《道德真經玄德纂疏》

This Compiled Commentaries on the Profound Virtue of the True Scripture of Dao and De is a significant classic personally annotated and elucidated by Emperor Xuanzong of the Tang Dynasty. It compiles commentaries from eminent Daoist masters across generations, including Heshanggong, Yan Junping, and Li Rong, with further exegesis by the Western Hua Master Cheng Xuanying and compilation by Qiang Siqi of Mengyang. This scripture stands as the pinnacle of the Three Teachings' thought, serving as the leader among numerous classics. Its content encompasses everything from the macrocosmic to the microcosmic, exhaustively exploring the principles of heaven and human nature, with mysteries beyond comprehension.

The characters "Dao" (the Way) and "De" (Virtue/Power) each carry profound meanings: "Dao" represents the truth realm of emptiness and unimpededness, while "De" signifies the wondrous wisdom beyond distinctions. Wisdom illuminates truth, and truth inspires wisdom. When the two merge and interpenetrate, they form the holistic concept of "Dao-De." More detailed and profound meanings are explained in the introductory section.

The first volume, comprising thirty-seven chapters, is divided into three major parts: the first chapter reveals the essence of Dao; the middle thirty-five chapters elaborate in detail on the principles of Dao; and the final chapter summarizes the scripture's key teachings.

The opening chapter, "The Dao that can be spoken of," is further divided into four key points: first, a brief explanation of principle and teaching; second, an extensive elucidation of noumenon and phenomenon; third, the demonstration of two different perspectives of observation; and finally, the convergence into the ultimate state of "Chongxuan" (an important Daoist philosophical concept referring to the transcendence of duality, the mystery beyond mysteries).

Regarding the nature of "Dao": The supreme Dao is empty, tranquil, and profoundly mysterious, transcending the limitations of language and form. Truth surpasses phenomena, just as one must forget the fishing net (a metaphor for tools) after catching fish. It cannot be known through ordinary names nor exhausted by words. Vast beyond measure yet subtle beyond detection, it manifests like a compassionate ferryboat when visible and returns to silence when hidden. The Yellow Emperor Xuanyuan fasted for three months seeking answers but found none, and Emperor Wen of Han inquired for years without success. The essence of Dao is stillness, and its names are subtle. At times, it rides a dragon chariot to the jade capital of immortals; at others, it floats through celestial palaces on a phoenix carriage. The Queen Mother of the West (Xiwangmu) attained Dao and resides on Mount Shaoguang, while Dongfang Shuo encountered Dao and roams the human realm in play. All things in heaven and earth are generated by Dao, and all life flourishes because of it. This supreme Dao of Chongxuan is truly magnificent!

The line "The Dao that can be spoken of is not the eternal Dao" is explained in the imperial commentary as follows: "The 'ultimate emptiness and wondrous origin' is a forced name for Dao." The character "Dao" can be interpreted as a path, a method, a principle, or constancy. The first "Dao" establishes the central teaching, indicating that this mysterious origin is the path through which all things are generated. The "Dao" that can be spoken of is merely a provisional designation. The scripture states, "I do not know its name, so I provisionally call it Dao," aiming to help practitioners understand their true nature and cultivate their minds.

Why It Is Called the Dao

At its deepest and most subtle, the Dao is ultimately empty and clear. It is difficult to describe, neither bright nor dark.

What the Lower Scripture Says

“It is unseen, and so is called Yi; unheard, and so is called Xi; beyond grasp, and so is called Wei.”

Trying to see the Dao through color, hear it through sound, or grasp it through physical form will not succeed. The wondrous Dao is hidden and subtle; it cannot be sought through the sounds, colors, and forms of the world.

The Scripture on the Birth of the Gods of the Nine Heavens

The sages take as their essence the Three Qi of the Mysterious Origin (the Daoist god of creation). This refers to the wondrous Qi of the “Three Heavens.”

The Ritual Master Zang Zongdao

He also takes the “Three Ones” as the sages’ responsive manifestations. The Three Ones are: first, Jing; second, Shen; third, Qi.

Jing is the heart that shines with spiritual wisdom.

Shen is the unfathomable power that operates without limit.

Qi is the principle of color, image, and physical form.

The scripture says: “Unseen” is Yi (Jing); “unheard” is Xi (Shen); “beyond grasp” is Wei (Qi). These three unite as one sacred body. Since they cannot be pursued to their ultimate source, they are blended into one.

Laojun’s Dharma body takes the Three Ones as its own form, and the body has both a true aspect and a responsive aspect. Commentators divide the explanation into three schools.

The first school says that when the One unfolds into three, this is the sage’s responsive aspect; when the three are blended and return to the One, this is the sage’s true aspect.

The second school says that both the three and the one are responsive aspects; what is neither three nor one is the true aspect. Being three or being one both belong to the realm of names and numbers.

The third school asks: Can there be a truth without names and numbers, apart from the realm of names and numbers? The Three Ones are neither three nor one. The three is the responsive aspect; the one is the true aspect. What is not the responsive aspect of the Three Ones is the true responsive aspect; what is not the true aspect of the Three Ones is the responsive truth. Since the true and the responsive cannot be defined with certainty, they are neither true nor responsive, and yet are both responsive and true.

The sages respond to encounters, meet the needs of those they reach, and act in accord with things. They may take human form or be born in heaven; they appear wherever needed and adapt to change as circumstances arise. Their wondrous essence is Yi and Xi, and in the end it cannot be fathomed.

Rong’s Commentary

The Dao is the ultimate principle of emptiness and stillness. Its form cannot be divided into being and nonbeing, and its truth cannot be measured by up or down. This is what is called wondrous: profound beyond thought and impossible to know. The sages tread this mysterious path with openness and make it accessible through the gates of teaching.

The Xuan De Compilation and Commentary on the Dao De Zhen Jing expounds on the origin and characteristics of the Dao (the Way). It first points out that although the Dao is difficult to name, it can be understood as "empty and pervasive." It is, in essence, the ultimate truth beyond form and appearance, the pure innate nature inherent in all beings.

The so-called Heavenly Dao is the root of emptiness, the foundation of creation, the substance of the divine, and the source of heaven and earth. It is vast beyond boundaries yet minute beyond a core, boundless and unfathomably profound. Though utterly still, it gives birth to all things; though seemingly formless and chaotic, it enables the manifestation of all phenomena and the harmony of all sounds. All things arise and perish, yet the eternal principle of ceaseless generation remains unchanging—this is the essence of the Dao.

Before the primordial chaos of the Great Void, there was originally nothing. Only through subtle resonance did the True One (the purest origin) emerge. The True One moves with divine mystery, and from it, Qi (vital energy) spontaneously arises. This Qi is neither purely existent nor purely nonexistent—it permeates everywhere yet remains imperceptible. The clear and light Qi ascends to form heaven, the turbid and heavy Qi condenses to form earth, the balanced and harmonious Qi shapes humanity, while discordant Qi gives rise to other creatures. Though the transformations of all things are endless, they are all nurtured by Qi and endowed with spirit by the divine.

Heaven and earth are governed by Qian and Kun (Yin-Yang), while life is ruled by essence and soul. The Qi of Yin-Yang may shift and change, but the nature of the divine is eternal. The cycles of birth and death continue without end, yet the substance of the Dao and the wondrous function of the divine never diminish. The Dao encompasses the entire cosmos without appearing vast; it penetrates the finest tip of a hair without appearing small. It precedes the void yet cannot be called a beginning; it outlasts the dissolution of heaven and earth yet cannot be called an end.

The text concludes by clarifying: originally, there was no divine—it arose from the utmost stillness of emptiness. Originally, there was no Qi—it was generated through the movement of the divine. Qi itself has no substance; it is only through condensation that form takes shape. Form itself has no emotion; it is through activity that innate nature is depleted. The more form solidifies and nature stirs, the further one strays from the Dao.

Obsessed with the cycle of life and death, dominated by the transformations of yin-yang without autonomy—this is not the Dao being forgotten while it exists. The Dao can create all things from emptiness, can it not also return existing things to emptiness? When existence and emptiness become one, existence will never perish. Thus, what creates me is the Dao; what destroys me is desire. If one can forget desire, one preserves their true nature. When nature is whole, the form is whole; when the form is whole, qi (vital energy) is abundant; when qi is abundant, the spirit is complete; when the spirit is complete, it merges with the Dao. When fully united with the Dao, the spirit governs all, qi flows freely, and the form transcends limitations. One whose nature is perfectly attuned can circulate endlessly, merge with the Dao, transform existence into emptiness, and turn emptiness into substance. Such a person becomes a companion to the Creator—how could life and death bind them?

The so-called "speakable Dao" is its manifestation; the "nameable name" is its function. Though the Dao can be described in words, these names arise from specific contexts and are not the eternal truth or the true Dao.

Yan Junping (a Han Dynasty Daoist scholar) pointed out: When virtue and power are displayed, it is no longer the natural state; when merit and fame appear, purity is lost. Heshang Gong (a commentator on the Daodejing) believed: The commonly spoken Dao is not the true Dao of natural longevity. The eternal Dao nurtures the spirit through wuwei (non-action), settles the people through non-interference, conceals its radiance, and erases its traces—this state cannot be described in words.

