the depths and conceal themselves—they must not leave the abyss. Likewise, the methods by which sages govern the world are always subtle and unfathomable, yet never depart from the fundamental Dao (where "pu" refers to the essence of the Way).

Cao Daochong (Daoist name "Master Daozhen Renjing") points out: The abyss is the fish's refuge—to leave it invites nets and hooks. The Dao is humanity's foundation for living—to lose it invites calamity. Weapons that benefit the state must be concealed to dispel the wicked thoughts of thieves—how can they be casually displayed?

Ye Mengde concludes: Sages have their own methods for governing the world, but these cannot be openly revealed—this is what is called the "sharp weapon." Just as a ship-swallowing leviathan, once out of water, can be subdued by mere ants, such is the peril of abandoning one's foundation. Thus, the sage always remains deeply concealed—ancient people called this state "divine and wondrous."

(Note: These commentaries collectively elucidate the Laozi's teaching that "the soft and weak overcome the hard and strong." Through the metaphor of fish and the abyss, they illustrate that both governance and personal cultivation require guarding the root and maintaining hiddenness. The "sharp weapon" refers to strategies of statecraft or fundamental methods, while "pu" denotes the simple, unadorned nature of the Dao.)

This passage synthesizes commentaries by multiple Daoist scholars on the Daode Jing, primarily elucidating the political wisdom of "governing through non-action (Wuwei)" and the philosophy of "keeping one's tools concealed" in worldly conduct.

From the ancient sages Fuxi to King Wen of Zhou, all created tools according to their eras to benefit the people, allowing them to use these innovations naturally without probing their underlying principles. As Confucius observed, forcibly making people understand through violent means would instead provoke cunning behavior—this explains why deception and hypocrisy proliferated after the Xia, Shang, and Zhou dynasties.

Huang Maocai illustrates with the butcher Ding's parable: just as a skilled chef cleans and stores his blade after carving an ox, a ruler should understand the art of concealing brilliance. Fish caught out of water become easy prey; similarly, a state's vital strategies, if revealed, will be seized by others. Lin Dong adds that this resembles how one shouldn't abandon blessings to invite calamity—displaying military might only provokes conflict, harming all beings and ultimately bringing disaster.

Chapter 37 of the Daode Jing states that the Dao (the Way) eternally remains in non-action yet accomplishes all things. Chen Jingyuan explains: the Dao's constant state is serene stillness (zhanji budong), hence called "non-action"; yet it adapts to all transformations, thus being "all-accomplishing." If rulers maintain this empty stillness, all things will be naturally influenced. Huang Maocai further clarifies: precisely because the Dao refrains from deliberate action, it can achieve everything. When rulers follow this principle, all things are nurtured spontaneously—a transformative power only the Dao can manifest.

Su Zhe (Yingbin) annotates: sages use non-action to influence all beings. When desires arise among creatures, they employ the "nameless simplicity" (the Dao's primordial, unadorned state) to pacify them. Just as a mother soothes her infant with milk, sages use the Dao's simplicity to settle the people's hearts.

This scripture primarily discusses the concept of "governing through Wuwei (non-action)" and how to pacify people's minds using the "nameless simplicity" (the pristine state of Dao). Several Daoist scholars interpret this concept from different perspectives:

The original state is one of natural Wuwei, much like an infant gradually maturing. However, as artificial constructs accumulate—similar to the decline during the Xia, Shang, and Zhou dynasties—human minds grow increasingly complex. When such changes first emerge, if rulers can pacify people's minds with "nameless simplicity" (referring to the authentic state of Dao), this trend might be halted.

Cao Daochong suggests that when people live in excessive comfort, their behavior becomes unrestrained. At such times, "nameless simplicity" should be employed to restore their tranquility. This state defies verbal description yet undeniably exists.

Dazhenzi points out that "transformation leading to desires" represents the dispersed state of Dao, while "nameless simplicity" embodies its concentrated state. Using simplicity to pacify means returning the named to the nameless and artificiality to Wuwei—this is called "returning to the origin."

Liu Ji argues that a tranquil mind is "Shen (spirit)"; when Shen is calm, all things grow naturally. An agitated mind is "emotion"; when emotions stir, all things perish. "Nameless simplicity" preserves one's innate nature—the very source of Dao. Maintaining this state requires purity, stillness, self-forgetfulness, and unity with Dao.

Finally, it is mentioned that when even the notion of "nameless simplicity" disappears, true purity is achieved, and the world naturally returns to the right path. As the Yijing states, "the transformations of the heavenly Dao bring all things to their proper nature and destiny"—this represents the highest state of governance.

Su Zhe adds that a true sage neither consciously maintains simplicity in the heart nor outwardly displays traces of it. If one still harbors thoughts of preserving simplicity, they remain far from Dao.

Ye Mengde concludes that quiet cultivation means exhausting one's nature to fulfill heavenly destiny.

Zhuangzi states that those who truly attain the state of "uprightness" do not violate the genuine nature of life. This state is achieved by understanding how to maintain inner tranquility.

Liu Ji (Qingyuanzi) explains that Zhuangzi's saying "embrace the spirit and maintain stillness, and the physical form will naturally become upright" conveys the same principle as the Daode Jing's teaching: "When I prefer stillness, the people naturally become upright."

Huang Maocai further elaborates: Although "Pu" (referring to the original state of the Dao) has no specific name, if one still harbors the thought of "Pu" in their mind, it indicates they have not yet truly reached the state of desirelessness. The ancient sages of supreme cultivation not only lacked desire for material things but also had no deliberate pursuit of the Dao itself. They simply maintained a serene and unattached mind, abiding in a state of Wuwei (non-action), allowing all things under heaven to follow their inherent nature spontaneously. How could such individuals harbor any desires?

(This commentary, through the interpretations of three scholars, progressively elucidates the core Daoist concept of "governing through Wuwei": genuine uprightness is not achieved through deliberate striving but by preserving inner stillness and Wuwei, enabling all things to naturally return to their original state.)