《道德真經注疏》Vol. 5

The truly perfect state appears as if flawed. This describes those who have reached the highest level of moral cultivation (大成之君, Dacheng zhijun). Though they have achieved extraordinary accomplishments, they seem to have shortcomings. This is because they conceal their fame and refrain from flaunting their merits, just as a vessel appears incomplete. Yet it is precisely this attitude that allows their virtue (德, De) to function eternally without decline. As Zhuangzi said, small achievements can obscure the great Dao (道). True perfection isn't about being imperfect, but forgetting one's own state of perfection, thus appearing deficient.

The truly abundant state appears as if empty. Those of supreme moral cultivation (大盈之君, Daying zhijun) are inwardly fulfilled yet outwardly humble, never arrogant or extravagant in wealth and honor. By maintaining this receptive mindset like an empty valley, their virtue becomes inexhaustible. Though abundance and emptiness are opposites in nature, the deeply cultivated can embody both fullness and vacancy simultaneously, thus appearing void.

True integrity appears flexible. Practitioners of the Dao (大直, Dazhi) steadfastly uphold righteousness within, yet outwardly avoid contention, adapting to worldly affairs. Like the upright who don't ostentatiously display their integrity, they blend seamlessly with others, appearing capable of compromise. This great wisdom of integrity far surpasses petty righteousness that seeks recognition.

The highest skill appears clumsy. The truly capable (大巧, Daqiao) possess extraordinary craftsmanship yet never show off their abilities. Just as the Creator nurtures all things without claiming merit, the most skillful artisans (like Zhuangzi's craftsman Chui) seem awkward in their movements. This flawless artistry that leaves no trace represents true great wisdom.

The most eloquent appear inarticulate. True eloquence lies not in flowery speech but in knowing when to remain silent. Like the wisest who speak cautiously and refrain from casual opinions, this seemingly dull demeanor actually contains deeper levels of rhetorical mastery.

Those with true wisdom need no verbal debate, much like those who are not eloquent speakers. As Zhuangzi said, "The highest form of debate is without words," illustrating that the clever arguments of Yang Zhu and the Mohists were merely petty intellect.

Restless movement can overcome cold (referring to the flourishing growth of all things when Yang Qi is vigorous in spring and summer), but excessive movement leads to its opposite (the withering of all things in autumn and winter when cold prevails). Similarly, stillness can overcome heat (referring to the settling of Yin Qi in autumn and winter, when all things return to their roots), but excessive stillness may revert to agitation. The cycles of the four seasons operate this way—when Yin reaches its peak, Yang is born, and when Yang peaks, Yin arises. This teaches us that stillness is the root of longevity, while restlessness is the source of decline. Practitioners should abandon agitation and return to tranquility.

Fundamentally, movement dispels cold (referring to the activity of Yang Qi), while returning to the root allows stillness to control heat (referring to the settling of Yin Qi). All things, upon reaching their extreme, reverse course—what flourishes must decline, and what declines must flourish. All phenomena in the world follow this cyclical transformation. Since nothing remains eternally unchanged, why cling to excessive desires? Thus, those who attain the Dao (the Way) neither grasp nor crave, neither gaining nor losing. They uphold the five fundamental virtues (benevolence, righteousness, propriety, wisdom, and sincerity), unaffected by the fluctuations of heat and cold, thereby becoming exemplars of the world's proper path.

Only through serenity and Wuwei (non-action) can one embody the world's proper path. Maintaining purity and stillness not only cultivates the self but also benefits others, using the correct path to dissolve harmful influences. This is the fundamental principle of stillness overcoming restlessness. According to the Jiejie (a Daoist commentary), entering deep mountains to practice the path of purity and aligning with nature allows one to become a Zhenren (a realized being).

When the world follows the Dao (meaning the ruler governs with the proper path), even warhorses are returned to plow the fields (symbolizing the absence of conflict). Likewise, those who cultivate life must gather the essence of Yang Qi within to nourish themselves. A ruler who embodies the Dao governs through Wuwei, free from the greed for conquest, ensuring peace under heaven.

This scripture elucidates the contrasting manifestations of "being with Dao" and "being without Dao" through the dual lenses of state governance and self-cultivation.

In governance, a ruler who embodies the Dao (the Way) brings peace by ceasing warfare and prioritizing civil education, thereby stabilizing the nation. Such governance allows warhorses to be repurposed for farming, their manure enriching the fields. Conversely, a ruler without Dao indulges in sensual pleasures and territorial expansion, delighting in military campaigns. This leads to warhorses being perpetually deployed at the borders, even foaling on distant battlefields.