Cheng Xuanying (a Tang Dynasty Daoist) explained: People use ritual and righteousness to elevate themselves, chasing empty fame, harming their bodies for reputation, and losing themselves for profit—these are all expressions of virtue after losing the Dao. Now, we must discard the external adornments of benevolence and righteousness, return to the essence of virtue and power, move from shallow actions back to pure origins, and reverse habitual desires—hence, this is not the true eternal Dao.

The true eternal Dao cannot be debated with words or fathomed with intellect. It transcends all forms and concepts, reaching the mysterious realm of the indistinct. Only by going beyond words and appearances can one grasp this everlasting Dao. The Dao that can be spoken, the name that can be defined—these are not the eternal, unchanging true Dao or true name.

The Tang Emperor Xuanzong's commentary states: "Name" is how the great Dao is referred to. I reluctantly use the word "great" to name it. Names cannot exist independently; they must rely on substance. Words do not arise from nothing—they stem from the manifestation of virtue. The movement of the great Dao is unobstructed, embracing all things without limit. Thus, the name "great Dao" is used to designate its essence, allowing people to understand it. Hence, it is said, "The name that can be named."

Plain-Language Interpretation

On “The Dao that can be spoken of is not the constant Dao; the name that can be named is not the constant name”

Teaching goes beyond words. If principle is the constant Dao, then “Dao” cannot be treated as an ordinary subject of instruction. A name may be given, but it is not a fixed name of the everyday world. This explains that principle and teaching—fundamental reality and its instruction—are neither identical nor different.

The Supreme Dao is profound and mysterious, beyond measure: it is neither nonbeing nor being, neither ceasing nor permanent. Though it is not permanent, its expression still has emphasis and restraint; teaching can be gradual or immediate. Thus “constant” is used to challenge the claim that Dao is “speakable,” which is why the text says, “The Dao that can be spoken of is not the constant Dao.” At the ultimate point of discussion, there is neither “speakable” nor “unspeakable,” neither “constant” nor “not constant.”

Thus the Jade Capital Scripture says: “Neither possible nor impossible” accords with the subtle and imperceptible mind. “Not a constant name” does not mean the empty fame of worldly honor and glory. It is called “not constant” in order to urge people to leave what is transient and return to what is truly constant. In terms of principle, because it transcends causes and conditions, teaching may be gradual or immediate. It uses expedient means to reveal the truth: leaving the transient to accord with the truly constant, and presenting the matter in its ultimate form.

In truth, there is no “not constant” to leave behind, and no “truly constant” to attain. It is not merely beyond permanence; it is also beyond impermanence. It is neither both constant nor not constant, nor neither impermanent nor beyond permanence and impermanence.

The commentary of Heshang Gong says that the “constant name” is like an infant who has not yet spoken, an egg before it has divided, a bright pearl inside an oyster, or fine jade within a stone: inwardly radiant, outwardly seeming dull and foolish. This is the name of what is naturally and eternally present.

Scripture: The Dao that can be spoken of is not the constant Dao; the name that can be named is not the constant name.

A general account of fundamental reality and its traces: “The nameless is the beginning of Heaven and Earth; the named is the mother of the myriad things”

Imperial Commentary: The nameless is the wondrous source. When the wondrous source manifests as Qi (vital energy), it brings Heaven and Earth into being. Heaven and Earth draw their beginning from it; hence it is nameless. The named is its functioning.

Rongzi: The Dao’s mysterious De (Virtue/Power) and wondrous principle transcend being and nonbeing. Since being and nonbeing are both transcended, names too are set aside. Yet where is the functioning of this open, all-pervading reality not possible? Thus, though it is not nonbeing, it is without being: the nameless is the source and beginning of the Two Modes. Though it is not being, it is being: the named is the father and mother of the myriad things. This is, in broad terms, what is meant by the Dao giving birth and De nurturing.

Cheng’s Subcommentary: Here, the “nameless” is the root of things. Since the Dao is originally nameless, we can understand that it cannot be spoken of. The “named” is the mother from whom the myriad things receive life—the named is a trace. The Dao of layered mystery is originally nameless; when it descends from source to trace, names and designations arise. The sage establishes the named on the basis of the nameless, and uses the named to explain the nameless.

Note: This passage is a subcommentary on the first two lines of Chapter One of the Dao De Jing, and on “the nameless” and “the named,” from the Subcommentary on the Meaning of the Dao De Jing (Collected Subcommentaries on Mysterious De), compiled by Cheng Xuanying and others in the Tang dynasty. It draws on commentaries by the Emperor, Rongzi, Heshang Gong, and others, and explains Laozi’s original text through concepts such as fundamental reality and its traces, gradual and immediate teaching, and the truly constant.

An Explanatory Commentary on the True Classic of the Dao and De

(Continued from the previous passage) …It is concerned with nourishing all beings and helping them return to their source. It nurtures them with compassion, like a mother caring for her children.

The Lord of the River says: “‘The nameless is the beginning of Heaven and Earth’—‘nameless’ refers to the Dao. The Dao has no form, so it cannot be named. ‘Beginning’ means that the Dao breathes in and out essence and Qi, spreads its transformations through all things, and brings Heaven and Earth forth from emptiness. ‘The named is the mother of the myriad things’—‘the named’ refers to Heaven and Earth. Heaven and Earth have form and position, are divided into Yin and Yang, and have firmness and softness; only then do names arise. ‘Mother of the myriad things’ means that Heaven and Earth unite their Qi to give birth to all things, which grow and mature as children do under a mother’s care.”

Third: Making Clear the Difference Between the “Two Ways of Observing”

Scripture: Always without desire, observe its mystery; always with desire, observe its manifestations.

Imperial Commentary: People are still from birth; this is the nature bestowed by Heaven. Being moved by external things is desire arising from that nature. If one can always preserve stillness and purity, loosen the bonds on the mind and spirit, and reflect on one’s original nature, one can perceive the mysterious source. If one cannot quiet one’s emotions and instead follows desire into action, one loses one’s nature to desire and becomes confused about the source of the Dao. In trying to perceive the mysterious source, one sees only its edges and traces—its boundaries and signs.

Imperial Subcommentary: “Always without desire” means that the Dharma-nature is still and pure, beyond words and free of thought or attachment; in this way, one sees the Dao’s subtle mystery. “Always with desire” means that function arises from the source: teachings are established through words, responses to things bring understanding, and the world is transformed. In this way, one sees where living beings are headed; “manifestations” means their destination.

Yan says: “One without desire looks without looking for anything; to observe its mystery is to shine upon Great Clarity. The text plainly speaks of both desire and the absence of desire.”

Rong says: “All people, in receiving life, draw their beginnings from Dao and De, and receive their Qi from Yin and Yang. Yet they differ in spiritual clarity and dullness, and in dispositions that are still or restless. In the practice of having no desire, if one levels the mind and stills the path, cleanses one’s aspirations in the mysterious waters, and does not let desirable things disturb the spirit or clamorous distractions cloud the will, then the numinous terrace within is bright and clean, and the dark mirror is tranquil and clear. One can then illuminate what is subtle and penetrate what is essential. This is the practice of having no desire. In the practice of desire, if one cannot abandon emotional awareness and remains confined to what exists, one may rush about in alarm over bodily concerns and compete in the realm of sounds and sights. But one merely returns to the traces of action—how could one understand the fundamental principle of Wuwei (non-action)? This is the practice of desire.”

The Lord of the River says: “Always without desire, observe its mystery”—“mystery” means the essential principle. If people can always be without desire, they can observe the Dao’s essential principle, which is the One. From the One, names spread forth; the Dao praises and sets them in order, making right and wrong clear.

Cheng’s commentary: “Manifestations” means where things return. “Desire” refers to emotional entanglement, and “what is observed” refers to the object of perception. This means that when a person…

(The following text, if it contains phrases such as “the object of perception,” likely discusses the realms encountered through observing the mystery without desire and observing manifestations with desire. It may be understood as follows: when a person observes the mystery without desire, the object of perception is the formless body of the Dao; when a person observes manifestations with desire, the object is the Dao’s transformations in their formed aspect and the myriad things’ return to their destinations.)

This scripture passage discusses how practitioners of the Dao must maintain a state of "wuwei" (non-action) and serene detachment to comprehend the profound mysteries of the Dao. If one gives in to greed and indulges desires, they become deluded by worldly matters, unable to perceive that the essence of "being" is ultimately illusory. Consequently, they fail to grasp the subtle and profound principles, seeing only the superficial cycle of life and death.

Earlier discussions contrasted the merits of "the nameless" and "the named"; here, the comparison shifts to the superiority of "desirelessness" over "desire." The fourth interpretive layer (referring to the fourth level of exegesis in the Daode Jing) particularly elucidates the profound meaning of "double mystery" (the mystery within mystery).

