《道德真經注疏》Vol. 3

This passage elucidates two key concepts from the Daode Jing: "the manifestation of great De (Virtue)" and "Dao as the fundamental substance."

"The manifestation of great De" describes the characteristics of those possessing supreme virtue. Individuals of great De (referring to highly cultivated persons) have expansive minds capable of embracing all things, willingly occupying humble positions. They never follow trends blindly, but act in complete accordance with the principles of Dao. Here, "manifestation" refers both to outward expression and inner capacity for tolerance. In every word and deed, such individuals fully embody the realm of Dao.

The section on "Dao as the fundamental substance" describes the mysterious nature of Dao. Dao is neither pure being nor pure non-being, but exists in a state of "indistinct vagueness" (elusive and difficult to grasp). Though Dao appears formless and intangible, it contains within it the generative principles and vital Qi (energy) that produce all things. The relationship between Dao and phenomena is this: Dao exists within all things, yet all things cannot exist apart from Dao—they are neither identical nor separate.

Gu Huan further explains that while Dao appears formless and imageless, it manifests through the forms of all things; seemingly empty, it truly exists and functions effectively. Within this indistinct state resides both the essential Qi (the fundamental substance of matter) and the divine function that generates all phenomena. Thus Dao is neither identical with concrete things nor separable from them—this seemingly paradoxical nature precisely constitutes the profound mystery of Dao.

The Dao, though profound and mysterious without fixed form, contains within it the subtle energy of Jing (essence), which manifests the interaction of divine forces. When the two Qi (vital energies) of Yin and Yang converge and fuse, they give rise to the physical forms and spiritual essence of all things. The commentary explains that this refers to the primordial Qi in the brain transforming into refined essence. This generative process is unfathomably subtle yet undeniably real.

The essence contained within the Dao is supremely pure and authentic, not a false ornament. Among the three treasures of Jing (essence), Qi (vital energy), and Shen (spirit), special emphasis is placed on Jing because it represents the quintessence of Qi and serves as the foundation for Shen's function. This supreme essence is flawless in its purity.

Though the Dao conceals its achievements and names, it contains within it genuine verification (信, "trust"). Just as refined essence, without transforming into flesh and blood, can attain the state of a perfected being (真人), the Dao, though formless, inherently possesses this verification. Though the Dao has no mind of its own, it resonates with all things—its reliability is as unfailing as the turning of the seasons.

From ancient times to the present, the name of the Dao will never vanish. Time may be divided into past and present, but the Dao itself neither comes nor goes. Though sages may perish, the name of the Dao endures forever. While the Dao appears to have neither origin nor destination, its presence can be perceived by observing the beginnings and endings of all things.

The Dao bestows the initial life force upon all beings, and all things receive their primordial Qi from it. Though the supreme Dao seems to neither come nor go, it penetrates past and present, comprehending the transformations of all things from beginning to end. Laozi asks himself: How do I know the patterns of all things' beginnings and endings? Precisely by observing that all things exist by receiving the refined essence of the Dao, and that all human activities invariably follow its principles.

The path of cultivation through purity and sincerity may appear elusive and profound, yet only those who truly comprehend can grasp its essence.

By yielding, one preserves wholeness. This "yielding" means relinquishing self-importance, following others' lead without obstinacy—thus maintaining one's integrity. As Zhuangzi said, "I walk around obstacles, thus sparing my feet from harm." This teaches us to transcend distinctions between favorable and adverse circumstances.

Enduring injustice brings ultimate vindication. This "injustice" refers to temporary self-sacrifice for others' benefit—over time, fairness naturally prevails. Understanding that injustice and justice are two sides of the same coin allows one to face slander without resentment, ultimately attaining true righteousness. This teaches detachment from praise and blame.

Low-lying land naturally gathers water. Just as depressions collect flowing streams, maintaining humble virtue allows De (Virtue/Power) to accumulate naturally. This teaches the relinquishment of competitive striving.

Embracing simplicity brings renewal. Voluntarily accepting modest living conditions while yielding benefits to others eventually earns universal respect and spiritual rebirth. This teaches indifference to fame and disgrace.

Taking less gains more. Those who consciously claim less receive greater abundance, for the Dao favors the humble, and the divine favors the empty vessel.

Grasping much leads to confusion. Excessive wealth becomes its own prison; scattered knowledge breeds bewilderment. Ordinary people, burdened by endless desires and thoughts, lose their bearings in confusion. Here "less" refers to the cultivation methods of yielding and wholeness—maintaining the Middle Way—while "more" signifies attachment to dualistic distinctions that deviate from it. Holding to the center brings attainment; straying from it brings loss.

Thus the sage upholds the fundamental principle of Dao as the world's model. "Embracing the One" means maintaining the Middle Way—through this guiding principle, sages lead all beings, becoming exemplars of cultivation.

Not self-displaying, yet illuminating brightly. Sages don't rely solely on their own eyes to see afar, but perceive through the vision of all people—thus discerning the finest details. They understand all things and the self ultimately return to emptiness.

This passage expounds on the worldly wisdom that Dao cultivators should follow:

The truly wise do not cling to self-image, thus maintaining clear awareness. Those who are not stubborn in their views manifest De (Virtue) more fully, for the sage never presumptuously denies others, and thus his virtue naturally becomes visible to the world. When one regards oneself and others equally without elevating oneself or belittling external things, De will manifest spontaneously.

Only those who do not boast of themselves can truly establish merit. The sage teaches all beings yet never claims credit, attributing achievements to all things, thus accomplishing true merit. Those who are not arrogant can endure, for the sage does not hold himself too high, thus maintaining longevity without inviting danger.