In self-cultivation, a person aligned with the Dao masters the six roots (the sensory faculties of eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, and mind), nourishing the heart-mind with the Dao. As Mencius observed, people understand using manure to fertilize fields but fail to recognize how learning nurtures the spirit (Shen). Those without Dao, however, indulge their senses, chasing desires in the mundane world.

The scripture then identifies three grave faults: the greatest sin is unrestrained desire, the greatest calamity is insatiable greed, and the deepest transgression is the endless pursuit of more. These arise when the heart-mind is seduced by external temptations, lacking restraint.

Finally, it underscores the importance of contentment: those who abide by their true nature and accept their circumstances will always find inner abundance. This reflects the Daoist cultivation principle of "reducing selfishness and diminishing desires," warning against being driven by greed and advocating the wisdom of knowing sufficiency as true fulfillment.

Those who know contentment always remain in a state of peace and stability. Just as one takes medicine after falling ill, so we shall now discuss:

The truly wise need not step beyond their doors to understand the affairs of the world. The sage comprehends others by knowing himself, perceives other households by observing his own, and thus apprehends all things under heaven. Here, "door" refers to sensory perception, outward attachments, and discriminating judgments of the mind. Those who have attained the Dao maintain inner emptiness and stillness—their spirit remains undisturbed by external things, yet they understand worldly matters through true wisdom.

Similarly, one need not peer through windows to grasp the patterns of celestial movement. The Dao of Heaven and the Dao of humanity interconnect; their vital energies (Qi) flow between them. When a ruler's heart is pure, the energies of heaven and earth naturally harmonize; when filled with excessive desires, these energies become chaotic. Fortune and misfortune ultimately stem from within. Governing the world requires no issuing of commands—sitting quietly in non-action (Wuwei), one comprehends the heavenly Dao. "Window" symbolizes the sensory apertures. Through meditative practice that transcends self, without relying on senses, the inner light naturally shines forth, directly realizing the Dao. This resembles closing external windows to contemplate the true source within.

Those who seek outwardly find their true knowledge diminishes the farther they go. Departing from their original mind to observe others, the further they wander, the shallower their understanding of truth becomes. Such inverted individuals chase external realms without ever finding contentment—their wisdom remains dim and superficial, lacking genuine insight.

Therefore, sages understand all without rushing about. Neither ascending to heaven nor descending to earth, they comprehend the world through heart-mind perception. The sage's heart clings to no external objects, yet perceives all things' essential nature—like a mirror suspended on high, reflecting phenomena naturally. As Zhuangzi said, sages don't rely on subjective consciousness but let their minds commune with the heavenly Dao.

Without seeing with physical eyes, one comprehends principles. When superiors honor virtue (De), the people value moral conduct; when superiors glorify martial force, the people contend for supremacy. Sages observe minute details to deduce the whole, cultivating inner refinement to understand outer transformations. "Not seeing" means realizing all phenomena's illusory nature—nothing possesses substantial visibility; "yet naming" refers to correctly discerning essential natures to teach sentient beings. Without deliberate observation, desires and pretenses naturally diminish.

This passage elucidates the core Daoist concept of "governing through non-action (Wuwei)." Laozi believed that true peace and prosperity can only be achieved by following natural laws. When rulers refrain from forceful interference (Wuwei), the people can live in contentment, and all things flourish according to their natural course.

Regarding the distinction between conventional learning and Daoist cultivation: pursuing worldly knowledge leads to increasing attachment to rituals and intellectual accumulation—like amassing decorative ornaments. Daoist practice (Wei Dao), conversely, requires progressively diminishing desires and attachments until one approaches the great Dao. It's like peeling an onion layer by layer, eliminating all artificial effort (Wuwei), at which point one paradoxically accomplishes everything (Wuwei er wubuwei).

The same principle applies to governance. The most skillful ruler mirrors the world like a reflection—initiating nothing (Wushi), making the people scarcely aware of being governed, yet achieving optimal results. Here, the infant symbolizes the ideal state—natural innocence free from scheming (serene as an infant).