Regarding the line "These two arise from the same source but differ in name," various commentaries offer the following interpretations:

• Emperor Xuanzong of Tang's imperial commentary states that both originate from the Dao, hence they are "the same"; yet they acquire different names based on their application, hence they are "different."
• Heshang Gong (a Han dynasty commentator) explains that both desire and desirelessness emerge from the human heart, but desirelessness leads to longevity while desire brings about ruin—thus their outcomes differ.
• Li Rong (a Tang dynasty Daoist) approaches it from a proximate perspective: the human heart is fundamentally the same, but by abandoning cleverness and maintaining serenity, one reaches the source of the Dao, called the "subtle" (miao). Conversely, preconceived notions and worldly entanglements lead to the "manifest" (jiao, the boundary of the Dao), hence the difference in names. From a broader perspective, sages clarify the principle of clarity and emptiness, taking Dao and De (Virtue) as their foundation, which is why this chapter emphasizes this teaching.
• Cheng Xuanying (another Tang dynasty Daoist) interprets "these two" as referring to the "observation of desirelessness" and the "observation of desire," two cultivation methods that both stem from the same great Dao but differ in perspective—one being "subtle," the other "manifest."

Explanations of "both are called mystery" (xuan):

• Emperor Xuanzong holds that though their names differ, their shared essence constitutes "xuan" (profound mystery).
• Heshang Gong states that "xuan" refers to heaven, as both desireless and desiring individuals receive their qi (vital energy) from heaven.
• Li Rong argues that the empty stillness of the Dao and the profound subtlety of De (Virtue) defy verbal description. Only Dao and De can be called "xuan," hence the term "xuan De" (mysterious Virtue), while the supreme Dao itself is inherently mysterious and tranquil.

“Mystery upon mystery: the gateway to all wonders.”

Speaking from the standpoint of emergence, they are called by different names—this describes the descent from the source into the realm of appearances. Speaking from the standpoint of their being one, they are profound and subtle—this gathers appearances back into the source. Returning to the source is profound and subtle; hence it is called “mystery.”

Cheng’s commentary (by Cheng Xuanying): “Mystery” means what is profound and far-reaching. It is also a name for what does not cling to fixed names and forms. The two ways of viewing being and nonbeing, and the two perspectives on the manifest and the subtle, both arise from the same Dao. They emerge from one source but have different names; those different names point to the same profound principle. That principle ultimately comes down to nonattachment: clinging neither to “being” nor to “nonbeing.” Since it holds to neither side, it is called “mystery.”

“Mystery upon mystery: the gateway to all wonders.”

The Imperial Commentary: Only by being “unborn” can one become one with mystery and subtlety. Yet there is a concern that people may cling to “mystery” itself and make it an obstacle, unable to forget both being and nonbeing. So “mystery upon mystery” is added to dispel attachment to mystery, showing that this state can be reached through freedom from desire. All things become clear from this; hence it is called “the gateway to all wonders.”

Heshang Gong: “Mystery upon mystery” means that within Heaven there is another Heaven, and that the Qi one receives can be either abundant or meager. Those who receive balanced, harmonious, and nourishing Qi become sages and worthies; those who receive disordered and polluted Qi become greedy and lustful. “The gateway to all wonders” means that one who knows there is another Heaven within Heaven and that Heaven’s Qi varies in quality, and who puts aside desires and keeps to balance and harmony, knows the gateway to what is essential.

Rong’s commentary: The Dao and De are hidden and obscure; their principle lies beyond words and images. The true source is empty and still; its workings transcend being and nonbeing. Since it can only be conveyed through what lies beyond words and images, and beyond being and nonbeing, and since the Dao is remote and profound, the text says, “mystery upon mystery.” Yet there is also concern that those who have lost their way may cling rigidly to a fixed method, and those who have lost the principle may wait foolishly for what will never come, taking this “mystery” to be the true Dao. So the text makes its point emphatically: mystery is not a definite name for what lies beyond being and nonbeing. “Mystery” is only a means of dispelling being and nonbeing. Once both are dispelled, “mystery” itself falls away. Hence the text says, “mystery upon mystery.” Three rounds of explanation cannot exhaust its furthest reach; four statements cannot lead to its source. Vast and boundless, open and unobstructed, it is the central pivot of all forms and the gateway to all spirits. To understand this meaning is to enter the gateway to all wonders.

The Imperial Subcommentary (quoting the Scripture of Ascension to the West): They emerge together but bear different names; each form arises on its own. The intention is that, by not giving rise to intention now, one becomes one with mystery and subtlety. As for having no desire for the absence of desire: this is because a desire has arisen, leading one to seek a state without desire. To desire the absence of desire is still to be caught in desire. Now there is neither desire nor even a thought of being without desire; one dispels it, and then dispels that too. This may be called complete forgetting. To contemplate with such right mindfulness is to encounter all wonders. Though the wonders are many, they all return to a single gateway.

Source: Collected Commentaries on the Mysterious De of the True Scripture of the Dao and Its Virtue

Corresponding to Chapter Two of the Dao De Jing and its commentary

Emerging from This Gate (Continuing from the previous chapter’s “Gate of the Many Mysteries”)

Commentary by Cheng: “Mysterious upon mysterious”—those with desires cling only to “being,” while those without desires cling to “nonbeing.” So the text first says “mysterious” to break attachment to either side. Fearing that students might then become stuck on this one “mysterious,” it adds “upon mysterious,” further removing the problem that follows. In this way, one clings to nothing—not even to “not clinging.” This is “letting go, and letting go again,” which is why it says “mysterious upon mysterious.”

“The Gate of the Many Mysteries”: “Mysterious” means the essential point, the subtle and profound; “gate” means a method or path of entry. The preceding passage uses the mystery of “the One at the center” to dispel attachment to the two extremes of “being” and “nonbeing.” Once the affliction of these extremes is removed, the remedy of “the One at the center” must also be set aside. Then remedy and affliction vanish together. This is mystery brought to its utmost, subtlety penetrating principle and fully exhausting one’s nature. It is not only the doorway of all the sages, but also the path into every wondrous teaching.

Chapter Two: All Under Heaven Know

This chapter follows the previous one because the preceding chapter explained two ways of contemplating “being” and “nonbeing,” which differ in depth and subtlety. This chapter therefore shows the efficacy of Wuwei (non-action) and the drawbacks of deliberate action. Its main argument has two parts: first, it explains how ordinary people’s attachments and inverted views give rise to delusion; second, it shows how the sages’ wisdom is empty, still, and unified, allowing them to forget their own accomplishments and benefit others.

First: How Ordinary People’s Attachments and Inverted Views Give Rise to Delusion

General explanation: Ordinary people under Heaven sink into sensory pleasures and are bound by deliberate action, never finding a moment’s peace. They chase fame and profit like nimble monkeys climbing branches, and indulge in lust like moths flying into flames. They take evil for good and mistake what is easy for what is difficult. They sleep on, never waking, in the cavern of the nameless; they cling stubbornly to their precarious bodies. How could they know that the wondrous Dao is empty and unobstructed, that true words are clear in their principle, and that its brightness is beyond description—present whether one approaches or withdraws, yet unnoticed? The Seven Sages—referring to Yao, Shun, and others—lost their way at Xiangcheng; Xishi spoke together with the Constant Transformations. Sound and appearance dissolve, and the forms of self and other become empty. Only by dispelling the outflowing body can one accord with the Dao of Wuwei.

Scripture: All under heaven know beauty as beauty; this is already ugliness. All know good as good; this is already not good.

Imperial commentary: Beauty and goodness both arise from the desiring mind. When the mind wants something, even what is ugly may be regarded as beautiful and good. That is why the text says “all know”: each person takes what they themselves consider beautiful as beauty, and what they themselves consider good as goodness.

This passage explains the opening of Chapter Two of the Daodejing: “When everyone in the world recognizes beauty as beauty, ugliness is already present; when everyone recognizes goodness as goodness, what is not good is already present.” Commentators explain from different angles how people’s attachment to distinctions between “beautiful” and “good” gives rise to “ugly” and “not good.”

In essence, what some call “good” is treated as a virtue worth displaying, but this often stems from deluded emotional attachment. The mind first sets up oppositions such as “being and nonbeing,” “difficult and easy,” and “miraculous and foul,” which then compete with and undermine one another. The Great Sage, Laozi, understood that such distinctions are illusory. That is why he says “ugliness is already present”: once beauty is held up for praise, ugliness appears alongside it.

Commentary of Heshanggong: When everyone in the world declares some appearance “beautiful,” people begin to show it off and boast about it, and beauty becomes conspicuous. Then “ugliness” follows (a sign of danger and ruin). When everyone declares some action “good” and competes for merit and fame, what is “not good” follows as well (people compete against one another).

Commentary of Yan Zun: Human cleverness can be restrained; it should not be indulged and scattered. Desires can be guided against their habitual tendencies; they should not simply be followed. Adorning one’s outward appearance harms one’s nature, while indulging desire damages life and vitality. What people in the world call “beautiful” and “good” is not the highest beauty or goodness: the highest beauty cannot be seen by worldly eyes, and the highest goodness cannot be understood by the worldly mind.

Commentary of Rong Yichuan: By nature, most people do not take delight in the Dao, but in wealth and splendor. Delight should not be taken to excess, for when pleasure reaches its peak, sorrow follows; desire should not be indulged, for excess harms the body. So people regard sights, sounds, and flavors as the highest pleasures, not knowing that these are precisely the roots of calamity. What was originally the “Great Simplicity”—one’s plain, natural nature—becomes a “calamitous simplicity” when one starts pursuing external things. The injury to one’s nature is sorrowful. When everyone recognizes “goodness as good,” what is “not good” also comes into being. Though few gentlemen and petty people on earth can truly empty their minds, they each indulge their desires: those who love fame call fame good; those who love profit call profit good. Some pursue profit by improper means; others sacrifice their lives for reputation. They may consider themselves good, but losing one’s life is not good. Boyi (Yi, an ancient worthy) died on Mount Shouyang for the sake of his reputation, while Robber Zhi died in Dongling for the sake of profit. Both are examples of “what is not good.”