Precisely because they do not contend with others, no one in the world can contend with them. This means neither the worthy nor the unworthy can compete with those who practice non-contention. The ancient saying "yielding preserves wholeness" is no empty phrase—those who can be pliant in worldly affairs truly preserve themselves. By fully embodying these principles, one can completely return to the essence of the Dao.

Speaking sparingly accords with the natural way. "Xi yan" (rare speech) means treasuring words like gold, which resonates with the Dao of nature. Just as fierce winds cannot last a morning, and torrential rains cannot persist a whole day, extreme things cannot endure. Dao cultivators should minimize speech and maintain stillness, thereby aligning with the profound truth of the Dao.

This scripture uses natural phenomena as metaphors for life's principles, illustrating how violent storms may rage fiercely but rarely last even a morning, let alone an entire day. Similarly, those who cling stubbornly to dogmas and seek quick rewards through rash actions embody a mentality doomed to transience.

The text employs "howling winds and torrential rains" (飘风骤雨) to symbolize impermanence: while both morning and day represent units of time, morning signifies brevity whereas day suggests relative duration. Just as weather is unpredictable, so too is human existence. Wang Bi's commentary adds that winds form when mountain and marsh Qi (气) collide, while storms arise from agitated Yin energy—both manifestations of imbalanced Yin-Yang (阴阳). When humans lose inner equilibrium, their actions become impatient and violent, ultimately self-destructive, a state inherently unsustainable.

Cai Yong and Gu Huan further clarify: winds emerge when Heaven's Yang (阳) energy descends, rains when Earth's Yin (阴) energy ascends. Even these mighty cosmic forces cannot sustain tempests for a full day—how then could fleeting mortal lives, as ephemeral as morning dew, endure through excessive speech and action? Lu Zhongxuan concludes: if the vast interplay of cosmic Yin-Yang (阴阳) cannot prolong storms, how swiftly shall perish those petty humans who clamor and agitate?

The passage ultimately observes that even Heaven and Earth—nature's supreme powers—cannot sustain violent manifestations indefinitely. How much less can humans? Thus, those who follow the Dao (道) should emulate its tranquil harmony rather than the frenzy of storms. Emperor Xuanzong's imperial annotation notes: true Dao cultivators shun rigid doctrines. Those united with the Dao (道) naturally merge with it.

This scripture primarily explores the interactive relationship between humans and the Dao (the Way), De (Virtue/Power), and their loss.

Regarding the "Dao" (cosmic origin and natural law), the scripture states: those whose actions align with the Dao will be embraced by it in return. Those who truly comprehend the Great Dao transcend conceptual language, directly merging with the Way. Individuals of supreme De (those with the highest moral cultivation) can manifest the principles of Dao in daily life, adapting to worldly affairs while maintaining a state of serene openness. As Confucius said, "Great virtue completely follows the Dao"—when all human actions accord with the Dao, one attains its function.

Concerning "De" (the concrete manifestation of Dao), the scripture explains: De represents the functional expression of Dao. When human behavior aligns with noble virtue, De naturally responds. The Dao is the root of De, while De is the expression of Dao—they share the same essence but differ only in perspective.

Regarding "loss" (the state of deviating from Dao and De), the scripture warns: those who stubbornly cling to personal views and stray from the Great Dao will find their actions converging with loss. People obsessed with quick success, rigid doctrines, and lost original nature will naturally associate with those who have abandoned the Way. As the Scripture of Western Ascension states: "Those who neglected cultivation in past lives now dwell alongside the lost."

Finally, the scripture reveals a natural principle: mutual influence and attraction exist between people, and between humans and phenomena. Just as clouds follow dragons, winds accompany tigers, water flows downward, and fire seeks dryness, like attracts like. If a ruler lacks sincerity toward subjects, subjects will respond in kind. This mutual resonance constitutes the spontaneous order of heaven and earth.

This passage discusses several behaviors that practitioners of the Dao should avoid. It first points out that those who cling rigidly to textual doctrines without truly comprehending their underlying principles demonstrate insufficient faith in the Dao (the Way). While such individuals may nominally believe in the Dao, they fail to penetrate its true origin, and thus harbor doubts about its profound and mysterious realms.

The text then enumerates several improper behaviors: Those who stand on tiptoe (symbolizing impatient pursuit of power and fame) cannot endure long; those who take excessively large strides (representing arrogance and contempt for others) cannot travel far; those who show off their wisdom actually lack true understanding (as this easily exposes their flaws); those who stubbornly insist on being right find it difficult to manifest virtue (De) (because others will oppose them); those who boast of their achievements actually possess no real merit (since true accomplishment requires others' recognition); and those who are prideful cannot endure (because arrogance provokes resentment).

To Daoist practitioners, these behaviors are as repulsive as leftover food or excess body fat. When such people hold positions of power, they often harm others, making all things fear and detest them. Just as excess fat serves no useful purpose for the body, self-promotion serves no useful purpose in conduct—all people naturally dislike witnessing such behavior. Therefore, those who have truly attained the Dao would never intentionally engage in such boastful, competitive actions.

(Note: The term "Chongxuan" [重玄] in the text refers to the supreme realm of mystery within Daoist philosophy—the profound mystery beyond mystery; "Zhuang..." [庄...] appears to be an incomplete reference, possibly to Zhuangzi or Zhuangzi's philosophy.)

The truly enlightened person who has attained the Dao does not cling to worldly power or status. There exists a primordial presence that predates the formation of heaven and earth—this is the Dao (the Way), the fundamental source and principle of the universe. Without fixed form, the Dao appears formless and chaotic yet gives birth to all things, existing before the cosmos took shape.

