《道德真經玄德纂疏》Vol. 11

In the view of principle, the Dao of the Xia and Shang was held in high esteem, while the governance of the Tang and Yu was pure and beautiful. Rulers mostly practiced Wuwei (non-action), and the people lived contentedly. They did not pride themselves on achievements or boast of good deeds. Their way accorded with the calm purity of Heaven and Earth and the constancy and brightness of the sun and moon. They could understand and act in their dealings with others, and cultivate themselves without exertion. This may be called “the highest De does not regard itself as De”: the highest Virtue does not perform as though it possessed “virtue.” It is mysterious upon mysterious, humble yet radiant, and accords with the Way of the Three Sovereigns. In action it could remain still; what people then upheld was reverence, caution, gentleness, and compliance.

When the ways of the age grew shallow, people gradually began to emphasize “knowledge,” “action,” ritual, and benevolence. They clung rigidly to statutes and regulations. From Zheng Mao—whom Confucius had executed—to the two academies, where the doctrines of the Warring States persuaders were taught, the Way of the worthy and the sage was obscured. Even Ji Chang, King Wen of Zhou, suffered calamity for seven years. This shows that people could no longer forget righteousness and uphold the Way; they had to dwell amid the shallow and remain on the surface, losing the subtle truth altogether. This is something fools truly cannot see through.

The highest De does not regard itself as De; therefore it possesses De.

Tang Xuanzong’s imperial commentary: The highest De does not regard itself as De, and so truly possesses De. The lower De refuses to let go of the name and appearance of “De,” and so possesses no De. This sentence is read together with the following one, “The lower De does not lose sight of De; therefore it has no De.” Here the scripture quotes only the first half.

The phrase “taking lack of De as De” describes how the Dao operates in the world. Zhuangzi says, “That by which the myriad things come into being is called De” (vitality and beneficence). Ages differ in the simplicity or corruption of their customs, and De likewise has higher and lower forms.

In antiquity, people’s hearts were simple and sincere. The workings of De were not displayed, so there was no “having De” to boast of; hence the phrase “not having De.” De was whole and undivided. Through Wuwei (non-action), it nurtured and transformed all things, and the world was clear and peaceful; hence the phrase “thus having De.”

In later ages, De declined and its effects gradually became visible. Though people inwardly accorded with the Dao, their conduct could not avoid involvement in deliberate action. They treated De as something to grasp and speak of; hence the phrase “not losing it.” Yet their actions carried an air of self-importance and calculation, making their De a coarser form than that of antiquity. Hence the phrase “thus lacking De.”

The Yushu commentary says: “‘Upper’ identifies the age, while ‘De’ distinguishes how it works. In antiquity, people were simple and sincere, governing through Wuwei, taking embodiment of the Dao as their foundation and letting things follow their own nature. This was the pure De of antiquity. The upper De and utmost De operated unseen, beyond people’s ability to describe; this is called ‘lacking De, yet being simple and sincere.’ When the prevailing atmosphere was harmonious and all things flourished, the workings of De remained complete; this is called ‘having De.’” The commentary cites Zhuangzi’s Miscellaneous Chapters: “That by which things come into being is called De.”

Heshang Gong says: “‘The upper De does not have De’ refers to the nameless rulers of the most ancient times, whose De was so great that it could only just be called De. ‘The upper De does not have De’ means they did not use De to instruct the people. They followed nature and nurtured people’s lives; De left no visible trace, so it is called ‘lacking De.’ ‘Thus having De’ means De accorded with the energy of Heaven and Earth and flowed through all things, enabling the people to remain whole.”

The Cheng commentary says: “‘Upper’ denotes what surpasses; ‘De’ means what is attained, in the sense of accomplishment. People of upper De subtly accord with the realm of the Dao, where realm and wisdom merge. Forgetting both gain and loss, they act without relying on their deeds and do not claim credit when their work is complete; this is called ‘lacking De.’ They nurture all things and allow each to fulfill its nature; this is called ‘having De.’ Within, their clarity of De accords with the Dao; in principle, they are worthy of esteem. This is called upper De. The Dao has no form, and De is likewise empty and mysterious. Concealing its radiance and hiding its workings is called ‘lacking De.’ Though hidden in its workings, it is the usefulness of what seems useless. It is put to use without dazzling; this is a light that does not dazzle. Since it benefits things and its light aids people, it is called ‘thus having De.’”

This passage discusses the distinction between "superior De (Virtue/Power)" and "inferior De." Superior De represents the highest realm of virtuous conduct, while inferior De manifests at a secondary level.

Those who truly possess superior De act in complete accordance with nature, neither deliberately pursuing anything nor conscious of performing noble deeds. Like water flowing naturally downstream, they move through life with pristine simplicity, without even the thought "I am cultivating De." This state transcends calculations of gain and loss, reaching what is called "wu yi wei" (non-purposeful action) — requiring no justification or aim, simply following one's inherent nature.

Inferior De, while still involving good deeds, remains at the level of conscious intention and purpose. Practitioners remember their virtuous acts, retain thoughts like "I am cultivating De," and may even feel self-satisfaction. Like water channeled artificially, it flows but not in its most natural state. Hence the scripture states: "Inferior De never loses sight of De, therefore it is not true De" — the very attachment to virtuous appearances causes the loss of De's authentic essence.

The commentary by He Shanggong (the River Master) observes that rulers termed "inferior De" fall short of superior De standards. Their having titles and achievements to praise precisely indicates their De lacks purity. As Master Rong noted, when society begins emphasizing humaneness and righteousness while keeping score of merits and faults, this already signals moral decline.

True superior De resembles the silent formlessness of empty space, requiring no deliberate display. The moment thoughts like "I am cultivating De" arise, one has yet to reach the highest realm. Cheng Xuanying's commentary similarly emphasizes that what we call "inferior De" stems from attachment to the concept of virtue, failing to fully merge with the Dao.

Plain-Language Interpretation

Wuwei (non-action)

“Wuwei” means following the Dao: remaining quiet and not acting rashly. It involves neither deliberate action nor something that can be adequately described as “acting deliberately.”

Cheng’s commentary explains “without means” as “using”: those in higher positions use Wuwei to guide those below them, while those below use Wuwei in serving those above them.

The highest De is Wuwei. The highest Virtue is rooted in stillness and tranquility. Its workings are subtle and unfathomable, so no trace of deliberate action can be seen. This is “acting through non-action”: it seems to involve action, yet remains Wuwei.

The lower De acts and has something it acts for

The Imperial Commentary says: “The lower De acts” means that although the mind seeks Wuwei, its merit and virtue become visible, and its outward traces have already fallen into deliberate action. That is why it is called “acting.” It also says that the mind is intent on Wuwei, while outwardly one still acts.

Heshang Gong says that the lower De “acts” by issuing commands and carrying out government affairs. To “have something it acts for” means seeking fame for oneself.

Rong’s commentary says that if those in higher positions guide others through deliberate action, those below will also serve them through deliberate action. In governing the world, one should not personally handle every matter, but return to emptiness and stillness. Yet in teaching disciples, one cannot neglect ritual and righteousness or fail to uphold loyalty and filial piety.

Cheng’s commentary says that because the mind still keeps “De” in view, this is called “acting”; because traces remain in one’s behavior, it is said to “have something it acts for.”