Subcommentary of Cheng Xuanying: “The world” is a general name for the realm of existence: the various heavens, lands, and the beings within them are collectively called the world. All living beings are sunk in the realm of dust and deludedly cling to “beauty.” The Upper Origin Scripture says that the beings between the heavens above and the lands below are called the world. The point is that living beings are attached to the various objects of the senses and deludedly cling to beauty and goodness.

When things go against one's will, people develop aversion and call it "ugly"; when things conform to one's will, people develop fondness and call it "beautiful." Yet people fail to understand that all phenomena in the world are simultaneously existent and empty. Since both beauty and ugliness are ultimately empty, why cling to hatred or attachment?

As Zhuangzi said: Everyone considers Mao Qiang and Lady Li to be beauties, yet fish seeing them would dive deep, and birds would fly far away. He also observed: Those who think themselves beautiful—I see no beauty in them; those who consider themselves ugly—I see no ugliness either. From this perspective, where does true beauty exist in this world? Thus we realize that what worldly people persistently pursue as beauty is actually relative ugliness.

When people claim to know what is good, this very knowing constitutes the absence of true goodness. Ordinary people become trapped in false principles—not only indulging in sensual pleasures but also craving fame and status. Pursuing empty reputation harms oneself; coveting personal gain injures others. Yet they fail to recognize that so-called "good deeds" are themselves illusory. Hence the text later states: Which is more precious—reputation or life? Zhuangzi similarly advised: Perform good deeds without seeking fame. What people truly value is merely the reputation of "goodness." This reveals that attachment to reputation and virtuous actions are both conceptually mistaken. Only by forgetting distinctions between good and evil, maintaining the Middle Way, can one attain the state of Wuwei (non-action).

All phenomena lack fixed intrinsic nature—thus being and non-being mutually transform. As the Yushu commentary explains: Intrinsic nature is empty. Forms and appearances—long or short, high or low—all arise through dependent origination. Master Heshang noted: What appears to exist is ultimately empty in essence. Master Rong observed: All things under heaven emerge from "being," yet "being" itself arises from "non-being." From non-being comes being; from being returns non-being—this is mutual transformation.

Difficulty and ease likewise mutually complete each other. The Yushu states: The principles of things are also empty. A potter finds clay easy to shape but wood difficult; a carpenter finds wood easy to work but clay challenging. Yan Junping said: Difficulty manifests through ease; ease becomes evident through difficulty. Without "ability" we wouldn't recognize what's "easy"; without "ease" we couldn't perceive what's "difficult." Abandoning distinctions between skill and clumsiness, the concepts of difficulty and ease disappear. Heshang Gong remarked: What appears difficult contains elements of ease. Master Rong explained: All difficult matters under heaven begin with ease—difficulty originates from ease, ease completes difficulty; ease likewise stems from difficulty, difficulty perfects ease. Cheng Xuanying clarified: Observing with empty illumination reveals no inherent difficulty or ease—these distinctions arise only through human discrimination. Thus we see these two concepts mutually define each other.

Long and short only appear through mutual comparison. The Yushu commentary states: Relative measurement reveals length and shortness. Yan Junping observed: An inch is short compared to a foot; a foot is long compared to an inch. Without length we couldn't recognize shortness; without shortness we couldn't perceive length.

An Annotated Commentary on the Mysterious Virtue of the True Scripture of the Dao and Its De

Long and Short Set Each Other in Relief

Imperial Commentary: “Each other” refers to a relationship of opposition and comparison. Since neither has an inherently fixed substance, both are said to be “empty.”

Heshang Gong: Only when we see what is short does what is long become apparent.

Rong’s Commentary: When things are separate, we cannot speak of great and small. Only when they are brought together can we speak of long and short. Mount Tai and a fine autumn hair differ enormously, just as the legs of a white crane and a teal are not the same. From this we can understand: if we forget distinctions, there is neither great nor small; if we cling to distinctions, there is both long and short.

Cheng’s Commentary: To compare something long with the form of “long” reveals that there is no absolute length. To compare something short with the form of “short” likewise reveals that there is no absolute shortness. Long and short appear different only by setting each other off.

High and Low Overturn Each Other

Imperial Commentary: This, too, shows that names and forms are “empty.”

Yan’s Commentary: A mountain seems high in relation to a valley, and a valley deep in relation to a mountain. Without a mountain, we cannot recognize a valley; without a valley, we cannot recognize a mountain. It is like worldly ranks and the positions of ruler and subject, wife and servant, which continually change and have no fixed place.

Heshang Gong: Only when we see what is high does what is low become apparent.

Rong’s Commentary: “Overturn” means to be endangered or thrown into disorder. Water can carry a boat, but it can also capsize one. The scripture says, “The high takes the low as its foundation”; the low position, too, may be more dangerous than the high. Those below, though lowly, can still endanger those above; those in high positions, though honored, depend on those below for support. If those below lose the Dao, high and low endanger each other. If they attain the Dao, ruler and subject can both live in peace, without trying to displace one another. Where there is high, there is low; without low, there can be no high. For example, a foot is “high” when compared with an inch, but “low” when compared with a yard. What was high can become low. This shows that high and low have no fixed form: they overturn and displace each other, and so both are called “empty.”

Sounds and Voices Harmonize with Each Other

Imperial Commentary: This explains that harmony, too, is empty. The five notes must be combined to make a melody, but the melody cannot exist apart from its many sounds. Likewise, all things in the world arise through combination; there is no separate, substantial “true” thing. Thus all are empty.

Yan’s Commentary: A sound is distinguished through a voice, and a voice finds its measure through sound. Without sound, we cannot recognize a voice; without a voice, we cannot recognize sound.

Heshang Gong: When those above sing, those below are bound to respond.

Rong’s Commentary: Those above guide and transform those below as wind brushes grass; those below follow those above as an echo answers a sound. The notes gong and shang call and answer one another. If a string is tuned too high, it snaps; if those above grow impatient, those below grow even more so. When the five tones are balanced, the eight kinds of instruments can blend in harmony; when government orders are harmonious, the people are pleased and willing to follow. Thus the ruler is a teacher to the people, and those below must also be able to learn from and respond to those above.

Cheng’s Commentary: Gong and shang, strings and bamboo instruments, combine to make music. If we examine this closely, there is no substantial “melody” that exists by itself, apart from its many sounds.

Nature and appearance are the very substance. They are likened here to this stillness; all the seeming things that exist are the same.

What comes first and what comes later follow one another.

Imperial Commentary: Here it is explained that the past, future, and present—the three times—are all empty. Day and night alternate, so new things continually arise. When taking a step, for example, which foot counts as the first and which as the next? The names “before” and “after” are established only because they follow one another. Names arise from delusion; who can know their origin? Since the past, future, and present are all empty, each thought changes and passes away. It is just as with beauty and ugliness: neither has a fixed name.

Cheng Commentary: We call something “present” by looking back at what came before; we call something “past” by looking ahead to the present. But the present is not, in itself, the present—how, then, can there be a past? The past is not, in itself, the past—how, then, can there be a present? If there is neither past nor present, what can be first or later? What we call “first” and “later” is simply the three times following one another. Ultimately, none has any substance.

Yan says: What comes first appears through what comes later, and what comes later becomes clear through what comes first. Without what comes later, there is no way to know what came first; without what came first, there is no way to know what comes later.

Rong says: The ruler comes first, and the minister follows; the father comes first, and the son follows. Therefore, those who are rulers or fathers must not act rashly and lose the Dao. They should value stillness and thereby accord with De.

The Riverbank Elder says: When those above move, those below are bound to follow. The six are at odds with one another and acquire their names in turn. This is like beauty and ugliness: they do not arise from an inherent nature, but from deluded feelings that give rise to such distinctions. Thus the Jing says, “Being and nonbeing give rise to each other; difficult and easy complete each other.”

Second: Revealing the sage’s empty stillness of wisdom, and how, free of concern for merit, he benefits all things

Therefore, the sage governs the world by dwelling in affairs through Wuwei (non-action) and carrying out the teaching without words.

Imperial Commentary: “Affairs through Wuwei” means having no affairs; the word “dwelling” borrows its name from affairs. “Teaching without words” means forgetting words; the word “carrying out” borrows its name from teaching.

Imperial Commentary on the Commentary: “Therefore” connects what precedes with what follows. Those who embellish cleverness and practice deceit are not truly practicing Wuwei, even if they sit silently with their hands folded. Those who remain true and simple, by contrast, may direct others all day and yet never cease to be at ease. The sage knows that the nature of all things is empty and does not cling to anything or take pride in it. Thus, to order the world, one should cast aside superficiality and deceit and rely on pure De. The people will be transformed by this and each will rest content in their proper place. If people are content in their place, they cause no disturbance—is this not governing through Wuwei? If whatever the sage says accords with the people’s hearts, then he may speak all his life and yet never truly speak—is this not teaching without words? The Analects says, “The Master said nothing…”

The Riverbank Elder says: He governs by means of the Dao.