Key term explanations:

• "Ning Shen Ji Dan" refers to a state of intensely focused yet utterly tranquil spirit
• "Qingyu Wenshi" denotes artificial desires and superficial embellishments
• "Yi Zhong Zhi Wuwei" represents the absolute natural state transcending the duality of "action" and "non-action"

Practice essentials:

Daoist cultivators progress through two stages: first employing the "diminishing" method to dissolve attachments, ultimately reaching the "forgetting" stage—where even the thought of "I am cultivating the Dao" vanishes, achieving true unity with the Dao (De yu Dao he). In this state, what appears as non-action (Wuwei) actually enables perfect harmony with nature's operations (Wuwei er wubuwei).

This scripture expounds on the sage's way of governing the world. The sage educates the people through "non-action (Wuwei)"—not enforcing things by force, but following natural laws. Even when handling practical affairs, the sage maintains inner tranquility, just as Zhuangzi said: Why exhaust oneself by interfering with the natural course of all things?

If rulers constantly busy themselves with issuing commands and regulations, they will only unsettle the people, making effective governance impossible. True sages have no selfish desires—they align their will entirely with the people's will. They treat the virtuous with kindness and guide the unvirtuous with compassion, uplifting all toward goodness. This embodies the highest virtue (De).

To the trustworthy, the sage responds with trust; to the untrustworthy, they offer opportunities for transformation. In this way, an atmosphere of integrity spreads throughout society. The scripture also touches on cultivation principles: When practitioners reach the stage of "regulating Qi (vital energy) to nourish the spirit (Shen)," their essence and form harmonize, dispelling harmful influences while preserving righteous energy. Their bones grow strong—this is the state of "attaining goodness."

(Note: "Non-action (Wuwei)" is a core Daoist concept, meaning to act in accordance with nature without forcing outcomes. "Regulating Qi to nourish the spirit" refers to a cultivation method of refining breath to nurture spiritual vitality.)

The sage transforms the people through virtuous conduct (De), inspiring faith in them. Here, "faith" refers to the joy that arises upon hearing Daoist precepts, while "lack of faith" means disinterest in the Dao's teachings. With a mind clear as empty space, the sage practices compassion, impartially delivering all beings—whether faithful or not—bringing them benefit and universally awakening their faith. The True Manifestation of Lady Ziwei (a Daoist immortal) once said: Faith is the pivot of gain and loss. The scriptures also state: Faith is the essence of cultivating the Dao.

Someone might ask: Since sages inherently make no distinctions, why teach only those with faith and not others? In truth, the sage's teaching manifests in two ways: universal deliverance and special resonance. Just as governing the Jade Capital of Mysterious Metropolis (the highest Daoist heaven) yet constantly saving beings across the Three Realms exemplifies universal deliverance, so too did the Western barbarians perceive the purple aura, and the Perfected Yin Xi (disciple of Laozi) receive the Daode Jing—these were special resonances. Special resonance requires specific karmic conditions, while universal deliverance is the constant radiance of compassion. Thus the Daode Jing states: The sage eternally excels at saving people, never abandoning anyone.

In the mundane world, the sage remains ever vigilant and reverent—even amid wealth and honor, never indulging in arrogance or extravagance. "Trembling caution" describes their diligent and prudent demeanor. Without seeking personal gratification, the sage moves through the world with great compassion, rescuing beings in constant fear of their downfall, hence maintaining perpetual alertness.

To guide the people back to their original purity, the sage deliberately makes their own mind appear turbid and obscure, seemingly dull and unenlightened. "Turbid" signifies the undifferentiated state of primal chaos. Ordinary people are easily deluded by emotions and external phenomena, generating distinctions and attachments, while the sage works to dissolve these divisions. Herein lies the profound meaning of this vigilant approach.

The people all intently observe the sage with eyes and ears. "Intent" means to fixate upon; some texts use "indulge," implying obsessive attachment. Those who have lost their way drown in worldly affairs, indulging their senses and clinging to pleasures of sound and form.

This scripture primarily discusses how people become trapped in the cycle of birth and death due to indulgence in desires, and how sages compassionately guide sentient beings.

The reason humans drift and sink in the sea of samsara is the accumulation of transgressions over time. The sages, pitying the suffering of sentient beings, particularly identify the eyes and ears among the six roots (sight, hearing, smell, taste, touch, and mind) as the most prone to faults. As the Western Ascension Scripture states: "Indulgence in sensual pleasures leaves behind transgressions." These two senses are singled out as examples because their harm is most severe, though faults arising from other senses follow the same pattern.

Sages care for common people as one nurtures an infant, providing for them without seeking reward. Sentient beings drown in the river of attachment through unrestrained sensory desires, while sages extend their compassionate salvation with the same tenderness one shows toward an ignorant babe.