The Dao transcends concrete existence—seemingly empty yet capable of generating all phenomena. Both indistinct and clearly manifest, as Zhuangzi described, it creates spirits and deities, gives rise to the Celestial Emperor, and brings forth heaven, earth, and the myriad things. Existing before creation yet never aging, it remains silent and boundless, standing alone without dependence, eternally unchanging. Profound and mysterious in essence, the Dao surpasses all forms and sounds, requiring no conditions for its existence and undergoing no transformation.

Pervading the entire cosmos, the Dao is omnipresent. It neither withers in yang qi nor decays in yin qi, penetrating all existence without exhaustion. Like accomplished sages who embody the Dao completely, it circulates through every limb, joint, and meridian without cessation.

The Dao resembles the mother of all things, nourishing and sustaining life as a mother nurtures her children. Omnipresent, it is called "pervasive movement" (周行), flowing unimpeded without depletion. Generating yin and yang qi, establishing cosmic order, nurturing all beings, and giving life, it truly deserves the title of Mother of the Myriad Things.

We cannot precisely describe the Dao's appearance nor know what name to call it. Observing how all things originate from it, we reluctantly name it "Dao." Since no exact designation suffices, we provisionally characterize it as "Great"—supreme, all-encompassing, and boundless, hence "Great." This naming represents an unavoidable approximation.

This scripture elucidates the vast and profound nature of the Dao (道), as well as the relationship between humanity and the cosmos.

The essential character of the Dao is boundless in its greatness, hence the character "great" (大) is used to describe it. While ordinary people first receive their given names before their courtesy names, here the courtesy name is mentioned before the given name to indicate how the Dao operates contrary to worldly conventions. "Great" signifies ceaseless circulation (逝)—its vastness isn't like the sky perpetually above or the earth eternally below, but rather an ever-flowing transformation without fixed position. This dynamic power guides all beings toward sacred realms.

"Circulation" (逝) further implies profound depth (远), reaching the infinite as its Qi (气) permeates heaven and earth without obstruction. It transcends the Three Realms (desire, form, and formlessness) to directly access the realms of the Three Pure Ones (玉清, 上清, 太清). Yet this "far-reaching" quality ultimately returns to its source—while capable of attaining the most distant reaches, it circles back to reside within the human body. Those who attain the Dao can both reach exalted sacred realms and return to the mundane world to deliver sentient beings. In delusion, the Three Realms appear separate from the Three Pure Ones; in awakening, one realizes they are identical—thus the Great Dao exists both beyond the nine heavens and within worldly dust.

Therefore it is said the Dao is great, heaven is great, earth is great, and the sovereign (here meaning a Dao-realized person) is great. The Dao's greatness embraces all things; heaven's greatness covers all existence; earth's greatness bears all burdens; the sovereign's greatness governs the myriad phenomena. Among the cosmos' four greats, the sovereign stands as one. As the most numinous being among creation, the sovereign's flourishing or decline determines the fate of all things—thus one must comprehend this principle.

Humans should emulate earth's qualities (法地)—serenity, gentleness, yielding crops when sown, offering sweet springs when dug, enduring hardship without complaint, achieving merit without claiming credit. Earth in turn emulates heaven's qualities (法天)—tranquil stillness, giving to all creatures without seeking return, nurturing and sustaining everything.

All beings in heaven and earth follow the principles of the Dao.

The Dao itself emulates a state of pure quiescence and wuwei (non-action). Without deliberate effort, it nurtures the growth and transformation of all things through formless essence and qi. The Dao takes nature itself as its model, for its intrinsic quality is spontaneity (ziran), requiring no imitation of anything else.

When rulers govern the world, they must first emulate the earth's stability and stillness - only through tranquility can wisdom arise. As later chapters of the Daode Jing state: "Haste leads to the loss of mastery." After attaining earth-like serenity, one should then emulate heaven's clarity and empty stillness, covering and nurturing all things impartially like the sky. Heaven's three luminaries (sun, moon, and stars) symbolize the illumination of wisdom. Earth represents meditative stability, while heaven represents wisdom. Upon reaching this heavenly state, one must further emulate the Dao's boundless capacity to embrace all things. Ultimately, one must embody the Dao's natural spontaneity - the most profound state of all. The Dao manifests externally, while ziran constitutes its inner essence.

Steadiness is the root of lightness. Without steadiness, a ruler lacks authority, and a cultivator loses their shen (spirit). Just as the floating leaves of plants wither easily while their steady roots endure, this warns practitioners against restless agitation.

Stillness governs agitation. Without stillness, rulers forfeit dignity and cultivators endanger their lives. The dragon's stillness enables infinite transformation, while the tiger's violence leads to early demise. Stillness is wuwei; agitation stems from desire - where there's desire, there's birth and death; only wuwei brings permanence. Stillness overcomes agitation, hence its mastery.

Thus the sage conducts daily affairs without departing from this foundation of steadiness and stillness. The "heavy baggage" metaphor represents stillness - sages constantly maintain this composed tranquility. Though appearing active in worldly matters, realized beings preserve inner stillness, their external movements concealing profound serenity.

Though dwelling in magnificent palaces and comfortable abodes, they remain transcendent. "Splendid views" signify palaces and towers, while "peaceful dwellings" denote inner chambers - yet those who attain the Dao maintain mental emptiness, undisturbed by external phenomena, abiding in worldly splendor yet untouched by dust.

Alas for the rulers of ten thousand chariots! "Alas" expresses sorrowful lament; "ten thousand chariots" denotes emperors. This mourns how contemporary rulers wallow in material desires, failing to emulate the Dao's natural way.

This scripture primarily discusses the principles of governing a state and cultivating the self, emphasizing that both rulers and practitioners should maintain a composed and serene state, avoiding indulgence in desires and restless impulsiveness.