Rong says: He puts this Dao into practice everywhere.

A Plain-Language Interpretation of the Collected Annotations on the Mysterious De of the True Classic of the Dao and De

Looking across the ages, the world’s customs have been at times shallow and at times simple and honest; among rulers of successive dynasties, the pace of change has sometimes been swift and sometimes slow. Never before has anyone had an honorific title engraved on a golden tablet or glorious achievements recorded on a jade register. Yet the present emperor has answered the destiny of a thousand years and raised up a foundation of seven hundred years. Without resorting to arms, he is gladly accepted by all under Heaven, and no one has grown weary of him. Thus the Way of the ancestral sage was made manifest long before its signs appeared, and established before its traces were visible.

“Therefore, when the sage governs, he abides in the work of Wuwei (non-action).” This follows the preceding passage, according to Cheng’s commentary. A sage is one who embodies the Dao and accords with its principles. “Sage” can also mean “upright”: one who can set himself right and thereby set others right is called a sage. “Govern” means to rule. With compassion, this sage saves and benefits beings, governing the active people of the world through the subtle method of Wuwei. That is why “governs” follows directly after “can” in the previous passage. Continuing the earlier idea and introducing what follows, the text says, “Therefore, when the sage governs.” “He abides in the work of Wuwei” means that the sage is still yet able to act, and acts yet remains still. In stillness, he is free of action yet engages with affairs; in action, he moves through the world without abandoning Wuwei. This is why Wuwei is action and action is Wuwei. How could there be a divide between court and mountain retreat, or a barrier between silence and governing? Hence the phrase “abides in the work of Wuwei.”

“He carries out the teaching that cannot be spoken.” The subtle substance and true source are beyond words and images. Though empty and still, they bring about transformation in countless ways. How could the true fail to respond appropriately? It can also speak without obstructing silence. Whether one enters public life or withdraws from it, whether one is silent or speaks, the underlying purpose is the same. One may sit upright in quiet composure, yet one’s words fill the world. Does “cannot be spoken” mean merely keeping one’s mouth shut? As Zhuangzi says: when words are sufficient, one may speak all day and still convey the Way; when words are insufficient, one may speak all day and merely describe things.

“The myriad things arise, and he does not turn them away.”

Imperial Commentary: He lets the myriad things each carry out their own activity, without their having to offer thanks to the sage.

Imperial Subcommentary: “Arise” means to move and act. The sage transforms skillfully, without contrivance or action. The people remain unaware, still hesitating and going their own way, each able to carry out their own activity without thanking the sage. They strike the clods and drum their bellies, forgetting the emperor’s power: this is how the people forget the sage’s achievements.

Heshang Gong: Without offering thanks or being forcibly stopped, the myriad things arise and each acts of its own accord.

Rong’s Commentary: “Arise” means to till and cultivate. (The text of Rong’s commentary appears incomplete; the explanation here follows the usual wording of the chapter.)

Note: The final words in the supplied passage, “Rong says: ‘arise means to cultivate,’” appear to be a fragment of the commentary. The passage as a whole explains the Dao De Jing’s second chapter: “The sage abides in the work of Wuwei and carries out the teaching that cannot be spoken”; “the myriad things arise, and he does not turn them away.” It emphasizes that the sage transforms without speaking and accomplishes things through Wuwei, while the people each find their place without knowing whom to credit.

A Collected Commentary on the Mysterious Virtue of the True Scripture of the Dao and Its Power

General meaning of the passage

All things move in response to what they encounter, each fulfilling its own function, like four people each attending to their own occupation. In this way, nothing loses its original nature. One follows nature’s transforming and nurturing without declining or evading the task.

Cheng’s commentary: “Beginning” refers to all things and living beings moving in response to what they encounter. “Beginning” also means “preceding things.” The sage is without intention and responds only when touched, like a bright mirror or an empty valley: when something comes, it is reflected; when something calls, it is answered. The sage does not take the lead over things. Thus the Zhuangzi says that the sage “is always in harmony and does not lead the song”—always harmonizing with all things, without speaking first or taking control.

“They give life without possessing; they act without relying on their achievement; when their work is done, they do not dwell on it.”

Imperial commentary: Let all things grow and come to completion in their own way, without claiming them as one’s own. Let each attain what it can do; the sage, too, does not rely on personal merit. Even when the work of great peace has been accomplished, one must still “be more cautious with each passing day,” never daring to rest complacently on one’s achievements. The phrase “be more cautious with each passing day” comes from the Book of Documents.

Imperial subcommentary: Let each thing fulfill the course of its life; the sage does not claim it as their own. Let each thing carry out its own activity; the sage does not rely on it as personal merit. Thus the work of great peace extends ever farther in its beneficent reach, yet one remains as cautious at the end as at the beginning and dares not settle into complacency. This is the sage forgetting their own achievements.

Heshang Gong: “They give life without possessing”—Primordial Qi gives life to all things but does not claim them as its own. “They act without relying on their achievement”—The Dao carries out its work without depending on its rewards. “When their work is done, they do not dwell on it”—Once their task is accomplished, they withdraw and do not occupy the position.

Rong’s commentary: “They give life without possessing”—They leave things to their own transformations, using them every day without knowing it. “They act without relying on their achievement”—They regard the myriad things as straw dogs and do not rely on their Virtue as a claim to merit. “When their work is done, they do not dwell on it”—Though they possess splendid sights, they remain aloof in repose. Their quest for the Dao surpasses that of the Yellow Emperor at Xiangcheng; their spirit, settled in stillness, is as remote as the Lady of Mount Gushe.

Cheng’s commentary, another interpretation: “They act without relying on their achievement”—“Act” means bringing about transformation; “rely” means depending on or leaning upon something. The sage is open and responsive to circumstances, benefiting things while treating self and others as equal and forgetting the distinction between things and self. Though the sage achieves great merit, they never rely on it; they forget their own achievements. “When their work is done, they do not dwell on it”—They shelter and sustain all things; their achievements reach Heaven and Earth, and their light shines upon all living beings, surpassing the sun and moon. Yet they credit their merit and Virtue to all things and do not claim to be virtuous.

“Precisely because they do not dwell on it, it does not leave them.”

Imperial commentary: Precisely because they dare not rest complacently on their achievements, but instead cultivate their Virtue day by day, they forget their achievements while those achievements endure. Thus, because they do not dwell on them, their merit and Virtue do not depart.

Imperial subcommentary: The sage is upright and exacting down to the finest detail, cautious at the end as at the beginning. Their work does not diminish, from first to last, and they never settle into complacency.

Overall meaning for ease of reading

This passage teaches that the sage “responds without taking the lead”: they do not place themselves ahead of all things, but respond when touched. It also gives three successive warnings against pride: give life without claiming ownership, act without relying on one’s merit, and complete one’s work without dwelling on it. The less one claims, relies, or dwells on achievement, the more enduring one’s merit and Virtue become. Commentators across the ages explain this through the Primordial Qi giving life to things, treating all things as equals like straw dogs, or forgetting the distinction between self and things. At the heart of these interpretations is the principle of Wuwei (non-action) that leaves nothing undone, applied to governance, teaching, and self-cultivation: once the work is done, withdraw; Virtue endures when achievement is forgotten.

In this way, one can live at ease and in harmony, while De grows day by day. One forgets fame and achievement, yet they do not leave. Their radiance extends across the world, and the world is at peace. Thus it is said: precisely because one does not claim credit, one’s achievements do not depart.

Heshanggong’s Commentary

“Precisely because one does not claim credit”: because one does not take up a position of honor after completing an achievement, blessings and De remain constantly with one and do not leave. It is also said: one must not follow actions blindly, nor heed words carelessly. The six lines above discuss high and low, long and short. If a ruler opens a breach, a hundred kinds of complications will arise below; every kind of change will disturb the world.

Yan Zun’s Commentary

Precisely because one does not dare to rest content with the honor of one’s achievements, but instead continues cultivating De, one forgets one’s achievements and yet they remain; one does not claim credit, and yet it does not depart. One’s transformative nurture becomes level with the Dao. One expects no return for one’s De and achievements, but accords with the Way of Heaven; one seeks no reward, hides one’s fame and achievement, and conceals oneself in the realm of mystery. Even if one wishes not to claim credit, one cannot make it go away—De and achievement naturally remain.

Rong’s Commentary

The utmost Dao pervades the cosmos, and the highest De envelops Heaven and Earth, Yin-Yang. Though one forgets the effects of one’s actions, the people still support one. With robes hanging loose and hands folded, the world is clear and peaceful; through Wuwei (non-action), the myriad states come to pay court. The spirit remains still and clear, and so it is said: “it does not depart.”

Cheng’s Commentary

“Fu” is a particle that introduces a statement; “wei” means “alone” or “only.” Only the sage can transform and create Heaven and Earth and nurture all living things. Though possessed of great purpose, the sage assigns credit to all things. Precisely because the sage can forget their achievements, those achievements reach farther, and the sage’s sacred De remains constant. Hence, “it does not depart.”