Second: Distinguishing the virtues of benevolence, righteousness, and ritual, and showing how the age declined from simplicity to superficiality

The highest benevolence acts but has nothing it acts for

The Imperial Commentary says: “Benevolence” is the name for universal love. Only after the lower De had declined did “the highest benevolence” emerge, taking universal love as benevolence; that is why it is called “acting.” To practice benevolence while forgetting benevolence, and still seek Wuwei, is why the text says “but has nothing it acts for”: the mind is intent on action, yet outwardly appears to be in a state of Wuwei. Here, saying that the highest benevolence “is close to Wuwei” refers to its outward traces. Compared with the highest righteousness, it still cannot be said to show the lower De’s obvious “deliberate action.”

The Imperial Commentary’s subcommentary explains that benevolence and righteousness flourished only after the Great Dao fell into disuse. “The highest benevolence” means a state that takes benevolence as supreme; the same usage applies elsewhere to “the highest righteousness,” “the highest ritual,” and the like. Benevolence is the name for universal love.

(The scripture text breaks off here; the discussion continues in a separate passage on “the highest righteousness” and related topics.)

This passage discusses the distinction between two virtues in Daoism: "supreme benevolence" (shangren) and "supreme righteousness" (shangyi).

Regarding "supreme benevolence," it refers to rulers who embody the highest form of benevolent virtue (De). They act with benevolence without seeking reward, extending universal love yet ultimately unable to reach everyone. This benevolence arises naturally from the heart without deliberate display, like an achievement that exists but is not flaunted. Heshang Gong explains this as a state where "the heart acts, yet the appearance is wuwei (non-action)"—there is genuine inner engagement, but outwardly it seems effortless. Cheng Xuanying adds that benevolent individuals consciously nurture all things without expecting anything in return. Among the Three Treasures of Daoism (compassion, frugality, and not daring to be first in the world), compassion holds the highest place, and among the Five Virtues, benevolence also ranks first.

As for "supreme righteousness," it refers to the act of discerning right from wrong. When the simplicity of ancient customs fades, distinctions arise, requiring righteousness to judge and restore balance. This virtue involves clear and deliberate action in both intention and deed. Heshang Gong states that righteousness serves to settle disputes and establish authority through decisive action. Cheng Xuanying notes that righteousness primarily restrains wrongdoing and adjudicates disputes, much like the precepts found in Daoist scriptures.

In summary, the passage contrasts these two virtues: supreme benevolence is a natural, effortless kindness that appears wuwei yet is inwardly engaged, while supreme righteousness actively judges and corrects, visibly manifesting action. Both are essential in Daoist cultivation, but they operate at different levels—supreme benevolence aligns more closely with the essence of the Dao (the Way).

This passage concerns Laozi’s criticism of the level of “ritual” in his teaching that “the highest De does not display itself as De.” Ritual is already a deliberate, visible form of instruction. When it remains merely formal and receives no response, it turns into argument and coercion.

“Those are the rules” refers to the “rules” mentioned earlier: precepts and standards of conduct.

“The precepts arose to accommodate those of lesser capacity, whose practice involves deliberate action and has not yet reached the empty, subtle realm; therefore it is said that ritual acts deliberately.” Precepts arose to suit people of “lesser capacity,” who can only respond to concrete rules. Their practice involves deliberate action and has not yet reached the realm of emptiness and stillness. Thus, when Laozi says “the highest ritual acts deliberately,” he means that ritual codes are consciously devised and put into practice.

“When the highest ritual acts, but no one responds, it rolls up its sleeves and drags them along.” “The highest ritual” refers to instruction at the level of ritual. A ruler or person in authority uses ritual codes and ceremonial decorum to regulate the realm. If others do not respond or cooperate, the ruler “rolls up his sleeves and drags them along”: he reaches out and forcibly pulls people over, demanding that they follow ritual.

The Imperial Commentary explains that ritual is needed to repair disorder in the Six Bonds—the social relationships between ruler and subject, parent and child, and others—so the text says “acts deliberately.” Ritual depends on reciprocity: if one person does not respond to the other, there is no proper exchange. If I show you ritual courtesy and you do not return it, that too violates ritual. When I act according to ritual and the other person does not respond, I grow angry, roll up my sleeves, and we pull at one another. Hence the phrase “rolls up its sleeves and drags them along.”

Heshang Gong says that a ruler who upholds the highest ritual treats it as the supreme law, establishing rules and ordering ceremonial forms. But ritual often becomes “splendid in appearance and hollow in substance, burdened with artificial display.” Every move then departs from the Dao and cannot elicit a genuine response. The result is resentment and strife between those above and those below, as they roll up their sleeves and struggle against each other.

Rongzi and others also point out that ritual classics prescribe three hundred rules and three thousand forms of decorum. Such elaborate instruction is too much for ordinary people to put into practice, hence “no one responds.” When trust is lacking, distrust arises; distrust leads to anger and conflict. People then raise their fists and roll up their sleeves, tugging at one another.

The Cheng Commentary interprets this from the perspective of cultivation. “The highest ritual acts deliberately” corresponds to practices in the scripture such as purification rites and ceremonial decorum. The highest Dao is empty and still, and its great image has no form. If one prizes ornate display over simplicity, values literary form over substance, and esteems ceremony alone instead of plainness and detachment, then even as a gradual method of instruction, it does not accord with the underlying principle. It departs from the Dao inwardly and cannot respond to things outwardly. This is why it “acts, but no one responds.” Once no one responds, it rolls up its sleeves and drags them along: “drags along” means persisting and pulling by force. Ritual is meant to involve reciprocal exchange, but it has become mutual tugging.

In essence, ritual is a remedial method suited to people of lesser capacity, involving deliberate action. When people cling only to ritual texts and forms of decorum, without inspiring a natural response, they slide from courteous deference into rolling up their sleeves and dragging others along. This runs counter to “the highest De does not display itself as De” and the Dao of Wuwei. The passage criticizes ritual; it does not reject all ceremony. Rather, it opposes treating ritual as the ultimate principle and using force to make people observe it.

Classic: Collected Commentaries on the Mysterious De of the True Classic of the Dao

Scripture:

When people resent others for the decline of ritual and raise their arms in anger, this shows the harm caused by treating higher ritual as a teaching.

Zhuangzi says, “The wine of Lu was weak, and Handan was besieged.” This is the very matter in question.

(Third: Clarifying how the branches arise when the root is lost / urging people to set aside the branches and honor the root)

Therefore, only after the Dao is lost does De appear; only after De is lost does benevolence appear; only after benevolence is lost does righteousness appear; and only after righteousness is lost does ritual appear.

Imperial Commentary: Losing the Dao means losing the highest De. The highest De accords with the Dao, and so this is called “losing the Dao.” Dao, De, benevolence, and righteousness are names for the changing conditions of the times and customs, whether peaceful or troubled. Thus, as the Dao declines, De becomes visible; when De is lost, benevolence remains; when benevolence disappears, righteousness is established; when righteousness is lost, ritual is brought in to remedy the situation. These are all measures suited to their times.

To discuss ritual in an age of simplicity and purity would be madness or perversity; to disregard ritual in a time of decline and corruption would be folly or deceit. If people can reform and establish a new order, they should set ritual aside and practice righteousness; set righteousness aside and practice benevolence; set benevolence aside and practice De; then forget De and accord with the Dao. When people return to simplicity and purity, the highest De has nothing to do.

Imperial Commentary, Subcommentary: This passage now explains the causes that lead to such failings. Losing the Dao means losing the highest De; the highest De accords with the Dao, and so this is called “losing the Dao.” An earlier passage says, “When the Great Dao is abandoned, benevolence and righteousness appear.” Zhuangzi says, “The Dao is obscured by small accomplishments.” The Dao is present everywhere, yet here it is said to be lost; this refers to people.