First, it points out that a ruler in the highest position of power will lose authority if they indulge in personal desires and recklessly deplete their Jing (essence) and Qi (vital energy). The text uses the metaphor of "a royal domain spanning a thousand li with ten thousand chariots" to illustrate a ruler's nobility, yet it criticizes contemporary kings for extravagance, indulgence in sensual pleasures, imposing heavy taxes and labor duties, and neglecting state affairs—ultimately leading to internal and external crises. "Lightness leads to losing ministers" means that a frivolous and dissipated ruler forfeits the loyalty of their subjects, while "restlessness leads to losing rulership" refers to how impulsive recklessness results in the loss of sovereign authority. Similarly, if practitioners are restless and impulsive, they will lose their Jing, Qi, and Shen (spirit).

The text then elaborates on the cultivated states of "excellent conduct," "excellent speech," and "excellent calculation":

• True excellence in conduct leaves no trace, just as those who follow the Dao (the Way) in cultivation need not seek externally but instead turn inward to attain a state of mental and physical purity.
• True excellence in speech is free from fault. Sages speak with measured restraint—neither speaking idly nor withholding words when necessary—thus avoiding verbal mistakes. As Zhuangzi said, one who truly masters speech speaks all day yet only expounds the great Dao.
• True excellence in calculation requires no counting tools, meaning the highest form of strategy follows nature's course without deliberate scheming.

These teachings guide people—whether in governing or self-cultivation—to maintain inner serenity and steadiness, ensuring that words and actions align with the natural Dao (the Way), avoiding excessive striving to attain the ideal state.

Those skilled in contemplating matters through the Dao remain steadfastly focused on holding the "One" (referring to the origin of Dao) without wavering. Though facing numerous considerations, they comprehend without deliberate calculation. This speaks of realizing all phenomena are ultimately illusory—by not clinging to these illusory appearances, one penetrates illusion to perceive reality. Without laborious scheming, clarity emerges naturally, indicating the mind has attained purity.

Those adept at closing the gates of desire need no physical bolt to make them unopenable. Here, using the Dao to shut down passions and safeguard the spirit differs from ordinary doors requiring bolts. Practitioners achieve this through breath regulation (qi retention) and specific hand seals (wogu), closing the heavenly gate (mouth and nose) above and the earthly gate (front and rear yin) below—thus requiring no physical latch. True masters forget words and deeds, avoid deviant paths, with minds not chasing external phenomena, nor external phenomena stirring internal attachments. Though using no physical bolt, the gates of desire remain firmly shut.

Those proficient in forming karmic connections need no ropes yet create bonds that cannot be untied. This means those who form connections through the Dao tie them in the heart, unlike ordinary ropes that can be loosened. Those who perceive truth understand all phenomena as fundamentally empty—maintaining this clarity, their hearts merge with Dao, creating bonds that remain fast without physical cords. Practitioners first consider all beings, making grand vows to deliver them—such vows become unbreakable, surpassing worldly ropes. These vows manifest in five aspects: initiating the mind (arousing the aspiration for Dao), subduing the mind (taming all afflictions), knowing the true mind (understanding the nine grades of authentic mind), cultivating renunciation (three levels corresponding to the Three Pure Ones: Immortal, Perfected, and Sage), and attaining the supreme mind (direct realization of Dao reaching the highest Daluo Heaven). Skillful connection means steadfastly maintaining these five commitments. An alternate interpretation suggests this refers to sages consolidating their hun and po souls, making them inseparable.

The reason sages consistently teach people loyalty and filial piety is to save their lives. Here, "sages" refers to cultivators who have achieved purity in the three karmas (body, speech, and mind) and liberation from the six senses (eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, and mind). They have taken great vows to deliver all beings, responding to the needs of the world with impartial compassion, never abandoning anyone.

Sages enable people of all stations to find their proper place. They teach the common folk to follow the rhythms of the four seasons and protect all things from harm. Sages do not despise stones while favoring jade—they treat all things equally. The scriptures mention that "saving people" primarily refers to helping ordinary folk, while "saving beings" extends to all living creatures (Buddhism categorizes these as four types of birth: womb-born, egg-born, moisture-born, and transformation-born). This is what is called "inheriting the light"—upholding and applying the luminous wisdom of the Dao, praising the virtue of sages who benefit all things and abandon none.

The virtuous can serve as teachers for the unvirtuous. Here, "virtuous people" refers to those with magnanimous hearts, who put others before themselves and can guide the multitude. The unvirtuous, in turn, can become resources for the virtuous—sages teach the unvirtuous to reform and turn toward goodness, allowing them to also play a useful role. Sages constantly teach and transform beings in the world; even when facing the unvirtuous, they can transform them into aids for cultivation, perfecting their own virtue by guiding others.

If one does not respect the teacher, they lose assistance; if one does not cherish resources, they cannot be utilized. The true higher state transcends attachment to the teacher-student relationship—neither deliberately exalting the teacher nor deliberately relying on the student. When both teacher and student relinquish attachment, the Dharma of the Dao naturally functions. Some believe they understand the principles but are actually mired in greater delusion. Earlier, it was explained how sages guide ordinary people in cultivation; here, it is clarified that the nature of the ordinary and the sage is fundamentally equal, and one must transcend the distinction between teacher and student. This is the gradual process of cultivation from shallow to profound.

Understanding the power of strength yet abiding in the posture of softness is like the humility of mountain streams flowing through the world. Here, "male" (xiong) symbolizes nobility and prominence, while "female" (ci) represents lowliness and receptivity. Though one may recognize their own esteemed position, they maintain a humble attitude, relinquishing the sharp edge of rigidity in favor of the gentle way of being. Thus, all under heaven will return to you like rivers converging into deep valleys.