The phrase "emerging into life and entering death" is explained thus: When emotions arise from within, the stable presence of hun (ethereal soul) and po (corporeal soul) constitutes "life"; when desires dominate the heart-mind and deplete the spirit (shen), this is "death." Awakening allows transcendence beyond the Three Realms (Desire Realm, Form Realm, and Formless Realm), while attachment leads to rebirth in the Three Wretched Destinies (hells, hungry ghosts, and animals). The transition from emptiness to form is birth; the return from form to emptiness is death.

Regarding the "ten and three" (referring to the nine orifices—two eyes, two ears, two nostrils, mouth, urethra and anus—plus the four limb joints): During life, restrained use of these apertures preserves vitality, while their misuse hastens mortality. Sages transcend the Three Realms, whereas ordinary beings remain bound to the Six Paths (devas, humans, asuras, animals, hungry ghosts, and hells) through attachment to these bodily functions.

People often walk willingly toward the land of death precisely because of excessive engagement with these senses. Why does this occur? Because their excessive pursuit of material comforts and desperate clinging to life ironically hastens their demise.

This passage explains how violating natural laws and clinging to material pleasures invites disaster. Those who excessively pursue wealth or overindulge in life preservation ironically find themselves in precarious situations.

Those who truly understand the art of nurturing life maintain a serene and detached heart, unswayed by external temptations. Such individuals walk the land unharmed by rhinoceros or tigers (symbolizing inner peace undisturbed by external threats), and even when entering a battlefield, they need no armor (symbolizing immunity to worldly conflicts). Their state of mind reaches such a level that rhinos find no angle to gore them, tigers no place to claw, and weapons no edge to strike (symbolizing how afflictions like greed, anger, and delusion cannot harm them).

Why is this so? Because such people have transcended attachment to life and death. They align with the natural order, their hearts free of selfish desires—not even death is seen as a threat. Thus, external harm naturally cannot touch them. The commentary explains that the rhinoceros here symbolizes ignorance, the tiger symbolizes wrath, and weapons symbolize greed. Those skilled in nurturing life, having realized the wondrous truth of emptiness (真空妙理), remain unharmed by these three poisons.

(Note: "摄生" refers to the cultivation and preservation of life; "兕" is a mythical unicorn-like beast resembling a rhinoceros in ancient lore; "三毒" is a Buddhist term referring to greed, anger, and delusion, here borrowed to illustrate Daoist cultivation states.)

Those skilled in nourishing life do not cling to external bodily forms, for they understand the body itself is illusory, thus there exists no true place of death. Where there is no place of death, the three poisons of greed, hatred, and delusion find no foothold to cause harm. Ancient practitioners believed that sages, through concentrating their spirit (Shen), focusing on unity, regulating breath, consolidating primordial Qi, and maintaining fetal respiration (a profound breathing technique), could avoid harm from external phenomena. This cultivation method allows genuine Qi and the spirit to coexist naturally, thereby never entering dangerous circumstances.

The Dao is the origin from which all things are created, while De (Virtue) is the concrete manifestation of the Dao's transformative power. The Dao nourishes all beings by distributing vital energy (Qi), much like heaven's benevolent light shines upon all creation. All things take form through the power of Dao and De, while the changes of the four seasons and the alternation of cold and heat facilitate their growth. Through cultivation, one purifies the heart-mind, gradually refining the practice to perfection.

Thus all things revere the Dao's creative power and cherish De's nurturing function. The nobility of Dao and De does not come from any conferred titles or ranks, but emerges naturally—just as the Dao never deliberately summons things, yet all things respond spontaneously, like a shadow following a form or an echo answering a sound. The true nobility of Dao and De lies entirely in their natural function of transforming and nurturing all existence.

The Dao not only creates all things but continuously nourishes, cultivates, completes, matures, and protects them. Just as wise rulers govern states and practitioners cultivate themselves, both should emulate this comprehensive way of nurturing. Though only "Dao" is mentioned here without explicit reference to "De," this is because De is inherently inseparable from Dao—as the Western Ascension Scripture states, Dao and De form a mysteriously indivisible whole. "Sustaining growth" means enabling life to continuously develop toward perfection.

This passage describes the process by which Daoist practitioners cultivate virtuous roots and attain the fruits of the Dao. Nurturing virtuous roots is like tending crops—it requires sustained effort, while maturation refers to purifying body and mind through supreme Daoist methods, ultimately achieving perfection in Dao practice and complete refinement of De (Virtue/Power). The term "nurturing and sheltering" mentioned here carries two meanings: "nurturing" refers to the karmic rewards gained through cultivation, while "sheltering" signifies protecting all beings with great compassion.