Chapter Title and Structure

Chapter Three: “Do Not Esteem the Worthy” (This chapter has three sections: first, a general warning to people of the age; second, a distinct presentation of the sage’s open-heartedness and benefit to all things; third, a renewed exhortation for students to forget knowledge and unite with the Dao.)

Section One: A General Warning to People of the Age (Do Not Make Esteeming the Worthy a Guiding Principle)

When the Yellow Emperor ruled as sovereign and Shennong served as minister, they governed the world by the Great Dao, seeking to settle the people in simplicity and purity, without showing special affection even toward their own kin. Accordingly, Shun exiled the arrogant Xiang and disowned his own son; Yao cast aside Dan Zhu, wandered among the Tong ridges, sitting in the breeze, and rested at Mount Shi, serene as snow. The utmost principle of Wuwei—how could it lie in selecting worthy and talented people?

In later ages, customs grew shallow and changed. Once simplicity was lost, anyone with a single ability would boast of it, and when a hundred forms of conduct were pursued together, all were harmed. Thus Lord Jian brought disaster upon himself from the Tian clan, and the Zhou royal house held the meeting at Heyang—summoning the feudal lords to support the king. These were all consequences of esteeming the worthy. Greed for goods and profit is always held in the heart; one cannot erase thoughts of gain and loss, nor remain silent… (The following passage begins with “silent”; the original scroll breaks off here.)

Plain-language interpretation

Do not deliberately exalt and promote the “worthy and capable”—raising clever and eloquent, talented people to high office and lavish rewards—and the people will be less likely to compete with one another for fame, rank, and status.

(This sentence comes from the opening of chapter 3 of the Dao De Jing. Commentators such as Cheng Xuanying often explain it either as “the ruler does not esteem the worthy” or as “learned people should be modest and retiring, and should not regard themselves as superior because of their worth and ability.” If everyone competes to display a reputation for virtue, hypocrisy and rivalry are likely to follow. If people each attend to their own place and do not compete to advertise themselves, conflict will naturally diminish.)

This passage expounds the Daoist core philosophy of "abiding by one's inherent nature and restraining desires." Laozi believed that human nature varies between individuals, and forcibly pursuing what exceeds one's natural allotment is akin to theft that disrupts the natural order.

Each person is born with innate talents and abilities—these constitute their natural endowment and precious fortune. When one fails to remain content with their inherent nature but instead forcibly pursues cleverness or rare treasures, they lose their original purity of essence, committing what amounts to spiritual theft. If both the wise and simple-minded abide by their true nature, each expressing their innate capacities without overreaching, they naturally devalue hard-to-obtain treasures. When all people preserve their fundamental nature, who would need to steal?

Zhuangzi similarly observed that unvirtuous people violate their nature in coveting wealth and status. When rulers cease valuing pearls and rhinoceros horns as treasures, governance becomes clear, and the people are naturally transformed—abandoning greed, finding contentment in sufficiency, and refraining from theft. Heshang Gong explains that when rulers stop pursuing rare curiosities, casting gold into mountains and jade into deep pools, the people naturally shed covetous thoughts. Yan Junping argues that hoarding treasures invites envy and provokes theft.

Cheng Xuanying further elucidates that so-called "hard-to-obtain goods" refer to legendary treasures like the Pearl of Marquis Sui or the Jade of Bian He. When society collectively values such rarities, thieves proliferate; when none prize them, theft diminishes.

The principle "not displaying what excites desire keeps the mind undisturbed" means avoiding exposure to temptation-inducing objects to maintain mental clarity. By neither exalting the worthy nor pursuing unnatural attainments, one avoids entrapment by seduction. Heshang Gong advises distancing from decadent music and flatterers; Yan Junping warns that excessive glorification of the Three Sovereigns and Five Emperors' achievements breeds improper thoughts; Li Rong suggests closing one's ears to sensual Zheng-Wei music, shielding one's eyes from beauty, and purging desires to cleanse the heart—thereby naturally preserving undisturbed tranquility.

A Plain-Language Reading of Collected Commentaries on the Profound De of the True Scripture of the Dao

On “Things Desirable” and “Not Being Disordered”

The Cheng Commentary says that “things desirable” are all the states of the world that appear before us. Forms, sounds, and other objects of perception all invite people to covet, become attached to, and fall in love with them.

“Not seeing” does not mean blocking the ears and eyes to avoid these things. The wondrous substance and the dusty realm are both illusory; ultimately, there is no real object of desire. At the root, the senses and their objects do not truly accord with one another. That is why this is so.

Since there are no desirable states, the ears and eyes may naturally see and hear, while the mind remains empty and still. This is why it is called “not being disordered.”

The Scripture of Ascension to the West says that things are like reflections in a mirror: they can be seen, but cannot be grasped. It also says: “You may wish to look, yet see nothing; you may wish to listen, yet hear nothing.”

The earlier teachings on not stealing and not contending explain things separately, removing them one by one. The teaching on things desirable gives the general account: it removes the three kinds of action—those of body, speech, and mind—as well as all objects of perception.

How the Sage’s Empty Mind Appears, and How the Sage Embraces and Benefits All Things

“Therefore, in governing, the sage empties the mind.”

Imperial Commentary: When the mind is not disturbed by desirable things, it is empty.

Imperial Subcommentary: The sage’s governance of the state is used to explain the sage’s cultivation of the self, since cultivating the self is the foundation of teaching. What does governing the state involve? Simply putting oneself in order first. Empty the mind, fill the belly, cut off desires, and forget knowledge; take Wuwei (non-action) as one’s way of acting, and nothing will be beyond order.

“Empties the mind”: When the mind is enslaved by external things, worldly affairs cloud and confuse it. When contemplation is still and wholly true, emotions and desires do not arise. When they do not arise, the mind is empty. Zhuangzi says, “In an empty room, brightness is born.” When the mind is empty, the pure, bright Dao appears of itself. Hence the words, “empty the mind.”

Heshang Gong: Whether governing the state or cultivating the self, the sage empties the mind by removing cravings and desires and putting aside agitation and confusion.

Yan Zun: Empty the mind in order to quiet Qi (vital energy).

Cheng Commentary: The sage’s governance of the state is explained here in the same way as “empties the mind” was explained earlier. Externally, there are no desirable states; internally, there is no desiring mind. The mind and its objects are both forgotten: this is “the mind without mind.” First there is the discussion of objects, then the discussion turns to the emptiness of mind.

“Fills the belly.”

Imperial Commentary: When Dao and De are full within, one does not boast or chase after external things. It is like having eaten one’s fill: there is no further craving.

Imperial Subcommentary: The belly is what receives and contains; when it is full, there is no coveting or desire. Let Dao and De fill one within, and covetous attachment will not arise. Hence the words, “fills the belly.”

This chapter comments on lines in the Dao De Jing such as “The sage governs the world by emptying the mind and filling the belly.” It brings together governance of the state and cultivation of the self, external surroundings and the inner mind, and desirable things and freedom from disorder. The various commentators—the Imperial Commentary, Heshang Gong, the Cheng Commentary, and others—each develop their explanations under the same scriptural passage. This plain-language version groups related sentences together for easier reading.

This passage expounds the Daoist principles of self-cultivation and inner refinement.

The phrase "knowing satiety and stopping" (属厌而止) conveys the wisdom of moderation. Like the historical figures Yan Mo and Ru Kuan who admonished Duke Wu of Wei using the metaphor of "measuring a gentleman's heart by a petty man's stomach" - recognizing contentment prevents greed. Heshang Gong's commentary explains one should embrace the Dao (the Way) and safeguard the five viscera's Shen (spirit). Master Yan Junping emphasizes that focused concentration accumulates vital essence. Cheng Xuanying further elucidates that while the mind remains unattached, it maintains luminous awareness - seemingly empty yet perfectly responsive to all phenomena.

"Weakening the will" (弱其志) refers to softening one's ambitions. Emperor Xuanzong's annotation states an empty heart forgets worldly concerns. Heshang Gong advises gentle humility without contention for power. Yan Junping advocates stillness and Wuwei (non-action). Cheng Xuanying suggests maintaining inner wisdom while practicing external harmony and deference.

"Strengthening the bones" (强其骨) signifies fortifying one's inner core. Xuanzong notes that when the belly is full, bones grow strong. Heshang Gong teaches treasuring Jing (essence) to fill the marrow and harden bones. Cheng Xuanying uses bones as metaphor for inner substance - though sages appear accommodating externally, they preserve internal serenity.

The conclusion about "keeping people free of knowledge and desire" (常使民无知无欲) is explained by Xuanzong as eliminating competitive impulses and covetous cravings. Sages teach through "emptying the mind and filling the belly" to nurture people's natural non-contention. Even the clever dare not act recklessly. Those already free of knowledge and desire attain purity, while the intelligent gradually transform through this influence, restraining greedy actions. Thus governance through Wuwei (non-action) aligns with innate nature - seemingly active yet fundamentally effortless.

The following is a plain-language interpretation of this passage from the scripture and the commentaries on it, presented in the order of the original.

1. The passage’s general meaning (continuing from the previous chapter)

Do not use clever schemes to amass wealth. When people can keep to their proper place, all things can preserve their true nature.

If you govern through Wuwei (non-action), why display yourself or compete? When teaching reaches a state beyond words and appearances, people no longer recognize its clever devices or know that anything has been contrived.