When the age is simple and pure, the Great Dao is practiced openly. When customs grow corrupt, petty accomplishments arise. Once petty accomplishments arise, the Great Dao is obscured; as benevolence and righteousness are practiced, the highest De declines. This reflects the difference between ages of purity and corruption, and the sage’s duty to respond to the times.

As simplicity and purity gradually disperse, the Dao is lost and then De appears. When De, in turn, is lost, benevolence follows. When traces of universal love remain, benevolence is lost and righteousness follows. When setting things right no longer suffices, righteousness is lost and ritual follows. To discuss ritual in an age of simplicity and purity would be madness or perversity; to disregard ritual in a time of decline and corruption would be folly or deceit. The sage’s intention to remedy the age has never changed, but the measures needed in peaceful and troubled times cannot be the same.

Heshang Gong says: “Therefore, only after the Dao is lost does De appear” means that as the Dao declines, De arises to transform people. “Only after De is lost does benevolence appear” means that as De declines, benevolence and love become visible. “Only after benevolence is lost does righteousness appear” means that as benevolence declines, distinctions of right and duty become clear. “Only after righteousness is lost does ritual appear” means that when righteousness declines, ritual is put into practice through formal acts and offerings of jade and silk.

Rong says: Mysterious】【。

Plain-Language Interpretation

I. The Age of the Great Dao in Antiquity

In ancient times, customs were sincere and harmonious, and people were simple and genuine. Everyone was content with what they had, without needing “benevolence” and “righteousness” to nurture and sustain them. Each household abided in Wuwei (non-action), and people lived at ease with Dao and De in their hearts. There were no trigrams for divination, nor any visible traces of moral instruction. People made no distinctions between close and distant relations, and forgot the difference between high and low status. This was the age, under the “Highest One” (the highest ideal state), when the Great Dao naturally brought all things to life.

When this way of life dispersed, posthumous titles and social distinctions arose. Ideas such as “nurturing” and “rescuing” spread, and the achievements of aiding others became conspicuous. Sages silently protected the people, who lived in peace. This was a time when “Superior De” was still at work.

Later, special kindness toward one’s kin and private attachments appeared, and “universal love” became an achievement to boast about. With kinship came partiality; with love came distinctions. The decline into shallow customs grew ever more pronounced.

Kinship and affection alone could no longer transform society, so rewards and punishments were used to govern people. When this approach, too, fell into disrepair, the teachings of benevolence and righteousness also weakened. People were left with formal gestures, ceremonious courtesies, and ritual offerings of jade and silk as a means of instruction. The result was that rulers deceived those below them, while ministers flattered those above; the source of sincerity receded ever further, and empty display grew ever more prevalent.

II. Cheng Xu’s Explanation of “Loss of the Dao → De → Benevolence → Righteousness → Ritual”

All living beings have feelings, and customs gradually grow shallow. As the Great Dao’s influence becomes hidden and no longer apparent, it becomes necessary to respond to circumstances and adapt to the times, so that inferior De may manifest. Only after De is lost does benevolence appear; after benevolence is lost, righteousness arises; and after righteousness is lost, ritual is employed. By the time things reach ritual, the Dao has been lost and sincerity has reached its lowest ebb. Ritual is meant to restrain wrongdoing, yet it must rely on elaborate rules and forms. Even when people make a show of proper decorum, hypocrisy has already taken deep root.

III. The Fourth Section: Condemning Ritual as the Beginning of “Empty Pretense” and Showing What to Embrace or Reject

“Ritual is the thinning of loyalty and trust, and the beginning of disorder.”

Imperial Commentary: “Now” is a word that introduces the statement. The meaning is that the sages of the declining age established ritual teachings because loyalty and trust had already grown weak; ritual had to be used to make up for their decline. If everyone held loyalty and trust within, what need would there be for ritual rules? “The beginning of disorder” means that ritual can guard against disorder, but it is only the starting point for bringing disorder under control, not the true foundation of morality.

Imperial Commentary Exegesis: Ritual was established because loyalty and trust had weakened, and ritual was used as a remedy. It thus became the first defense against disorder. The purpose of using ritual was to bring peace to those above and govern the people. Was it really about the formal presentation of jade and silk?

Heshanggong: Ritual marks the thinning of loyalty and trust: when ritual abandons the root and pursues the branch, loyalty and trust decline day by day. It is also the beginning of disorder: when ritual prizes elaborate form and neglects substance, honesty and uprightness grow scarce while wrongdoing and disorder increase.

Summary: This passage condenses history into a chain of decline: the Great Dao’s Wuwei → the hidden influence of Superior De → benevolence, righteousness, rewards, and punishments → ritual forms and offerings of jade and silk. Its central criticism is directed at ritual: it is a patch for a time when loyalty and trust have grown weak. It may temporarily restrain disorder, but it is not the proper path back to morality.

The Classic says: Rong Xianyuan says, “Everyone thinks of themselves as sincere and upright, each holding to loyalty and trustworthiness. In truth, the impulse toward artifice and deceit has already disappeared. Yet loyalty and trustworthiness have grown faint, while shallow and frivolous ways have flourished. Confusion and disorder have worsened day by day, and only then have people turned to ritual to govern them. Ritual looks down on substance and honors ornamentation. It instead adds to perversity and disorder; that is why it is called ‘the beginning of disorder.’”

Cheng Xuanying’s commentary says: “To display ornamentation outwardly is not to act from the heart. Since it does not arise from deep sincerity, it is proof that loyalty has grown thin. Such ritual not only fails to curb the roots of frivolity and defiance of proper conduct; it actually encourages the onset of confusion.”

“Those who possess foreknowledge: the Dao’s outward splendor, and the beginning of foolishness.”

The Imperial Commentary says: “Knowledge here means a person’s intellect and understanding. ‘Foreknowledge’ refers to establishing rituals that impose external restraints before one’s innate understanding has developed. Though intended to suit the times, such rites in fact cause people to lose their natural simplicity; hence the phrase ‘the Dao’s outward splendor.’ Ritual was originally meant to remedy disorder, and its value lies in bringing people into harmony. But when it loses its original purpose, people boast about jade and silk and place great importance on kneeling and bowing. Such people mark the beginning of foolishness.”

The Imperial Commentary’s subcommentary says: “‘Those who possess foreknowledge’ refers to the people who establish ritual rules. The term ‘foreknowledge’ means setting up these outward restraints before people’s innate understanding has developed. The Dao accords with human nature, while ritual resides in outward forms. To use the Dao in this way is to depart from simplicity; hence it is called ‘the Dao’s outward splendor.’ ‘And the beginning of foolishness’ means this: ritual was originally established to quiet disorder and remedy it, with the aim of bringing people into harmony and returning them to simplicity. But in later times, those who practice ritual do not cultivate their inner nature; they pursue only outward display. They show too little reverence and offer too many gifts. This is not what a person of broad understanding would uphold. It is truly the beginning of foolishness; hence the phrase ‘and the beginning of foolishness.’”

Heshanggong says: “‘Foreknowledge’ means the Dao’s outward ornamentation. To lack knowledge yet claim to know is what is meant by foreknowledge. Such a person has lost the Dao’s substance and obtained only its outward display. ‘The beginning of foolishness’ means that people with foreknowledge are the first to promote ignorance.”

Rong says: “De is the Dao’s substance; benevolence and righteousness are its outward display. Those who are first to know benevolence and righteousness recognize the outward display but not the substance. The wise naturally act in accordance with what is right; only the unenlightened need instruction from a teacher. Knowing ritual is not the foundation of supreme wisdom; rather, it marks the beginning of the lowest folly.”