The text then elucidates three mysterious virtues of the Dao: First, "it generates but does not possess"—the Dao gives birth to all things yet never claims ownership. Like the straw dogs (ancient sacrificial items) often mentioned in Daoist scriptures, which appear substantial yet are essentially empty, the Dao nurtures all beings while eternally maintaining a state of emptiness. Second, "it acts but does not presume"—the Dao bestows upon all things yet never seeks repayment. It transforms and nourishes all beings, establishes natural laws, yet never boasts of its achievements. Third, "it fosters growth but does not dominate"—the Dao sustains all life yet never asserts control. Though its merits rival creation itself, it perpetually maintains the transcendent attitude that "both agent and object are illusory," embodying the most profound "Mysterious De."

Regarding the formation of heaven and earth, the commentary explains that the "Dao" is the origin (mother) of all things, while "De" is the nurturing force. The Dao (Yang), like heaven, generates all beings through movement; De (Yin), like earth, nourishes them through embrace. All things attain their forms by following their respective karma (the law of cause and effect), just as the changing seasons naturally facilitate the growth of all life. The "harmoniously blended wondrous Qi" (the subtle energy of Yin-Yang union) mentioned here is precisely the fundamental energy that generates and sustains all existence.

The essence of Dao is the generative root of all things, like a mother. This mysterious origin transcends language and form, yet all phenomena in the world arise from it. The scripture emphasizes recognizing this fundamental source—just as a mother nurtures her child, Dao sustains all beings with its clear and empty Qi (vital energy). People often become lost in desires, forgetting this primordial origin. Thus, Laozi reveals that "clear and empty Qi" is the true source of Dao and De (Virtue/Power)—the "beginning" represents the endless, formless essence, while the "mother" embodies the function of nurturing and transformation.

Recognizing Dao as mother means understanding oneself as its child. All things grow through the harmonious interplay of Chonghe Qi (the balanced life-energy of Yin-Yang), and our physical bodies are likewise manifestations of this energy. Knowing we are children of Dao, we must return to the source, maintaining a state of serene Wuwei (non-action) to reunite with Dao.

Holding to this root ensures lifelong freedom from peril. Understanding that our bodies originate from Chonghe Qi, we must preserve this subtle energy from dissipation. Returning to the root and guarding the mother—though the physical form will eventually perish—the essential nature remains eternal. Dao is the origin of creation, while all phenomena are its manifestations. By preserving the mother, one attains enduring existence; by returning to the source, one transcends life and death, for Dao—the generative force behind all things—never perishes.

This scripture passage primarily discusses how practitioners of the Dao can achieve longevity and spiritual vision through mastering sensory desires.

The Western Ascension Scripture states that only by nurturing the root (the "nourishing mother" refers to cultivating the source of life) can one attain enduring existence. The concrete method involves "plugging the openings" (the "openings" refer to the eyes) by preventing the eyes from wandering indiscriminately, and "closing the gates" (the "gates" refer to the mouth) by restraining idle speech. These are specific cultivation techniques taught to practitioners.

The scripture particularly emphasizes controlling speech because the mouth influences all three karmic paths—body, speech, and mind—while also connecting to the six sensory faculties (eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, and mind), making it the easiest portal for creating karma. Closing the five sensory gates prevents contamination by worldly desires.

There are two approaches to this restraint: one is physical seclusion in mountain forests to sever emotional attachments; the other is realizing the illusory nature of external temptations, maintaining an inner freedom from greed while recognizing there's nothing truly worth coveting in the external world. This way, even while seeing with the eyes and hearing with the ears, one preserves a crystal-clear mental state—this constitutes the true subtle art of "sensory restraint."

Mastering these methods brings lifelong freedom from toil. Dao cultivation takes many forms—some choose secluded meditation far from worldly dust, while others comprehend the true Dao amidst mundane life. As long as one achieves the aforementioned "restraint," even worldly existence can maintain authentic spirituality, effortless ease, and natural longevity.

Conversely, indulging sensory desires ("opening the openings") and drowning in sensual pleasures ("indulging in affairs") exhausts the spirit and wearies the senses, resulting in lifelong suffering. Foolish people who indulge their eyes, ears and other senses in sensual pleasures become so immersed that even the most sagely and compassionate beings find them difficult to save.