Then a way of life marked by simplicity and honesty prevails. Who could still say that the world cannot be governed?

Heshang Gong’s commentary: Return to simplicity and preserve honesty.

Rong’s commentary: Keep the people free of schemes and greed, and prevent those who delight in cleverness from acting recklessly; then nothing will be left unguided. The ruler above spreads the influence of Wuwei, while the people below practice the transformation toward simplicity. When those below follow those above, and all are at peace, everything can be nurtured and transformed.

Cheng’s commentary: “Knowledge” refers to the habit of making distinctions and calculations; “desire” refers to greed. The passage means that the sage constantly benefits all living beings through openness and generosity, helping those who are deluded let go of the mind that makes distinctions and abandon their cravings.

2. Commentaries on “Ensure that those who are clever do not dare to act”

Imperial commentary: Guide everyone through purity and stillness until they are free of knowledge and desire. Even if someone wishes to show off their cleverness, make them reluctant to act recklessly.

Heshang Gong’s commentary: One who thinks deeply and does not speak hastily—that is, one who keeps to the Dao.

Cheng’s commentary: “Ensure that those who are clever do not dare to act, and nothing will be left unguided.” The passage has already explained how to let go of “having desire” and arrive at “having no desire.” But there is a further concern: someone who clings to “having no desire” may become stuck in an empty view, taking “having no desire” itself to be the Dao and insisting that one “dare not fail to act.” That, too, is attachment—this time to “having no desire.” The word “dare not” is therefore added to guard against clinging to “non-action.” To govern here means to set things right and make them proper. If practitioners first dispel “having desire” and then dispel “having no desire,” they let go of both sides. Their subtle nature returns to unity: self and things are seen as equal, and both circumstances and knowledge fall away. Govern in this way, and nothing will remain out of order; nothing will be unguided.

3. “Practice Wuwei, and nothing will be left unguided”

Imperial commentary: Govern through Wuwei, allowing each person to fulfill their original nature; then the transformation toward honesty and simplicity will inspire trust.

Heshang Gong’s commentary: To practice Wuwei is to avoid contrivance and let actions follow their natural course. Then nothing will be left unguided. With De (Virtue/Power) transforming the people through honesty and simplicity, they will be at peace of their own accord.

Yan’s commentary: Without using rank and reward to encourage people, filial devotion and compassion will surpass all others. Without using punishments to prohibit wrongdoing, corruption and deceit will cease on their own. Return to the true and restore simplicity; go back to the beginning. When the ruler acts through Wuwei, Heaven and humanity meet as naturally as if they were exchanging places. They move freely within nature, and all things settle into their proper places.

4. The place of the chapter “The Dao is empty, yet in use…”

“The Dao is empty, yet in use…” is the title of Chapter Four.

The chapter is placed here because the previous chapter taught people to forget cleverness, understand the Dao, and keep their subtle nature centered. This chapter follows to explain that the highest Dao functions through “emptiness”—a hollow center that does not fill up, making emptiness its means of use. In terms of its meaning, the chapter is also divided into four parts, which are discussed in sequence below.

Note: In the title of Chapter Four, “empty” generally means that the substance of the Dao is vacant and never filled, and that it works through emptiness. “Four parts” is the commentator’s term for the chapter’s internal divisions; the specific divisions can only be identified from the full text of the chapter.

(Contents)

I. Explaining that although the “center” is put to use, attachment to the “center” must still be relinquished

II. Showing that the sage’s wisdom is empty and still, and serves as the master artisan of all things

III. Showing how the sage conceals his radiance and keeps a low profile, responding humbly to ordinary people

IV. Concluding with praise for the sage, who arises before the myriad forms

First: Clarifying that the center is put to use, yet the center itself must be relinquished

(On the ultimate subtle principle of clarity and emptiness: the Dao, true and constant, stands far beyond the Three Realms and emerges directly from the realm beyond being and nonbeing. Draw from it without exhausting it, like the waves of a vast sea; look up to it without reaching its limit, like a towering mountain. Nothing can serve as its likeness, and the mind cannot know it. It comes into being before the Lord of Images: “I do not know whose child it is.” Amid movement it is still; in its operation it is empty and open. Thus Confucius compared himself to a rooster steeped in wine, and the Yellow Emperor attained it through the Formless. It is serene, the master of all things; only the highest Dao is its source.)

Scripture

The Dao is empty, yet in use it seems never to be filled.

Imperial Commentary

The Dao’s movement issues from the Qi of emptiness and harmony. In its use, it brings forth the life of all things, yet its efficacy is never full. The word “seems” signals an approximation: one does not dare to speak of the Dao in definitive terms.

Imperial Subcommentary

“Empty, yet in use it seems never to be filled; deep, it seems to be the source of all things.” “Empty” means void; this says that the Dao functions through emptiness. Harmonious Qi is empty and open, and thus serves as the Dao’s function. Through its operation, all things come to life and receive its efficacy. If we speak of its efficacy, things may suppose it to be grand and radiant; if we speak of its emptiness, the Dao is never full. Its wondrous source is deep and still, and it is always the source of all things. The phrase “seems to be” indicates that the Dao has no fixed form, so we do not dare to speak of it definitively. The same applies to the other passages.

Commentary of Heshang Gong

“The Dao is empty, yet in use…”: “Empty” means “center.” The Dao conceals its name and hides its renown; its function lies in the center. “It seems never to be filled”: “Seems” means “always.” The Dao is always humble and empty, never full.

Yan Zun says:

The Dao is supremely empty, so when it moves it can reach the utmost emptiness; De is utterly without, so when it moves it reaches harmony. Among all things that receive it, none fails to find a way through. Emptiness and harmony are the function of Dao and De, the constant state of the spirit, that which Heaven and Earth honor and Yin-Yang take as their source. The Dao is not confined to one thing; its function must lie in the center. The Way of Heaven abhors fullness: what is full is bound to suffer loss. Hence the warning against fullness. What is full must diminish; what is without must become something. The way of centered harmony, however, is neither full nor diminished, neither being nor nonbeing. Since being and nonbeing are both set aside, fullness and diminishment are set aside as well. The medicine of the centered Way is borrowed to cure the sickness of clinging to either side; once the sickness is cured, the medicine too must be relinquished.

Overview of the Plain-Language Interpretation

This chapter discusses the opening line of Chapter Four of the Dao De Jing: “The Dao is empty, yet in use it seems never to be filled.” The contents outline four layers of meaning: using the “center” while letting go of attachment to it; the sage’s empty and still wisdom as the source of all things; the sage concealing his radiance as he responds to the world; and the sage’s presence before the myriad forms.

The opening passage describes the Dao’s subtle principle of clarity and emptiness: it surpasses the Three Realms and lies beyond being and nonbeing. Its depth and breadth cannot be measured. It exists before the “Lord of Images,” perhaps referring to a ruler prior to the appearance of concrete forms. It is still within movement and empty in its function. Thus Confucius modestly compared himself to a rooster steeped in wine, while the Yellow Emperor attained the Dao in the “Formless,” a state of indistinctness without shape. The highest Dao is the source of all things.

Meaning of the scripture: The Dao is empty and harmonious; in its operation, it seems never to be filled.

Tang Emperor Xuanzong’s imperial commentary: The Dao’s movement arises from the Qi of emptiness and harmony. It transforms and brings forth all things without becoming self-satisfied. Words such as “seems” are used because the Dao cannot be defined or given a fixed form, so one does not dare to make a categorical statement.

Imperial subcommentary: “Empty” means void: the Dao functions through emptiness. Empty and harmonious Qi brings forth all things. If we speak only of its efficacy, it may seem radiant and vast; speaking of its emptiness shows that the Dao itself is never full. Deep and still like an abyss, it is the source of all things. “Seems to be” signals reluctance to make a definite claim.

Heshang Gong (a Han-era commentary): “Empty” means “center.” The Dao hides its name and virtue, and its function lies in keeping to the center. It is always humble and never full.

Yan Zun (who emphasizes “centered harmony”): The Dao is empty in its nature and therefore can be empty to the utmost; De is without in its nature and therefore can reach complete harmony. Emptiness and harmony are the function of Dao and De and the source revered by Heaven and Earth and by Yin-Yang. The Dao’s function must lie in the center. Since the Way of Heaven rejects fullness, the passage warns against it. True centered harmony is neither full nor diminished, neither being nor nonbeing. It uses the “center” to undo attachment to being and nonbeing, fullness and diminishment; once the attachment is gone, the “center” itself need not be clung to.

(The work belongs to the Tang Daoist tradition of “collected commentaries on mysterious De.” The imperial commentary and subcommentary reflect the Tang court’s devotion to the Dao. Heshang Gong represents an earlier Huang-Lao tradition. Yan Zun’s interpretation is close to the idea of the “middle Way” and may be considered alongside Chongxuan learning and Buddhist influence.)

Plain-Language Interpretation

“Not Being Full” and Letting Go of the Middle

Cheng Xuanying’s commentary says that “hollow” here also means “middle”—the unbiased Middle Way.