Cheng’s commentary says: “To lack knowledge yet force oneself to claim it is called foreknowledge—that is, knowledge that comes before understanding. Such people are highly artificial in their cultivation and practice of the Dao. This is not the source of great wisdom; it is the beginning of foolishness.”

“Therefore, the great person abides in what is substantial, not in what is shallow; dwells in what is real, not in outward display.”

(This sentence continues the preceding passage: therefore, the great person upholds depth and simplicity, not shallow and frivolous ways; abides in real De, not outward ornamentation.)

Plain-Language Interpretation

Summary of the Imperial Commentary:

“Action” is a practice that arises after the Dao has grown shallow; “ritual and righteousness” are outward decorations that appear after De has lost its roots. Therefore, the sage acts through Wuwei (non-action), holding to what is substantial and not sinking to what is shallow. In teaching through ritual and righteousness, the sage does not place himself among what is ornate, but remains with what is genuine and steadfast.

Imperial Subcommentary:

The “great man” here means a virtuous gentleman—the person described earlier as one of “higher De.” Taking Dao, De, and Wuwei as his guiding principles is called substantial and genuine; relying on ritual, righteousness, and action to make an impression is called shallow and ornate. The sage first transforms the world through Dao and De, which is why the text says “remain with the substantial and genuine.” Teaching through ritual and righteousness comes afterward, which is why it says “do not dwell in what is ornate and shallow.”

Commentary of Heshang Gong:

Thus the great man “remains with the substantial”: a ruler who has attained the Dao keeps himself simple and sincere. He “does not dwell in what is shallow”: he does not let himself turn against the Great Dao and throw the world into disorder. “Remain with what is genuine” means to uphold loyalty and trustworthiness; “do not dwell in what is ornate” means not to adorn oneself with empty words.

Commentary of Rong:

Thus the great man remains with what is substantial rather than what is shallow, and with what is genuine rather than what is ornate. This is what “leave that and take this” means: cast aside the ornate and shallow veneer of ritual and righteousness, and return to the steadfast simplicity of uncarved wood. If we trace things back to their source, human beings were originally pure and sincere. Only when later ages lost the Dao did a name for De arise, and eventually the world became debased. Humanity ceased to treat benevolence as its true nature; righteousness departed from spontaneity; trust no longer came from the heart; and ritual became mere outward decoration. Disputes over right and wrong and schemes of deceit sprang up everywhere. Parents and children lost their love and filial devotion, and rulers and ministers lost their loyalty and righteousness. The great sage Lao Jun grieved that the customs of the age had gone badly astray and the Ultimate Dao had collapsed. He wished to restrain the lesser and honor the roots, and to end the world’s debasement and restore its purity. So he set forth the “great man”: in governing a state, ordering a family, cultivating oneself, and establishing one’s conduct, one should choose the substance of Dao and De and cast aside the ornate shallowness of benevolence and righteousness, abandoning conventional ritual to return to the genuine Dao.

Subcommentary of Cheng:

“Great man”: zhang means “elder,” and fu means “to support.” The term refers to a person of courage, compassion, wisdom, and protective care, who can support and protect all living beings and serve as a leader among them. Because his aspirations and capacity are expansive, he is called a great man. A great man should embrace the substance of Dao and De. How could he remain with the shallowness of ritual and righteousness? Those who understand the Dao and live beyond worldly conventions should set their minds on the genuine simplicity of what is real. How could they let their minds rest on the ornate cleverness of knowing things before others do?

Thus, leave that and take this.

Imperial Commentary: Cast aside the ornate and shallow qualities on that side, and take up the purity and substance on this side.

Imperial Subcommentary: “That” refers to the ornate shallowness of ritual and righteousness; “this” refers to the pure substance of Dao and De.

This passage elucidates the fundamental distinction between Dao (the Way) and De (Virtue/Power), and how sages transcend worldly rituals to return to the authentic essence of Dao-De.

Laozi posits that what sages discard are the superficial trappings of ritual propriety, while what they embrace is the true substance of Dao-De. The phrase "rejecting that and choosing this" does not imply actual discrimination, but rather a transcendence of dualistic concepts. Sages who have attained the state of Supreme De (Shangde) have gone beyond discriminating mind, no longer clinging to notions of "rejection" or "acceptance." In this realm, what appears as discrimination is in fact non-discrimination.

Chapter 39's "Those of old who attained the One" expounds the paramount importance of "the One." This "One" refers to the harmonious state of Dao—the balanced Qi of dynamic harmony (the yin-yang equilibrium). It possesses three characteristics: merging with all things, remaining constant through past and present, and encompassing both yin and yang aspects. As Emperor Wen of Han and Master Heshang Gong realized, "the One" is the formless yet omnipresent fundamental principle.

All beings in heaven and earth originate from this "One": the separation of heaven and earth stems from it, the Three Powers (heaven, earth, and humanity) are established through it, and rulers derive their nobility therefrom. It is both the source of clear and turbid Qi and the fundamental creative force that fashions all things. "The One" is that mysterious noumenon that permeates the three realms and nine heavens, containing all principles of creation.

Commentaries particularly clarify that "the One" is not merely a numeral, but signifies the unified manifestation of Dao in all things. As the Yijing states, "The alternation of yin and yang is called Dao"—Dao's Qi (energy) unites with yin in yin contexts and with yang in yang contexts. This state of yin-yang harmony constitutes the essential nature of "the One."

Yang Heiyi says: The way the ancients attained the Dao was to trace things back to their source, returning from the branches to the root. Thus, examples of the ancients attaining the Dao are cited to confirm the principle by which people today attain it. The meaning of “attaining the One” is roughly as follows:

Heshang Gong says: “Ancient” refers to the past; “One” refers to the child of the Dao of Wuwei (non-action).

Yan Zun says: The One is the child of the Dao. At the level of the numinous and mysterious, it is nonbeing; at the level of the Dao’s substance, it is being. It is the origin of origins and the beginning of beginnings. It exists alone in profound obscurity, dwelling apart in mystery; it is the pivotal hub of transformation.

Rongzi says: The ancients who attained the Dao did so in this way: Heaven attained the One and became clear and bright; Earth attained the One and became settled and still; spirit attained the One and became numinous and efficacious; valleys attained the One and became full; the myriad things attained the One and came forth through transformation; and the lords and kings attained the One, bringing great order to all under Heaven. The One is the undivided state of primordial Qi. Though Heaven and Earth are vast, they receive nothing beyond this One; though the myriad things are numerous, they rely on nothing beyond this harmony and balance; though lords and kings are noble, they depend on nothing beyond this true Dao. Thus Heaven is clear and vast in its covering, Earth is still and weighty in its bearing, spirit transforms and manifests its efficacy, valleys are open and empty yet become full, the myriad things live in ease and complete their life, and lords and kings practice Wuwei so that all under Heaven is rightly ordered. How can this be so? All attain the One through the Dao.

The Cheng commentary says: “Ancient” refers to antiquity; “One” refers to the Dao. This describes those who attained the Dao at the beginning of the cosmic cycle; the following passages will list them one by one. It uses the past to illuminate the present.

Heaven attained the One and became clear

The Imperial Commentary says: Nothing is greater in its vastness than the Qianyuan, Heaven. Its pure Yang Qi attained the One, and so it could rise high, spread broadly over all things, and provide the beginning from which the myriad things arise.