True wisdom lies in perceiving subtle omens ("seeing the small"). The ability to detect misfortune at its earliest germination, before it takes form, constitutes genuine insight.

The commentary on the Daode Zhenjing (True Scripture of Dao and Virtue) here elucidates concrete methods of Daoist cultivation. The essential meaning conveys:

When handling affairs, if one can perceive subtle details and promptly correct one's actions, this constitutes genuine wisdom. Here, "clarity" (ming) refers to the capacity for contemplative awareness, while "smallness" (xiao) represents the delicate and profound principles of Dao. Should practitioners contemplate such sublime states, their wisdom will gradually increase—just as the earlier passage states regarding "observing its wonders" (guan qi miao).

Maintaining softness and pliancy paradoxically leads to strength. Because one can perceive subtle phenomena, wisdom naturally grows; coupled with understanding how to employ the way of gentleness, one's De (Virtue/Power) and accomplishments will steadily flourish. At the beginning of practice, one must develop concentration (ding) and wisdom (hui), requiring both practical application and realization. Observing subtleties serves as the gateway to activating wisdom-concentration, while applying gentleness becomes the method for experiential understanding.

When employing the light of wisdom, one must simultaneously observe external worldly gains and losses while also withdrawing that illumination inward, preventing the dissipation of Shen (spirit). One must both illuminate the external world and understand how to gather radiance, returning to simplicity. As the Zhuangzi states, sages know how to restrain excessive brilliance.

Through internal contemplation and nurturing the Shen, preventing the leakage of Jing (essence) and Qi (vital energy), one avoids bringing calamity upon oneself. Mastering these practices constitutes cultivation of the eternal Dao. When practice reaches completion and De becomes whole, all entanglements dissolve, leaving no residual misfortunes. Only such individuals can truly transmit the orthodox Dao.

Finally, Laozi laments: "If I indeed understood the way of governing the state, I would certainly implement the Great Dao." This expresses Laozi's lament about the rulers of his time failing to practice the proper way.

This passage explains how the Dao (the Way) is inherently simple and straightforward, yet people insist on taking devious paths, leading to social chaos. Laozi illustrates this truth through several metaphors:

First, he introduces the concept of "governing through non-action" (Wuwei, meaning following nature's course without forced interference). Laozi describes how he remains vigilant day and night, focusing on self-cultivation. Even the slightest insight must align with the Dao's principles. What he fears most is willful intervention, as such actions easily deviate from the Dao's essence—attempts to reward goodness may breed hypocrisy, while efforts to trust loyalty might invite deception.

The Dao itself is perfectly level ("yi" meaning smooth and even), yet people prefer crooked shortcuts ("jing" referring to devious bypaths). It's like rulers indulging in extravagant construction ("chao shen chu" denoting lavish palaces) that leave fields barren ("tian shen wu") and granaries empty ("cang shen xu"). These consequences arise when people abandon their fundamental nature to chase superficial glamour, straying from the Dao's simplicity.

A crucial emphasis is placed on the Dao's true nature: empty, tranquil, and all-pervading, transcending dualistic judgments. Those who realize this remain fearless in danger and composed amid hardship. Yet modern minds stir with restless thoughts and forced distinctions, drifting ever further from the Dao until all actions become perilous.

Through contrasting examples of state governance and personal cultivation, this passage reveals the dangers of acting against natural laws, urging a return to the unadorned authenticity of the great Dao.

This scripture primarily critiques rulers' extravagant behaviors, demonstrating how such conduct violates the Dao (the Way).

The text states that when rulers focus solely on personal indulgence, it depletes the nation's vital resources (wuzang kongfa, "five viscera emptied"). Their ornate garments (wencai, "embroidered colors") represent hypocritical external adornments, while their sharp swords symbolize reliance on martial force over civil governance. Obsessively pursuing fine dining (yan yinshi, "satiated with delicacies") and indulging in lavish feasts while ignoring the people's suffering reveals moral bankruptcy. Hoarding excessive wealth (zihuo youyu, "surplus goods and assets") essentially amounts to robbing the populace like bandits, ultimately leading to familial and national ruin.

The commentary emphasizes that such behavior completely contradicts the Dao (fei dao ye zai, "this is not the Way"). Rulers who act thus bring calamity upon themselves and their kin. The scripture specifically notes three symptoms of misrule: corrupt courts (chao shen chu, "excessively 'cleansed' courts"), abandoned farmlands (tian shen wu, "severely overgrown fields"), and empty granaries (cang shen xu, "utterly depleted storehouses")—all resulting from rulers neglecting moral cultivation while indulging in personal pleasures.