The stream symbolizes the path of life. "Male" embodies the qualities of yang—forceful and restless—while "female" embodies yin—soft and tranquil. Recognizing that fierce agitation ultimately leads to dissipation, whereas yielding stillness ensures longevity, one abandons hardness to embrace softness—this is the essential way to the Dao (the Way). Practitioners (those who cultivate the One) emulate the natural Dao by regulating breath (closing qi) to consolidate essence (jing), vital energy (qi), and spirit (shen), preventing their dispersion.

Maintaining this eternal Virtue (De) ensures it never departs. If one remains as humble as a stream, Virtue will abide without fail. Ultimately, one returns to the pure, uncontentious state of an infant—serene and free of knowledge. By harmonizing breath (regulating qi) and attaining the state of wuwei (non-action), one reverses aging. Abiding in stillness, Virtue does not scatter, and one returns to the undifferentiated wisdom of the origin.

Understanding the principle of brightness yet abiding in the posture of obscurity makes one a model for the world. "White" (bai) symbolizes outward display, while "black" (hei) represents inward concealment. Though one comprehends the truth, they remain reserved and unassuming, like one who dwells in shadow without revealing themselves. Thus, they become a standard for others to follow, and Virtue endures. Flaunting intelligence invites failure; the truly wise know to dim their radiance, withdraw into obscurity, and avoid contention. Only by discerning the consequences of display and concealment can one become a true exemplar for practitioners.

Those who serve as models for the world do not deviate from Virtue. Those capable of being the world's guiding standard ensure Virtue remains within them, never faltering.

This scripture primarily discusses how practitioners can attain longevity and spiritual vision by adhering to the fundamental principles of the Dao (the Way).

The text states that "when one's practice of the Dao (Daoxing) is unified, they become a model for the world." This means that if a cultivator can remain single-minded and steadfast in upholding the Dao, they become an exemplar for others to follow. "Returning to the limitless (Wuji)" refers to the idea that when one's virtue (De) is without fault, they can return to the origin of the Dao—the boundless, eternal state. Here, "the limitless (Wuji)" is another name for the Dao itself. Practitioners must constantly abide in purity and emptiness to return to the supreme Dao.

The teaching of "knowing honor yet embracing humility" uses the contrast between glory and disgrace as a metaphor. The scripture warns that even in positions of nobility, one must remain humble, for fortune and misfortune are intertwined, and worldly glory can vanish in an instant. Just as all rivers return to the sea, those who understand this principle can be as open and receptive as a valley, embodying complete virtue (De).

"Returning to simplicity (Pu)" emphasizes the need to revert to one's unadorned, innate nature, stripping away artificial embellishments. "Simplicity (Pu)" represents the pure, original essence of the Dao. Practitioners begin by recognizing strength and dominance but ultimately must learn to abide in humility—a crucial aspect of attaining the Dao. When one reaches the state of being as open as a valley, they can return to the source of the Dao.

The final section discusses how "simplicity (Pu) disperses to become vessels," meaning that the original Dao divides and gives rise to all things. Just as the Dao differentiates into divine spirits, the sun and moon, and the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water), the sage (one who has attained the Dao) applies this principle to become a guiding leader among beings. This illustrates that those who embody the Dao can both return to the origin and adapt to worldly transformations, serving as guides in the human realm.

This scripture primarily discusses how sages employ the Dao (the Way) to govern the world and cultivate themselves. The main idea is:

When sages apply the Great Dao to govern the world, they do not harm the people; when using it for self-cultivation, they regulate desires without depleting their Shen (spirit). This supreme power is unfathomable, capable of ruling all things within and beyond the three realms. Though sages oversee all creation, they never impose forceful control ("not cutting" means refraining from coercive interference).

The scripture further states that those who seek to rule the world will fail if they govern through deliberate action (youwei). This is because all beings under heaven (the "divine vessel" refers to the populace) inherently prefer tranquility and cannot be forcibly governed. Attempting to control through forceful methods damages people's simple, genuine nature; obstinately imposing one's will leads to loss of popular support and breeds hypocrisy and deceit. Such rulers ultimately face personal ruin and the collapse of their states.

Finally, the text illustrates with metaphors: Among worldly things, some advance actively while others follow; some require gentle nurturing ("exhaling warmth") while others need stern discipline ("blowing cold"). This shows governance must adapt to circumstances rather than remain rigid. Just as one first takes the lead but later yields to popular will, power and status are inherently fluid and ever-changing.

This scripture uses the transformations of natural phenomena to illustrate how worldly fortunes—wealth and poverty, strength and weakness, safety and danger—are all impermanent and ever-changing. Just as summer brings scorching heat while winter brings bitter cold, human circumstances also fluctuate between highs and lows. Prosperity never lasts forever; it inevitably declines.

The text mentions "sometimes stability, sometimes collapse," meaning security and peril always coexist. Just as things may succeed when properly connected, they may also fail when broken apart. Zhuangzi said, "What completes also destroys," showing how success and failure are often two sides of the same coin. Therefore, in governing a nation or cultivating one's character, one should not cling to rigid views or force outcomes.

The sages understood this principle, so they abstained from three excesses: excessive pursuit of sensual pleasures (shen), extravagant food, clothing, and dwellings (she), and lavish palaces and towers (tai). By maintaining the Middle Way and following nature, a nation can achieve lasting peace, and an individual can enjoy health and longevity.

Those who assist rulers with the Dao do not rely on military force to dominate the world. True assistance lies in cultivating inner virtue (De), and adversaries will naturally submit. If words are misused ("the mouth becomes a weapon"), disaster may follow, and a distracted spirit (Shen) will lead to self-loss. Therefore, one should assist rulers with upright principles, cease the use of force, refine civil governance, and win others over through virtue (De).