The Imperial Subcommentary says: Nothing is greater in its vastness than the Qianyuan, so it is mentioned first. As the foremost to attain the One, its pure Yang Qi attained the One, and so it could rise high, spread broadly over all things, and provide the beginning from which the myriad things arise.

Heshang Gong says: Heaven attained the One and could therefore display the signs of clarity and brightness; Earth attained the One and could therefore remain still and unmoving.

The Cheng commentary says: Receiving the Dao’s Qi, accumulated Yang formed Heaven, which is clear and buoyant above.

Earth attained the One and became settled

The Imperial Commentary says: Nothing is greater in its physical substance than the Kun image, Earth. Its pure Yin substance attained the One, and so it could extend vast and deep, bear all things, and provide the conditions for the myriad things to grow.

The Imperial Subcommentary says: Nothing is greater in its physical substance than the Kun image. Its pure Yin substance attained the One, and so it could extend vast and deep, bear all things, and provide the conditions for the myriad things to grow.

The Cheng commentary says: It likewise received the One Dao; thus, condensed Yin formed Earth, settled and still below.

Spirit attained the One and became numinous

The Imperial Commentary says: Nothing is greater in its numinous mystery than the human being. The human being, endowed with awareness, attained the One and could therefore nurture the myriad kinds of life and set countless things in motion.

The Imperial Subcommentary says: Nothing is greater in its numinous mystery than the human being. Endowed with awareness, the human being attained the One and could therefore nurture the myriad kinds of life and set countless things in motion.

Heshang Gong says: “Spirit” refers to the human being. People attained the One and could therefore concentrate their spirit and move Heaven and Earth.

The Cheng commentary says: Human beings receive the Dao’s Qi, and so, endowed with awareness, they become spirit and undergo many transformations.

Valleys attained the One and became full

The Imperial Commentary says: Nothing is greater in its openness and emptiness than valleys. Their harmonious Qi attained the One and could therefore nurture the hundred grains and receive all things.

The Imperial Subcommentary says: Nothing is greater in its openness and emptiness than valleys. Their harmonious Qi attained the One and could therefore nurture the hundred grains and receive all things.

Heshang Gong says: “Valleys” refers to what nourishes people. They attained the One and could therefore receive all things, with the beneficence of De (Virtue/Power) flowing everywhere.

The Cheng commentary says: Valleys receive the Dao’s Qi, and so, through harmony and balance, become valleys that receive all things.

The myriad things attained the One and came to life

The Imperial Commentary says: Nothing is greater in its capacity to give life than the myriad things. Their life-bearing substance attained the One and could therefore nurture the myriad kinds of life and receive countless things.

The Imperial Subcommentary says: Nothing is greater in its capacity to give life than the myriad things. Their life-bearing substance attained the One and could therefore nurture the myriad kinds of life and receive countless things.

Heshang Gong says: The myriad things attained the One and could therefore contain and give life to the myriad kinds of beings, and receive countless things.

The Cheng commentary says: The myriad things receive the Dao’s Qi, and so, endowed with life, become things that sustain the myriad kinds of life.

The lords and kings attained the One and thereby became the standard for all under Heaven

The Imperial Commentary says: Nothing is greater in nobility than lords and kings. Their substance, endowed with honor, attained the One and could therefore nurture the people and receive countless things.

The Imperial Subcommentary says: Nothing is greater in nobility than lords and kings. Their substance, endowed with honor, attained the One and could therefore nurture the people and receive countless things.

Heshang Gong says: The lords and kings attained the One and could therefore nurture the people and receive countless things.

The Cheng commentary says: Lords and kings receive the Dao’s Qi, and so, endowed with honor, become kings and nurture the people.

This passage discusses the role of "One" (the fundamental essence of the Dao) in its interaction with heaven, earth, and all things. Throughout history, commentators like Heshang Gong and Cheng Xuanying have explained the significance of "attaining the One" from various perspectives.

First, consider "spirit (Shen) attaining the One." The reason spirits can manifest unfathomable transformations and exist beyond form is precisely because they grasp this root principle of "One." As Zhuangzi described, the divine spirit's capacity to generate heaven, earth, and all beings stems from its profound realization of the Dao.

Next is "the valley attaining the One." Streams converge into valleys because they receive nourishment from the "One," enabling them to flow endlessly without exhaustion. Commentators use phrases like "springs moistening the land" to depict this state of perpetual vitality.

The same applies to the growth of all things. Whether animals, plants, sentient beings, or inanimate objects, all rely on "blended Qi" (the harmonious interaction of Yin and Yang energies) to sustain their movement and development. Heshang Gong particularly emphasizes that nothing comes into being without the Dao's influence.

For rulers (kings and lords), mastering the "One" ensures peace under heaven. Ancient commentators describe this state as "submission without coercion"—where governance requires no forceful imposition, yet people willingly follow. Whether feudal lords of the five noble ranks or sovereigns commanding ten thousand chariots, those who grasp the root of the Dao achieve effortless rule (Wuwei). The text cites Emperor Yao (Fangxun) and Yu the Great (Wenming) as examples of sage-kings who governed by "attaining the One."

In conclusion, whether it is the clarity of heaven, the stability of earth, the transformations of spirits, the abundance of valleys, or the flourishing of all things—these phenomena ultimately arise from the Dao's workings. "Reaching it" means arriving at this state of harmony, where all favorable conditions are realized through embodying the fundamental principle of "One."

Plain-Language Interpretation

This passage explains why the proper order of Heaven and Earth, all things, and the lords and kings can be sustained: each attains the Dao and thereby gains its wondrous efficacy. The preceding passage described the benefits of attaining the Dao; what follows warns of the harm caused by losing it.

“Without relying on it” is an expression of reverence and caution. Here, “relying on” means “using.” Heaven attains the Dao and uses it to manifest clarity. But if it takes pride in clarity and clings to it, Heaven may split apart and cease to be Heaven. The Heshang Gong commentary says that Heaven naturally has Yin-Yang and the alternation of day and night. It cannot seek clarity forever, or it may divide and cease to be Heaven. The Cheng commentary says that if Heaven cannot hold to the Dao and its emptiness and stillness, the sun and moon may be eclipsed, the stars may stray from their courses, and disasters may occur one after another; Heaven may then split apart.

“Earth, without relying on it, cannot be still; it may begin to shift.” Earth attains the Dao and uses it to manifest stillness. But if it takes pride in stillness, it may spill forth and change, ceasing to be Earth. Earth naturally has high and low places, hardness and softness, the Five Phases, and seasonal cycles. It cannot seek stillness forever, or it may spill forth and cease to be Earth.

“Shen, without relying on it, cannot remain numinous; it may cease.” If Shen cannot hold to the Dao, its numinous clarity may come to an end.

“The valley, without relying on it, cannot be full; it may be exhausted.” If the valley cannot hold to the Dao, it may become empty and dry up.

“All things, without relying on it, cannot live; they may perish.” If all things cannot hold to the Dao, their vitality may be extinguished.

“The lords and kings, without relying on it, cannot remain exalted and noble; they may be toppled.” If the lords and kings cannot hold to the Dao, their high positions may collapse.

The Dao of True Unity must not be lost. If it is lost, Heaven may split apart, Earth may shift, Shen may cease, the valley may be exhausted, all things may perish, and the lords and kings may be toppled. The Rong commentary sums it up: losing the Dao brings the splitting of formed images, the upheaval of formed shapes, the cessation of what is unfathomable, the drying up of empty spaces, the death of living beings, and the fall of the exalted and noble.