Sages guide living beings in many ways, but the most important thing is first to hold to the Middle Way. That is why Laozi says, “Use it while it is hollow”: act through emptiness and harmony. “Not being full” means not being satisfied with oneself, not clinging, and not filling oneself up. First, holding to the single Middle Way is used to break attachment to either extreme. Once both extremes have been removed, even the thought of holding to the single middle must be let go. Those who study the Dao may cling stubbornly to “the middle” or “the One,” believing they have already attained perfection. That is why the text adds “not being full”: attachment to the middle must also be dispelled. This is the true meaning of “not being full.”

“Deep, it seems the ancestor of all things”: Sage-like wisdom, empty and still, as the source of all things

Emperor Xuanzong’s commentary says that “deep” means profound and still. The Dao continually brings forth and transforms the myriad things without becoming self-satisfied. Its wondrous root is profound, silent, and still, so it seems to be the great ancestor of all things.

Heshang Gong says that the Dao is so deep it cannot be fathomed, like the ancestor to whom all things return for refuge.

Rongzi (Rong Yiruo) says that the sea is deep, and all rivers flow toward it; the Dao is deep, and all things honor it as their source.

Cheng Xuanying’s commentary says that “deep” is like still water. It is used as a metaphor for the sage: still water can reflect a person’s image, and the sage’s wisdom can illuminate all the myriad teachings. Thus, master craftsmen take still water as their model, and living beings regard the sage as their ultimate guide. The text says “seems” because there is in fact no fixed “source,” yet everything returns to it as its source: all take it as their source, but it is not confined to any one source. Zhuangzi says that people do not look at their reflections in rushing water, but in still water. He also says that water is called “deep” when it is still. “Source” here has the same meaning as “source” in the “Great Ancestral Teacher” chapter of the Zhuangzi.

“Blunt its sharpness, untangle its knots”: Conceal one’s brilliance and adapt to the ordinary world

Emperor Xuanzong’s commentary says that the Dao is fundamentally empty and harmonious, and so it can blunt sharpness and untangle disorder. Seeking to return to the root through worldly learning only binds one more tightly.

The accompanying commentary explains that “blunt” means to restrain, and “sharpness” means keenness. “Untangle” means to disperse, and “knots” means what is numerous and disordered. The workings of emptiness and openness meet no obstruction. People are fond of competing for advantage, and worldly affairs are full of turmoil. When a single thought accords with emptiness and harmony, sharpness is blunted of itself and turmoil untangles of itself. This explains, in textual terms, “the workings of the Dao.”

The phrase “seeking to return through worldly learning” in the imperial commentary comes from Zhuangzi’s “Cleansing the Nature.” It describes skimming along within worldly learning in an attempt to recover one’s original nature. Sharpness and disorder often arise from desire: thoughts of the Dao blunt and untangle them, while pursuing worldly learning binds them ever more tightly.

Heshang Gong says that “blunt its sharpness” means that sharpness is the drive to advance, while “untangle its knots” means that knots are vexation and disorder. When people are driven to advance, they give rise to vexation and disorder. By using the Dao’s emptiness and harmony, they can blunt sharpness and untangle knots.

Taken together, this passage explains Chapter Four of the Dao De Jing. It first uses “hollow” and “not being full” to show that one should cling neither to extremes nor to the middle. It then uses “deep” as a metaphor for the Dao and the sage: profound and still, they are the source of all things. Finally, “blunt its sharpness and untangle its knots” shows how the Dao’s emptiness and harmony can quiet contention and turmoil, unlike worldly learning, which binds people more tightly the more they pursue it.

On the method of “checking and stopping”: When pursuing fame and success, one should understand the principle of restraint and stilling. The Dao does not flaunt itself; clinging to one’s own views entangles one in resentment.

One should keep the Dao’s Wuwei (non-action) in mind, and use it to untie these knots.

Yan Zun says: Have aspirations, but do not let your sharpness show. Be thoughtful, but do not scheme with a calculating mind. Make plans as though making none; pursue aims as though pursuing none.

Rong Yidao says: In the scripture, “dull the sharpness and untie the knots” comes first. Excessive discernment harms one’s nature; over time, it can damage the keen spirit of a good person. One should be open-minded and forget oneself, using the Dao to examine things. The “knots” are desires that unsettle what is right, and gains and losses that disturb the mind. To “untie” them is to leave others behind and forget oneself, distance oneself from desire, and bring one’s emotions under control.

Cheng’s commentary (the commentary of Cheng Xuanying) says: “Dull” means to still; “sharpness” means striving forward. Since one can benefit oneself by following the Way of the Twofold Mystery, and the Way can be perfected so as to serve as a model for others, what follows explains how to benefit others. Recognize that the external world is illusory, so that those who strive forward may cease their greed and rivalry.

As for “dispersing anger”: anger is resentment, and to disperse means to make it fade away. Resentment arises from seeing things as favorable or adverse; these judgments arise from a deluded mind. The sages understand that favorable and adverse conditions are both empty, and recognize that the deluded mind has no true existence. Thus they can guide people back to what is real, release and calm their minds, and break through anger and delusion.

“Blend with its light; become one with its dust”

The Imperial Commentary (Tang Xuanzong’s commentary): The Dao is everywhere, yet wherever it is found, it often seems absent. In light, it becomes one with the light; in dust, it becomes one with the dust. Yet it is neither light nor dust itself.

The Imperial Subcommentary: “Blend with its light; become one with its dust”: the harmonizing Qi (vital energy) seems both present and absent. The Dao’s harmonizing action works through all things without exception: in light, it becomes one with the light; in dust, it becomes one with the dust. It is everywhere, yet wherever it is, it often seems absent. This harmonizing quality may be called blending with light and dust, while its wondrous source remains clear and unmixed. Hence the text says it “seems to exist.”

Heshang Gong says: “Blend with its light”: though one has clear and distinctive insight, one should be like the dim and indistinct, and not use one’s brilliance to disturb others. “Become one with its dust”: one should share the grime and dust borne by ordinary people and not set oneself apart from them.

Rong says: “Blend with its light; become one with its dust”: it remains clear and still. It has light but does not shine brightly; like a lotus unstained by mud, it blends without obscuring its nature and joins without being burdened in its truth. Thus we know it remains clear, pure, and constant.

Cheng’s commentary says: “Blend with its light”: light is the illumination of wisdom. The sages’ wisdom shines as brightly as the sun and moon, yet they conceal their radiance and hide their traces, blending with ordinary understanding. Their sage wisdom works quietly and does not dazzle the world; hence the text below says, “It is bright, yet does not shine.”

This passage elucidates the cultivation state of "harmonizing radiance and blending with the dust" (和光同尘) and explores the fundamental nature of the Dao.

Regarding "blending with the dust," the text explains that "dust" refers to the six sensory objects (六尘) such as form and sound. Just as worldly dust soils clean objects, these sensory pleasures can contaminate pure spiritual practice. "Blending with the dust" means that while Dao cultivators interact with worldly affairs—concealing their wisdom's radiance and mingling with ordinary existence—they maintain transcendent awareness within. Though appearing to engage with sensory experiences like ordinary people, their inner essence remains uncontaminated.

"Profound, it seems to exist" describes the mysterious state of Dao's essence. Though quiescent and formless, the Dao eternally exists. Practitioners who harmonize radiance and blend with dust maintain inwardly concentrated spirit. This state neither deliberately pursues stillness nor follows worldly currents, but transcends both movement and stillness in absolute being.

The discussion concludes with Dao's primordial nature. Laozi states "I know not whose child it is—it seems to precede the Lord" (象帝之先), meaning the Dao isn't generated by anything and exists even prior to the Creator (帝, here referring to the sovereign of creation). The Dao precedes all existence, eternally abiding through quiet non-action (无为), and practitioners should emulate this characteristic in self-cultivation. Immeasurably profound, the Dao has neither beginning nor end, operating spontaneously without constraint.

By putting the power of creation and transformation to work throughout the ten thousand regions, one examines the functions of the ten thousand things.

An Explanation of “Seeming to Precede the Emperor” (Cheng Xuanyi’s Commentary):

“Seeming to precede the Emperor” means seeming to come before the celestial emperor.

Cheng Xuanyi’s commentary: Here our Lord Lao (Laozi) speaks of himself. What he describes is the sacred Dao, at once still and responsive in its transformations. Since no one knows from whom it was born, he says, “Whose child?”—as if asking whose child it is. “Seeming” means “similar to”; “Emperor” refers to Heaven. Since the sacred Dao can bring Heaven and Earth into being, it seems to come before the celestial emperor. Thus the Zhuangzi says, “It is spirit to spirits and emperor to emperors; it gave birth to Heaven and Earth.” It also says, “It was born before Heaven and Earth, yet does not grow old.” The utmost Dao is obscure, still, and indistinct; it neither comes into being nor passes away, and is neither before nor after. The word “before” is used here to show that what seems to come first is not fixed as first: within “not being first,” it appears as first. That is why the word “seeming” is used. There is no actual position ahead of the celestial emperor; it is only as if the Dao came before him.

Note: This passage is from the Tang dynasty commentator Cheng Xuanying’s Collected Commentaries on the Mysterious Virtue of the True Scripture of the Way and Its Virtue, explaining “seeming to precede the Emperor” in the Dao De Jing. Its main point is that the Dao should not be grasped as something that literally came into being earlier in time; “before” is a figurative expression.