This scripture expounds on both the principles of military strategy and self-cultivation. It begins by stating that true virtue (De) cannot be imposed through force or power, as the body and mind themselves contain internal "armies" — the three karmic actions (of body, speech, and thought) and the six sensory faculties (eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, and mind). Evil deeds ultimately bring retribution, just as warfare inevitably rebounds upon its instigator.

The text employs military metaphors to illustrate its teachings: Lands where armies have camped become barren and overgrown with thorns, just as places where desires run wild foster only negative karma without yielding virtuous fruits. After great battles, years of calamity inevitably follow, for the heavens send down malignant qi (vital energy) that harms crops and, in turn, the people.

Those who truly practice goodness should act decisively yet know when to stop. Practitioners of the Dao should maintain humility: even when achieving success, they must avoid arrogance (wu jin), self-aggrandizement (wu fa), and haughty oppression of others (wu jiao). The use of military force should resemble Emperor Yao’s campaign against Congzhi or Yu the Great’s suppression of the Youhu — undertaken only as a last resort, never out of fondness for war.

The text concludes by emphasizing that even in victory, one must not revel in strength. Just as in ancient times when knots were tied to record events, those who truly embody the Dao (the Way) never resort to force lightly. Through its martial allegories, the scripture warns against indulging desires and urges humility, reminding us that force should only be employed as a final, unavoidable measure.

This passage expounds on the principles of warfare. Laozi considers weapons to be inauspicious objects, just as plants wither after reaching their peak of luxuriance, or as people decline after attaining the height of physical strength. The forced use of military force cannot endure—this is the natural order of things.

Weapons are inauspicious because they disturb the human spirit (Shen) and disrupt the harmonious Qi between heaven and earth. Those who truly embody the Dao (the Way) do not rely on military force to govern a nation. The noble person normally values the gentle way of being (prizing the left side), resorting to arms (prizing the right side) only when absolutely necessary, yet the way of warfare runs counter to the way of the noble person.

The text particularly emphasizes:

• Weapons are instruments of violence and should not be esteemed by noble individuals
• The noble person should take virtue (De) as their foundation, not glorify military might
• Just as excessive pursuit of external strength accelerates one's decline
• Dao practitioners must abstain from the "three poisons and six roots" (referring to desires arising from the six senses: eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, and mind)

The conclusion stresses that malicious speech can invite disaster as dangerously as concealed lethal intent. Therefore, the truly wise never rashly employ military force, but instead follow the natural and gentle way of being in the world.

This passage elucidates the profound meaning behind the art of warfare. It states that weapons, though sometimes called "auspicious instruments," are inherently ominous tools that should only be employed as a last resort to save people from calamity. A true nobleman never glorifies military force as something to boast about, nor should one revel in victory.

The text emphasizes the principle of "tranquil detachment as supreme virtue": neither coveting territory nor wealth, nor flaunting military prowess after victory. Those who take pride in martial strength are essentially delighting in killing. Such bloodthirsty individuals can never truly win the allegiance of all under heaven, for a ruler who wantonly slaughters the innocent will inevitably incur universal hatred.

Using directional symbolism, the passage notes that auspicious affairs honor the left (symbolizing life) while inauspicious matters honor the right (symbolizing death). Thus the lieutenant general stands to the left while the commander-in-chief stands to the right—applying funeral rites protocol to warfare, implying that even when wielding life-and-death authority, one must maintain reverential caution.

Finally, it concludes that when war results in heavy casualties, one should mourn the dead with heartfelt grief. This reflects a ruler's self-examination: to contemplate one's insufficient virtue (De) in failing to educate the people through the Dao's principles, thereby causing innocent suffering. The entire scripture cautions that military force is the absolute last resort, and that governing should primarily rely on moral cultivation through Dao and virtue (De).

This passage elucidates Daoist perspectives on warfare and humanitarian concerns. Regarding warfare, the scripture emphasizes that even in victory, funeral rites should be observed, as armed conflict inevitably brings massive casualties. Ancient generals would don plain white mourning garments to conduct memorial ceremonies, expressing grief for the deceased—a practice demonstrating how noble-minded individuals prioritize De (Virtue/Power) over military might. Resorting to arms should remain a last resort; true wisdom lies in regarding warfare with sorrow, recognizing that force can never match the power of virtuous influence.

The text cites illustrative legends: Zou Yan (a Warring States period philosopher of Yin-Yang theory) whose wrongful conviction moved heaven to send unseasonable frost, and the wife of Qi Liang (legendary for weeping down a city wall) whose grief crumbled fortifications. These show how ordinary people's genuine emotions can resonate with cosmic forces. Faced with battlefields littered with corpses and rivers of blood, how could one not feel profound sorrow? Such examples confirm that military conquest violates the Dao (the Way).

In discussing the Dao, the scripture clarifies it as an existence transcending names and forms. The Dao generates Yin-Yang, moderates tension and relaxation, governs existence and cessation—thus defying fixed definitions. Empty yet pervasive, formless and imageless, it is neither matter nor sound, surpassing linguistic concepts and intellectual comprehension. As later verses state, even descriptors like "beginning of heaven and earth" prove inadequate to capture the Dao's essence, let alone clever stratagems or mental calculations.

The concluding line—"Though the Uncarved Block seems small, nothing under heaven dares claim mastery over it"—reveals how the Dao, appearing simple and unassuming in its pristine state ("Pu"), naturally commands universal allegiance. Here, "Uncarved Block" symbolizes the Dao's fundamental authenticity, demonstrating that supreme truth often manifests with primal simplicity yet wields irresistible natural authority.