Plain-Language Commentary

The passage above says that if Earth cannot follow the Dao and remain still, disasters such as collapse may occur. The ancients often cited the collapse of Mount Qi and earthquakes in the Three Rivers region as examples.

If spirit assumes its powers are unfailingly effective and relies on them at every turn, it may instead lose its efficacy and cease to function.

• Emperor Xuanzong’s Imperial Commentary: A warning against proudly wielding spiritual powers.
• Imperial Subcommentary: Spirit, having attained the Dao, can work wonders and transform things without limit. Yet it should forget how effective it is. Pride and display may cause its powers to cease, leaving it unable to work wonders.
• Heshang Gong: Spirit, too, has times of flourishing, confinement, decline, and rest. One should not seek efficacy without limit. Excessive attachment may cause it to become depleted and cease to be spirit.
• Cheng Xuanying’s Subcommentary: “Cease” means to be discontinued and brought to an end. If spirit does not follow the Dao, its intelligence turns to folly; once its efficacy is gone, it may be brought to ruin.

If a valley takes pride in being “full” and becomes complacent, it may instead run dry.

• Imperial Commentary: A warning against pride in fullness.
• Imperial Subcommentary: A valley, having attained the Dao, can remain empty and receive all things. It should forget its fullness. If it clings proudly to being full, it may run dry and no longer moisten or carry things along.
• Heshang Gong: Valleys expand and contract, and are sometimes empty, sometimes full. One should not seek to remain full at all times. Without an end to this striving, a valley may run dry and cease to be a valley.
• Cheng Xuanying’s Subcommentary: “Run dry” means to become blocked. When rivers and valleys lose the One, disaster follows: their springs dry up and their waters cease to flow.

If the myriad things pride themselves on being able to generate life and cling possessively to that ability, they may instead be extinguished.

• Imperial Commentary: A warning against taking pride in being useful and able to generate life.
• Imperial Subcommentary: Having attained the Dao, the myriad things can generate life; they should forget this power. If they proudly claim it as their own, they may die out and cease to be living beings.
• Heshang Gong: The myriad things should follow the seasons through death and life. They must not force themselves to live forever, or they may perish and cease to be things.
• Cheng Xuanying’s Subcommentary: The myriad things live because they have attained the One. If they lose the Dao and stray from their true nature, they can die in an instant.

If the lords and kings pride themselves on their noble status and superior wisdom, they may instead fall.

• Imperial Commentary: Those who attain the One should not take pride in its workings. Hence the warning: Heaven should not pride itself on clarity, Earth should not pride itself on stillness, spirit should not pride itself or its efficacy will cease, valleys should not pride themselves on fullness or they will run dry, and things should not pride themselves on life or they will perish. If lords and kings pride themselves on their nobility, they will fall. The sacred teaching is handed down for the good of the people. Though it reaches back to the clarity and stillness of Heaven and Earth, it ultimately comes down to lords and kings keeping to the yielding and remaining still.
• Imperial Subcommentary: “Fall” means to be overturned.
• (The Imperial Commentary on the passage about lords and kings sums up the warning of the whole chapter.)

The main idea: Heaven, Earth, spirit, valleys, the myriad things, and lords and kings each attain their proper function by “attaining the One.” They must not rely proudly on what they have achieved. Otherwise, clarity will crack, stillness will collapse, spirit will cease to function, valleys will run dry, things will perish, and kings will fall. For rulers in human society, keeping to the yielding and remaining still is the key to putting this warning into practice.

It explains that if the feudal lords and kings can attain the Dao and put it into practice, becoming rulers of the realm, they should forget their own honor and status and keep themselves in check through humility. If they take pride in their own nobility, they may be overturned and brought to ruin, and will be unable to bring order to the realm.

Commentary: The sacred teachings have been passed down in the world for the sake of living beings. A scripture says, “Heaven brings forth the myriad things, and among them only humans possess spiritual awareness.” The first sovereign serves as a parent to the people, which shows that the sacred teachings are concerned with each person. At first, the text admonishes Heaven and Earth to make people forget the work of cultivating stillness. In the end, it admonishes lords and kings not to take pride in their virtue of nurturing and transforming the people. The way of humility is explained in detail below.

The Riverbank Duke says: Lords and kings should humble themselves and defer to others, and earnestly seek out worthy people. They must not simply wish to hold a position of honor above others; otherwise, they may be toppled and lose their place.

The Commentary on the Meaning says: “Toppled” means defeated. If a ruler fails to use the Dao to preserve his honored position, and instead violates principle and departs from virtue, the sacred vessel of power may be overturned and the state placed in peril. Xia Jie and Shang Zhou are examples.

Third: Explaining the humble use of the Dao, and concluding the meaning of “attaining the One”

Therefore, the honored take the lowly as their root; the high take the low as their foundation.

The Imperial Commentary says: Lords and kings are high and honored, while the people are lowly. Those who govern a state take the people as their root and foundation. They should work hard and be humble to gather the people, so that the people delight in the ruler’s harmonious and easygoing influence and do not scatter.

The Expanded Imperial Commentary says: “High and honored” refers to lords and kings; “lowly” refers to the common people. Since lords and kings owe their honor to the common people, the lowly are the root and foundation of the honored. The Book says, “The people are the foundation of the state; when the foundation is firm, the state is at peace.” When a ruler diligently practices humility and gathers the people, he may be said to secure the state’s foundation. The commentary says, “So that they delight in his kindly and gracious influence.” The Book of Odes says, “The kindly and gracious gentleman is the people’s parent.” “Kindly” means joyful, and “gracious” means easygoing. A gentleman with a harmonious, joyful, and easygoing virtue cares for everyone, so the people think of him as children think of their parents. If his conduct runs counter to this virtue, the people will scatter.

The Riverbank Duke says: “The honored take the lowly as their root” means that anyone who wishes to be honored should take lowliness as the root. Yu and Ji personally worked the fields; Shun made pottery by the river; and the Duke of Zhou visited humble dwellings to seek out worthy people. “The high take the low as their foundation” means that anyone who wishes to dwell on high must take what is low as the foundation. Walls are built up from the ground, rising from low to high; if the base below is not firm, they will eventually become unstable and collapse.

Rong says: “The honored take the lowly as their root” also means that the state takes the people as its root. It further means that its foundation is laid from what is lowly.

Vernacular Interpretation

Lowliness as the Foundation of Honor

Honor takes lowliness as its root, and loftiness takes what is low as its foundation. A nine-tiered terrace is built up basket by basket with earth; even a terrace a hundred fathoms high begins with a single basket of soil. The comparison shows that what is honored and what is low must take lowliness as their foundation.

Humility and Arrogance

A ruler who has attained the Dao can be humble; a ruler who has lost the Dao will inevitably become arrogant. Arrogance is therefore the beginning of a descent into lowliness, while humility is the basis of honor. This warning is offered by comparing gain and loss.

Why Lords and Kings Call Themselves “Orphan,” “Widower,” and “Unworthy”

That is why lords and kings call themselves “orphan,” “widower,” and “unworthy.” Is this not taking lowliness as their foundation? The answer is yes.

Origins of the Titles (Imperial Commentary)

In the Zuo Tradition, “orphan” is a term of self-effacement used by feudal lords. “Widower” refers to a ruler whose predecessor regarded him as worthy. “Unworthy” means that one is not good and lacks sincere virtue. According to ritual convention, a person without a father is called an orphan, and a person without a husband is called a widow. “Good” means virtuous; “unworthy” means lacking virtue. These were originally terms people looked down on, yet lords and kings used them for themselves to remain modest and not boast of their exalted positions. “Is this not so?” is a question that expects an affirmative answer: they are indeed taking lowliness as their foundation.