The passage concludes with the principle of "shan jian bu ba"—those truly skilled at establishing themselves and governing through the Dao remain unshakably rooted. Practitioners who steadfastly maintain their devotion to the Dao can reach the supreme state (daochang, "field of the Dao") without collapse.

(Note: "Five viscera" metaphorically represents core state institutions; "field of the Dao" denotes the highest spiritual attainment in Daoist practice; "embroidered colors" refers to extravagant clothing; "goods and assets" indicates material wealth.)

Wang Bi explains that constructing a chariot requires the combination of various materials to be called a chariot, just as a ruler needs the support of the people to be called a sovereign. Without materials, the chariot cannot exist; without subjects, the ruler loses their nobility. Therefore, those who cherish chariots should value their materials, and those who treasure the root should protect their people. The Jiejie commentary states that the true Dao is nameless—its essence lies in holding fast to the "One" (referring to the root of Dao) within the heart, without seeking externally, hence it is said to be "without praise" (free from vain reputation).

Those who are adept at holding to the Dao do not deviate from it. The annotation points out that those who use the Dao to nurture their Shen (spirit) will never be led astray by external things and lose their root. The commentary explains that "embracing" means to hold fast, while "slipping away" means to lose. The previous passage speaks of the initial aspiration, while this one speaks of cultivation. It means that those who are skilled in holding to the true Dao and cultivating it, once attaining the Dao, can maintain it forever and never deviate.

The sacrifices of descendants will never cease. The annotation cites the imperial commentary, stating that rulers who establish themselves through Dao and De (Virtue) extend their merit and virtue to future generations. Just as people cherish the sweet pear tree, how much more so the descendants of rulers? The sacrifices of kings honor virtue—the rise of the Zhou dynasty began with Houji (the founding ancestor) and was accomplished by King Wen and King Wu. In Zhou sacrifices, Houji was honored in the suburbs, and King Wen in the ancestral temple. Thus, although the Zhou dynasty spanned thirty generations over seven hundred years, with ancestral temples changing hands, the sacrifices to Houji and King Wen never ceased.

Cultivating oneself with the Dao makes De (Virtue) genuine. The annotation explains that by cultivating the Dao to nourish Jing (essence), Qi (vital energy), and Shen (spirit), one can prolong life—such virtue is the realm of the Zhenren (True Person). The commentary adds that through the study and cultivation described earlier, one perfects the self, attaining a state in harmony with the Dao, making Dao and De truly authentic.

Governing the family with the Dao makes De abundant. The annotation explains that cultivating the Dao within the family manifests as parental kindness, filial piety, fraternal respect, and marital loyalty—such virtue brings blessings to descendants.

Governing the village with the Dao makes De enduring. The annotation states that cultivating the Dao in the village manifests as respecting elders, cherishing the young, and instructing the ignorant—such virtue benefits all.

Governing the state with the Dao makes De flourishing. The annotation points out that cultivating the Dao at the national level manifests as rulers being trustworthy, ministers loyal, with righteousness and benevolence arising naturally, rites and music flourishing of their own accord, and governance being impartial—such virtue is truly abundant. The commentary adds that if feudal lords cultivate purity and emptiness through the Dao, they can bring peace to their states, free from internal and external worries—this is the manifestation of the sage ruler's abundant virtue.

Governing the world with the Dao makes De universal.

When a ruler governs the world through Dao (the natural principle of Wuwei/non-action), he can transform the people without issuing commands and achieve peace without deliberate indoctrination. This occurs because those in high positions follow the Great Dao, while those below respond naturally, just as shadows follow forms and echoes answer sounds. Only such Virtue (De) can spread throughout the world.

When a sovereign (the "Ninth Five" supreme ruler, referring to emperors) governs through Dao, he need only sit upright with folded hands in serene Wuwei/non-action, and the world will naturally attain peace. All nations will come to pay tribute, people from all directions will submit, teachings will reach everywhere, and Virtue will encompass all.

Thus we may discern through comparison:

Compare individuals who cultivate Dao with those who do not, and you will understand who perishes and who endures;

Compare households that cultivate Dao with those that do not;

Compare villages that cultivate Dao with those that do not;

Compare states that cultivate Dao with those that do not;

Compare empires governed through Dao with those that are not.