The Dao (the Way), though appearing subtle and simple, is profoundly mysterious without concrete form. All things under heaven dare not treat it as a servant to command. Like the purest essence, the Dao seems minute yet gives birth to all things. When it functions, its power is immense—nothing can surpass it.

What we call "purity" refers to the most unadulterated and primal state. Though this great Dao appears insignificant, it harmonizes Yin-Yang and nourishes all beings. People unknowingly rely on its power daily, yet none dare claim mastery over it. All things inherently lack hierarchy—what aligns with the Dao deserves reverence. Ancient hermits like Chaofu, Xu You, Wang Ni, and Nie Que, though commoners, could not be subjugated by emperors, nor could lords befriend them. This exemplifies the Dao's manifestation.

If rulers and lords uphold the great Dao, following Wuwei (non-action), all things will naturally submit, transformed by its virtue. When a ruler cultivates the highest Dao, even distant lands will willingly pledge allegiance.

When a ruler’s actions align with heaven and earth’s rhythms, sweet dew descends as an auspicious sign. Because his De (Virtue) resonates with the cosmos, Yin-Yang remains balanced, the seasons flow smoothly like fine jade, and the sun, moon, and stars move without deviation. Auspicious omens—such as lingzhi mushrooms and sweet dew—naturally appear, bringing prosperity and peace. All this arises from accord with the Dao.

Without enforced decrees, people naturally live in harmony and equality. Such peace is not achieved through coercion but through the spontaneous influence of the Dao’s virtue—a truly wondrous power. Upholding the Dao yields such benefits.

From the formless Dao, all things with form emerge. The Dao itself has no name yet gives rise to all named things; it has no shape yet governs all shapes. Through the "nameless," the "named" is established, and through the "named," the "nameless" is revealed—guiding the lost toward truth.

Once all things are named, selfish desires arise, leading to moral deviation and eventual calamity. But if people follow the Dao’s principles, even heaven knows when to stop.

The Dao cannot be fully described in words, yet sacred manifestations and conceptual frameworks were established to guide beings toward its realization. The key lies in returning to the root, understanding that these concepts are merely provisional tools not to be clung to at the expense of true meaning. Just as bamboo traps catch fish and snares capture rabbits, the tools should be discarded once their purpose is served. Knowing when to stop prevents one from falling into peril.

The Great Dao pervades the world like countless streams merging into rivers and seas. Oceans become receptacles for all waters precisely because they willingly occupy the lowest position; the sacred Dao becomes the home of all beings through its profound humility. As later passages state: "The river and sea can rule over the hundred valleys because they excel at staying beneath them."

The ability to discern others' virtues and flaws is called wisdom (zhi). This wisdom illuminates the depths of others' minds and comprehends worldly strategies—it belongs to the realm of "knowledge of others' thoughts." But true enlightenment (ming) comes from recognizing one's own intrinsic nature. The enlightened practice inner contemplation, perceiving their three lifetimes of karmic causes and effects, past destinies and moral consequences—this constitutes the higher wisdom of "knowledge of past lives."

Overpowering others through force merely demonstrates physical strength, such as subduing celestial demons or vanquishing heterodox paths. True strength lies in conquering one's own mind. The exceptionally skilled will always meet rivals where victory is uncertain, but those who master their desires encounter no inner adversaries—this is invincible power. Herein lies the principle of "the soft overcoming the hard": those who tame their restless hearts preserve genuine strength.

When desires do not arise, wisdom grows daily—this is the wisdom that severs delusion.

Those who understand contentment are truly wealthy. When one realizes that "enough" is true satisfaction, blessings and prosperity endure, hence it is called wealth. Guarding one's inherent nature and being content with what one has, without greed for external things, not only prevents material poverty but also enriches moral cultivation. Another interpretation is that by simultaneously perceiving the essence of both "being" and "non-being," one gains insight into all things, with wisdom that lacks nothing. Thus, one earns the reputation of being "wealthy"—this is the wisdom of contentment.

Those who persevere in action possess true aspiration. When one diligently practices goodness, they are aspiring to cultivate the Dao, and the Dao, in turn, favors such a person. Specifically, this means practicing day and night without ceasing. Those who know when to stop are free from greed and may be called wealthy; those who persist in action without slackening may be called resolute. Once aspiration and discipline are firmly established, one makes great vows—putting others before oneself, sacrificing oneself for others—until the path of the Dao is fulfilled, never to regress.

Those who do not lose their roots endure. When one practices self-restraint and nourishment, preserving what is most precious (the essence and Qi of heaven and earth), they attain longevity. The key lies in adapting to circumstances and applying the right remedy, ensuring all things find their proper place. Only then can one maintain stability in interactions with others and the world.

True longevity is when the body perishes but the spirit does not vanish. When the eyes do not gaze indiscriminately, the ears do not listen carelessly, and the mouth does not speak recklessly, one avoids incurring the world's resentment—thus, one attains longevity. Another interpretation refers to "liberation from the corpse" (a Daoist method of achieving immortality through cultivation), where apparent death is actually rebirth. When cultivation and vows are perfected, and both internal and external methods of the Dao are complete, one transcends the concepts of life, death, and longevity. The phrase "perishing but not vanishing" illustrates that what seems like death is actually eternal life, and what seems like a short lifespan is true longevity. The body's decay is called death, but the sage's form endures—this is called longevity. Death is the end of form; premature death is an unexpected misfortune, while longevity is the fulfillment of life.

Vast and boundless is the great Dao—now hidden, now visible, now floating, now sinking. It cannot be seen with the eyes or described in words. The Dao flows everywhere, unconstrained yet responsive to all things, meeting every situation without bias.