Heshang Gong

Lords and kings use “orphan” and “widower” to suggest isolation, and “unworthy” to suggest that they cannot gather people around them as a wheel hub gathers its spokes. Though supremely honored and noble, they call themselves orphan, widower, and unworthy. Is this not taking lowliness as their foundation and making the point clear to everyone? “Is this not so?” is an expression of exclamation.

Rong

“Orphan,” “widower,” and “unworthy” are humble titles for rulers, and they also remind them not to forget their roots. The word “so” means that, in practice, they are taking lowliness as their foundation.

Cheng’s Commentary

“Unworthy” means acknowledging oneself as lacking virtue. If noble rulers rely on their intelligence and give way to arrogance, they invite their own downfall. Humility is the foundation of enduring honor and prosperity.

The 《Daode Zhenjing Xuande Zanshu》: A Modern Commentary

Scripture:

Only by bending down to draw close to those below and remaining humble can one rightly be called “orphaned, widowed, and unworthy”—that is, one does not praise oneself or regard oneself as noble.

Is this not what it means to “take the lowly as one’s foundation”? As for expressions such as “and is this not so?”, they are likely ways the ancients expressed emotion or posed a question. There is no need to insist on a strictly literal reading.

Therefore, assemble many parts and there is no cart

Imperial Commentary: However many parts are piled together, they do not make a complete cart; the wheels and shafts are its foundation. No matter how high one’s position, without the lowly to support it, “nobility” cannot stand. This is a reminder to rulers of the feudal states to take the lowly as their foundation. That is why the text uses “assemble many parts and there is no cart” as an analogy.

Imperial Subcommentary: “Therefore” continues the preceding discussion. The text has just said that rulers become noble through being lowly. But “nobility” has no fixed appearance and is hard to explain clearly, so the text borrows “assemble many parts” as an analogy: no matter how many pieces a cart has, in the end there is no separate entity called “cart”; it is only a name for the assembly of wheels, shafts, and other parts. The position of a ruler is the same: however noble the title, it is not innate. It becomes noble through the lowly and the people. The wheels and shafts are the cart’s foundation; keep to the foundation and there is a cart, abandon it and there is none. The lowly are the foundation of nobility; keep to that foundation and one has a position, abandon it and one has none. The point is to admonish rulers to care for and make room for those below them, and not to abandon the honest and the lonely.

Heshanggong’s Commentary: “Assemble” means “bring together” or “put together.” People give the cart its parts—the spokes, wheels, hub, crossbar, and carriage body—but no single part is called “cart.” Only when they are joined together does a cart come into being. The analogy is that rulers do not consider themselves important on account of their honorific titles, and so are able to attain nobility.

Rong’s Commentary: Lords and rulers are truly noble, yet those who take lowly names for themselves are rulers who possess the Dao. Songs praise their De, but they do not live on praise; this is “many praises, yet no praise.” They set up admonitions and heed advice, but do not take criticism to heart; this is “many criticisms, yet no criticism.” The wise person who understands and embodies the Dao is unmoved by outward honor or disgrace, gain or loss. They forget praise and blame, and do not show joy or anger in their expression.

Cheng’s Subcommentary: “Cart” means a vehicle. Its carriage body, spokes, hub, and rim are provisionally joined together. The name “cart” exists, but when its parts are counted individually, there is no concrete entity. The five things and the Four Great Elements are likewise illusory. If the body itself is false, where can nobility reside? Therefore, to occupy a noble position, one must remain humble.

Do not wish to be polished like jade or rough like a stone

Imperial Commentary: “Polished” describes the lustrous smoothness of jade; “rough” describes the plain coarseness of stone. One should take the lowly as one’s foundation.

Imperial Subcommentary: Jade is precious, while stone is lowly. “Like jade” means regarding oneself as noble; “like stone” means being content to dwell among the lowly.

If the feudal lords and kings are to take lowliness as their foundation, they should not flaunt their rank like fine jade. They should instead be as unassuming as rough stone and abide by the Dao of humility.

The Riverbank Master says:

“Bright and gleaming” is an image for what is scarce; “rough and abundant” is an image for what is plentiful. Jade is scarce, so it seems precious; stone is plentiful, so it seems lowly. The point is: do not be admired like jade, nor despised like stone. Take the middle way.

Yan says:

When there is neither too much nor too little, neither honor nor disgrace, and one does not place oneself at the center, the spirits will not depart. When one does not claim Heaven as one’s possession, all under Heaven will be with one.

Rong says:

Jade is bright and scarce, so it is precious; stone is rough and plentiful, so it is lowly. People dislike what is lowly, while things attack what is precious; neither state is secure. One who holds an honored position yet can yield humbly does not wish to attract envy like jade. One who holds a lowly position yet can look upward and aspire does not wish to be cast aside like stone. Attaining the One and abiding in the middle allows those above and below to live in harmony.

Cheng Xuanying’s commentary:

Jade is precious and stone is lowly; “bright and gleaming” means scarce, while “rough and abundant” means plentiful. If the mind is confused by what lies outside the self and attached to external things, one will devalue things and prize oneself. Now, having awakened to the teaching that “a cart is not a cart when its parts are counted,” and that both things and self are illusory, one can transform oneself and see all as equal, with no distinction between honor and lowliness. By leaving form and discursive knowledge behind, one merges with the Dao. Thus one does not wish to be as precious as bright, gleaming jade, nor as lowly as rough, abundant stone.

The Movement of the Dao, Chapter Forty

(The “Returning” chapter follows the preceding chapter: the previous chapter explains that one who attains the One humbly follows the Dao; this chapter therefore clarifies how such a person descends from the root into its manifestations and bends down to respond to the people. This chapter has three sections: first, compassionately rescuing beings and returning from sagehood to the ordinary; second, teaching through many different manifestations, while nothing surpasses softness and weakness; third, the two primal forms and the myriad phenomena arising from the Dao.)

First section: Compassionately rescuing beings and returning from sagehood to the ordinary

(Still and unmoving, it remains gathered within the Great Red. Its wonder is beyond words. It extends through all ages above the Primordial Blue, joins with the Qi of the Primal One, spreads the work of the Three Powers, distinguishes the firm and yielding forces of Heaven and Earth, and sets Yin and Yang in motion to nurture all things. It makes the dragon’s head a sign of De, borne alone by Yuqiang; the tiger and rhinoceros embody its might, following Dongfeng and the Heavenly Writ...)

In the bright heavens there is a seventy-two-character cloud script radiating light; the whole text holds profound meaning. Yu of Xia honored it, and thus his blessings endured; Helü stole it, and thus his state perished. At the Jade Pool the Queen Mother of the West once held feasts for pleasure; on the banks of the Han someone once sought instruction from King Zhao of Chu. Events cannot be replayed—hence one knows that the essentials of attaining the Dao concern how the spirits bestow blessings on people; the peril of losing the Dao is that strange calamities are extinguished along with it.

“Fan” (return) means turning back; “ji” (stillness) means silence. In stillness, subtle thought becomes clear and settled; when responding to things, one touches ordinary affairs, exerts influence, and ultimately returns to the Great Dao. These words truly hit the mark.