Laozi said: How do I know the principles governing the rise and fall of empires? Precisely through such comparative observation. The peace during Yao and Shun's reigns came from following Dao, while the chaos under Jie and Zhou resulted from abandoning Dao. By comparing those who cultivate Dao with those who do not, the successes and failures of governance become immediately apparent. Laozi said this method is as reliable as divination turtle shells or a mirror that reflects images.

Those with profound cultivation of Dao and De are as pure as newborn infants. Divine spirits (Shen) protect such people just as parents protect their babies. An infant's purity manifests thus: poisonous creatures won't sting them, fierce beasts won't attack them, and birds of prey won't seize them. This is because infants harm nothing, and nothing harms them in return. In times of great peace, all people possess benevolent hearts—thorny plants return to their gentle nature, and venomous insects refrain from harming others. Those who embody supreme Dao-De live in harmony with all things; because they harbor no intention to harm, no poison can touch them.

The perfected person (zhiren) who has attained the highest level of Daoist cultivation embodies profound De (Virtue/Power) within. Just as venomous snakes and fierce beasts cannot harm an innocent infant, the perfected one remains untouched by the three poisons of greed, hatred, and delusion.

Though an infant's muscles and bones are soft, it can clench its fist tightly—this demonstrates the purity of undivided attention and single-minded focus. Similarly, the perfected person maintains a heart of gentle humility. While dwelling in the mundane world, their spirit remains untainted by external pollution. This illustrates the purity of intention.

An infant knows nothing of male-female relations, yet naturally exhibits physiological responses—this is a manifestation of abundant Jing (essence) and Qi (vital energy). The perfected one comprehends the true principle of the Dao. Though living amid worldly distractions and sensual temptations, they perceive the illusory nature of phenomena and remain undisturbed by desire. This illustrates the purity of the physical body.

An infant may cry all day without its voice becoming hoarse—this results from the harmonious Qi filling its being. The perfected one deeply understands the true Dao, and thus their speech naturally aligns with heavenly principles. Even when expounding on the nature of all things, their words never contradict the wordless Dao. This illustrates the purity of speech.

One who knows how to preserve the gentle Qi grasps the unchanging principle of the Dao (changdao). Just as an infant instinctively maintains its soft and yielding nature, the Daoist practitioner who recognizes the benefits of gentle Qi for body and mind has comprehended the eternal truth of the great Dao.

This passage describes the conduct of those who comprehend eternal truth. To understand this ineffable truth is to realize the pure and harmonious laws of nature. The ability to recognize the eternal Dao is called "ming" (illumination or penetrating wisdom). Those who grasp the eternal principles of the Dao gradually attain profound mystical states. True understanding of the eternal Dao endows one with the radiant light of wisdom.

Excessive pursuit of longevity paradoxically invites misfortune. Here, "auspiciousness" refers to unbalanced growth. Worldly people, unaware that life has no fixed form, cling to material gains and obsess over prolonging life, only to find their afflictions and obstacles multiplying.

Forcing Qi (vital energy) through sheer willpower is called "qiang" (forcing). The spirit should remain focused and gentle, allowing internal Jing (essence) and Qi to flourish naturally, making the body pliant. Conversely, forceful manipulation dissipates harmonious Qi, causing physical rigidity. While the discriminating mind creates dualities, Qi remains undivided. Attempting to control Qi with mental effort constitutes coercion. In truth, spirit and Qi (body) are inseparable, yet people perceive them inversely, generating confusion everywhere. Unaware that all phenomena are empty and the body illusory, they exhaust themselves by driving the physical form through mental exertion, only deepening karmic cycles of birth and death.

When things reach their zenith, they decline—this contradicts the Dao's nature. All things wither after flourishing, and withering means departing from the Dao. Prosperity inevitably yields to decay; strength ultimately gives way to frailty. Thus, excessive life-nourishment and forced Qi manipulation demonstrate impermanence. Since these are transient phenomena, they cannot represent the true Dao.

What contradicts the Dao should cease immediately. "Early cessation" means termination or death. All things decline after peaking, so one must guard against relying on strength or force—such behavior opposes the Dao and must be abandoned promptly. Not being the true Dao, it warrants immediate discontinuation.

(Note: This scripture elucidates the Daoist core principle of "following natural spontaneity," opposing artificial striving and excessive attachment. "The mind forcing Qi" refers to the practice of coercively guiding energy during cultivation—Daoism advocates harmonizing with nature rather than forceful control. "Things flourish then age" reveals the inevitable cycle of growth and decline, emphasizing the wisdom of embracing softness and humility.)