The Dao (the Way) can turn left or right without constraint. The great Dao is mysteriously void, pervading all things yet clinging to no form. Like a nurturing mother, it sustains all beings universally, responding to everything without distinguishing between yin and yang, adapting freely to any direction. As Zhuangzi said, the Dao encompasses both spatial directions and ethical order.

All creatures depend on the Dao for existence, yet the Dao never declines this nurturing responsibility. Though all things grow naturally, the Dao demands no gratitude. While it enables the flourishing of all beings, it never claims credit. Like garments covering all things, it nourishes without acting as ruler—hence it may be called "small" (meaning it does not assert itself).

When all things ultimately return to the Dao, it assumes no lordship. Since all beings may freely come and go within the Dao, it may also be called "great" (meaning all-encompassing). Just as rivers flow to the sea without being bound by it, all things return to the Dao without compulsion.

Thus the sage emulates the Dao's virtue (De), never striving for greatness yet thereby achieving true greatness. Teaching through personal example, they perfect all things without words, allowing natural fulfillment.

Here we explore how those who have attained the Dao achieve greatness by emulating the way of nature. The truly enlightened sages do not deliberately pursue fame or merit, but rather forget themselves and approach all things with humility and deference. Precisely because they do not consciously display greatness, they naturally become leaders of all beings, occupying the supreme position across the Three Realms (the Realm of Desire, the Realm of Form, and the Formless Realm).

Those who master the principles of the Great Dao find all things under heaven naturally gravitating toward them. The "great image" mentioned here refers to the formless laws of the Dao. Like Wang Tai (the Daoist hermit) in Zhuangzi's writings—he didn't deliberately teach others, yet people were spontaneously drawn to him. This same principle explains why Confucius (Xuan Ni) could attract followers from across the land.

When all things return to their source without harming each other, true peace is achieved. In personal cultivation, by not harming one's internal Shen (spiritual vitality), one attains longevity and well-being. When beings gather around the sage, all benefit without suffering harm—this is the state of stability and equality.

Worldly pleasures like music and fine food may temporarily attract passersby, just as the sound of strings and flutes delights the ear, and delicacies tempt the palate. Yet when the Great Dao is spoken of, it seems bland and flavorless, lacking the stimulating tastes of sour, sweet, bitter, or spicy. Precisely because Daoist teachings are so unadorned—unlike the allure of music—few practitioners truly pay attention. Alas, most people remain addicted to sensory pleasures, chasing only what is audible and visible.

The Dao (the Way), referring to the cosmic origin and ultimate truth, has no concrete form like food, nor does it possess visible colors such as green, yellow, red, white, or black—thus it cannot be seen with the eyes. Similarly, the Dao is not like the specific musical notes of gong, shang, jue, zhi, or yu, so it cannot be heard with the ears. The supreme Dao is profound and boundless, transcending the realms of form, color, sound, and perception.

When the Dao is applied to governing a nation, it brings prosperity and peace to the people; when used for self-cultivation, it extends life and nurtures vitality. This function is inexhaustible. Like a mirror that naturally reflects all things, or like the wisdom of a sage that resonates with all existence, this seemingly "useless" function actually contains infinite subtlety.

Laozi (the founder of Daoism) revealed several profound principles: To gather something in, one must first allow it to expand fully. Just as when Laozi taught in the land of Jibin in the Western Regions, he first let the violent tendencies of the locals run their course before guiding them with the Dao. To weaken something, one must first let it reach its peak of strength; to abolish something, one must first let it flourish; to take something away, one must first give it. These are all methods of wisdom that involve allowing things to develop to their extreme before guiding them toward their opposite.

For example, to eliminate cruelty, one must first let violence reach its extreme; to turn people from evil to good, one must first indulge their wickedness until their greed swells to its limit, and then transform them with the Dao. This principle of "things reversing upon reaching their extreme" embodies the dialectical wisdom of the Dao.

This scripture elucidates the sagely methods for guiding sentient beings with wisdom. Initially, expedient means are employed to lead those who have lost their way. When they witness the miraculous power of spiritual attainment, even the wicked will submit and reform their ways. This pedagogical approach progresses through four levels, moving from shallow to profound. Those with superior understanding grasp the true principle upon hearing it, while those of lesser capacity require gradual guidance through skillful means.

The term "subtle illumination" (weiming) here refers to how these four teaching methods, while seemingly obscure, produce remarkably evident effects. Just as the Yijing states, expedient adaptation may appear contrary to ordinary principles yet ultimately accords with the Dao's righteousness. When noble persons employ expedient means, they emphasize alignment with righteousness; when petty persons use them, they degenerate into deceit. Thus, while the previous chapter of the Laozi discusses "holding the Great Image" (zhidaxiang) as the foundation, this chapter addresses the art of timely restraint and release—a pedagogical device adapted to the varying capacities of beings.

The specific method is this: to restrain beings' desires, first allow their greed free rein until they become ensnared by their cravings, then implement restraint. The principle governing the transformation between strength and weakness operates similarly. This seemingly soft approach ultimately overcomes hardness because pliancy endures while rigidity breaks. True wisdom is soft, while expedient wisdom appears hard—yet ultimately the soft wisdom prevails.

Just as fish cannot leave the depths (yuan), expedient methods must never depart from the heart of Dao. The instruments of state power (liqi) should not be carelessly displayed before ministers, nor should personal cultivation methods be lightly revealed to unsuitable recipients. Fish out of water are easily caught; exposed stratagems become controlled by others—thus they must remain deeply concealed.

Commentaries explain that although this path of expedient means is subtle and hidden, its effects are profoundly manifest. True wisdom should emulate fish concealed in water—keeping skillful means deeply stored within the heart-mind, thereby rendering one invulnerable to external harm.