The movement of the Dao is to return (Fan zhe dao zhi dong)

Imperial commentary: This line speaks of “quan” (expedient adaptation). “Fan” means going against ordinary reason yet conforming to the Way; going against ordinary reason yet conforming to the Way is precisely how the sage exercises expedient means. Expedient adaptation is the manner in which the Dao moves and transforms—hence “the movement of the Dao is to return.”

Imperial exegesis: “Fan” carries the sense of reversing worldly views; “dong” (movement) means change—here it refers to expedient adaptation. Beings cling to bodily life and thereby lose the Great Dao. The sage therefore adapts to the times and sets forth provisional teachings so that beings may shed worldly habits and turn to accord with the Dao. The commentary’s “going against ordinary reason yet conforming to the Way”: jing is the constant standard; yi is fitting principle. Making the noble take the lowly as root, making the high take the low as foundation, making the “having” use the “not-having”—at first this seems to violate common feeling, yet in the end it accords with the Great Dao; therefore it is called the movement of the Dao. Confucius said: “One may stand and act with him, yet not necessarily weigh expedients with him.” Expedient reversal is hard to grasp, so the pear blossom is borrowed as a simile: the flower first turns outward, then the two sides come together—illustrating how the way of expedient means at first seems contrary to the norm, yet finally aligns with the right Way.

Heshanggong: “Fan” means returning to the root. The Dao moves from here to generate and nourish the myriad things; turn away from the Dao and the myriad things head toward extinction.

Rong said: “Fan” is the Dao’s mode of movement; “ruo” (weakness/softness) is the Dao’s mode of function. The Dao takes softness and yielding as its instrument; the world often keeps strength and hardness at heart, so in action people frequently depart from the Dao.

Cheng’s commentary: “Fan” is return; “dong” is compassion. The sage who has attained the Dao has already transcended the three realms, yet out of compassionate deliverance of beings returns into the three realms, conceals his true identity, mingles in the world, and teaches according to circumstances as they change. Hence the earlier classic says: “Going far means returning.”

The second part explains: although there are many ways to teach, none surpasses the way of softness and yielding.

The function of the Dao is weakness (Ruo zhe dao zhi yong)

Imperial commentary: This line speaks of the Dao’s true nature. “Ruo” means yielding, soft, and quietly feminine. Yielding, soft, and quietly feminine is how the sage abides in the real Dao; abiding in the real is precisely the Dao’s constant functioning.

Plain Language Interpretation

On “Weakness is the function of the Dao”

This passage explains that the Dao’s underlying reality is “substantial,” yet the way ordinary people value its practical use is often the opposite. Most people look down on softness and weakness and admire strength. This shows that striving to dominate, competing for victory, and acting with force and agitation are merely worldly misuses of the Dao. The Dao’s ordinary and enduring way of working is to use gentleness to restrain hardness. That is why Laozi says, “Weakness is the function of the Dao.”

Heshanggong explains that softness and weakness are precisely the ways the Dao regularly employs, and so they can endure.

Chengshu makes the point more explicitly: there are many ways to guide and transform living beings, but the most fitting and fundamental is to put softness and weakness first. Thus softness and weakness are treated as the foremost means of guiding living beings.

The third section: All things under Heaven arise from the Dao—“The things under Heaven are born from being; being is born from nonbeing.”

The imperial commentary’s general meaning is this: the relationship between “the real” and “expedient means” is like the way “being” arises from “nonbeing.” Those who use expedient means must ultimately return to what is real; those who make use of “being” must rely on “nonbeing.” The utmost Dao is empty, still, and beyond description. The nature of all teachings is empty and still, and they do not depend on one another. If one can forget both expedient means and reality, and let both being and nonbeing dissolve, one will understand “counting the parts of a cart, there is no cart”: even the concept “cart” can be transcended, so there is no need to cling to the question of whether being or nonbeing gives rise to the other.

The imperial commentary’s exposition develops the point: all formed things in the world appear through their forms, so they are said to “arise from being.” But the formation of bodies must also rely on the formless “nonbeing.” Liezi once said that a form in motion cannot produce another form, but can produce a shadow; the aspect of “nonbeing” does not move, yet “being” can arise from it. Thus emptiness is called the root of Heaven and Earth, and non-action the source of the myriad things. This is said so that living beings will investigate the source, recognize the root, and awaken to the Dao.

Being and nonbeing are like this, and so are expedient means and reality. Hence the commentary says: “The real is to the expedient as nonbeing is to the arising of being.” It also says that the utmost Dao is empty and still, beyond names, and that the nature of all teachings is empty and does not depend on anything else. The Dao, at its ultimate reality, is empty and settled; it is neither expedient nor real, so how could it be named? In principle, the true aspect of all teachings is neither “being” nor “nonbeing”; in their concrete manifestations, they do not arise by depending on one another. The saying “things arise from being, and being arises from nonbeing” is only figurative and expedient language.

To understand “counting the parts of a cart, there is no cart” is to understand that “counting the teachings, there are no teachings.” One then knows that being, nonbeing, expedient means, and reality do not truly give rise to one another. Whoever accords with this principle may be said to have gone beyond words.

Heshanggong says that all things under Heaven arise from “being.” Heaven and Earth give rise to the myriad things, and Heaven and Earth themselves have a place and a form; therefore, they are said to arise from “being.”

Plain-language interpretation

The passage is saying that “being” arises from “nonbeing”: heaven and earth, the spirits, birds and beasts, and even tiny crawling creatures all come into being through the Dao. The Dao itself has no fixed form, so it is described as “arising from nonbeing.” The passage also points to Laozi’s consistent teaching: what is fundamental matters more than outward display; the yielding overcomes the forceful; humility is better than fullness.

Rong’s commentary:

“Being” refers mainly to heaven and earth. Heaven and earth have visible forms, so one can speak of “heaven as being.” Earth supports the myriad things, allowing them to transform and come into being; hence the phrase “arising from being.”

“Nonbeing” refers to the Dao. The Dao has no concrete form, and its principle rests in emptiness and clarity, so it is called “nonbeing.” Heaven and earth come from the Dao; before the Dao takes visible form as the myriad things, one can say they “arise from nonbeing.”

Thus, emptiness is the fundamental basis on which heaven and earth depend, while nonbeing is the source from which the myriad things emerge.

Those who are deluded lose the Dao and fail to recognize their origin. The sages teach so that people may understand the beginning, the source. If one can return to the Dao, transcend life and death, and avoid clinging to the distinction between “being” and “nonbeing,” one can escape the confusion of worldly convention: no longer bound by being and nonbeing, or entangled in life and death.

When form and spirit are united and a visible form remains, this may be called “arising from being.” When form and spirit separate and the body is no longer seen, this may be called “arising from nonbeing.”

Cheng Xuanying’s subcommentary:

“Being” is the Dao’s manifestation within the myriad things, known as the “primordial unity of Qi” (the Dao’s activity in the phenomenal world, the beginning of the One Qi).

“Nonbeing” is the wondrous source of Wuwei (non-action), known as the “realm of profound stillness” (the Dao’s original nature, silent and formless).

Heaven, earth, and the myriad things all come into being through the Dao as it manifests and offers a way to follow. This manifested Dao, in turn, arises from the wondrous source—the foundation of utmost nonbeing and Wuwei. The wondrous source is itself utmost nonbeing.

Put together in a single account:

The visible heaven, earth, and myriad things are “being”; they come from the wondrous activity of the Dao, from the One Qi. The Dao’s original nature, without form or name, is “nonbeing.” The sages teach people to trace “being” back to “nonbeing,” and to look through the myriad things toward their root. This keeps us from seeing only the forms of life and death and forgetting that emptiness and nonbeing are the root and source.